BRING THE PAINT
The award-winning ‘Bring The Paint’ International Street Art Festival was established in 2017 by Graffwerk. As far as I am aware, it only happens in Leicester in the UK every two years. This fun and immersive event includes live artworks, skateboarding, breakdancing, BMX, live music and exhibitions. Artists from all over the world come together to showcase an impressive artistic talent, which also inspires other creative activities around the City of Leicester.
All the images in this montage were taken in 2022 on a Rolleiflex 3.5f using Lomography Metropilis 120 film, donated by Lomography, at a street photography walk with good friends from Leicester Lo-Fi. One image (the portrait in blue) was taken with Fuji Provia. Leicester Lo-Fi promotes fine art and traditional photographic processes, through the provision of specialist knowledge and facilities, education and exhibitions and shared know-how. The Rolleiflex camera of course has a fixed lens and the artworks are installed at various heights, some with huge scale and installed at a distance, which precludes a fixed lens with no zoom capability. My images are therefore limited to those taken at ground level. It is always a thoroughly enjoyable day and hopefully there will be a similar event in 2026, and something special promised for 2027, the Festival’s 10th Anniversary.
ANSTRUTHER HARBOUR
I recently enjoyed a short visit to the popular seaside village of Anstruther, whilst staying in Edinburgh. The pretty harbour is located in the East Neuk of Fife, on the east coast of Scotland. It is situated roughly 10 miles south of St. Andrews and directly opposite North Berwick, across the Firth of Forth in East Lothian.
I came to visit the small harbour, which apparently was once home to Scotland’s main fishing fleet. These days, Anstruther harbour has more pleasure boats than fishing boats. Either side of the old harbour walls are little beaches, which are only visible to those who explore beyond the marina.
My visit was during a very busy day in August when Anstruther was teeming with crowds of tourists and coach parties. The weather was erratic with biblical downpours interspersed with amazing flashes of sunlight. The contrasting light made the decision to process the photographs in black and white easy.
All images were taken with my Canon R6 and a Canon 50mm EF 1.2 L lens, handheld
AM I MY BROTHER'S KEEPER?
Reflecting on a recent morning spent in Ely Cathedral, visiting an emotive installation of sculptures in an extraordinary setting.
Sculptures by Sean Henry were on display this year ’2024’ in a four-month exhibition at Ely Cathedral, Cambridgeshire, called "Am I My Brother's Keeper?"
The exhibition ran until September 1st. The 28 works on show were curated by visual arts advisor Jacquiline Creswell.
I found the sculptures to be simultaneously breathtaking and slightly unsettling in their almost human-like appearance. As for the question “Am I my brother’s keeper?
For me, on a personal level, it encouraged me to question my own moral responsibility towards others. This also started a reflective process within me about the way mankind has sadly lost its way. Whilst studying the sculptures with a view to create a photograph, the very act of looking closely at them seemed to increase my awareness of the importance in understanding and empathy for one another. Being In a holy space certainly prompted visitors to start discussions about their own thoughts about compassion, empathy and creating a better world.
Art historian Tom Flynn says of Sean's work "Through vigorously expressive modelling and changes in scale Henry imbues his figures with a powerful psychological presence. His figures confound the historical expectation of figurative monuments, in that they bring an emotional charge that engages rather than belittles the viewer. They do not glorify individuals but reflect the striving for connection within humanity, something that is reinforced by the responses people have to his work”
COPYRIGHT © 2024 SEAN HENRY
DUNGENESS BEACH
Dungeness Beach is located on the Kent coast and has to be one of the oddest places on the English coastline that I have visited. Dungeness I suppose is a shared community; there are people who still live in the strange huts and shacks close to the location of two nuclear power stations and the beach. It is classed as an important ecological site and also the UK's only designated ‘desert’ according to the Met Office. Here you will see shingle and pebble beaches, stark beauty and unique eco systems.
The shoreline at Dungeness is scattered with a few remaining working boats but also a number of abandoned fishing boats which are in various states of decay and have in the main gradually fallen apart over the years. It has all the ingredients to make it a perfect location for a day's photography.
