Countless images, both seen and unseen, make up a photographer’s life work. Often prolific in output, photographers carefully edit their work, usually selecting only a few frames from the possible many to share publicly in exhibitions or publications. However, this only offers a partial view of the whole. Every photograph created contains a memory, a moment, a feeling, a story. When a museum, art gallery or archive acquires a photographer’s oeuvre in its entirety it provides the unique opportunity to discover overlooked compositions or find series of images that, with time, have taken on a new significance.

In 2015 I was assigned the responsibility of accessioning over 4000 sets of black and white negatives —or roughly 144,000 individual frames — taken by documentary photographer, Gil Hanly, into Auckland Museum Tāmaki Paenga Hira’s collection. As Collection Manager Pictorial my responsibility has been two-fold: arranging and describing the photographs so that they are accessible to our many researchers and caring for their physical wellbeing, safekeeping them in archival enclosures and climate-controlled stores so that they can be located when called upon.

Over the past 10 years of working on Gil’s photographic archive, nearly the entirety of her black and white negative collection has passed through my gloved hands, save for some negatives which have been retained by Gil’s clients. This has given me a unique perspective on her work, as I have seen her career unfold and progress with each set of negatives that I have held and listed. However, accessioning these often-sizable collections can be a daunting task for professionals responsible for bringing them into a museum or archive.

Gil’s collection of negatives starts in the late 1950s during the years that she and her husband, artist Pat Hanly (Fig. 1) lived and travelled in London, Spain and Italy (Fig. 2). These photographs alternate between images of Pat and Gil’s wedding, travels to historic sites, portraits of friends and family, art and everyday street scenes. Gil and Pat’s first child, Ben, appears frequently in these early rolls of film (Fig. 3). During this period, Gil’s photography is predominately personal, with images reminiscent of your typical family and holiday snapshots — with two exceptions: the relaxed cool that exudes from the young artistic family and the fine arts trained eye that Gil brings to their composition (Fig. 4).

Figure 1. 

Pat Hanly photographed in his studio. PH-2015-2-GH0078-8. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 2. 

Early photographs taken by Gil in Europe and England show a glimpse of her future career as a photojournalist. Both images reveal intimate moments of girlhood and friendship, the left image shows two Italian school children walking with their arms around each other ca. 1960 and on the right, two girls chatting in an empty lot in England. PH-2015-2-GH0044-1 and PH-2015-2-GH0021-6. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 3. 

Gil Hanly holding her baby Ben, London 1959. PH-2015-2-GH0016-3 © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 4. 

Pat and Ben Hanly in Venice, Italy, 1960, PH-2015-2-GH0044-4. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

In the early 1960’s the Hanly family returned to New Zealand, moving to Mount Eden, where they had their second child, Tamsin (Fig. 5). Gil continued to document her children’s upbringing and journey into adulthood — playdates with friends, protesting at anti-nuclear rallies (Fig. 6), dramatic productions, their careers, and eventually the arrival and raising of their own families. The blurring of the personal and professional means that it is not uncommon throughout Gil’s sets of negatives to find photographs of family birthday parties mixed in with images of protests. Having these intimate images being part of the archive allows for a more complete picture of Gil and her life. It is through these photographs that we get a glimpse of Gil as a mother, wife and friend.

During the 1970s and 1980s Gil cemented her career as one of New Zealand’s leading social documentary photographers. Alongside contemporaries like Marti Friedlander, Ans Westra and John Miller, her work contributes to a collective visual memory of Aotearoa New Zealand during a time of social and political upheaval. With her camera at the ready, Gil captured movements and events we often hear referred to as nation shaping: the many anti-nuclear protests in the 1980s (Fig. 7), Hikoi o te Waitangi in 1985 (Fig. 8), the Springbok Rugby tour and protest (Fig. 9), beginning of the kohanga reo movement (Fig. 10), reoccupation of Takaparawhau Bastion Point (Figs 11, 12), Homosexual Law Reform protest and Reclaim the Night marches down Queen Street. Many notable writers, politicians, activists, musicians, and artists also passed in front of Gil’s lens, some with regularity (Fig. 13). New Zealand music duo the Topps Twins (Fig. 14), feminist artists Claudia Pond Eyley and Carole Shepheard, politician and activists Hone Harawira and Hilda Halkyard Harawira, and former Prime Minister Helen Clark are just some of the many who were photographed on numerous occasions. Whether taken in homes (Fig. 15), at events or in workplaces, people appear at ease in front of Gil’s camera, reflecting not only the trust that they shared but also the genuine friendship she had with many of her sitters.

Figure 5. 

Hanly family photographed outside their Windmill Road home. From left-right: Ben, Tamsin (seated), Gil and Pat, late 1960s. PH-2015-2-GH0076-5. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 6. 

