A photographer's ancient longhouse in the Welsh hills
'I came here through ridiculous, romantic visions of being Robert Plant from Led Zeppelin on a misty hilltop, with a lurcher, music drifting out of the house, a glass of wine and a roll-up,' says photographer Julian Broad. We are discussing why, 20 years ago, he swapped his infinitely practical, two-storey loft on Old Street, EC1, for a 580-year-old longhouse on a remote hillside in Mid Wales. 'I was thrilled by the awkwardness of this place,' he explains, referring to the fact that it is miles from a main road and 10 minutes along a bumpy track to even a minor one. ‘All the decisions I’ve made throughout my life have come from the heart rather than anything practical.'
Firework content
This content can also be viewed on the site it originates from.
Julian's trajectory to becoming one of Britain's best portrait photographers was similarly driven by instinct. Not particularly academic, he discovered photography through a course at secondary school in the late 1970s. He left education at 16 and, unsure what to do, ended up assisting a London photographer. At 19, another assistant introduced him to Lord Snowdon, with whom he worked for two 'extraordinary' years. 'What I took from him was the relentless need to inhale what's around you', he says, recalling his second interview, when he was asked to close his eyes and describe his surroundings in minute detail.
Aged 23, Julian set up on his own and landed a regular gig for Pins and Needles magazine, shooting before and afters of readers' makeovers. 'I took every opportunity that came my way,' he recalls. Soon came commissions from cult magazines like The Face, Arena and Blitz, as well as Harpers & Queen, Vogue and Vanity Fair. The rest, as they say, is history. The National Portrait Gallery collects his work and he has photographed just about everyone, from Bruce Springsteen to Radiohead.
Wales came into the equation about 25 years ago. For the decade prior to that, Julian had been living on and off in New York, but on his trips back to the UK, he had started going to Mid Wales with friends, where they would ride dirt bikes across the hills. 'One day I thought, why don't I sell my investment property in London and buy a pile of stones in Wales that will go up by about £3.50 every three years?' he recalls. 'It felt like a genius idea,' he adds with a wry smile.
After a couple of other house viewings, Julian saw this one in the pouring rain and was lured in by the extraordinary views and big skies: 'I didn't really think it through, but the friend I'd brought with me was very enthusiastic and I decided this was the one. I had the sense that it would be a restorative place.'
The cruck-framed longhouse was in relatively good condition. Largely one room deep, it originally would have been three-quarters barn, with just one end given over to living space. By the time Julian came to it, the barn had been incorporated into the house, so it functioned as one long space. He decided to leave the layout the same. The ground floor consists of a boot room, kitchen, sitting room, music room and Julian's chipboard-lined studio. There is a staircase at each end, one leading up to the main bedroom and bathroom and the other to two spare rooms, a bathroom and his all-important darkroom.
Julian's aim was to strip out modern additions, removing shower rooms that had been added into what seemed like every corner during the house's tenure as a B&B, and ripping out plasterboard and floors to expose the house's original fabric. 'It was about pulling it all back,' says Julian, whose happiest discovery was the beautiful 700-year-old oak panels, believed to come originally from a ship, in the sitting room. One of his few concessions to modern life was the installation of central heating. 'I put it in about 14 years ago, after I met my partner Caroline and it has transformed the place,' he is happy to admit.
The interior is simple and, just like every other element of Julian's life, comes from the heart. 'It all has a significance,' he says. There is the wooden board, once a tabletop, installed above the cooker in the kitchen and carved with the names of everyone who visits the house. 'I was at a school for a shoot for designer Paul Smith and they were chucking it out,' he says.
Then there is the galvanised red fire bucket in the en-suite bathroom, which he liberated from outside Condé Nast's old headquarters. 'I'd seen it in the car park when I was working on a story with [Vogue contributing editor] Robin Muir to document the final few months at Vogue House and just loved it,' recalls Julian. After Condé Nast moved out of the building; he happened to see it outside the revolving doors, where it was being used by the builders as an ashtray. It was just going to end up getting thrown away, so I popped it on my bike handlebars and brought the stinky bucket back to Wales with me on the train,' he says with a grin. 'It's a great memory of Vogue House, which has been so significant in my life.'
Even the yellow walls of the kitchen – one of the few rooms to be painted in a colour – have their roots in a shoot, after Julian saw the yellow walls of Ben Pentreath and Charlie McCormick's kitchen in their former home in Dorset while photographing Charlie for Upstate Diary magazine. 'I thought it was the perfect colour for my own kitchen,' he says.
Equally cheering is the grassy green of the outside of the window frames: 'We spent a long time trying to find the right colour and, in the end, we based it on one we saw on a 1940s paint chart we came across in a shop in Hay-on-Wye. It's a nice shade in the winter.' The house provides both Julian and Caroline with a great sense of peace. For Caroline, it comes from the garden, which she has planted up naturalistically so that it flows seamlessly into the landscape. 'What's amazing is that I can be thinking about schedules, but it's all OK because I'm here,' says Julian. 'It's an incredibly healing place.'