[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 21 September 2020].
This is another photograph I submitted to issue #149 of Shots Magazine.
Extras role in the background for the Albert Road gasworks.
untitled #47
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 20 September 2020].
I took this on a photo walk with my friend and fellow photographer, Scott, on my birthday in 2018.
It was taken in Bloomberg Arcade, a spot which is very close to two of my last workplaces but that I rarely passed through. I think this was only the second or third time I'd been there.
This was one of two photographs of Bloomberg London that I submitted to Issue #149 of Shots Magazine.
untitled #2
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 19 September 2020].
Though I haven't posted many of the photos I took during my time in New Zealand and Australia in February/March 2018, I've managed to edit the majority of them.
However, there are quite a few from the Tasmanian leg of my trip still to work through. This was one I recently edited for submission to Issue #149 of Shots Magazine.
Taken on Cradle Mountain Road, en route to Dove Lake and Cradle Mountain with my parents, my uncle and his partner, we experienced lovely, but cold, weather. Arriving at the information centre to take the shuttle bus to Dove Lake, it became much more foggy and overcast.
While Dad and I took the shuttle bus to Dove Lake and back, Mum waited impatiently with my uncle and his partner in the information centre. She became increasingly impatient and irritable when Uncle John and I went on the rainforest walk. Mum's impatience and irritability is an unfortunate byproduct of dementia.
John and I were able to see native birds, wildlife and plants on the walk and I took quite a lot of photos.
Despite Mum's mood that day, the weather and circumstances were better than when Simon and I attempted to visit Cradle Mountain with my parents almost a year and a half later. This time around it was even colder, blowing a gale and raining, and I was on crutches.
As a consequence, we used the facilities and moved on to the next stop of the tour. The only positive of our attempted visit was the sighting of wombats and wallabies by the roadside as we navigated our way back.
Almost a year on, I still haven't had the chance to import and review photos from our trip taken with my D700. I'm finally close to being caught up on other things so I can do so though.
And I'm looking forward to sharing the best of mine here when I do.
nice light on those cows
[I originally posted this collage as early access for my Patreon patrons on 18 September 2020].
my cross to bear
[I originally posted this image as early access for my Patreon patrons on 16 September 2020].
untitled #98
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 15 September 2020].
This is another photograph I submitted to issue #149 of Shots Magazine.
The Albert Road gasworks in New Barnet looming in silhouette over neighbouring houses during the blue hour in winter 2018.
heaven or hell
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 14 September 2020].
This is another photograph I submitted to issue #149 of Shots Magazine.
Like encrypted, this photo was taken in the ossuary housed in the crypt at St Leonard's Church in Hythe, Kent.
It's a fascinating place for people like me, but maybe not up everyone's alley...
This was taken about 14:00 one day in summer. The mixture of daylight through the window of the crypt and the artificial lighting overhead creates a nice contrast of red and gold light on the shelves of skulls facing each other.
untitled #2423
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 13 September 2020].
This is a diptych I created for my submission to Issue #149 of Shots Magazine but decided not to submit because it didn't translate well to black and white.
I took these images of the River Great Ouse on a walk around Bedford with a former work colleague back in November 2018.
fully fernished
[I originally posted this collage as early access for my Patreon patrons on 12 September 2020].
time for reflection
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 11 September 2020].
Last week I submitted some of my photographs to issue #149 of Shots Magazine. The theme for the issue is open, so work on any subject can be considered.
This was one of the images I submitted, though the version I sent through was black and white as the magazine is printed that way.
I took this photo of the Church of St Peter and St Paul, the Appledore Parish Church, in Kent on 20 June 2016. It was taken mere days before the referendum on Britain leaving the European Union.
A short walk around the town revealed posters, placards and flyers proclaiming many of the town's residents as proud Leave supporters. Conversations overheard while we ate at The Black Lion confirmed we were in prime Leave territory.
