I started out in photography by doing an apprenticeship for my dad’s news agency. This was in the days when apprenticeships still existed. Trouble was, no woman had ever lasted more than two weeks in ‘the darkroom’. I was a girl, a punk and worse, the boss’s daughter.
“No normal woman would work down here.”
” When am I going to escape the darkroom and become a photographer?”.
He dissembled. Then finally
” I can’t see it happening for a long time.”
Shocked, for I was already getting my own pictures printed in the music press (the earnings of which he took 50%), I realised I was never going to succeed there and resigned. Devastated, I went straight to my bedroom (for I still lived at home) without supper. In the restless and anguished night, I resolved to go travelling, to a place I’d fallen in love with during a holiday, the United States. In the morning, my mother knocked on the door and said:
“Did you hear the news? John Lennon has been shot.”