If somebody wants a picture right away, Greg feels he is forced to use a digital camera. But if he goes off to take pictures for himself, he prefers to load 400 ISO black and white 120 film into his twin-lens Rollei and use it with a tripod and cable release.
Greg McIntyre (15 June 1943 – 28 July 2018)
Aside from Greg’s personal life – the story of his birth, marriage and work life, and his parents, sister and brothers, wife and children — his biography is a chronology of his lifelong association with tennis, basketball and cameras.
He’s not really a photographer. He’s a camera nut. Which is OK because if you ask some painters what they like about painting, they say paint.
Greg will tell you his life began when he was in elementary school and walking along 41st Avenue in Kerrisdale in Vancouver with his mother, and there in the window of Jay’s Pharmacy was a brand new Kodak Hawkeye camera. Christmas was coming or maybe his birthday, he’s not sure which, and his Mum said, “Would you like a camera for Christmas/your birthday?”
A light went on in his little heart that has glowed brighter with every passing Christmas or birthday. His mother said something like, “It would be nice to have someone in the family to take pictures on special occasions such as Christmas and birthdays, when everyone’s all dressed up and looking nice.”
Greg had his life’s mission, at least the one that mattered the most to him.
It became even clearer when he and his Mum were again walking past the same store display window before his next Christmas/birthday and there was a brand new Ansco developing kit.
His mother asked him if he’d like to develop his own pictures and, of course, you know the answer. He still has a black and white film darkroom to this day.
Although never much of an athlete, Greg has always been a sports nut. His mentor is Woody Allen, who also loved to play basketball and probably also played tennis because anyone can play tennis. Greg’s Mum gave him a tennis racquet at an early age and he discovered basketball with the help of a schoolmate in Grade 9.
So that’s 70-year-old Greg McIntyre.
But he wasn’t always a McIntyre.
He started life as a Webb, was adopted at birth, spent his formative years as a Hockin and only became a McIntyre in his last years of high school.
He had three fathers – all now deceased — none of whom really knew him or took much interest in his life. Greg thinks that’s the perfect formula for the newspaper reporter/photographer, loner, sports nut that he became.