Fast forward four years and the UK has left the EU, but we're still figuring out what that means.
About five months after the UK referendum, Donald Trump was elected.
The passing of time since then has revealed the world to me as seemingly the inverse of what I had believed and hoped it to be.
I felt we were moving forward as a global population. But since 2016, I feel like we've gone backwards in every way except time. Honesty, compassion, empathy, rationality, sanity and logic all seem at an all-time low around the world right now. At least compared to what I've seen in my lifetime.
Though gender and racial equality has made leaps and bounds over time, it feels like notions of equality are bending back into shapes of the past.
Two steps forward. One step back.
Or, more accurately, two steps forward, three steps backwards, another two, another two, another one for good measure...
I often feel like I'm staring at a weirdly inverted, sideshow-mirror-reflection of the world I thought I knew.
Though I've (perhaps foolishly) not 100% discounted the thought of having children, I've seen so much in the past four years to make me thankful for not having children up to this point. And fearful of what they might face if I were to have any.
On a day when everything feels alternately raw and jagged or dull and numb, this photo feels like a metaphor for the disorientation I've been feeling more and more lately. But perhaps it appears calmer than my feelings.
in safe hands
[I originally posted this image as early access for my Patreon patrons on 8 September 2020].
cut out and keep
From 7 April to 15 July 2020 inclusive, I took part in The 100 Day Project for the second time.
My first time around, in 2018, was creating postcards from another’s life: a one-woman collaboration. I realised early on I’d set myself a daily project that was too intense, involved and time-consuming to be done every day for 100 days.
That hasn’t stopped me continuing that project, and I’ve now completed 19 postcards since 3 April 2018. It takes a lot of time to find the right image from both an inspirational and compositional point of view. The writing takes about 30 minutes once I have an idea in my mind. The editing of text and image takes at least the same amount of time. Getting it online on my various platforms adds more time. And for a project that I set myself to be done within a calendar day, starting at 21:00 might mean I’m posting minutes before midnight.
This year’s project - retrospectively collected under the title cut out and keep (chronological order) - was actually even more time-intensive. I had the advantage of working on it while unemployed. Obviously, that allowed me more time to dedicate to the project each day. And it’s probably the primary reason I was able to get through all 100 days of this year’s project (though some days I did cut it a bit fine, I must admit!)
Had I been employed during this year’s project, it would probably have become a long-term one like postcards… Instead, it became something of a lifeline during a time of personal and global uncertainty.
Nothing happens in isolation
I never tagged my series of collages on social media as #isolationcreation or similar. Mostly because I’d intended to do the project before coronavirus ‘happened’. Despite that, it still served to focus my mind as I faced redundancy from my day job and scrolled through the grim daily updates on the spread of the virus in my social media feeds.
It was both a personal challenge and a distraction from a global reality that performed the function of protecting my mental health during that time.
Shortly before I started the project, the UK went into lockdown. We stayed in Level 4 restrictions until about a month before I finished. Although the lockdown didn’t substantially change how I lived my life during a period of redundancy consultation and unemployment, the bigger picture obviously weighed heavily on my mind.
Along with stress caused by my employment within the previous year, and the emotions and stress generated through injury and family circumstances in the same period, then during the lockdown, the daily news updates, press conferences and battling the surge of friends on social media succumbing to conspiracy theories became exhausting.
An escape hatch
The project was something of an escape. It allowed me moments of lightheartedness during an otherwise tense time. And it was also a way to process how I was feeling about the situation and life in general.
In that way, it was akin to the 365 Day project I undertook in 2007/8. That project allowed me to deal with life, but also escape from my everyday life and become someone else for a few hours a day on the days when I chose to play out a role not my own.
Both projects were cathartic during troubling times. And both projects allowed me to sample what life would be like if I were an artist 24/7 (even though I was employed for much of the time it took me to complete my 365 Days project).
