This story is close to my heart.
And it is personal too.
It is the story of a largely forgotten London-born photographer,
James Jarche.
Jarche had a long and illustrious career on Fleet Street.
He began photographing before the First World War
and his images continued to be printed as front page stories
up until the 1950s.
He always said it was a wonderful life, it was a difficult life,
it was a tough life.
It wasn't the world of the paparazzi as we know it today, though.
This was pure news.
Jarche took a good number of images that have become iconic.
Churchill in top hat peaking from cover at the siege of Sydney Street.
The candid shot of Edward with a mystery woman
before she had been identified as Wallis Simpson.
With his camera Jarche recorded many of the great figures of his day.
His story is personal for me
because he was the man I knew as Jimmy.
He was my maternal grandfather.
I grew up under his spell, loving him dearly
and it was Jimmy who gave me my first camera,
coached me in photography
and passed on his passion for it.
And he used to say to me, he used to say,
'When you look through the camera
it's not what you see, it is how you see it.'
The greatest part of your whole equipment
has nothing to do with this.
It has to do with this. It has to do with your lens.
50 years ago Jimmy gave me his last camera, a Leica M3.
I'm now going to use it to photograph the world today.
And in an attempt to understand his career better
I'm going to do what he did.
(GUNSHOTS)
I'm going to be sent on assignments across Britain
to experience what it's like to be a press photographer.
I'm going to photograph the sort of images
that Jimmy might have been asked to photograph.
I'm going to shoot some of the places and the people that he shot.
London seems to be a different city from the one I know as a boy.
So much has changed about Britain during my lifetime.
Jimmy once photographed the Thames from a vantage point
high up on the famous Shell building.
Oh, my goodness me.
It makes me go quite cold.
Here I am. This is almost exactly the same spot.
Look at that.
And actually he saw a bit of history being made
because this building was being built at the time over 80 years ago.
There are the girders.
It is a snapshot of history.
It is timeless and yet it isn't timeless.
Things have moved on
and yet so much is still the same.
Jimmy's father had a modest photographic business
by Tower Bridge.
He died when Jimmy was only 10
leaving his son and wife to run the family business.
It was by necessity that Jimmy became a professional photographer
when he was still just a boy.
I also grew up in London with my brothers John and Peter.
We all remember Jimmy because he came to live with us
wen he was an old man.
He was hugely charismatic
and he entertained us all with his vivid stories.
We of course knew him as our beloved grandfather
rather than as a photographer with a lifelong career on Fleet Street.
To find out more about Jimmy the photographer
I've come to Getty Images to meet the man who runs the archive,
Matthew Butson.
This is the largest commercial archive in the world.
There is about 85 million images here on site.
A lot of them we know about
because they're well catalogued.
But a lot of them we don't
so we are still finding stuff we didn't even know we had.
It's like an Aladdin's cave.
Most of this stuff is catalogued
so we've got the day books, index cards and what have you.
I'm wondering how many of Jimmy's photographs
that have never seen the light of day might lie buried in these racks.
Sometimes you get continuity problems.
So you get a run of negatives
and then you think, 'Where has the rest gone?'
They have gone into another collection
so sometimes it's like trying to put a jigsaw back together.
So there is gold in them thar hills. It's just a case of finding it.
It really is in my genre, a detective story.
Absolutely.
To try and find out. Definitely.
And an obvious question, did you find any?
We found a few. Did you?
I think you'll be interested, yeah. Really?
If you look at the negatives these are 66 years old.
Can I just see that? Beautiful.
And that is his photographs?
Yeah, and you've got the original caption slugs on the back of the contact.
'Jarche. Life in Berlin.
British soldiers sitting in Hitler's desk turned upside down.'
My goodness.
And then you see it leads to the actual published story.
Yes.
Wow. Look at the devastation in Berlin.
That is one of my favourite in the Reichstag.
That's a wonderful picture.
Look at how sharp this is.
He was using available light which you can see coming down the stairs
from a lamppost or something.
If you look at some of the colour work
that transparency could been taken yesterday.
That is an extraordinary picture of George Bernard Shaw.
Absolutely pin sharp as well.
