Hi to all who knew and loved Robert …
James Stenson rang me in August 2015 with the terribly sad and shocking news that Robert had taken his own life. I simply had no idea that he had such a darker side to his character: To me and many of his friends and colleagues he was the life and soul of the party. His death leaves a permanent void in all our lives.
We were brought together through our passion for photography and worked together for many years in London, spending countless hours at Lightsite Studios, Holborn Studios, and on location for various magazines.
He was always a great asset to have on a shoot: He was a meticulously professional colleague who easily created a lively, friendly, enthusiastic and amusing atmosphere. He had strong views and a vast knowledge of just about everything, which he freely shared with endearing enthusiasm. We didn’t always agree, but I’ll miss his articulate, witty insights and the warm friendly way in which he shared them.
He didn’t shoot too much himself but loved to be the expert behind the scenes, especially for less capable photographers: He once assisted a photographer who had never shot models before but was doing a job for a major client. Robert booked the studio, set up the lighting, arranged the catering, directed the models, and even gaffer-taped the camera’s aperture to make sure nothing could go wrong. All the photographer had to do was to press the shutter button…
I urged him to “accidentally” trip up the photographer and take over the shoot – perhaps not the best advice, but I meant well!
He worked with many noted photographers but I could never get him to reveal their special lighting techniques: I expect he kept my two-softboxes-on-the-background and two-softboxes-on-the-model close to his chest too.
He talked about some problems but unfortunately never let me see the darker side to his personal life. Not that I would have been able to help, but there was always so much more to him that I wish he would had shared.
Through making this memorial website I’ve got to know him a little better as many of his friends that I never knew or met have contributed memories, pictures and colourful detail about his life.
He knew lots of people from all walks of life: We were having a coffee in a cafe once when someone came over and started chatting to him – they both spoke about themselves in very general, evasive terms, using the “ducking and diving”, “this and that” sort of language. Afterwards he told me briefly that this character was a not the sort of violent criminal you’d want to bump into in a dark alley at night, or even a well lit cafe in the afternoon.
He once did some photography for an escort agency whose studio was somewhat amateurish: He took great satisfaction in persuading them to upgrade their equipment, and showing them how to shoot more professionally. When one of the girls offered him the benefit of her professional services he told her to stick to doing what she did best and so would he.
He was a perfectionist, always prepared for the unexpected, and carried tools and spares for all photographic emergencies. He was more than punctual: “If you’re on time, you’re late” was his motto. He often took the train into London one hour earlier than necessary to make sure we met on time. Once, when the train service let him down, he phoned me about five times charting his progress towards our pickup point.
About 7 years ago I moved to Israel and started to loose touch with Robert. Then a couple of years ago I visited London and we met, unfortunately briefly, at Cafe Bruno in Wardour St, a place we both loved to frequent. He showed me a corporate video he had shot and edited, the best one I had ever seen, so his talents were blooming. Roberts Showreel here.
Amongst the final notes that he left he said to “tell Tom that he was a phenomenal inspiration on my life”. I only hope that he realised just how many of us he inspired and enlivened with his presence, warmth, knowledge and quirky, witty intellect.
I had hoped he would be buried in his beloved cowboy boots (from R Soles, Kings Rd, of course) in Highgate cemetery with his name carved in granite. It turned out that he was cremated and his good friend Meriet scattered the ashes to join his father in the sea at at Eastbourne. So I’ve made this website memorial to him – it’s the least I can now do.
It’s still difficult to believe that I won’t be meeting up with him again in Soho and having an animated discussion with the Maestro about photography, video, music, art, philosophy and just about everything else ….
He was definitely a one off, an irreplaceable jewel. The world now feels smaller to me without him. I will always miss him.
If you would like to add your remembrances or pictures of Robert to this website, please email them to Tom: [email protected].