SIMON DEVITT
Simon Devitt is an architectural photographer and educator whose work has been featured everywhere from Vogue to Dwell. He has just released his fifth photo book, Cape to Bluff, with Luke Scott and Andrea Stevens.
‘My dad worked for IBM and that took us to the States for a couple of years in the 1970s. We lived on the eastern seaboard, in Endicott, NY, which is where I started to see the world through dad’s lens. He’d shoot slide film everywhere we went, then project those images on to the wall at home. I was enthralled to see the places we went and how we looked as a family in that way. I blame my father for igniting my interest in photography.
‘Even though I saw dad whipping around, taking snaps on his 35ml SLR, that didn’t translate into me thinking I might be a photographer. I didn’t even know photography was a career option, yet some of my most vivid memories are of being in pictures and seeing dad taking them. I also have powerful memories of us travelling in a big red Thunderbird with white leather upholstery, and the backseat had a round window which gave us kids a porthole view of the world.
‘I was 6 or 7 when we were in America, so I was in top sponge mode, when it’s amazing to be a kid. We lived in apartment complexes which had pools. We went to school in a big yellow bus, ate cafeteria lunches and every morning we’d pledge allegiance to the flag. All that stuff you see in movies and on TV. So to come home and settle in Takanini with all its wide open spaces was a big contrast.
‘I was in the fifth form at Manurewa High School when we went to camp in the Hunuas. It was widely accepted that students would take the odd beer — the teachers certainly did — so we didn’t think we’d get in trouble. But being the entrepreneur I thought I was, I took a few extras to sell to kids who didn’t bring their own. I even chilled them in the river — only I was found out.
‘My parents were mortified when I was expelled but it actually turned out to be a good thing, because I went to Papatoetoe High for sixth and seventh form. The principal there was amazing, and he went to the trouble of getting the expulsion taken off my record. I was later made deputy sports captain, my girlfriend was head girl and thanks to my photography teacher — bless her, she’s passed now — for the first time I thought I might be a photographer. ‘
I knew university wasn’t my calling so I investigated photography through other avenues. I worked in Kodak shops selling cameras to consumers and professionals. I printed film. I even assisted a photographer for half an hour but I hated that, possibly because I’m so stubborn. My last job before I became a full-time photographer was a nightshift role developing film at a photo lab. For two or three years I’d go in at 5pm and do all sorts of things, including printing forensic photos for the police. Most of those images were boring, while some were too horrendous to write about. Some pictures were rude, which was always hilarious, but the ones I loved best were taken by people who came in with a single roll of film which had three years of Christmases on it. I found it beautiful how some people used film so sparingly.
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My first major professional gig was 1995 in San Diego for the America’s Cup. I knew nothing about photographing boats, but somehow I convinced a sports picture agency that I should be off the coast in a media boat. On the first day of the final the weather was terrible and I was sharing this boat with three other photographers all from New York. The most boating they’d ever done was aboard the Staten Island ferry, so they were all sick as dogs down below. But I don’t get seasick so I got to direct the skipper and I got the shots the year Team New Zealand won.
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San Diego was incredibly busy. I was living out of a suitcase, working hard, meeting people, going to parties. When my parents hadn’t heard from me for a while, they contacted the San Diego police. Next thing I know, I’m in the media room when the police come looking for me. My heart raced because I thought I’d done something wrong, but they were just checking I was okay for Mum and Dad. aspired ‘ to be a sports photographer, Things started happening after that. I was shooting for magazines and newspapers and getting requests for images. Not that I but I liked being paid to do cool things. Although going from being a parttime wannabe to a full-time photographer, for a long time, whenever I said I was a photographer, I felt a strong sense of imposter syndrome. one ‘ thing when The Metropolis was I always knew not to work for free. Even to get my foot in the door, and I try to deter my students from doing that today. But I did do this being built. The penthouse was in but not fitted out, and was just a concrete shell on the 40th floor. I managed to take some pictures of it, then I went to the developer and asked if I could have a bit of a shindig and show some of my work. He said yes, so I sent out fancy invites and the pictures were framed and hung. I had friends dress up as waiters to hand out canapes and drinks and I got a gallerist to talk about me instead of talking about myself. I even auctioned some pieces off to raise money for Child Cancer. I cringe a little now, at that early 20s confidence, but it worked, because people had a good time and more work came in.
‘‘Being self-employed for such a long time, you become a Swiss Army Knife, capable of doing many different things.’
As a Pisces, I’m quite prone to deep dives into dark places, although looking back, I’m grateful for the difficult times. Like my first marriage not working out. We were both young, but what started as an incredible romance, after seven years, I blew it up because I hadn’t done much in my 20s to set me up to be successful in a marriage. In an attempt to navigate my way out of it, I had an affair. Of course, that was horrible but years later, we’re the best of friends because over time those things settle and become okay. We were both doing our best, and somehow we guided each other through and things became complete.
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Being self-employed for such a long time, you become a Swiss Army Knife, capable of doing many different things. But plans don’t always work out, or you get a surprise tax bill and you still have to pay the mortgage. There are dark moments in business, being exposed to so much risk, but you still have to put on your game face and pretend everything is okay even if it’s not. But I also know I couldn’t work for someone else.
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I own a farm in Waiuku. It was run down when I bought it. The previous owners had raised racehorses but the fences were rooted. There was very little grass. The irrigation was stuffed and the house was a dive — but for some reason I wanted to make a go of it. I had no rural experience, apart from being keen to learn and I spent five years making it amazing. Then I met the love of my life.
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We were introduced by our only mutual friend, Andrew Steel, the artist. He was painting a mural of my dog on one of the barn walls when he said he knew someone I should meet. More than that, someone I should kiss. Even though she lived in Wellington and I lived in Auckland. But he insisted on introducing us, then left the rest up to us. She and I got chatting on Instagram, then, when I happened to be going down that way, I was doing a shoot at a beautiful place called Pipinui Point, I suggested she pop out to say hi. So the first time we met, because I was with clients, we had to pretend we knew each other, which meant our first embrace had to be as if we were old mates.
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My parents now live in my farmhouse and they love that whole lifestyle. I’m living in Seatoun with the woman I met through Andrew, and I feel as if I’m now the best version of myself. The most resilient version, and all thanks to those formative experiences. Life still has its challenges, that’s life and living, but being with Dee is the perfect meeting of hearts and minds and I have this beautiful relationship in this new city and I feel like the luckiest man alive.
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Cape to Bluff features 30 of Aotearoa’s most inventive and awe-inspiring homes. simondevitt.com