George Bernard Shaw uses to say,
'I like you, Jarche,
because you don't make me look like a white rat.'
(LAUGHS)
Well...
He didn't, did he? I mean that's a wonderful portrait, isn't it?
I've not seen that. It is a fabulous picture.
Oh, my... Are these all his front page pictures?
Yeah, every single one of these.
And this is just a smattering.
He was a regular on the front page,
sometimes three weeks out of four in a month.
That is how highly they regarded him.
Was he very highly regarded?
I think so. Absolutely.
It just makes me so proud of him.
Look how he got it. Look at this.
I know. Look...
It's almost like a veil on her face, isn't it?
Through the tennis racket he's given her a veil.
That's like just reportage.
No. That is what made Jarche so interesting.
He was very versatile in what he captured.
He covered every gamut of photography.
Oh, look. The victory portrait of Winston Churchill.
Taken by my grandfather.
Boo-boom.
That is a fabulous portrait.
Isn't that great? Absolutely.
Oh, beautiful.
What strikes me is all these front covers,
they are all people and that's how I remember him.
He loved people.
Look, another one.
Another one. They are people, people, people.
He was really a people's photographer.
I am amazed by the quantity and the quality of Jimmy's work
that Matt has been able to dredge up from the depths of Getty's archive.
It is a joy to see so many of his images
that are totally new to me.
I'm beginning to form a clearer impression of my grandfather
and the huge body of work he left behind.
Jimmy was able to get along with anyone.
It was a quality that stood him in good stead
as a portrait photographer.
I find that many of his portraits really look beneath the skin
to capture the sitter's character.
I'd like to try my hand at doing what he did.
One more.
I've been given a few minutes with a series of people in a studio
to capture the essence of who they are and what they do.
That is brilliant.
A nice, big smile.
Right.
Hold it.
Thank you very much.
And a nice smile.
Now look at me.
Thank you.
# Mac The Knife
# Oh, the shark has
Hello. How are you?
Ow!
Sometimes it will say cheese. Oh, good! Yes, you do that.
Occasionally. Cheese.
# Just a jackknife has old MacHeath
# And he keeps it out of sight #
Oh, my goodness.
And just look at me down here.
That's it.
Thank you.
(PIANO)
On the trail of my press photographer grandfather James Jarche
I have come to the Royal Ballet School
to see if I can capture something of these talented dancers.
Like Jimmy I too get a huge kick from photographing people.
But the difference between us is he was a pro.
Photography for me is a passion
but I have never known how it really feels to be sent on an assignment
and told don't come back unless you get the shot.
To discuss the rigour involved in getting that shot,
I've come to a place that's always prided itself
in publishing the world's top photographers.
The Sunday Times magazine.
I'm here to meet the picture editor, John Jones.
John impressed on me
just how important the invention of cameras like my Leica
has been for photojournalism.
This suddenly freed people up
to run around different angles,
and shoot a lot of film,
as opposed to one shot.
And shoot stories.
Because with cameras you couldn't carry 10, 15, 20 plates.
You'd have a couple of plates.
That is very interesting. So that small film cameras
because it has so much film in it,
you could actually do story photography.
Exactly. From me that is the key thing.
Narrative, shooting different shapes, difficult angles.
Different viewpoints.
It is about breaking down what you see.
If you took all your prints from whatever story you are shooting
and you laid it all out and made your edit,
and you started top left
and ran your eye across all the columns.
When you get to bottom right you should understand everything about that story.
So rather than looking for the picture
that would win a competition every time, just go for the story picture.
The story.
For me as an editor, we have to lay this out.
So I have to be able to have the options.
OK, OK.
It doesn't take much just to turn the camera,
and shoot another frame.
And would you worry too much about apperture and this sort of thing?
Would you demand that accuracy from me all the time?
Yes. Absolutely? Yes.
That is a given.
You're not going to make it easy, are you?
With John's advice in the forefront of my mind
I am following in the footsteps
of one of Jimmy's most moving picture stories.
In the summer of 1931 Jimmy was sent to South Wales
to photograph the mining communities of the Rhondda Valley.
