You might say that Oskar Proctor’s photographic career all began with a wafer at a branch of Caffè Nero in London. It was the mid-1990s and his mother, Georgina, was working as an art director for magazines. When going in for meetings with clients, she would leave the young Oskar at the café in Soho with a biscuit to keep him happy. At other times, she would take him along to photo shoots. He cherishes those memories, particularly accompanying his mother to see the photographer Peter Williams, ‘who had a cavernous studio, stuffed with props and models. I remember an enormous packet of Benson & Hedges just hanging off the wall. The fantasy of it all had a potent effect on me.’ The match was lit. At the age of 18, he had found his vocation.
Fast-forward to the late 2010s and, far away from the Soho scene, Proctor was deeply immersed in a very different culture in the Ugandan capital, Kampala, where, under the aegis of the country’s Cross-Cultural Foundation, he taught young photographers about shooting architecture and interiors among other things. He embarked on ‘a personal, in-depth photographic study of the city and its buildings’ with the assistance of the Uganda Museum.
This work led to Proctor’s first commission for the World of Interiors: a story in the May 2020 issue entitled ‘A Terminal Case’. He and writer Stephen Patience eloquently captured the spirit and history of Kampala’s railway station. This building was originally designed in 1938 in a style that Patience described as ‘Colonial Deco – a long, low terracotta-coloured affair with all the pinned-back geometry of the era’, though it had been altered slightly by a late 1950s renovation that left ‘a mid-century finish of varnished wood and sans-serif signage that almost suggests Cary Grant might wander in at any moment in the midst of a cinematic caper.’ Proctor’s images perfectly convey the sleek beauty of the design and the gentle patina that gives the building its charm.
Two years later, WoI published a second set of photographs from Proctor’s stint in Africa – this time showing the Uganda Broadcasting Corporation (UBC), which is situated near the railway station. Stephen Patience, who again provided the words, detected in this mid-century complex ‘a recognisably post-British festival feel […] all pared-back lines and go-ahead geometry’. The accompanying pictures capture not only the graphic vitality of the structures, but also the complexity of the UBC’s place in the country’s politics, from its creation under British rule to its role as a propaganda machine during Idi Amin’s despotic reign.
Proctor’s favourite tale from his time in Africa relates not to a building or home but an alligator arraigned for public safety. While working at the Museum of Uganda, ‘a curator hurried over to me and ushered me excitedly outside. Not knowing what I was about to see, I rushed out and was shocked to find a 14ft Nile crocodile tied up in the back of a flatbed truck, with a group of schoolchildren looking on in awe.’
More recently, Proctor has contributed to both WoI’s print and digital platforms. In the June 2022 issue, the magazine celebrated Magdalene Odundo, a now much-acclaimed potter who we first introduced to readers at the birth of her career 40 years ago. Proctor’s thoughtful portrait of the artist provides the perfect juxtaposition to a showcase of her astonishing work.
In the digital sphere, Proctor’s images recently featured in a worldofinteriors.com article about the Palazzo Contarini della Porta di Ferro in Venice, which was written by Alice Inggs. The duo take us through this incredible home, which is owned by Contessa Chiara ‘Kitt’ Donà dalle Rose. Inggs captures the bohemian spirit of the place, describing it both in reference to Antonioni’s 1961 film La Notte, as well as to the great artistic houses of yore, including Gertrude Stein’s 27 Rue de Fleurus, and the infamous Rolling Stones’ French getaway, Villa Nellcôte. Proctor’s images make one think of the flip side of a 1970s era record cover. A cool, mysterious space that serves as the backdrop for a listing of the band’s latest creations.
Kicking off the new year, Proctor contributed to our January 2024 issue with a story that is close to his heart. Alerted to it by a curator friend, he photographed the National Library of Kosovo in Pristina. For him, the building is not only a prime example of architecture and design, but ‘felt like a shrine to knowledge and a symbol of the enduring strength of learning amid conflict’. Accompanied by Bekim Ramku’s text, Proctor’s images convey the Modernist sensibility of the library, designed by Andrija Mutnjakovíc in the 1970s, and also reflect the Ottoman, Byzantine and Romanesque elements that give it a ‘distinctly Balkan take on Brutalism’.
All the while the photographer has also found time to pursue personal work and published his first book, Ateliers of Europe, in 2023, in collaboration with creative director, historian and writer John Whelan. It brings together some of the oldest and most important design ateliers still at work on the continent. Writing about Proctor, Whelan notes, ‘Having collaborated a number of times prior to this undertaking, we both sing from the hymn sheet of “natural light only”.’ Going on, he explains: ‘Oskar shot the spaces as we found them, with zero set-up or artifice. We felt this to be the best way to honour the artisans of the past and present; we had no wish to interfere, merely to document for posterity.’
Asked about artists who inspire him, Proctor points to the legendary photojournalist Don McCullin, as well as projects by the fine-art photographers Andreas Gursky and Taryn Simon. As he explains: ‘I think the thing that unites all of these inspirations to me is sacredness created by tension, a strand I see within my own work.’ As for a location that he longs to shoot one day, his reply is more in the realm of the metaphysical. ‘My dream is to continue to seek out the unseen and places that people wouldn’t necessarily expect; places that are provocative and invoke tension, and in a strange and unexpected way reveal the universality of our existence – both the suffering and the joy.’
