In Memoriam Liam Lawless

A Gentleman and a Gentle Man

I first met Liam when he visited the Dorothy Wilding exhibition. It was such a pleasure to chat with a visitor who knew so much about the era and the photographers. The next day, he returned with a photograph he had found in his attic – a stunning portrait of Eleanor Boardman by Ruth Harriet Louise, which he donated to the Hundred Heroines Collection. He would often drop in to donate an old book that he’d found in a charity shop or to lend us old journals so we could brush up our knowledge of a particular subject.

Bearing a striking resemblance to Dumbledore, he soon acquired the nickname – The Wizard. And when it came to alternative photography processes, Liam was a wizard, a sorcerer and an alchemist. If any of the volunteers wanted to try something new, he would turn up with a cluster of ancient apothecary bottles containing potions from his own spell book.  He had his own recipe for cyanotype liquids, which he mixed and donated to our Summer School workshop.

Once we moved to Nailsworth, he became an active volunteer, spending hours scanning negatives from the Collection, and he often had a nugget of information about the place, object or people in the scans.

He introduced us to Judy Seigel’s daughter, Jessica, with whom we are now in correspondence; to the work of former World Bank Photographer, Mary Hill (whose partial archive he was digitising) and to the works of early photographers that we hadn’t heard of.

Liam, we miss you. We hope that wherever you are, your companions are enjoying your photographic knowledge as much as we did.

Del Barrett

A Gold-Toned Angel and a Human One

Liam Lawless contacted me out of the blue a year ago just at the moment I needed it. I knew his name well, since I’d heard it repeatedly from my late mother, Judy Seigel (1930-2017). They’d met in 1990s cyberspace on “The List,” as they called the Alternative Photography Listserve in days before social media. On their respective sides of the Atlantic Ocean, they spent hours over computer keyboards with an international crowd debating and sharing knowledge in the revival of antiquarian photographic techniques. When my mother founded The World Journal of Post-Factory Photography in 1998, Liam was an early contributor, with chemistry-infused articles such as how to grind down old jewelry or the filling from a tooth to create gold toning solution. Liam’s gold-toned “chrysotype” that illustrated the article is haunting – the image shows a grave marker topped with a stone-carved winged figure lying on his left side, his feathered wings curled around him. More than two decades later, Liam appeared like that angel for me with news that he had nominated my mother to the Hundred Heroines museum devoted to (often-forgotten) female photographers. I was profoundly touched and encouraged in the lonely endeavor of working on my mother’s photographic legacy.  Liam was a loyal friend and chemical savant comrade of my mother – and recently me. Thank you Liam for everything, from both of us.

Jessica Seigel, New York City

Liam would always come in with a new discovery from the archives, telling me over his double espresso with one sugarcube. He was a talented individual and he will be greatly missed.

Harriet Hughes

We were all saddened to hear about the passing of Liam. Nicknamed ‘The Wizard’ for his creativity and flair, Liam was always there and helped us so much at the museum. Liam will be truly missed.

Shifra Kirby

I first met Liam through Hundred Heroines Museum in Nailsworth where he was  volunteer. He was a knowledgeable man who loved to talk about photography and different processes. Liam was a gentle soul and I remember him fondly.

Rita Long

Thinking fondly of Liam and honouring his time with us at Hundred Heroines. My condolences to his family, friends, and all those who are grieving his loss.

Ruby Mitchell

A misplaced modesty about his own practice

I met Liam sometime just before the 2007 Photo Festival. He was making photographs at Paul Caffell’s studio in Horsley and printing in their black and white darkroom. I didn’t know him well but did know him for a long time and I don’t think I’ve ever run into him when he wasn’t kind and cheerful. He also had a deep feeling for photography alongside a somewhat misplaced modesty about his own practice. I hadn’t seen him for quite a while and was delighted to bump into him again in the Hundred Heroines orbit.

Fred Chance