This series of mining photographs from 80 years ago
contain, for me, some of his most enduring images.
Welsh mining was at the time in the grip of a harsh recession.
The stark images that Jimmy captured
are pure social documentary and take me back into a forgotten world.
Come on.
That is all right. He is in the frame.
Lovely.
Do you live here?
Yeah, yeah. Up there.
I'll tell you what. I'm trying to find this.
I recognise you from somewhere.
Do you? Off the telly maybe.
It could be. What is your name, sorry?
David Suchet. I thought it was.
How do you do, Mr Suchet? What is your name?
Leighton.
And that is... Max.
He is lovely, isn't he? Do you recognise that street?
I don't. The thing is, they all looked the same.
They had the small gardens in the front
and the toilets then ran all to the back.
Oh, these are toilets?
Yeah, yeah, this used to be where all the toilets were.
All of them, yeah.
How long ago were these all changed, all this changed?
I can't remember.
There used to be up to 16, 17 people living in these houses.
That many? Yeah, yeah, believe it or not.
Or so my father-in-law used to tell me.
Because I gave him a hand to fix the house up and everything.
He used to run through the stories
but they never used to be there at the one time, except on a Sunday.
On a Sunday that would all gather and sing songs and all that.
There was quite a community life. Yeah, yeah.
All the street...
Well, thank you, Leighton, very, very much.
Bye-bye.
I wonder.
I think I've found it.
Well, I mean I don't know for sure but...
Look, look.
There is the front gardens.
There is the houses.
Here is the road.
I think this could be it and there is a step in the houses
just about here.
And Jimmy would been able to stand up on here
to get that.
I think I've found it.
Oh, hello, I'm David Suchet.
Hello, yes. I can see you are.
Now, my grandfather took a picture of one of the streets around here.
And I just wondered if you would know if this was your street?
Yes, this is our street. Yes.
Is it? Yes.
Mrs Ackerman, her daughter Betty.
Yeah.
Her father and her husband.
And that is number 18.
See the chicken?
Yeah, Mr Owen.
I can remember it. How long have you lived here?
I am 87. You're not.
I am so. I was born here.
Where were you living at the time of the photograph?
Number five. You were in number five.
I was born at five.
This was your house? That wasn't our door, though.
No. They have changed the door
but you lived here when this picture was taken.
Did everybody have similar jobs in this area?
Yeah, it was mostly miners.
Were they miners?
This this gentleman, was he a miner?
I would think so. They're all miners.
What was your dad?
A miner. He was a miner. Yes.
And my husband. Your husband was a miner?
I could tell you lots of stories about that house but I won't.
(LAUGHTER)
I know we were forbidden to go there.
Why, why?
Don't you dare go to Mrs Ackerman's. They're not very clean.
So of course we would always say, 'No, we won't go, Mam.'
But of course when Mam went in, we went in.
And then you saw... Was it just a dirty house, then?
Well...
Their little boy he said, 'Mam, I want to go to the toilet.'
So she said, 'Oh, it's raining nasty.
Go on, have a wee on the mat.
The fire will dry it!'
Now, I remember that.
And I was forbidden to go up there.
Are you serious? This was why the house was dirty.
I wanted to tell my mother and I couldn't tell her
because she knew I'd been up there if ever told her.
You'd have been in trouble. I would have, yes.
So I had to keep it to myself.
Are you ready? Nice smile, then.
That is great. Thank you very, very much.
OK, back further.
That is pretty good to me
because if that chimney was growing out the side there,
there is the old road.
But it is extraordinary.
I mean, I'm virtually standing where Jimmy was.
It is very exciting.
I've got it. I've got it.
I've got to take that away
because that will clear my view
but I've got to take this picture from here.
Thank you very, very much.
I discovered that in the valleys of South Wales
there has been a recent resurgence in mining.
A number of old pits have opened up
and mining is an employer here once again for young man
whose fathers and grandfathers worked underground.
Hello.
How are you, sir? I'm well, thank you.
How are you?
I'm so pleased to know that your grandfather had taken a picture of my father.
You what? He took a picture of your dad?
My father, yes.
In that... Come and show me.
In here?
My father was a little man and always worked with the horses.