On getting out of my car, I was told almost immediately by a resident in one of the old shacks that in the last three years several of the redundant railway carriages and huts on the beach have been gentrified - very few of the relics remain, most having been dismantled and skipped. I haven’t photographed the dwellings that are obviously still occupied today.
The cottages converted from the old carriages are a reminder that the old Southern Railway used to operate in this area. But what does still exist today is the Romney Hythe & Dymchurch Railway, also called “Kent’s Mainline in Miniature”. The world famous one-third full size steam & diesel locomotives have powered their way along 13½ miles of track from the Cinque Port town of Hythe terminating in Dungeness since 1928.
It was a stunningly beautiful day, particularly for black and white photography. It started with vibrant blue skies and fluffy white clouds that would rapidly change into moody black skies with incredible flashes of fleeting sunlight. It made for some nice contrasty images in this most unusual desert between the sea and the land.
Petrichor
In recent years I have really come to love our British landscape. Not just for photography, but for its healing powers. It never fails to lift me, even with its fickle weather and the challenges of occasionally experiencing four seasons in one day. The countryside - even with inclement weather - has become almost a medicine for me, and I know there are many others that feel the same way. It helps to heal the mind and soul when we are feeling overwhelmed by the madness in the world and our busy lives.
But, I do wish we didn’t have so much rain! Since the latter part of 2023 until now (03-24), the forecast for rain has been omni-present in the UK. But rain has never stopped me from getting out into the open spaces which I crave. I actually enjoy walking in the rain and taking pictures in the rain.
On a recent trip to the South Downs just above North Lancing, I felt the need to get out and shoot some frames. I wanted some quiet time with breathing space and it really didn’t matter to me that the wind was blowing a hooley and squally rain was hitting me face on. So off I went with a camera and one lens in a rucksack.
Petrichor is that wonderful smell of rain accompanied with the wind on your face which is so invigorating and makes you feel alive. It was the senses that urged me to go onto the Downs. I wasn’t alone though, because as I wandered I discovered there was just one soul in sight, a chap ploughing his farms’ fields. So out came the camera and these are some of the images I took. I enjoyed the layers upon layers, the tones and the play of light and shade. All thanks to the weather and one man’s very hard work on the land.
OUT WITH THE OLD, IN WITH THE NEW
If it is possible for a traditional English seafront to be both a little scary yet incredibly beautiful at the same time, then New Year’s Eve 2023 at Worthing was that day.
Just wandering with camera in hand, at a safe distance from the pounding waves, I was fortunate enough to witness one of those dramatic weather events which produce a huge swell with cloud formations and fleeting light which are a joy to behold.
In a strangely comforting way, Mother Nature is displaying to us that she is the boss ……. always has been and always will be. Thank you to the Gods for an exhilarating end to the old year. ‘Welcome’ 2024!
A WALK THROUGH BORROWDALE
In an age where we are consumed by ‘tech’, switching it all off has become one of the best ways to begin to reconnect with the outside world. Landscape Photographers may be one of the last groups to catch on to this notion, driven instead by the overwhelming presence of social media and the bombardment of images of every photogenic, accessible location to shoot. The internet is enticing an exponentially growing number of Photographers - and the wider public – outdoors where they chase photos of the latest trending location, often placing themselves in that ‘now’ location.
Spending time outdoors has been scientifically shown to improve our mental health and well-being and yet it’s rare for some of us to slow down enough to properly look, listen and appreciate the small wonders in nature, the beautiful details. In the hurry, there is a risk that the art of trying to create original and artful photographic images with sensitivity, passion and soul could be missed.
The lockdowns in 2020 reaffirmed the benefits of getting closer to nature. As soon as opportunities to visit our wild spaces opened up again, it was clear that Britain as a nation had rekindled its love for the great outdoors. From that spark, more of us have returned to nature to relieve the stresses of day-to-day life. Those who now have a desire for space and fresh air are filling the cities’ parks and commons and partaking in picnic lunches. Country lanes are brimming with cyclists and runners. Walkers are wandering further and climbing higher. Photographers, guided by the internet to every known beauty spot, seem to arrive earlier and in greater numbers. National Parks are busy with people who may be questioning why they hadn’t explored these places before. It seems crazy to me that so many people have only come to this realisation now. We should all have learned the benefits that nature can bring to our daily lives long before our freedoms became restricted.
