My wife Marie and I were born in the 1950s in the Czech part of the country then known as Socialist Czechoslovakia. Neither of us had ever owned a camera there, but we were both artistically inclined. While studying mathematics, Marie was also interested in and practised visual arts.
My world, in the meantime, revolved around three interests: animals, music and writing. While working in a zoo, I studied an applied science course in exotic animals’ husbandry. My first song was published when I was 17 and my first short story when I was 18.
However, the brief period of a relative political and expressional freedom abruptly ended with the occupation of Czechoslovakia by the Soviet Union and it did not take long before all my songs and everything I had ever written, no matter how well meant, naïve, or innocent, was banned there.
So, we quit the country by running away from a well-guarded organised tour to Yugoslavia then fled at night through the mountains to Austria, where we were granted political asylum. We got married in a refugee camp and after 11 months of waiting departed for Australia.
A new home
We arrived in Sydney in 1978. From our first trips to the Blue Mountains where we saw our first wild possums, brush-turkeys (Alectura lathami) and sugar gliders (Petaurus breviceps) gliding between tall eucalypt trees, we were absolutely enchanted by the Australian bush and longed to photograph what we saw.
We saved for our first camera, a few reference books and a car. We then left our jobs and took to the road to circumnavigate Australia. We travelled from one national park to the next, photographing everything we were able to catch a glimpse of.
After two and a half years on the road, spent mostly in the drier parts north of the Tropic of Capricorn, we were heading to Perth. We arrived quite late and knowing that it’s best not to enter a city at night, we pitched our little tent somewhere north of Bullsbrook. When we woke up the next morning, we were surrounded by kangaroo paws and other wildflowers, and everything was covered in dew. We felt like we had woken up in paradise and there-and-then we realised that we had found our new home. Years later, we got confirmation that it was a good decision, when a photograph I took on that memorable morning of a kangaroo paw ended up on a $5.00 Australian stamp.
At the time when I approached LANDSCOPE, I was working in the Perth Zoo nocturnal house. I loved my job there, but I was already restless to establish myself as a photographer. I had an occasional photograph published here and there and I also wrote articles, which we submitted to various magazines accompanied by our pictures.
The breakthrough came after I wrote an account about how I took the first photographs of the monjon (Petrogale burbidgei), a small rock-wallaby that had never before been photographed. My article titled ‘Night Drummer on Centre Stage’ was not just accepted and published, but the subscribers of the GEO Magazine voted it the best feature article of the year.
After that, and after our first photography assignment for LANDSCOPE, we thought that we should no longer procrastinate. Our last doubts were assuaged when a veteran freelancer consoled us by saying “Don’t worry what the future brings; starvation is the greatest motivator,” so we quit our jobs for the second and the last time.
a new business
In the early days it wasn’t always a smooth ride, but fortunately we never needed to be motivated by lack of food. As we slowly expanded our clientele it got better and better. Then one day a client requested a range of underwater photographs, which we did not have, so we recruited several underwater photographers and thus the photographic agency Lochman Transparencies was born.
It was a pivotal moment for us, but it was a tricky one. We did not want to lose any clients and at the same time we did not want to become mere administrators. We longed to be in the bush photographing wildlife, and the business was not yet strong enough to employ a librarian. But we somehow managed to balance the two.
For part of every year we lived our dream, exploring the natural wonders of Australia. After a hike to Prince Regent River Nature Reserve on assignment to photograph the book North-West Bound, we were inextricably drawn to Kimberley.
We realised how exceptionally stunning this part of WA is, but we also understood that it remained one of the greatest wildernesses on Earth thanks to its taxing climate and often impassably rugged terrain. But we were ready for the challenge. We made numerous hikes to the Kimberley wilderness, the longest one 21 days away from our vehicle. On that occasion, a tour guide noticed our car hidden among the bushes and when he returned with the next tour and found it still there, he alerted the Derby Police thinking that we must have been lost. Fortunately, the Derby Police had been made aware of what we were doing, so there was no search.
At that time, the Kimberley was still teeming with wildlife, including our favourite animal the cheeky northern quoll (Dasyurus hallucatus), which was another reason why we kept returning. Our first encounter with the northern quoll happened on Cape York Peninsula in Queensland in 1980 during our initial around-Australia trip.
Our little, canvas-covered Daihatsu had neither openable windows, nor air conditioning, but it had a little opening under the windscreen that allowed fresh air in during driving. One night we were woken by a racket as a quoll was trying to drag a chicken, which we had bought the previous afternoon, through that slit. The quoll was small enough to get in, but the slit was too narrow for the chook.
A new challenge
The back page of early issues of LANDSCOPE was dedicated to wildlife photographs under the heading ‘Looking Back’. The first issue was published with an appeal to readers: ‘Looking Back is the place for your photographs of Western Australian wildlife.’
We rose to the challenge and organised a presentation of our work to the LANDSCOPE staff. Thus began our relationship with several generations of editors and design artists spanning the entire 40 years of the printed LANDSCOPE lifespan.
During this time, we had photographs in every issue of LANDSCOPE save for the three in the first volume; altogether 2212 photographs taken by one of us. We have also contributed 960 photographs taken by other photographers on whose behalf we acted as agents.
Among the many highlights of our careers was receiving the coveted Australian Geographic Award for Excellence in Photography. In the Australian Geographic they wrote ‘what was a loss for Czechoslovakia was definitely a gain for Australia’.