Is that your dad? Yes. That is him.
Oh, my goodness.
My father worked from Penallta from 1930 until he was 69.
There was no retiring age then.
You worked as long as they wanted to.
So in his sixties we made him finish at 65.
Before then there was men down the pit at 70, sometimes 80.
Did you work in the pits?
Yes, I went down the pits, this pit.
Come and have a look at this. Look.
That is his dad.
I left school I was 14 and went down Penallta pit.
Yeah. I was a collier down here from 1939 to 1970.
Is it nice to see your dad like that?
Yes, yes.
What does it make you feel when you see Dad like that?
Gets me thinking a lot.
My father had gone to the 1914 war and back down the pit.
So he had seen a long life, a hard life.
This is the number one shaft.
One is a downcast. That one.
So the air went down that one, circulated
and up the upcast at number two.
And how deep is this?
About half a mile.
Really? About half a mile down?
A tough life?
Hard. Well, these guys know.
Is it really tough down there?
Not as bad as it was years ago. No, it is better now.
And how much coal have you produced today?
Hopefully we are looking to produce a million tons a year. Hopefully.
(BANTERING AND LAUGHING)
I really didn't know that mining still existed
in the way it existed 50, 60 years ago.
You know, I am witnessing the past in the present.
It is schizophrenic for me.
To see miners come out in that state,
it reminds me of so many of my grandfather's photographs.
It hasn't changed.
Thank you. Thank you very much.
How long have you been down the mines?
33 years. I started in 1979.
In the Britannia mining school of training.
And all the time.
And you, how long have you been? Three weeks.
Three weeks! Yes, just started.
So are you?
Father and son. You are father and son.
That is really lovely.
# I remember the face of my father
# As we walked back home from the mine
# He'd laugh and he'd say that's one more day
# And it's good to feel the sun shine
# Take me home to my family
# Take me home to my friends
# Take me home where my heart lies
# And let me
# Let me, let me sing again
# Take me home
# Let me sing again
# Take me home
# Let me sing again
# Take me home
# Let me sing again
# Take me home #
(WHISTLES)
I am very familiar with the pictures of my grandfather
with General Eisenhower and General Montgomery.
I know that during the Second World War,
Jimmy was working for both Illustrated and Life Magazine.
But I've never had a very precise idea
of where exactly they sent him with his camera.
My brother John has experience of war zones
from his time as a correspondent in Afghanistan.
But I can only imagine what it takes to be a war photographer.
We decided to visit the archives of the Imperial War Museum
where assistant curator Rosanna Wilkinson
had dug out a heap of Jimmy's photographs.
This is a campaign in Libya. Libya, Lebanon.
Libya.
Goodness me. Did you know that Jimmy had been to Libya?
I had no idea.
This is it. That is the man. There he is.
Oh, my goodness. That is Jimmy.
I think that is when he first arrived.
In March 1941 he immediately set out on the trail of the Australians across the desert.
They were fighting for this Italian oasis village of Giarabub.
And he arrived two days after they had taken the village
and he was there to photograph the Italian dead.
Those are amongst the first sights he saw when he arrived.
Goodness me.
'Australian soldier finds a bust in bronze of Mussolini
and wishes it were alive.'
Because he is strangling it.
I love that. That is great.
Look at that print.
Italian prisoners. That is a great photo.
He's in North Africa in '41. When did he go to Burma?
He went to Burma in early 1942.
The Japanese invaded in early '42.
That is what he was photographing.
So it is 180 mile road
that they are trying to get Indian refugees going.
One photograph that is quite well known.
It is a portrait of a Chindit who is using his rucksack
to shield his face from the sun. Oh, my goodness.
And this quite well-known because we get a lot of people writing in
thinking it is a relative. I've got quite a few people write in
and they are convinced they can identify this person
and sadly we can't confirm it because he's not been identified.
That is a wonderful picture.
It is, it is. I think it's a brilliant shot.
That is a brilliant picture.
Oh, yeah. See, that's what I always knew him as.
Oh, my God.
Oh, that is...that is terrible.
He never spoke to us about any of that, did he?
No.