And so it was, that when I had the opportunity to spend a few days in Borrowdale recently, I resisted the urge to drive quickly from location to location to ‘bag’ the big picture. Instead, I walked through the landscape searching for the small details that held my gaze, reassured me and helped me to breathe. Here are a small sample of the images I made as I wandered, delighting in each fragment of the landscape for its intrinsic value in nature as a part of the whole. The photographs I took are not show-stoppers, but they are for me heart warmers. I enjoyed recording the countryside, the little pockets of loveliness that you don’t necessarily know are there until you turn away from the obvious. I hope you enjoy looking at my pictures ….. slowly ……
BETWEEN TWO PIERS
The West Pier is Grade I listed, the only Pier to be so, and is historically, architecturally and scientifically unique. By the beginning of the 20th century, the earlier priority of good sea air on the Pier had been replaced with a desire for public entertainment. The West Pier, favoured by locals, was competing with the new Palace Pier which was more frequently visited by the increasing numbers of day-trippers. Inevitably, the West Pier was completely shut in 1975 and since then its decline, compounded by neglect, fire, storms and some partial dismantling in the interests of safety, has brought to it the sad appearance of a ravaged beauty. There are now hopes and plans afoot so that it might be preserved or even restored, which would be deserving of this statement of faded antiquity.
The Palace Pier is Grade ll listed and with its attractive oriental dome and delicate filigree ironwork arches, it is widely considered to be the finest Pier ever built. Visitors to the only remaining Pier in Brighton came at first for the theatre, to see emerging talents such as Stan Laurel and Charlie Chaplain before they migrated to the US. They now visit for the fairground rides and amusements.
The Pier has featured regularly in British popular culture, including the gangster thriller, Brighton Rock, and the Who’s concept album and film Quadrophenia. Indeed, the Piers were fundamental to the unique vibe in Brighton today. Brighton is now renowned for its diverse communities, quirky shopping areas, large and vibrant music and arts scene and its large LGBT population. It is regarded as one of the most cultural cities in Europe, oozing creativity and cultural kudos. Personally, I am drawn to its iconic seaside, bohemian atmosphere, eco-friendly spirit and the eclectic mix of individuals enjoying the “outdoorsy” lifestyle.
These photographs were all taken in one morning recently when I was strolling along the short stretch of shingle beach between the two Piers, which I enjoyed very much. I will, however, pass on the yoga and falafel, thank you :)
Sheep Shearing
The lambing season is behind us and we are in mid-summer. My resourceful and amenable neighbours have again allowed me to photograph more of the hard work that they put in to maintaining the health of the sheep that they keep on their smallholding.
I have learned from my neighbours that a characteristic of the Charollais sheep breed is that they should have a good quality fleece; dense but not too long or open. It should be complete over the body without breaks but not extending down the legs or over the head. Apparently, sheep didn't always need to be sheared; it is people that have bred domestic sheep to produce excess wool.
Historically, wool was an important fibre, which is renewable and compostable. These days sheep aren’t sheared only for financial reasons as the fleeces don’t have the same value, although wool prices have improved in recent years. Unfortunately, the beautiful, natural yarn has to compete with modern synthetic fibres and is now almost a luxury or niche product. It is likely that it would cost more to get a shearer to clip a small flock of sheep than you would get from the sale of the fleeces.
However, shearing must be carried out whether it is profitable or not. The practice is vital so that the ewes do not overheat in summer. Most sheep don't seem enjoy the shearing process itself, but it is necessary. Without shearing they would have greatly decreased mobility and be at a higher risk of becoming ‘rigged’ or stuck on their backs, making them vulnerable to predators. They will almost certainly also suffer with fly-strike and other parasitic infestation and disease.
It is best that the shearer is used to your breed, particularly if you have rare breeds. As a smallholder keeping just a few animals, it makes perfect sense to learn to do the job yourself, particularly when you consider that professional shearers will usually charge a minimum callout fee, which may push the cost of shearing a small flock beyond what is financially bearable. My friendly neighbours have many years of experience with their Charollais sheep and manage the whole process in house.