Gil Hanly՚s daughter Tamsin photographed on Queen Street as part of the Peace March. The march was part of ongoing demonstrations against the Auckland visit of nuclear-powered submarine USS Queenfish, 24 March 1984. PH-2015-2-GH626-32. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 7. 

Demonstrators take to the water to protesting the arrival of the American Nuclear Submarine “USS Phoenix’ into Auckland Harbour. 9 November 1983 PH-2015-2-GH485-1. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 8. 

Man with Te Kohitanga flag, with Māori rights activist Eva Rickard behind, Te Hīkoi ki Waitangi, 6 February 1982. PH-2015-2-GH540-3. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 9. 

Police confront Anti-Springbok tour protestors on Marlborough Street near Eden Park. 12 September 1981. PH-2015-2- GH117-24. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 10. 

Pita Sharples with kura kaupapa Māori pupils outside classroom at Hoani Waititi Marae. Sharples was instrumental in establishing the kura kaupapa Māori at the Marae which was one of the first in New Zealand, 1985. PH-2015-2-GH1090-90A. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 11. 

Father Terry Dibble leading protestors with cross and banner ‘Stick to the Point Reoccupy’. Auckland Orakei Bastion Point, 1982, PH-2015-2-GH159-29. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 12. 

Police and protestors at Orakei Bastion Point occupation, 1982, PH-2015-2-GH166-9. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 13. 

Tim Shadbolt addressing crowd outside Auckland Museum at Anti-Springbok Tour meeting, August 1981, PH-2015-2-GH103-33A. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 14. 

Topp Twins performing at Artists Against Apartheid concert, Maidment Theatre, 1982. PH-2015-2-GH214-32A. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 15. 

Filmmaker Merata Mita editing film at home, photographed for Broadsheet Magazine, 1983. PH-2015-2-GH303-29. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Gil’s success as a documentary photographer is far from coincidental or the result of a few lucky shots. She was a tenacious photographer who, throughout her career, maintained a meticulous register of every event and individual she photographed. Known among those who have spent any time with Gil and her collection as “the blue book”, the register spans over four decades of her black and white photography. Listed chronologically, it stands as a powerful testament to her discipline and commitment. Entries often document multiple subjects or events captured on a single day, as well as singular events—such as marches and “wānanga”—that she attended and photographed over several days.

For the first few years following the Museum’s decision to acquire Gil’s photographic collection, I would venture out to her studio every Tuesday morning. Nestled in the tropical garden of her Mount Eden home, the studio contained bookshelves stacked high with boxes and filing cabinets containing her prints, negatives and proof sheets (Fig. 16). My first job was to meticulously make lists, checking titles written on each set of negatives and corresponding proof sheets and comparing these with entries in the “Blue Book”. I would compile the information into an inventory, assigning each set of negatives its own reference number, documenting dates, titles, frame counts, formats and making notes on missing frames. Eventually over time I came to think of this inventory as my own blue book of the collection. Around lunch time I would return to the Museum with a newly documented box of negatives and proof sheets. This was how, over many years, Gil’s collection was gradually acquired. The slow acquisition meant I got to learn more about Gil’s work and she got to learn more about how her photographs would be cared for by the Museum. The time allowed for trust to be built, reflecting Gil’s own efforts spent building and nurturing trust with her sitters.

During the mornings spent at her studio, there were breaks where Gil and I would share strong cups of coffee, chatting about our respective upcoming travels and her photography. At one point Gil acquired two chickens and for a while I became the beneficiary of some of their freshly laid eggs. Gil was generous with her time, knowledge and produce from her garden.

Figure 16. 

Gil in her Mount Eden studio surrounded by photographic boxes containing copies of her black and white photographs, 2012. All rights reserved.

One of Gil’s most significant bodies of work are her photographs of the Greenpeace vessel, Rainbow Warrior. The vessel had been part of a campaign to confront and disrupt French nuclear testing at Moruroa Atoll in French Polynesia. On the night of 10 July 1985, it was bombed by French operatives whilst moored in Auckland Harbour. Gil had been on the boat photographing events and crew before the bombing. In the subsequent days and months, she continued to document the aftermath (Fig. 17). She would do so right up until the destroyed vessel was brought to its final resting place and sunk at Mātauri Bay, Northland on the 12 December 1987 (Fig. 18).

Figure 17. 

A police officer looks into the gaping void left on the side of Greenpeace Vessel, Rainbow Warrior, following the bombing by French operatives, 26 August1985. PH-2015-2-GH1068-73. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Figure 18. 

Sinking of Rainbow Warrior Vessel at Matauri Bay, Northland. The vessel is completely submerged leaving two circular pools of aerated water on the surface, 12 December 1987. PH-2015-2-GH2023-53. © Gil Hanly. All rights reserved.

Gil would often pull out the album of photographs that she had to complied to show me. She told me how her photographs were requested by the police as part of their investigations into who had been onboard the vessel in the days leading up to the bombing.

