Landscape is all about time; so it’s about time I returned to my landscape. I bought a huge scanner a year ago, partly with the intention of going through all my old negs and creating digital files from them. It’s a testament to how little time I’ve spent at home this year that I’ve only scanned a handful so far.
But I’m excited about the project. I haven’t had a good look at these photographs for years. Many years, in some cases. They’ve become foreign landscapes now, and the young man who took them a stranger to me. I’m interested to see what still touches or excites me, and what has now drifted too far out into time’s ocean.
Quite often when I sit down to share some photos on this blog a theme emerges as I write. This time, though, each photograph is what it is. I could find themes, but essentially this is a project in process; I’ll be adding to it as I snatch moments to scan more shots so themes may not be apparent, or may emerge much later in the process.
And, more than at any time before, I’m baring my soul. Or certainly the state of my soul when I took each photograph. When I collaborate with someone for their portrait I hope always to reveal a little of their soul, a little of what makes them unique. When I’m out in nature or the city what I choose to connect with and the way I see it reveals my own soul, whether I will it or not. And ‘out there’ is where I find my awe, where I connect with the numinous. It’s what made me take pictures in the first place, and keeps me taking them.
So perhaps with that in mind I should let each image stand for itself and just tell you a little about the background to each one.
Two hairy blokes, one Escort estate with dodgy headlamps and a quest to get to Scotland for new year. I had flu and didn't think i'd make it. Freezing rain as we left London, then as we forged into Hertfordshire the sun broke through the dark grey mass of clouds in golden beams and Hendrix hit the radio. All along the watchtower. 16 hours later, our alcohol, cigarettes, film and hearing depleted we pulled into a carpark in heavy loch mist. We just couldn't see to drive anymore, couldn't see the carpark, or the surroundings, or the sign saying 'No Overnight Parking'. I woke up, and took the primus stove outside to make some tea. As the water boiled, some of the mist and cloud cleared and I stood up and looked across the road. This was the scene. Glenfinnan. Jacobites and all that. Another life, but this one feels close by, still. On the way home I shot Glencoe with my free hand and '51 Leica at 75mph, and we found Espedair Street. Rock and Roll.
In transit through Iceland. 4th January, as I recall, on a disastrous but heroic trip to meet my true love in Canada. Sure, it's on the way. Something like 4 hours daylight a day, and a blizzard on one of them. Awesome place, it has unique soul. I only spent a few days there, but i know it's somewhere i could make my home. I've found some negs of the blizzard - I'll scan them in soon.
Merlin's Cave, Tintagel. Where Merlin (allegedly) lived at the time when King Arthur (allegedly) held court here. Cold, tidally wet throughout and with a freezing through draft, he'd have been mental to have actually lived in here. I've slept in the caves opposite, but I can pretty much guarantee this cave got it's name from the victorian tourist office. But put that aside and breathe in the feel of the place, and the mystical atmosphere fills your lungs, heart and mind. Maybe Merlin slept in the caves opposite and used this one as his magickal office.... One day, when the island collapses, all this will be no more. Come and see it while you can.
The long cold ride home from visiting my girlfriend in Putney all those years ago. This really is another lifetime... on a pushbike cutting through Richmond Park at Robin Hood Gate, through the dark and the mist with useless lights, and out the other end, back home to Strawberry Hill, and a couple of hours kip before college next morning. I remember a shape looming out of the mist and shadows at the top of a rise, on the path beneath a tree, blocking my way: a fully grown stag in the rutting season. It opened it's mouth and a sound I cannot describe filled the park for a moment before the mist swallowed it up. We faced each other for twenty minutes before it left the path and I made it over the rise. I looked around just in case it was waiting for me, but it had completely disappeared. I'll never forget that sound.
Ok, I lied; a theme is emerging. Freezing cold. A beach in Aberdeen (which must be Gaelic for hypothermia). I went to a college with no halls of residence or any real student community to speak of, and completed my course a year or two before most of my friends, so I was at work while they were having a University Experience. Feeling I'd missed out, I'd go visit them whenever I could get time off work. This was one such visit. No sleep on the night train up to Aberdeen; greygreen twilight landscape and Marillion on the walkman, then suddenly a blazing dawn for 3 minutes as the sun broke golden above the waters of the Forth as we crossed the bridge. Then gone into grey cuttings again. Then some student times, and not a trace of respite. This was taken on the third morning, high on sleep deprivation. (Allegedly.) A cold dawn and I'd gone for a walk because I'd hit the point where i actually couldn't sleep. It was as tranquil and washed out as it looks. In that other life I spent a lot of time walking about in the early hours on my own. This image is one of only two I still have hanging on my wall, leftovers from exhibitions over a decade ago. There's a depth and soul to it when photographically printed that seems to have reserved its wallspace.
Venice on my 25th birthday. Shot with a compact camera that I was using earlier today. I was in Nice and needed somewhere warm to sleep (ok, another theme emerging, I grant you) so I went to the station to see if there were any night trains. This made total sense when I was a 24-year-old bohemian. There was one going to Vienna, but all my clothes were in a launderette and wouldn't be dry in time for that one. The other one went to Venice. Cool, I thought. I'll wake up in Venice on my birthday. And I did. Magical; the first time I'd been there. I still think it's the most beautiful city in the world. I froze my assets off coming through there on the way back to Prague from Cannes in January this year, and it blew me away again. I've decided to live there for a year when I write my second novel...
And yes, this was on the same stay in Venice, on my birthday, too, i think. The cat was ginger, and so was the upper storey of the building against which it was perched. I hand tinted a black and white print of this, and I'm not sure what became of it. Maybe i should do another.
Well, that's made a start. More autobiographical than I had expected it to be, but perhaps that's the nature of these kinds of shots. More coming soon!
That was really lovely... very personal and very inspiring!
It is nice to return to old memories sometimes....
Posted by: Rebecca B | 11/20/2007 at 07:39 PM