Thank you to Bob and Roger for always making me (and my camera) so welcome and for educating me in these matters.
ROCA GALLERY LONDON
On a recent overnight in London, we decided to stay just outside of the West End and get around on the tube trains (a chance to visit the new Elizabeth line too). Another great find was the unique Roca Gallery London in Fulham, an incredible water-inspired space which hosts cultural exhibitions and events within the areas of architecture, design and sustainability. When we visited we happened upon “Everything Flows: Zaha Hadid Design”, an exhibition celebrating the 10th anniversary of this sculptural space including products designed by the award-winning designer, Zaha Hadid.
Described when she was a Student as “a planet in her own orbit”, her legacy is extraordinary and I will definitely visit more of the Zaha Hadid Architects’ projects in the future if I get the chance, starting with the London Aquatics Centre in the Olympic Park.
Zaha also painted, whereas I attempt to make acceptable images with a camera. In the Gallery, I was inspired by the sinuous, fluid lines and shapes, the variety in the monochromatic tones and the unique materials and atmospheric lighting.
I hope these images give you a flavour of the space and the quality of just some of the items in the exhibition. I recommend you visit.
The reflections are of Ros and I - not quite Vivian Maier, but we were just having a bit of fun.
All images were taken on the Leica Q2.
Calke Abbey in mono
My previous set of images from Calke Abbey were taken last August. Under the heading ‘A Hidden House Revealed’, my last blog from this National Trust treasure included photographs of the ‘jumble’ which had accumulated over time in the various outbuildings. Last weekend I returned to Calke to explore the interior of the house itself. Of course I photographed the plethora of collectables within, but I did also observe the darkness necessary to preserve the hoarded objects. The drawn curtains and minimal lighting provided some interesting images of the visitors passing through the rooms and staircases, seemingly stepping out of the shadows.
Lambing Season
A smallholding is a residential property that is situated within its own land, which in size could be described as being more than a garden, but less than a farm. In the UK, a smallholding is generally regarded as being less than 50 acres. The smallholding idyll is a life of subsistence, upholding land-based skills and crafts and minimising the impact on the environment. In reality, for many the lifestyle is not so much about wood fired heating and cooking, natural spring water supplies and living off-grid but a kind of hybrid existence. In our small hamlet I have had the privilege to get to know a gentleman who has been living on his small estate since 1958. These days he keeps a flock of Charollais sheep. These are a large sized breed of domestic sheep developed in the early 1800’s in France. They are a meat sheep breed, legendary for easy lambing.
For the past four years I have been privy to the hard work and commitment that my neighbour puts in to producing beautiful lambs each year on his smallholding. As one who thankfully doesn’t get involved in the night shifts, the whole process is a joy.
Continuing the theme of setting myself projects close to home, it was fortunate that these friends and neighbours allowed me to photograph the work that they do in the lambing season.
A documentary style of photography is fast becoming my preferred photographic genre. Increasingly I find that a singular showstopper image falls short of telling the whole story.
I am so enamoured and impressed by what is achieved on this smallholding, in the 21st century, that I hope to continue to share more images with you as I follow their story through the seasons.
The shots for this blog were taken over a period of several days with a variety of cameras, ranging from an iPhone 6 (no, that is not an error!) to the Canon 5D Mk lV, a Leica Q2 and a Nikon FM2N (film camera).
From the arrival of the tups to the miracle of the birthing Ewes, the lambing season is now a highlight of the year for us. And the joy of watching the skipping and bleating lambs leave the pens and run out onto the grass with their mothers in late Spring is unsurpassed.
Winter Project
On the basis that everyone, not least photographers, have had to “make do” for so long now due to COVID restrictions, this winter I began a project which I had had in mind to do for some time. I am currently based in Northamptonshire, apparently the “county of Spires and Squires” and “the Rose of the Shires”. It’s a county renowned for its well treed and hedged arable landscape, but large infrastructure developments including the M1 and other principal roads have had a major influence on local landscape character and livelihoods. Regrettably, few of the features associated with the Northamptonshire landscape evoke strong images. There are no mountains or fells, tumbling becks or picturesque rivers. Classic landscape photography is not there for the taking necessarily, so you have to be more creative, particularly in the winter months.
