For most, a trip to the dentist is the low point of the week; for Pete Doherty, it put him on the road from frustrated amateur boxer to multi-award winning artist. Like his boxing, Pete thought his photography was pretty good. Unlike his boxing, he got his shot to prove it. Someone looked out for him. Someone made him a contender.

Currently, Pete has an exhibit that runs to Saturday, March 20 at Gallery 44 in the 401 Richmond building (401 Richmond St. W.) in downtown Toronto. Not only are the photos excellent, but the building itself is worth a visit. It’s a textbook success in re-imagining an old factory as a vibrant, downtown artistic space. Populated by artists, artisans and galleries of many stripes, there’s something for everyone and likely everything for a particular someone (or two).

Like many artists, it started early for Pete. “As a kid, it’s all I wanted to do: take pictures,” he recalls. “Pictures of friends, pictures of family… It proved you were there and knew these people at that time and it was important to you. Holding a memory in your hand. That was magical as a kid. To me, it still is.”

The natural step after high school was The Ontario College of Art and Design. Upon graduation, however, reality bit and photography slowly took a back seat to amassing work-hours at the blue-collar physical labour he still enjoys to this day and, in the tradition of twenty-somethings, sorting out the man he wanted to become. “I don’t know, it was a strange time. I needed something to change and did it by giving away my camera and throwing out my prints and negatives.”

The place Pete found himself, literally and figuratively, was a boxing gym. “It took me awhile to work up the nerve to go,” he admits. “But when I asked myself what was stopping me, I knew it wasn’t being afraid of getting hurt, it was being afraid of making a fool of myself. I finally figured that’s something I do every second day, so what did I really have to lose? Walking up the stairs to the gym was the best thing I ever did. I loved it immediately.”

Like most who take up boxing, it began as a challenge to himself: to do something he wasn’t sure he could do, something he knew would require time, hard work and some pain. And, it turned out, a lot of shiners. “When I started showing up at work with black eyes guys started to notice. One asked a friend of mine what was up. He told him I had a three hundred pound wife that didn’t like me coming home late.”

That anecdote hints at the other reason Pete fell in love with boxing: the people. Sit with him for more than five minutes to talk boxing and you’ll hear the phrase “he’s a great guy” a half dozen times. Contrary to the sport’s image, Pete insists, he found almost nothing but excellent camaraderie, respectful sparring partners – including world champion Billy Irwin – and wise, caring coaches. Even as an awkward raw rookie, when a trainer took advantage of him during pad-work (“he gave me two black eyes doing pads; how did I get bruised up hitting pads?”), the notorious Toronto tough-guy pro Jimmy Gradson immediately stuck up for him and set the would-be bully straight. “That’ll always stick with me. A seasoned guy like Jimmy doing something like that just because it was right, because he didn’t like what he saw. Things like that are important. I’ll never forget that.”

Pete’s full of such stories: the first time he was completely discombobulated (“I don’t know what the medical term is, but my coach just called it ‘being on Queer Street’. Your leg just doesn’t work; you feel fine, but can’t walk. You’re far from fine. Like Judah in the Tszyu fight, I guess.”); when Billy Irwin sent Pete a-flight then took it easy on him when he got up and cleared his head quickly (“He knocked me clear across the ring. I’m not kidding; I got up in the other corner. He knocked me across the ring, but not all the way to Queer Street, at least.”); when his coach told him, after sending him to a doctor that recommended he take a break from sparring and get a CAT-scan, “I don't care if you're still a fighter, I only care that you're a man and you are.” Again, Pete tacked on the end of that story: “That was important to me. I’ll never forget that.”

But like many pros, even a provincial-level amateur in Ontario met with one of the great frustrations of the sport: getting the right fights. At his best fighting weight of 106 lbs., he just couldn’t find enough opponents in his Intermediate-level class to keep competition-busy nor amass the experience to jump to Open class. Eventually, the frustration of constant training and mentally preparing himself for tournament fights only to walk away without an opponent took its toll, as did the black eyes and brain-rattles of constantly sparring bigger and stronger opponents. It was about this time that his mother, always looking for a way to convince him to move on from boxing, bought him a camera as birthday present. First loves die hard and Pete warmed to the old flame.

He began taking the camera to the gym, as he spent so much time there. He knew he couldn’t put the focus on his training necessary to stay competition-ready so he shifted that focus to in-gym photography while still training for the enjoyment of it. And then came the trip to the dentist.

His dentist happened to be Ken Montague, a well-known photography collector and curator of Wedge Gallery. And, it happened, a boxing fan that chatted with Pete about their shared interest. When Pete noticed a call for artwork in the dental office newsletter, he thought Ken was looking for new Wedge Gallery material so put a makeshift portfolio together and presented it. In fact, the newsletter was a call for office art, for which Pete’s boxing photography was decidedly inappropriate. But Ken was so impressed as to refer Pete to Steven Bulger, who Toronto Life calls "Canada's most important force in fine art photography". Pete’s talent, work ethic and his mentors’ support took care of the rest.

“I’ve been so lucky,” Pete smiles and shakes his head at the serendipity. “Ken’s been a great supporter and Steven’s been unbelievably generous. I really received my full technical education through Bulger Gallery. And now I get to combine the two things I love and get a really good sense of accomplishment out of it. I’m just glad Ken didn’t say ‘office art’ in the newsletter.”

When pushed about that sense of accomplishment from the photography, Pete doesn’t speak to the awards or the accolades at exhibit openings, he refers to the people he photographs. When his competitive days were winding down and he lamented to his coach how he wished he’d done more with them, the reply that still sticks with him was: “You've fought and you tried for many years, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Guys you’ve fought are now known pros and you do great things with your pictures. A guy who has grown up in foster homes, with nobody there for him, it does a lot for someone like that when you take his picture and give it to him.” Things like that are important. Maybe, that kid will never forget it.

“Save Me, Joe Louis” runs at Gallery 44, 401 Richmond St. W., Suite 120, Toronto until Saturday, March 20.
Pete Doherty’s portfolio at Steven Bulger Gallery
Info on Gallery 44
Info on 401 Richmond building

If you wish to contact the author of this article, email Dave Medd.