Kevin Rice describes what you are seeing over these pages as “a barn find”, and it’s hard to disagree. The man who took these images, Charles Strickland Laird, was a government employee, but he was also an artist.

Laird’s bid to make it as a photographer, lasting from 1969 to ’71, resulted in just two shots sold – both to Car and Driver magazine. His photography was simply too artistic to be of use to the black-and-white publications of the day. So it remained stored away until his death in 2021 at the age of 79. The pictures were bequeathed to Velia Wortman, who together with Thomas Lechner – also a friend of Laird’s, connected with Rice through a mutual friend. When Rice, a Germany-based Briton, was shown them, he could hardly believe what he was seeing. The result, with the blessing of Wortman, was an 18-month project to produce the most beautiful of hand-made books, When Gods Wore Nomex, which is available to order now.

If you know your stuff about the road car industry, then Rice’s name will be familiar. His route through the profession resulted in his appointment as head of design of Mazda Europe – he also played a large part in the Mazda Central Sculpture at the 2015 Goodwood Festival of Speed. He then became chief creative officer at the famed Pininfarina styling house, but of late has switched to working as a consultant, “which means I’ve got some flexibility to take on some projects like this!”

Rice has always had a penchant for the sporting side of things. “It’s the excitement of competition where wheels are concerned, whether bicycles or cars, that’s in-bred,” he professes. “There was always a parallel look to see if I could make a career in motor sport. Once [in 1999/2000] it almost worked and I came close to setting up a team in the German Formula 3 Championship with a manufacturer that wanted to come in and break the deadlock [primarily of Opel]. As with all these things, money talks and my wife at the time knocked some sense into me. And I was team manager at the 2000 Spa 24 Hours by default – so I’ve always been connected to the racing world.”

Laird, meanwhile, had gone back to his government work, leaving his archive of photography to gather dust. Humdrum as this may sound, he led a colourful life. His remuneration was sufficient for him to drive around in a Porsche 911, collect exotic red wines, accumulate no fewer than four marriages and import top-end Italian bicycles, upon which he competed enthusiastically. His death, five years ago, came while trying to achieve 70mph riding downhill on his bike.

“His approach to life, in a way, was like a lot of the drivers he photographed,” muses Rice. “They mucked about a bit, and lived every day as if it was going to be their last. It was the amazing pleasure of doing something that excited you, and Charlie never lost that.”

Four years or so later, the images were viewed by Rice: “A friend of mine knows Thomas [Lechner] and put me in touch with him. Thomas isn’t a great racing aficionado, and asked me, ‘What do you think of them?’ I said, ‘These are unreal! How have they never seen the light of day?’ It became my mission then to show them to the world.

“When I saw the negatives and slides, it was, ‘OK, I’d really have to do what friends have done with exhibitions, and try to keep everything with the same proportions as the originals.’ But the trouble is, in a book, if you have a number of different photographs on one page it doesn’t do justice to them, and if we do a double spread that doesn’t work. I wanted to give every picture centre stage – as if every one was the lead singer.”

The result is a work of art. It befits a guy who has spent his working life in design and styling, but there is plenty of substance to go with it. Rice knew that the standard UK maximum of 30cm page widths for binding would not “maintain the authenticity of what Charlie saw”. He needed the 33.5cm x 28.5cm pages featured in When Gods Wore Nomex, so went to Blissetts – very close to the Sky studios in Brentford: “They are a craft bindery, bespoke company, with a previous appointment to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. I felt in good hands with them.”

“I wanted this to be a Dr Who thing – time-travelling back to when you were a kid”

On top of this, Rice – fractionally too young to be aware of the sport from the period when Laird was photographing it – wanted extra flourishes: “I was looking at the photos and was fascinated by the Matra that’s got a Ferrari rev counter on it – and you can see the chassis plate. I thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to do a metal chassis plate inside the book?’ Blissetts had never done that, but they found a way. I researched the chassis plates of the time and picked up on the McLaren design – so it’s a copy of that and that’s credited in the book.”

These plates are made with period tooling: “I have a friend whose hobby is restoring Ferraris and he has the tools from the 1960s that his dad used. I wanted this to be a Dr Who thing – time-travelling back to when you were a kid and thinking, ‘Oh God, I remember that!’ It’s a bit like a Tardis in that sense.”

Initially, just 25 copies – ‘chassis’ numbers 001 to 025 – are available of this weighty artefact, printed over 240 smooth, satin 170gm pages, housed in a Solander box and with an introduction by Derek Bell. A last and final limited edition follows with chassis 026 to 050. There has been interest from publishing houses, but Rice is keeping this as an independent enterprise. Go to whengodsworenomex.com for more info.

“They were special creatures, these men,” muses Rice, who is extremely grateful to Adam Tyrrell, grandson of Ken, for making the Tyrrell 001 – featured in this book in the hands of Jackie Stewart – available for the promotional video. “What does a person do to avoid the fear, when the circuit owners don’t want to do updates, when you never know who’s earning what starting money? It was very inhuman on a certain level, but the families all travelled together and looked after each other. It’s a world so foreign compared to today.”