'The body of a Japanese airman killed with five others
when a bomber was shot down by RAF fighters.'
Oh, dear.
Although it was something that he preferred not to talk about
Jimmy had obviously recorded many of the more horrific aspects of war.
In North African and the Far East
he felt the heat of battle and experienced what it's like to be under fire.
(GUNSHOTS)
(SHOUTING AND GUNSHOTS)
I've joined up with the British Army during training.
It's a simulated battle but it gives me a much clearer idea
of how it feels to be caught in the thick of things
armed only with a Leica.
(GUNSHOTS)
(MACHINE GUN FIRE)
The extraordinary thing about this is the adrenaline.
OK!
When you look through this
you're almost immune. You are not aware of the danger.
You are sort of removed from it.
It's all happening so quickly
and you never know if you are in the right place at the right time.
You never know if you've got anything.
(GUNFIRE AND SHOUTING)
I've got to change film.
Keep calm.
Agh. I just lost the film!
I have just lost this film.
I've opened the back and I thought it was wound on.
Oh, my goodness me.
The language Jimmy might have used to describe my performance under fire
I suspect would not get past the censor.
Even though this wasn't a real fight
I can tell you it's incredibly hard to operate a camera with gunfire raging about you.
It only gives me even more respect for Jimmy and all war photographers
who really do go into battle.
# THE LAST POST
Jimmy took an historic photograph here at the Cenotaph
in November 1937.
During the two-minute silence a man ran out screaming.
And as the police pounced on him and wrestled him to the ground
just yards from the King,
Jimmy got the shot.
But, look, no-one turns a hair.
We've got Atlee, Chamberlain.
Yes.
And that was a stolen photograph because you're not allowed to take pictures at that point.
And that appeared in The Weekly Illustrated.
Yeah. I had no idea there was an incident of that sort of nature.
Jimmy's theatre photographs
are a striking contrast to his images of war.
I find these pictures particularly fascinating.
I'm heading backstage to photograph the cast of the West End musical Wicked.
As an actor, I know only too well how it feels to be photographed.
For me, it's all about the trust and intimacy established
between photographer and sitter.
# The boys watch the girls
# While the girls watch the boys who watch the girls go by
# Eye to eye
# They solemnly convene to make the scene
# Which is the name of the game, watch a guy, watch a dame
# On any street and town
# Up and down
# And over and across, romance is boss
# Guys talk, girls talk
# It happens everywhere
# Eyes watch, girls walk...#
Jimmy took these colour images of a London show called The Lilac Domino
in 1944.
I'm curious to know what a pro feels about them.
Where is the light source?
Terry O'Neil, famous for his movie start portraits,
began as a press photographer on the same London paper as Jimmy.
It's like a painting, isn't it? It is.
Sharp as a tack.
I mean, you couldn't beat that today.
Look at that. Is that cheeky?
Yes.
That was very risque at the time.
Wasn't it? I mean, how do you bring out your subjects when you...
Well, I mean, I prefer to be totally ignored.
Literally, just sort of... Just be invisible.
That's the best thing. What is the most difficult portrait you've ever had to take?
Oh, God. Ageing sex symbols.
Ageing sex symbols? Yeah. As they get older.
Seriously? Yeah.
I mean, Raquel Welsh, she happens to be a friend of mine.
But in the begining she'd be half an hour.
When she was 30, she'd be an hour.
40 - two hours
And 50 - three hours, and so on.
I mean, they are a nightmare.
They think they'd let people down.
Which in a sense they do but you can't defy nature, can you?
No. No.
And that's great as well.
I'd love to have met him.
Jimmy was always very comfortable photographing Hollywood glamour.
And more importantly he made them feel comfortable.
Just like that.
I'm just going to just focus, darling.
Making a portrait of a performer is one thing.
Shooting a performance in motion is another skill altogether.
# When the moon hit your eyes
# Like a big pizza pie
# That's amore
# When the world seems to shine
# Like you've had too much wine
# That's amore...
That's fantastic.
# Bells will ring, ding-a-ling, a-ling
OK, continue that.
Great.
# Hearts a-play, tippy-tippy tay
# Tippy-tippy tay
# Like a gay tarantella
Oh, great, this is fantastic.
