A few episodes back, when we were discussing Chris Wilcha's Flipside, one of our subjects was the great jazz photographer Harold Leonard. As I always do with artists in all disciplines, I found it fascinating hearing about Leonard's process. It got me thinking, man, I should have my old friend, the photographer Charles Peterson, on the show. Whether or not you've heard of Charles, I can guarantee you've seen his world-renowned photos. If it's a live action shot of Nirvana, Soundgarden, or Mudhoney, chances are Charles took the photo. Charles currently has a show at the Tacoma Art Museum entitled Charles Peterson's Nirvana, which runs through August 31st. Do yourself a favor and check it out.
I first met Charles in 1983, when he was sharing an apartment with Mark Arm (then of Mr. Epp, and later of Mudhoney). Charles was a regular at punk shows at Monroe's, the Metropolis, the Gray Door, and the Graven Image, where he was often (but not often enough, he recalls in our conversation) toting a camera around. One of the most exciting aspects of those halcyon days of the Seattle punk scene before anyone was famous was that it wasn't just bands. That scene spawned well-known photographers (like Charles and Lance Mercer), as well as graphic artists (see Harold Hollingsworth), and yes, writers too (the late Tom Hansen and, ahem, yours truly). That all-ages scene was such fertile ground for making art. Nobody was self-conscious about where it was leading, everybody was supportive of one another, and elder figures in the scene, like Larry Reid and Hugo Piottin who ran the clubs, basically gave the kids the keys to the asylum. Speaking for myself, those years shaped me and my art and the DIY ethos I still cling to, and I think I can safely say they shaped Charles Peterson, too.
Once we got to the late 80s, things began to shift in the scene a bit as many of the same artists and musicians grew older, and maybe a little more intentional in some cases about where they were going with their art. But Seattle still belonged to itself, and yeah, Aberdeen, Tacoma, Olympia, and outlying areas. But once the A&R reps started sniffing around, and major labels started signing bands to lucrative deals, there was no looking back. Suddenly, that little artsy, DIY, homegrown Seattle scene became, for a brief time, the focal point of the world. Not everybody was ready to be a rock star, and some people didn't live to see the explosion come to its end, Kurt chief among them. Charles Peterson was Seattle's own chronicler of this surreal time when, at the risk of sounding corny, Seattle lost its innocence.
Share this post