[FairfieldLife] Patti Boyd: My life as a muse
Title: Patti Boyd: My life as a muse The Independent Online Patti Boyd: My life as a muse Immortalised in song by lovers Harrison and Clapton, Patti Boyd was the 1960s 'It Girl'. She shows her remarkable photo album to Stuart Husband Published: 04 June 2006 At first glance, Patti Boyd seems to blend into the quiet corner of West Sussex where she's made her home. Her 17th-century cottage is adorned with wisteria; tomato plants and orange trees are meticulously potted in the greenhouse; and she exchanges cheery greetings with the lady neighbours walking their Labradors or mowing their lawns. But look more closely and clues to a more singular life emerge. Snapshots of rock royalty - George Harrison, Eric Clapton, Ronnie Wood, even Kate Moss - are displayed in the downstairs loo. A stone Buddha gazes serenely across the lawn toward the distant South Downs, while another plays peek-a-boo through a nook in a box-hedge. And Boyd herself - well, there's something in the way she moves. As she alights from her black Saab (she's just returned from a Pilates class) you're struck by her limber physique, her rock- grand-dame outfit - all layered-black and insouciantly knotted neckwear - and her cascade of mussed-up blonde hair. Then it strikes you: this is the no-way- is-she-62-year-old woman for whom three of rock's most enduring devotional tributes - The Beatles' Something, Derek The Dominoes' Layla, and Eric Clapton's Wonderful Tonight - were written. She's passed into pop- culture legend. I have led an exceptional life in some ways, yes, she says in clear, measured tones as we settle under an arbour. I mean, she continues, widening her eyes, I've been very lucky. I seem to have had a gift for landing in the right place at the right time. Boyd was one of the original 1960s It Girls - a cross between Kate Moss and Nicole Richie without the attendant substance abuse or dietetic drama. Embarking on a modelling career in her late teens, and serially shot by the likes of masters she refers to as Bailey and Donovan, she was hired by director Dick Lester to star in promotional campaigns as the Smith's Crisp Girl. When Lester went on to helm The Beatles' movie A Hard Day's Night, he cast her in less-a-cameo-more-a-miniature-role; however, her one line - Are they looking for prisoners? - was delivered in a schoolgirl's outfit, which brought her to the attention of George Harrison. The two were wed in 1966, in matching Mary Quant fur coats, and it was Boyd, and her growing interest in Eastern philosophy, that inspired The Beatles' subsequent exploration of transcendental meditation and 1968 visit to the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's Indian ashram. Harrison and Boyd divorced in 1977, blaming divergent interests, and Eric Clapton, who had long carried a torch for Boyd - his Layla the ultimate paean to their unrequited love - stepped in. They married two years later, and Boyd was with Clapton through his alcohol and heroin addiction, before they split at the end of the 1980s. The two are still friends; Boyd also remained close to Harrison until his death in 2001. Boyd has documented these happenings with what she calls my little snaps since the late 1960s. Now, an exhibition of some 50 of her photographs is due to open at London's Proud Galleries, and provides an intimate look at some epoch-making lives and times, seen through the eyes of an ultimate insider. There's a barefoot George, John and Paul, hanging out and zoning out; Eric, doggedly plucking at his guitar or posing in what looks like a Bentley/ T42 tank hybrid; mellow Indian and Caribbean landscapes, with passing natives and kneeling camels; and Patti herself, looking like Gwyneth Paltrow's guileless younger sister. Boyd may have learnt about photography before the lenses of the classic 1960s portraitists, but her own work aspires to the ingenuous quality of Doisneau or Cartier-Bresson. None of the photos are 'staged' as such, she says. I just snapped when I thought the time or the light was right. I like their unself-conscious quality; I never felt I was creating a historical archive. She glances over at the impassive Buddha. I didn't keep a diary in those days, so the pictures form a sort of record, I suppose. They'd all been in boxes and (omega) cupboards for decades until I had my first exhibition in San Francisco last year. Up to then, I thought I might only have three or four of interest. She grins. I was as surprised as anyone at what I found. Nevertheless, Boyd professes herself nervous at the prospect of the London show, not only because her life will be writ large on the walls, but also at the judgment of her peers. I mean, photography is my job now, she stresses. When Eric and I split up, I knew that I had to do something to make some money, so I did a serious photography course and actively tried to find work. Today, I shoot for magazines and I'm commissioned to do portraits for friends. This has included a 1990s collaboration with Rolling