I don't know how I'm going to get anything at all.
Yoo-hoo!
Bravo!
I've literally been looking at the world through Jimmy's lens
these past few weeks.
While on the same sort of assignments
that his editor might have sent him on.
But I'd still love to be able to photograph someone
that Jimmy actually photographed.
Amazingly, I've managed to find them.
And remarkably, they are still doing the same job.
Jimmy said that in his early days
if you could get within 30 yards of royalty,
you were a first class photographer.
To him, it was all about access.
Jimmy photographed the Queen even before she became queen.
He photographed her at her coronation.
And many times afterwards too.
During his lifetime
he saw the formal relationship between the press and the palace
relax enormously.
But to be up so close
photographing the Queen with Jimmy's old Leica is really momentous for me.
I can hear him on my shoulder.
'In there, boy. Keep it steady.
Keep it sharp. Get the shot.'
Any decent press photographer must have what it takes to get the scoop.
They probably need a pretty thick skin and very often the gift of the gab
to get behind the closed doors of powerful institutions.
On many occasions, Jimmy managed to gain incredibly privileged access
to capture intimate, behind the scenes moments with Prime Ministers.
Labour Prime Minister Clement Attlee at home in Stanmore.
Liberal Prime Minister David Lloyd George in Churt.
And Conservative Prime Minister Winston Churchill.
It's amazing to me that Jimmy managed to achieve
such relaxed cooperation with these past leaders.
His is a pretty hard act to follow.
But now it's my moment to see what I can pull out of the bag.
Prime Minister. David, welcome.
Thank you. Great to have you here.
This is a fantastic picture. This is the Karsh picture of Churchill.
Apparently he took ages trying to get the right shot.
Churchill was puffing this cigar all the way through.
The moment he got the shot was he pulled the cigar out of his mouth and Churchill made this angry face.
That was the bulldog picture that helped to inspire the nation.
It's a great picture, isn't it? Great picture.
Jimmy got this one. It was the victory picture.
That's fantastic. And actually, amazingly, that looks clear.
That's not the brandy you'd expect.
(LAUGHS) That's quite interesting.
But it's a very good picture.
We'll wander up the stairs and I'll show you some of the others.
This is a great place to come and see Prime Ministerial pictures.
They don't put your picture up till you've gone, that's the only...
You've been photographed thousands of times. What's it like?
Are you ever worried about what they might catch or not catch?
When you walk under the sign saying exit or...
Sometimes there's suddenly a flurry of clicks
and you think, 'What was it behind me?' and you have a look.
But I had one great moment where I got one over the photographers
where I was in the underground in Delhi.
I was standing in front of a model of the drill...
that had helped to drill out the Delhi underground.
The sign in front of the drill said,
'this is the international boring machine'.
But that was on my side, not the press side.
So I said, this is what you're missing out on! You'll never get that picture!
(LAUGHS) That was great!
So these are the last... Oh, look!
So this is the last few.
Apparently Jim Callaghan did put up when he left a colour picture...
because he wanted to start a new trend. Here?
He put up a colour picture and then Margaret Thatcher said,
'We're not having any of that,' so the colour picture went and this one went up instead.
Perfect. And now right to me.
I'm heading across London to Robin Bell's photographic lab,
where everything's still done the traditional way.
With all the nerves of an expectant parent,
I'm anxious to see how the photographs I've taken these past few weeks have turned out.
I'm not sure what the chronology of it all is.
It doesn't matter.
Go through them and see what you think.
Have a first impression.
Oh, they're all exposed right! They are.
They're technically really, really good, honestly.
The mining ones are fantastic. I've had a look through. They're really strong.
Oh, I love... I really do like that one.
Is this a recreation...? That's a recreation of Jimmy's picture.
Oh, my God!
I really can't believe it and...
It's quite a moment, isn't it?
Why should I find it so emotional?
Cos you did it. You did it.
You cracked it, everything you set out to do.
Have a look at some more.
That's super.
I'm sure this is beginner's luck. I'm sure of it.
I think Jimmy was on my shoulder. I think he did these for me.