A new medium
Although I chose collage as the medium for my 100 Day Project, photography was always intended to be a part of it. I didn’t take new photographs but revisited old work and used previously unedited photos to complete the project.
Whether inspiration for my daily collage was an illustration, painting or my photography, how I might combine my photos with others’ art always formed part of the process.
It was always my intention to combine my photographs with others’ artworks. However, some days my photography felt like an unnecessary addition.
While I’ve long been interested in and intrigued by collage and assemblage, various factors meant physical collage wasn’t really an option this time around:
London was in lockdown, so gathering physical sources for collages was out of the question, and I didn’t already have these at my disposal.
I don’t own a scanner, and photographing collages is always hit and miss (though many of my artist friends do this well!)
I’m more confident with Photoshop than with a pair of scissors, a scalpel and a bottle of PVC glue.
Resourceful
In honesty, the ‘what’ of my project only really came to me on the day I started. It hinged heavily on me being able to find suitable public domain images to inspire and execute my collages with.
I’ll be forever grateful to the folks at Old Book Illustrations for the extensive resource they provide. As well as organisations like the Wellcome Collection, and everyone’s online go-to, Wikipedia and their Wikimedia Commons. Flickr and national institutions using their platform also had a look-in.
Obviously, I’m also forever indebted to the various artists - most long gone, some unknown - who created the various illustrations and paintings I used in my collages.
For the love of it
For me, photography is not just about the moment of capture; the action of capturing on film or in pixels what I see through my viewfinder. Nor is it just about the act of working in a physical or digital darkroom to bring the photos I’ve taken to life for myself and others to view and enjoy.
Creating these collages reinforced many things I’ve always loved about photography. And now, I guess - by extension - creating in any medium.
Fascination street
My biggest drivers for photographing something, someone or somewhere is that:
they/it intrigue or fascinate me; and/or
I find the subject aesthetically pleasing, grotesque/disturbing or both.
These drivers often lead me to try to discover new angles and new perspectives on a subject.
Creating the cut out and keep collages started with the same drivers.
Whether I had a particular phrase, song lyric or subject in my head before selecting an illustration or painting, the artwork I chose had to fit one or both of the above criteria.
Some days, the most time-consuming activity in creating a collage would be finding just the right illustration or painting to pique my interest and excite me on that particular day. Apart from a few exceptions, I usually only decided on the exact image and idea on the day of creation.
When searching for an illustration or painting for that day, I might save others for use later on. Or note a particular artist’s work to return to later. But an illustration or painting had to really gel with me in the moment. This is also the way I decide on photographs and the story I’ll tell in my postcards… series.
The thrill of discovery
Every day creating my collages felt like a day of discovery.
Photographing something/someone/somewhere lets me see the subject more clearly and in more detail. Especially when reviewing and editing the photos, as I often discover elements I was unaware of at the time of capturing the image. This is especially true when travelling and visiting new places on a tight schedule.
Working on the collages held a similar thrill for me.
Even where the collages I chose may have been from well-known stories or artists, there was always something more to discover. For example, I was familiar with Gustave Doré’s etchings of dramatic biblical scenes and Victorian-era London, but I was enchanted to discover his irreverent illustrations of Baron Munchausen.
Discovering new artists across a range of styles and subjects was also a perk of the project. Some highlights were J. J. Grandville’s irreverent, anthropomorphic narratives. And vivid and dramatic floral illustrations by various artists.
Not to mention all the inspiring, educational and enthralling art of so many unknown artists.
Do your own research
As anyone who followed my Flickrstream back in the day - and more recently, my Instagram - may be aware, I’m a bit of a stickler for correct tagging.
That may involve a quick Google search to check the correct spelling of a place name. A quick search on Google Maps to locate a street view to confirm where I took a photo, the name of a street, a building or landmark. Or it may involve an intensive Streetview search to identify a particular location on a country lane somewhere in relative obscurity.
