THE COLLECTION

 

 

You’ll find those fleeting visual moments of the Golden Age of Formula 1 presented here in my Collection, as men prepared to put everything on the line for their dream of becoming the best racing driver on Earth.

Today, Formula One is immensely safer, but those visual moments are now completely shielded from my style of photo-reportage. The types of photographs I captured in those years are impossible to create now. It's the same for today's loyal fans, who can rarely witness F1's human drama and physical struggle, with all its emotion, patina, and nuance.

I often shut my eyes and remember each driver’s face as they were then; how I studied their eyes and expressions, and how I had the freedom to listen and anticipate.

Those images I recorded taught me so much about the bonds of brotherhood and the fragility of life. I reflect on how much richer Formula One would be now if all these gentlemen had survived those dangerous years; and I cannot get those images out of my mind. 

I am so very happy to offer these true images of those Golden Age heroes.

RICHARD KELLEY: My Story

 

MY CALLING

I have been a photojournalist, writer, communicator and historian for most of my life. My very first experience was capturing intimate Grand Prix images as a “fly on the wall” in the world of Formula One. Those years changed my life forever. 

I first picked up a “real” camera in 1971; a rudimentary autofocus, auto exposure point-and-shoot Canon Canonet, as part of Dr. Will Counts’ requisite Non-Verbal Communication course for journalism undergrads at Indiana University. 

A day after I turned in my first assigned roll of film for the class, Dr. Counts hunted me down and demanded that I become an “Indiana Daily Student” newspaper photographer.

I still remember his pitch…

“I have never made any photographs before, I said. I don’t own a camera.”

“Buy one, it’s what you’re meant to do…"

 

MY BEGINNING

So convinced, and armed with a new Nikon FTN, I gravitated to the work of W. Eugene Smith, and the Magnum photographers; Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Joseph Koudelka.

Their common approach became my mantra: make images that tell a story; remove yourself; disappear; leave out the vanity; and, make emotional and elegantly composed images that point to a truth about your subject. 

I began my Formula One documentary in 1972, a year after picking up that first Nikon. I opened a copy of Road & Track Magazine, and became an instant fan of Rob Walker's story of the 1971 British Grand Prix. I knew that's where I would find my future.

Although underage, I was able to talk my way into full accreditation for the 1972 United States Grand Prix at Watkins Glen through AP connections.

I was immediately swept up in the tangible drama of the pit lane and its compelling images. From 1972 through 1984, I returned to capture the intimate moments of drivers who fought to survive in a Formula One era that was rapidly undergoing the most comprehensive changes to drivers, cars and technology in Grand Prix history. 
 

A FLY ON THE WALL

Early on, it was clear that these technological developments were influencing the spirit, passion and bravery that I was recording of that time, and so I decided to adopt the style of Cartier-Bresson and become “a fly on the wall”; getting as close as I could to the telling moments without influencing the emotion or the drama of the moment.


I consciously backed away and didn’t go looking for moments; I just waited to let those moments compel me to make an image. And, as luck would have it, I witnessed and recorded hidden moments that became pivotal incidents in Grand Prix history. After positions at the Chicago Tribune and Observer Newspapers in Detroit, I began a 20-year association with Car and Driver Magazine, traveling the world to provide art for over 600 feature stories and numerous covers. 


As always, I pursued personal photographic projects, capturing the human condition outside of my newspaper and magazine work. I also expanded my photography by providing creative content for media and marketing materials for many of the largest multinational automotive manufacturers in the United States. Clients included: Audi, Mazda, BMW, Volkswagen, Porsche, Ford, General Motors, Kia, Subaru, and Jaguar.

I transitioned my photography to include writing and editing in 1998, as associate editor of Stock Car Racing, and then founding team member and editor with William Jeanes at AutoWorld Weekly in 1999.
 

MY DIVERSION

In 2001, I joined Mitsubishi as Senior Manager of Media Relations, helped launch the Lancer Evolution 8. I became Manager of North American Motorsports in 2003, winning the SCCA Pro Rally Championship Manufacturers’ National Open Class title with the new Evo. From there, I went on to provide public relations management for another multi-national Japanese auto company for a further eight years…

Throughout these years, I could never forget the intimate Grand Prix images I had captured and the experiences of being a “fly on the wall” in the world of Formula One.

 

MY RETURN

So, I am reclaiming my soul with this collection of never-before published Grand Prix documentary photography. I believe they offer unique impressions of amazing driver’s and athletes, and moments that changed their lives forever.

The initial presentation of my images took place in the fall of 2013 in Hong Kong, courtesy of an exhibition hosted by Blackbird Automotive and in conjunction with McLaren’s 50th Anniversary.

"Waiting", my documentary of my personal Golden Age images and memoirs was published in 2018, and nominated to The Telegram's list of Best Sports Book of theYear.

I have also returned to creating new digital work, in both monochrome and color, on fresh editorial assignments and personal sports projects that will again allow me to record human drama, struggle and grace, with all its emotion, patina, and nuance, such as the Macau Grand Prix and it's growing influence on Formula One. 

And as before, I’m enjoying a creative adventure lived as "a fly on the wall." 

Thank you for joining me on this continuing journey.