I don't think it's anything to do with me.
Back at The Sunday Times Magazine,
John Jones casts an experienced editor's eye over my photographs.
Lot of space up here. Yes. That's for your caption.
OK, so the cover lines and all that kind of stuff all go on there, OK.
Not sure it works lying down like that. No.
That was shot in 1931.
This is the modern equivalent but the past is still there.
Yeah, I know, it's fantastic.
I think these then and now are always a nice idea.
Especially with the connection that you have.
Like that. Thank you.
That's really nice. Like that.
Would you use any? I would use that.
Would you? I think if we were doing a...
an interview with him...
I think it's an accomplished portrait of him.
That The Sunday Times might even publish one of my photographs
isn't something I'd ever imagined before now.
I'm sure that, while Jimmy would keep me in my place,
he too would be secretly chuffed for his grandson.
I think that by re-examining Jimmy's work
and taking his camera out of its case these past couple of weeks,
I've somehow learnt an enormous amount from him again.
I've always loved his images. Of course I have - I'm biased.
But I'm really keen to know how the experts view him today.
Armed with a folio of Jimmy's photographs,
I'm on my way to the Michael Hoppen Gallery in Chelsea
to meet four people who are top players in the world of photography.
Curators Sue Bucklow and Colin Ford,
former Sunday Times art director Michael Rand,
and gallery owner Michael Hoppen.
There's a very, very tender eye, isn't there?
Well, I think this contrast between the miners -
and look how young one of them is - the blackness of their faces.
There's a picture by Bill Brandt, great 20th-century name,
who's very, very similar to this.
But because he had this sort of arty reputation,
we know the Brandt and we don't know the Jarche.
It's just as good, isn't it? SUE: Yeah, it is, definitely.
All the elements of the picture are in exactly the right place.
If I was Jimmy and coming to your paper,
and I said I think I've got a front page...
and I showed you this...
Golly, I'd forgotten that was his photograph.
That's interesting, that photograph.
If it was 1937, I'd say thanks very much.
'Who's that bird with the Prince of Wales?' you know.
But that's the genuine paparazzi scoop of the day.
But did that not make his name? It would today, yes, absolutely.
Well, we're in the days of celeb now
and I think if I'd have taken that picture,
I would have probably been known quicker as a photographer
than I was as an actor at a younger age.
I think I would have been credited with that.
I think it's a different... You'd earn a lot more.
I'd a learn a lot more, wouldn't I! (LAUGHTER)
Thank you very much, Michael!
But when Fergie was caught on...
That photographer got a million dollars for that picture.
I'm not saying he hadn't been up the tree for a day but that's serious money.
That I think is my favourite. I've not seen that one.
That is absolutely brilliant. That's a contemporary work of art.
Absolutely amazing. If we were selecting things for the gallery,
we'd go for that one. Really?
Yeah. It makes me think of Brassai and people when I look at that.
It's fantastic.
I'm both terrified and excited by what I've seen,
because the fact is, of course,
we have a pantheon of the great 20th-century photographers.
The Cartier Bressons, the Kerteszs, the Capras, the people like that.
And whereas I'm not sure that I'm ready to put Jarche in that pantheon yet,
but suddenly looking at these I think wow!
I've spent most of my career curating shows
of great photographic artists.
Why haven't I looked at this man before?
To hear him praised by you as a photographer...
What you have found by looking at his work is...
..the man. The man I knew.
And that's incredibly moving for me.
I was just thinking now if he was there...
listening to this...
I think Jimmy will have gone...
Well...
He was a big man, don't forget. He would have gone...
'Thank you very much. I really didn't expect that.'
And if he'd met me at the bottom of the stairs, he'd probably go, 'Yes!'
Two weeks after we'd completed our main filming,
Jimmy's work was up on the walls of a London gallery -
a place it had not been seen for more than 30 years.
(GASPS)
Forgotten images that had languished in archives
and many that had never before seen the light of day
had been printed up and were now on show for the first time.
The range and quality of Jimmy's work was a genuine discovery -
not only for me, it seems, but for many photographic enthusiasts,
and experts, too.
Jimmy's photography was alive again.
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