Finding the specific photo location (if not evident at the time) or more information about the location/building/monument/plant often informs my choice of title. It also lets the viewer know more about the image and where it was captured. And it allows me to understand more about what I may have seen but not had time to take in; the connections to other people, places or objects it may provide.
In confirming or researching these things, I’ve learnt more about tangential subjects and discovered how the subject I’ve photographed intersects with others I’ve taken or my other interests. It can shed light on concepts, languages, personalities and more that may influence:
how I approach the image
how I title the work
my future work
future projects
planning
For me, part of the pay-off of my photography - and creating any artwork, or writing a story - is what I learn along the way.
I love learning new things, making new connections, finding coincidences and synchronicities. Being reminded there is much more still to learn about art, artists, history, culture, technology, literature, countries, people and more.
Audience participation
Creating art and photography, and writing are things I would do even without an audience.
Despite that, it gave me a lot of joy to share the collages each day and see a selection of friends’ and contacts’ engagement with them once they were launched upon the world.
For those 100 days, it felt like the collages created greater active engagement between me and others. I saw this with my 365 Days project, which also fostered numerous now long-lasting friendships.
If creating a collage made me giggle - especially with my love of puns and the absurd - I got another buzz seeing the humorous responses to it. Or the ‘love’ reaction - not just a ‘like’ - on the post on Facebook. When that happened, it felt like I’d hit the mark with what I created. Not just for me but for those engaging with the work.
Whether the response to my art is joy, disgust, adoration, or utter bewilderment along the lines of ‘why on earth would you…?’, seeing how people respond is always interesting.
Top of the pops
With that in mind, I decided to tally up the likes/reactions across my Instagram and Facebook posts to work out the top 10 most popular collages from the project:
#28 - after the deluge
#99 - bathing beauties
#37 - the boatman’s call
#13 - insectation
#46 - she’s electric
#25 - new growth
(a tie!) #06 - from the moment you’re born you’re dying / #20 - flowers in the attic
What do you think? Is your favourite here?
If not, which is your favourite collage from the project?
Keep it to yourself
If you enjoyed the project, you can now take a collage home for yourself or buy one for a friend!
I decided to make a selection of the collages available as postcards, greeting cards and more on RedBubble. I’m still in the process of adding the work to my shop, so if you don’t see the one you’re after, please keep checking back for new uploads.
If you’re interested in buying a signed C-type print of one of the collages you can contact me to find out if it’s available and if so, the size and price.
Unfortunately, some collages may not be available due to the size and quality of the illustration used. Or because the photograph used was taken at a location that doesn’t allow for me to sell the work commercially (e.g. an English Heritage property or Highgate Cemetery).
Commission a collage
Want to commission me to create a collage?
You might have a particular subject, title, illustration or painting in mind or a combination of any of the above.
If you already have an illustration or painting in mind to incorporate, please send me a link to it/them (not just the image file), and we can discuss. Feel free to refer to my list of resources below as a starting point for possible illustrations and paintings.
There are a couple of minor restrictions for the painting or illustration:
It must be in the public domain. A link to the artwork will allow me to see artist and publication information, confirm it's in the public domain, and credit the work correctly.
It needs to be a good quality file. 72dpi is fine if it's large enough to print. Feel free to suggest an illustration or painting even if you're unsure. I might be able to find a higher resolution file.
If you’ve perused my cut out and keep project, you’ll likely have an idea of what type of illustrations/paintings work best, but I’m happy to work with you to create a custom collage!
Get in touch with me to discuss if this idea takes your fancy!
Some great resources for public domain illustrations and paintings:
Do it yourself
Want to try your hand at digital collages?
Here’s my quick guide:
Find one or more illustrations in the public domain that tickle your fancy on any given day. Refer to my list of resources above as a starting point.
Download the image/s at the largest size available.
Select element/s you want from the image using the magic wand and other Photoshop tools.
(Optional) Select a photo from your own collection and edit it, if you haven't already.
Resize and/or rotate the illustration/s, as necessary.