[FairfieldLife] 'Patti Boyd: My Life as a Muse'
Patti Boyd: My life as a muse Immortalised in song by lovers Harrison and Clapton, Patti Boyd was the 1960s 'It Girl'. She shows her remarkable photo album to Stuart Husband Published:04 June 2006 At first glance, Patti Boyd seems to blend into the quiet corner of West Sussex where she's made her home. Her 17th-century cottage is adorned with wisteria; tomato plants and orange trees are meticulously potted in the greenhouse; and she exchanges cheery greetings with the lady neighbours walking their Labradors or mowing their lawns. But look more closely and clues to a more singular life emerge. Snapshots of rock royalty - George Harrison, Eric Clapton, Ronnie Wood, even Kate Moss - are displayed in the downstairs loo. A stone Buddha gazes serenely across the lawn toward the distant South Downs, while another plays peek-a-boo through a nook in a box-hedge. And Boyd herself - well, there's something in the way she moves. As she alights from her black Saab (she's just returned from a Pilates class) you're struck by her limber physique, her rock-grand-dame outfit - all layered-black and insouciantly knotted neckwear - and her cascade of mussed-up blonde hair. Then it strikes you: this is the no-way-is-she-62-year-old woman for whom three of rock's most enduring devotional tributes - The Beatles' "Something", Derek The Dominoes' "Layla", and Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight" - were written. She's passed into pop-culture legend. "I have led an exceptional life in some ways, yes," she says in clear, measured tones as we settle under an arbour. "I mean," she continues, widening her eyes, "I've been very lucky. I seem to have had a gift for landing in the right place at the right time." Boyd was one of the original 1960s "It Girls" - a cross between Kate Moss and Nicole Richie without the attendant substance abuse or dietetic drama. Embarking on a modelling career in her late teens, and serially shot by the likes of masters she refers to as "Bailey and Donovan", she was hired by director Dick Lester to star in promotional campaigns as the "Smith's Crisp Girl". When Lester went on to helm The Beatles' movie A Hard Day's Night, he cast her in less-a-cameo-more-a-miniature-role; however, her one line - "Are they looking for prisoners?" - was delivered in a schoolgirl's outfit, which brought her to the attention of George Harrison. The two were wed in 1966, in matching Mary Quant fur coats, and it was Boyd, and her growing interest in Eastern philosophy, that inspired The Beatles' subsequent exploration of transcendental meditation and 1968 visit to the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's Indian ashram. Harrison and Boyd divorced in 1977, blaming "divergent interests", and Eric Clapton, who had long carried a torch for Boyd - his "Layla" the ultimate paean to their unrequited love - stepped in. They married two years later, and Boyd was with Clapton through his alcohol and heroin addiction, before they split at the end of the 1980s. The two are still friends; Boyd also remained close to Harrison until his death in 2001. Boyd has documented these happenings with what she calls "my little snaps" since the late 1960s. Now, an exhibition of some 50 of her photographs is due to open at London's Proud Galleries, and provides an intimate look at some epoch-making lives and times, seen through the eyes of an ultimate insider. There's a barefoot George, John and Paul, hanging out and zoning out; Eric, doggedly plucking at his guitar or posing in what looks like a Bentley/ T42 tank hybrid; mellow Indian and Caribbean landscapes, with passing natives and kneeling camels; and Patti herself, looking like Gwyneth Paltrow's guileless younger sister. Boyd may have learnt about photography before the lenses of the classic 1960s portraitists, but her own work aspires to the ingenuous quality of Doisneau or Cartier-Bresson. "None of the photos are 'staged' as such," she says. "I just snapped when I thought the time or the light was right. I like their unself-conscious quality; I never felt I was creating a historical archive." She glances over at the impassive Buddha. "I didn't keep a diary in those days, so the pictures form a sort of record, I suppose. They'd all been in boxes and (omega) cupboards for decades until I had my first exhibition in San Francisco last year. Up to then, I thought I might only have three or four of interest." She grins. "I was as surprised as anyone at what I found." Nevertheless, Boyd professes herself nervous at the prospect of the London show, not only because her life will be writ large on the walls, but also at the judgment of her peers. "I mean, photography is my job now," she stresses. "When Eric and I split up, I knew that I had to do something to make some money, so I did a serious photography course and actively tried to find work. Today, I shoot for magazines and I'm commissioned to do portraits for friends." This has included a 1990s collaboration with Rolling Stone Ronnie Wood;