Kelmarsh
Cold Ashby & Naseby woods
I’m an avid walker and have trekked along the roads and byways from my front door many times, and in all conditions. As I have rambled I’ve wondered if the wider landscape, which is generally perceived as tranquil, rural and productive farmland with attractive villages, could be presented in small, simple insights captured by one who knows the area intimately.
Rockingham Hill & Coton village
I began to build a collection of photographs of Northamptonshire, not taken in direct sunlight but in inclement conditions such as freezing fog, mist and drizzle. I found that obscuring the wider landscape drew attention back to the forms, shapes, contrast, lines, mood and temperament of this countryside, and it is quite beautiful.
Welford Canal
I shot from the car when conditions were particularly bad and took photographs in places you wouldn’t look at in normal circumstances, but staying within a 10 miles radius from home.
Disused airfield, RAF Husbands Bosworth
All of the locations are well known to me but the challenge was to create something aesthetically pleasing in the ‘wrong’ weather, and all with a fixed lens camera without tripods or a bag full of technical equipment. Ultimately I yearn for the mountains, but this search for unique images in my backyard has kept my brain working by looking hard for strong or atmospheric compositions.
Welford, Haselbech & Coton woods
Some of my local images have already been shared on my ‘socials’ but this is a work in progress, particularly since the winter weather is still with us and staying close to home is the new “getting out”. I miss the Lakes and Dales but to quote John Clare, the Northamptonshire peasant poet “All nature has a feeling: woods, fields, brooks”. There is art and design in all of nature – not least Northamptonshire.
Sibbertoft to Sulby road
December in the White Peak
We had been looking forward to being tourists in London in the weekend before Christmas. But Omicron looked like overwhelming the capital and so we decided instead to head properly outdoors, to a favourite spot in the White Peak. Hartington is a lovely backwater at almost any time of the year. But in December? Expecting not very much really, I left home without a tripod and all the normal photographic paraphernalia. I was still quietly hopeful that the predicted mists might produce a decent picture or two, albeit hand-held.
We made a pit stop in a fabulous Deli in Ashbourne and arrived in Hartington prepped for our favourite walk to the extant 19th century Staden Barns and on towards Wolfescote Dale. Here the characteristic dry-stone walls, constructed from local limestone, dominate the landscape with isolated stone barns often incorporated within the stone walls, forming a distinctive feature of the area. On this December afternoon, with the fog and drizzle, the atmosphere was palpable and I grabbed some lovely shots through the murk.
Having committed to staying in the village overnight, we now had the opportunity, as the light fell, to visit the disused Magpie Mine. A desolate place at the best of times, I enjoyed photographing the abandoned buildings and ephemera through the obscurity of the low light and now freezing fog.
Incredibly, as the sun rose the next morning there was a hard frost and the air was clear. We retraced our steps from the previous morning, with the lanes and barns now bathed in light and colour.
After breakfast we drove for 20 minutes to Stanton Moor with its megaliths, ancient barrows, sandstone pillars and dormant quarries. It was irresistible not to stop along the route to photograph the shards of sunlight striking through the thickening cloud which enlightened the trees and undergrowth in the small thickets close to the road.
On reaching Stanton Moor, we set off to walk among the mainly upland heathland to discover the Nine Ladies stone circle. I hoped to capture an image of this unique bronze age monument befitting of the legend and mystery of the place. I was pleased with the conditions which gently defused the backdrop to this unique location.
Happily, it had been possible to keep shooting from dawn to dusk all weekend and, when the time came, it was difficult to leave the White Peak. Until the next time.
A Rolleiflex Affair
For some time now I have found myself becoming more and more dissatisfied and frustrated with the digital process of photography. Some of it has been my own fault for allowing myself to be affected by social media content. There is also constant pressure from major camera manufacturers who brainwash us into believing that what we need is their new ‘game changing model’, which would often leave me thinking my camera was not good enough. But I had also become extremely stuck in a creative rut. First there was the ‘enlightenment’ of my photography degree, and the myriad of new influences, and then the isolation and inward looking effect that shielding for over a year (thanks to COVID-19) had on us all. I realised that I needed to change things, or I would probably give up photography completely.