Tragically a fellow Greenpeace photographer, Fernando Pereira, died during the bombing trying to retrieve his camera. It is likely that Gil recognised how easily it could have been her in his place. At one time our discussions turned to the dangers of documenting protests and violent struggles. An assumption that I held was that for a photographer the risk was being caught in the crossfire, but Gil told me that in some instances photographers would be targeted by people or protestors who feared that their photographs might be requested by the police and used against them as evidence.

Over the years I worked on Gil’s collection at her studio she was still actively photographing. People would often tell me when they spotted her, camera in hand, at protest marches or gallery openings. In a twist of serendipity, we have a photograph of Gil at a one such event, captured by Emily Lear, and now in the Museum’s collection. The photograph is taken at the 2017 Women’s March in Auckland and shows Gil seated, with a camera at her lap. She appears to be looking towards the camera, perhaps in acknowledgement that the torch is being taken up by a new generation of photographers (Fig. 19).

Figure 19. 

Gil photographed by Emily Lear at the Women՚s March, Auckland, 21 October 2017. PH-2017-10-3. © Emily Lear Photography. All rights reserved.

For many years researchers and publishers would visit Gil’s studio to shuffle through her prints. Stored in old photographic paper boxes labelled in Gil’s handwriting with titles like “bad housing”, “gallery openings”, “trade unions”, “poets”, “Waitangi ’85”, the boxes contained stacks of photos made for access. Photographs were printed and supplied for exhibitions, books and magazines. At times negatives would be given or lent out, and in some instances not returned, accounting for missing sets or frames from the collection. Now at the Museum access looks different. Something is both lost and gained with this change. The experience of sitting with Gil in her studio as she tells you about events and people she has photographed, pulling out boxes and prints to show you, cannot be replicated. In place, their physical survival and reuse for generations to come has been secured. Researchers can now comb the Museum’s online database, or book into the Research Library to view her proof sheets, introducing her collection to new audiences.

Physically the negatives are kept in cold storage to ensure their long-term preservation. Invision a series of giant walk-in freezers, where puffer jackets are donned, and staff work quickly to keep the time spent in cold temperatures to a minimum. The work of cataloguing the collection starts with retrieving these negatives, acclimatising them to room temperature and once ready creating a digital ‘proof-sheet’ from each set. Combined with information recorded in the inventory, a catalogue record is created in the Museum’s collection management database. It is from this database that the Museum draws information for its publicly available catalogue, Collections Online.

Cataloguing a collection of this size is a time-consuming process. The approach I have taken is to work through batches of negatives. I started by selecting the years which contain prominent series of Gil’s work: Rainbow Warrior, Waitangi Day protests, 1981 Springbok Tour. During cataloguing, subject headings are added and spelling of individual’s names and places are checked — Gil’s handwriting and spelling in her register was not always the easiest to decipher or accurate. Additionally, when time allows, I enrich records with contextual information sourced from publications that Gil photographed for, such as the feminist magazine Broadsheet. In this way the collection can be found, viewed and accessed online — and selections of frames requested for individual cataloguing and digitisation. I view the catalogue records as works in progress, with pieces of information being continuously added over time.

Ten years after its initial acquisition I am still working on Gil’s collection (Fig. 20). At times, cataloguing it has felt insurmountable, and I have struggled with feelings of failure — worrying that I may have let Gil down or that I should be further along with the cataloguing and digitisation. However, Auckland Museum’s vast photography collection contains the collections of many photographers, collectors and organisations, and my attentions are inevitably divided. Finding the space and time to work solely on Gil’s collection can be hard and requires carving out time to prioritise it. The weight of the work still ahead sits heavy. I think the responsibility of caring for it sat heavy with Gil too and in this way, it may have felt like an unburdening to hand its care over to the Museum. She would often say to me that she would work on sorting her collection before my next visit, but I think the job seemed too big for her and was always left. I didn’t mind and I am grateful for the part I have been able to have in helping preserve her legacy.

When I do get to work on Gil’s collection, I feel a sense of contentment and comfort — like visiting an old friend. I am delighted when one of Gil’s images gets requested and used in an exhibition or publication or when a photograph, I have assisted in making accessible, results in someone spotting themselves or a family member in one of her images. The immediate connection people can have to photographs and the way they can reveal things about ourselves and tell our history has always been what has drawn me to the medium.

In my naivety I always imagined that I would write about working on Gil’s collection once I had a sense of completion but have recently accepted that this moment may never arrive. My work on this collection will continue for the duration of however long I am responsible for its care. With this in mind the proverb, “There is only one way to eat an elephant: one bite at a time” has taken on a deep personal resonance. It often repeats in my head like a mantra, providing a sense of comfort as I gradually work through the collection one frame at a time.

Figure 20. 

Gil and I in her garden meeting to discuss the acquisition of her photographs. Dec 2015. All rights reserved.