Align the illustration/s and the photograph and/or other images.
Use the eraser tool in Photoshop, if necessary, to get rid of elements you don't need.
Decide if you're happy with it or not. (Hopefully, you are!)
Save, flatten, save a flattened copy, save various versions for web, as appropriate.
Share on your social media profiles and hope others enjoy them as much as you do!
And lastly...
... a shout-out to my friend, David Jackmanson, for introducing me to Diogenes recently. He served as inspiration for the collage I created to go with this post: in search of an honest man.
Illustrations:
on the edge
I don't know how the hell I got here.
I mean, really, I do: I walked up here.
Mostly due to the coaxing and pressure from Sean and Nathan not to be a chicken. To climb under or over the barrier off the main path and ignore the clear signage telling us we weren't to go beyond that point.
They were dead keen to see the view. It looked amazing. Me? Not so keen.
I don't like heights for many reasons so sitting up here was a little beyond my comfort zone.
Not a little. A lot. Who am I kidding?
I waver between an overwhelming feeling of invincibility and the overwhelming feeling I'm going to bring up the burger and fries I consumed only an hour or so ago at a nearby pub. They would be preceded by the ice cream I enjoyed about 30 minutes before we headed down the path toward the beach.
The sea below is the most amazing blue.
I simultaneously feel it washing calm over me and calling to me to leap off into it. The second option could surely only result in death.
But the pull of the voice in my head - the physical pull I can't really adequately describe - is real. It's the same pull I feel when I'm right up against the yellow line on the platform in the Tube. A combination of magnetism toward the water or the metal of the train tracks and absolute rigid fear of what my body acting upon that magnetism would mean.
It's equal parts compulsion and revulsion so I avoid both situations as much as I can. Because I'm not ready for what comes after a wrong step; a loss of balance; the loss of equilibrium caused by being that close to the edge.
I sit and talk with Sean and Nathan studiously ignoring the sound of the waves below crashing in my ears. Studiously ignoring the point where the blue of the sea and sky meet that we like to call the horizon.
I focus on Sean's lips. The words pouring out of his mouth are kind of irrelevant. I don't really care about the substance of what he's saying. But they're absolutely imperative to me at this moment. If I lose focus on his lips, the words he's speaking, I lose everything.
I sneak a glance down at the beach. The crowds are growing as the day becomes warmer. Women of all shapes and sizes, in all manner of swimwear. The odd one catches my eye. Sometimes it's her figure. Other times it's an unfocussed splash of colour my eyes burrow into. Colour I can lose myself in. That isn't unending blue sea that hypnotises and calls to me.
Sean is also keenly aware of the women on the beach. He passes judgement and rates each woman who catches his eye. At least from this distance, he can't really see detail. Whether they have part of their swimming costume awry. Whether you can see the outline of their nipples. Whether you can see their tan lines, cellulite, curves ('good' or 'bad') or whatever else he's fixating on this week.
Nathan seems settled at this height but similarly uncomfortable about Sean's critique of the women on the beach. We both stay silent. Listen, but don't engage. Nathan looks out over the sea clearly wishing he was elsewhere, or that Sean was elsewhere.
As vacuous and offensive as Sean's commentary is, my mind focusses on it. Something to distract me from the closeness of the cliff.
I wonder how long we have to stay up here.
I shift uncomfortably on the rock and try to mentally coax Sean to suggest we head down to the beach. The shingle will still be uncomfortable under my arse, but at least I won't be so far up with so far to fall. So far to jump.
The sea never calls me this way when my feet are nestled in the sand or shingle. The sea can lap at my toes as much as it likes but it will never drown me in the siren sound that buffets my ears sat here on the cliff.
I can swim into the sea and feel it buoy me up. I can do handstands and swim out beyond where I can feel the sand under my toes. I can feel its welcoming, hopeful and calming caress against my body down there.
Up here, all I hear is its insatiable need for me to fall into it.