As artists, we are instinctively drawn to a vision and a creative process. But it is the draw of something tangible, discernible by the touch, which satisfies a need in me - a deeper instinct - to produce a beautiful, physical finished piece of work. Attempting to be an artist, in whatever artform you choose, is defined by creative constraints. The skill or artistry is working with the constraints to create your idea or vision. A photographer’s decision to use a manual analogue/film camera, is a challenge. You have to imagine an idea and then create that photograph with no auto functions, limited options when choosing film and more options when developing the film. It requires a well-drilled and well-practiced workflow. It is certainly useful, if not important, to be able to see past the technical excellence and wizardry we get from a digital camera and computer combo, and the images they can produce together. It requires that you accept and embrace the constraints of film cameras and lenses and put them to use as creative tools for creating a different and unique aesthetic. Enter the Rolleiflex 3.5f …
I am now the proud owner of two manual medium format TLR Rolleiflex cameras that were both made between 1958 and 1961. They each have a fixed lens that is roughly equivalent to a full frame 50mm camera. They cannot take graduated filters, at least I don't think they can, but they are beautifully engineered which is something very rarely seen today. When they were purchased I had no idea how to use them. Having recently spent months researching current film photographers in the UK, I found Martin Henson’s wonderful work on his YouTube channel. He has also made several videos on using a Rolleiflex. So I contacted Martin and then spent a day with him.
https://www.martinhensonphotography.co.uk
https://www.instagram.com/martin_henson_photography/?hl=en
I felt that I needed to better understand about metering and exposing film, about the character of the Rolleiflex lens and utilising its strengths to create the particular aesthetic that I was seeking. Martin’s knowledge of all things analogue comes from over forty years of experience and many hours spent in the darkroom developing the films he has exposed himself, and printing from the negatives. The day I spent with Martin was incredibly valuable. I learned a great deal and was inspired. The icing on the cake was Martin developing the roll of film I shot on the day and creating three beautiful prints for me to take home.
While the benefits of digitalisation – in terms of accessibility, dissemination, speed and efficiency – are universally acknowledged, some people are beginning to reflect on what is lost in this great technological revolution. While there is a lot to lose, and to gain, I see digital imaging and analogue photography as two entirely separate mediums. However, there is an acceptable ‘hybrid’ middle ground for me. And this is where I believe my practice is heading. Analogue is more hands on, tangible and connected to the creation of the photograph from start to finish. Digital is a computerised process, prolific, transient and destined to live forever on a hard drive. But perhaps there is an opportunity here for an artistic blend of the two.
Workshop notes
Workshop date 28th August 2021
Camera, Rolleiflex TLR 3.5f 75mm Planer lens
Film used Ilford FP4+ 125iso
Metering used Handheld incident and Sunny 11 rule (Yorkshire version!!)
Printed pictures (examples)
Headstones and Tree, 1/125 @ f/5.6, incident reading
Women, 1/125 @ f/11, Sunny11 guesstimate
Passage, 1/30 @ f/11, Sunny 11 average guesstimate
The Negatives
Develop in Pyrocat HD 1-1-100 dilution
11 minutes at 21c (70f), 30sec continuous agitation then 2 inversions every min to end time
30sec water stop bath, then fixed in alkaline fixer for 2.5 minutes
Film scans
Negatives scanned with Nikon 9000ed scanner, scanned as a Raw scan in VueScan Professional, then loaded into Photoshop CC, 2.2 gamma applied, converted to a positive image using Colorperfect software, file then edited using the Contrast Graded method.
Printing
Edited files printed 12x12inch on Epson Cold Press Bright a matt textured paper through Imageprint RIP processor, Epson 3800 printer used
A hidden house revealed
A visit to Calke Abbey, like so many National Trust places, is a step back in time. But Calke Abbey is extraordinary. In the 12th century, a small religious community settled within the secluded forest where a Priory was established, then dissolved by Henry VIII in 1538. The estate eventually passed to Henry Harpur in 1622 and twelve generations of the Harpur family lived in the baroque mansion for nearly 300 years, until the Trust began ‘caring’ for it in 1985.
Enlightenment thinking was influencing attitudes towards science, technology and culture when Sir Henry Harpur, 7th Baronet, inherited the estate in 1789 and it was Henry who started Calke's vast natural history collection. He patronised the arts, built a library, and took an interest in technology and society. Subsequent hunting expeditions and avid collecting have contributed to a treasure trove of rare finds, taxidermy and biological specimens.
When the estate passed down in 1981, there was a huge tax debt to be serviced but the historian Howard Colvin’s book, A Hidden House Revealed, generated interest in the campaign to save Calke. The Abbey was declared to be ‘of heritage quality’ and eventually came into the hands of the National Trust, already in a state of decay. Colvin’s work showed that the interiors of Calke had scarcely changed since photographs of the house in 1886. The Trust decided not to restore the rooms, but rather to preserve them as they were found, deliberately displayed in a state of decline.
And so it was that on an inclement weekend in August I decided to begin to explore this isolated ‘un-stately home’. These images were taken in the outbuildings with their collections of tools and ephemera from a bygone age still in situ. There has been a massive amount of remedial work but no restoration, so the decay of the buildings and contents has been halted but not reversed. On this trip, I chose to photograph the darkened interiors to test the ISO capabilities of my new camera. It was the first time out with my lightweight 28mm image-stabilised lens. The resulting images have been cropped out of the original 47MP frames, with minimal processing. The muted and faded colours have been captured beautifully, and for once I have resisted the temptation to convert to black and white, usually my preferred format.
Self Publishing Book Project: North Norfolk
Over the past few months of confinement at the behest of COVID-19 , many photographers I know have spent an interminable amount of time in front of a computer. I see this as a mixed blessing. It’s great to have the time to curate all the images that have been parked on hard drives, but the number of images to organise can be overwhelming. A selected few images are really nice to share with the photographic community on social media, not for the ‘likes’ but to inform and enthuse one another about our various equipment and activities, challenges and aspirations. Digital photography looks amazing on a back lit screen but there’s always the temptation to retain many variations of a similar scene or composition, without having to commit to the ultimate ’keeper’. For instance, I couldn't choose between the two images below taken at Cley-next-the-Sea, but then I was spoiled with a great sky on both early morning forays.
I have also pondered the impermanent nature of images on a hard drive, which may not be transferrable to a new device when the hardware fails or when access is denied due to computer software updates. Then there are the hazards of lost passwords, not to mention a house fire or lightning strike which could all render the hard drive useless – that’s a lot of eggs in a slightly precarious basket. I haven’t yet signed up to an external backup.
I feel that a library of digital images needs to be edited down to your best work so that your experience of a place or occasion, the reason that you were attracted to the visual and your intention when taking the pictures are all understood by the viewer, free from the distractions of a myriad of similar images viewed as thumbnails.
But why do we make these images if there is no tangible outcome? I am certainly drawn more to a beautiful print than I could ever be drawn to an electronic photo frame with digital images displayed on a loop. But the ultimate finished product for me is a book. “Existentially, books help to connect you to the natural world, while data tethers you to the artificial world”. In a power cut, or if the internet is down, your book will still work perfectly. When you pick over the photographs on a hard drive, there is no second-hand value to the culled images. Books have a physicality, with the weight, texture and thickness adding to the experience. You can physically feel your progress through a book. You can write in the margins and use ephemera from your photography trips, or even your thumb, as a bookmark. Unlike digital catalogues, books are designed for slow processing, inviting a physical person-to-object relation and emotional connectivity. I personally enjoy the tactile quality of the printing, the paper and binding and even the page turning.
I have recently used a self-publishing company to produce a short book of my own photographs taken on my first trips to the North Norfolk coast to recce this area. My first visit was to Cley-next-the-Sea with walks onto the sand dunes and along the shingle ridge to the spit at Blakeney Point. Last Autumn I returned to explore the wider bucolic landscape of salt marshes, mudflats, smuggler’s haunts, creeks and weathered jetties. The photographs were taken with a Canon 5D Mk lV, Fuji 100V and Fuji X-T2. Most of the images were handheld, with the tripod and the Canon 5D Mk lV only coming out at dawn.
The images I chose for the journal had a particular aesthetic and mood which matched my experience of this unique landscape, and needed to be saved from a very unromantic future on long term data storage. The photography follows the transient weather of this coast and the prevailing light. The images are also a personal remembrance of just being in these extraordinary surroundings.
I have been beguiled by this coast (not just the crab sandwiches). As soon as restrictions are eased, I will definitely return and the photographs I take will hopefully make it into a second volume, as producing books of considered images feels like the right way to go for me right now.
Snow on my doorstep
Last weekend we had a proper snowfall in Northamptonshire. For me, it is the first snowy landscape that I have enjoyed with my camera for five years. The last snow I photographed was on Dartmoor when I was studying at Plymouth College of Art. In Devon, snow on the Moor always gets photographers very excited but access onto the Moor is precarious. So snow, literally on my doorstep, felt rather like an early birthday present (my next birthday’s in February).
The snow hadn’t been forecast and it certainly wasn’t expected to snow all day. By the early afternoon most of our neighbours in the village were enjoying some relief from the serious business of the COVID pandemic and were able to revel in a small window of surprise, fun and winter wonder.
Night fell and the temperature dropped. The snow on the ground froze hard and the children’s snowmen survived another day. The skies the next morning had pink hues pre sunrise and when the sky turned to blue there was a positively Tyrolean feeling to the day. I headed out early down the bridal path to the spinney behind our cottage and captured some more snowy landscape shots, the like of which we might not see again for a while. I was mindful to look carefully for extraneous things in my images like my own footprints, as well as my own shadow. And with the sun being lower in the sky in the northern hemisphere at this time of year, it was making the shadows longer.
The aesthetic for these images is much less of the high contrast that I envisaged for the foggy shots in my previous ‘Photosteps’ post. With snow, the exposure has to be carefully handled to produce clean white snow in the images - not grey, and not so bright that there is no detail in the light areas.
The two days offered completely different lighting and conditions – the first day was grey with low light as the snow fell, the following morning was joyful and bright. My intention was to celebrate an interlude among all the current restrictions with images that have an aesthetic which lifts the soul. With non-essential travel banned, I’m actually enjoying becoming more aware of the photo opportunities on my own patch.
A Different Aesthetic
I have been experimenting with processing mono images in a high contrast style. It’s an aesthetic I favour for urban photography, but it’s interesting to test it out in the landscape. The fog recently has provided me with the obscure backgrounds that I envisaged for this type of work, with just the tracery of the trees in winter to make these mysterious skeletal forms stand out from the grey.
These are the first in a series of images which will present my local landscape in new moods, and a new (square) format. I am also training my eye to develop this idea in the future using a 6x6 medium format film camera, my new (old) camera, a 1961 Rolleiflex 3.5f.
Fine art has been defined as “a visual art considered to have been created primarily for aesthetic and intellectual purposes and judged for its beauty and meaningfulness”. In this sense the concept of fine art is quite different to the decorative or applied arts.
These images are my personal attempt to use the elements of light and shade, tones, plus line and form to present the familiar as a a subject more curious and abstract.
“Art implies control of reality, for reality itself possesses no sense of the aesthetic” Ansel Adams
Ravensthorpe Reservoir - making images close to home
The productivity of landscape photographers has surely decreased during this global lockdown. With going outdoors only allowed for essential reasons, sorties into unknown territories have had to take a backseat. I admit that I was not looking forward to the prolonged time we are forced to spend indoors at the behest of COVID-19. It’s something to do with life becoming very predictable, having to accept the limitations of your neighbourhood and being motivated to make images close to home.
The last few weeks have been useful to clean and service cameras and lenses and to organise storage and delete the many versions of each partly processed image from previous forays (which I’m sure all photographers accumulate). However, daily exercise is so important to our health & wellbeing and my rambles have become absolute highlights of each day, always with a camera to hand.
We have seen some extraordinary weather conditions recently and I’ve been happy to take tentative steps through fog, mist and frost and have found some photo opportunities despite the grey. Who would know how delightful if would be to photograph these swans on my recent walk around my local reservoir on a murky morning?
I’ll keep searching for inspiration, and dreaming of some stunning landscapes waiting for me out there somewhere, when COVID allows.