Love Will Tear Us Apart
The town in it’s attempt to engage with it’s youth put on a Free Music Festival in the park. Some local bands, rap artists ( that’s rap with a C ! ), kite flyers, jewellery makers, hot dog sellers etc etc were along for the ride being as there was not much else to do on this warm saturday afternoon. That’s actually why I went along. Thought it might be a good opportunity to do some, what I call street photography. I was in a colour film mood and I had some saturated stuff in the cool box which needed using up before it exploded.
I was struck by this chap’s tatoo ‘Love will Tear us Apart’ and after a brief chat he allowed me to rattle some shots off. He and his wife were lounging in the sun while their two children played nearby. It’s the juxtapostion of this Song title tatoo and the scorpion tatoo on his wife’s back that intrigues me, coupled with the image of another female in the far distance at the side of his hat. I love the Renee Magritte clouds as well.
Making a splash !
I guess some people never forget that simple childlike pleasure of throwing pebbles back into the sea. Rollup your trousers above your knees, brace yourself against the cold of the North Sea and wade in to just past your ankles. Who can throw the farthest and who can make the bigger splash ? Then back on the promenade for a bag of chips.
Kes
The film Kes ( 1969 ) directed by Ken Loach was the story of a young working class Yorkshire boy Billy Casper who tames and trains his pet kestrel which he finds in a nest atop an old building on the outskirts of Barnsley. The old building at the side of a farm where the particular scene was filmed can still be seen while driving along the M1 in Yorkshire. I seem to remember the movie poster showing Billy Casper putting up his two fingers at nobody in particular ? authority ? the world ? adulthood ? caused quite a stir in late 1960′s England.
This image I took of a friend while visiting Porthcawl in Wales one fine day always reminds me of that film and that fim poster.
Seafront stroll
There’s not really much to say about this image. I can only think that this man needed to rest his left leg while taking a leisurely stroll along the sea front in Scarborough.
You are what you say you are !
I think it’s fair to say my brother is a little eccentric. He’s three years older than me and has always been a little, shall we say ‘ left field’. Purely in a nice way you understand. I don’t think he’d hurt anyone either in word or deed although his thoughts and ideas can sometimes seem a bit bizarre to those closest to him, a bit controversial. His religion is Sheffield United Football Club and he has an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of the Club and it’s joys and sorrows. He loves the idea of travel and he used to devour books about travel and travel writings. I used to joke that he was the only person I knew who’d travelled the world in the comfort of his own armchair. He has an interest in Travellers and Travelling Peoples. He now works for the Foreign Office. He’s spent time in Pakistan, Belgium and Nigeria.
He once gave me some advice when I was at a low ebb; “do something everyday just for you, something to look forward to ! even if it’s just going for a coffee and a bun”. Simple advice but I took it and I did go for that coffee and that bun and I looked forward to it “.
Once when he was in Lagos, Nigeria he said to this man, ” You can call me Chief!”. He wasn’t being Imperialist and I don’t believe he was being patronising or condescending. He was being ironic. He was making a point about ’Authority’ and those who either place themselves in it or are placed by others. The man replied with annoyed incredulity, his eyes bulging, “why must I call you Chief ? why are you a Chief ? !! “. My brother replied with a grin ” because I say I am ! “.
Photography – The thing itself !
When the study of photography becomes serious, an itch that continually needs to be scratched, the inevitable questions sooner or later present themsleves. What is it, this medium ? What is its purpose ? An arbiter of truth or something we cannot quite grasp. Something we search for but continually evades us and the closer we think we are the further away it then seems to get.
I took this image some years ago while walking along Chesterfield Canal. Then as now, it seemed to sum up a lot of what I felt about this subject of Photography.
A Chesterfield Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve and the mates and I are heading off home ( on foot ) after a joyous night in the Royal Oak – Shambles, in the centre of town. We’ve all had a few beers ( Stones on hand pump ), sufficient to be merry, but as the pubs are turning out there’s a lot of people considerably drunker than we are. At some stage in the evening’s celebrations this chap must have fallen asleep at his drink for his mates have seized the opportunity and taken a rapid marker pen to decorate his face. I’m assuming it was indelible and took several days to wear off.
I’d like to take this opportunity to wish all my followers and readers of this blog a most happy Christmas and a peaceful and prosperous New Year.
run rabbit run !
Swaledale in North Yorkshire is a beautiful part of the country at any time of year, particularly the upper part when you get past the village of Reeth. We’ve been going every year around September for a few years now. Past Reeth, winding up through Healaugh, Gunnerside, Muker and on to Thwaite where we stay, the road is frequently littered with dead rabbits in various stages of decomposition and flatness. Myxomatosis is prevalent in the Dale. The rabbit population rises and falls with the cycles of the disease. I kid you not when I tell you, it seems that many rabbits take the decision to die under the wheels of a car rather than suffer any more from the slow agonising death that is ‘myxsi’ ! I’ve witnessed it myself.
Football : By the people for the people
Hyde Park Flats in Sheffield has always been a magnet for photographers. Ever since they were opened by the Queen Mother, lauded and celebrated for their innovative design, high rise living and answer to the countries post war housing shortage. When people started throwing their rubbish over the balconies, including clapped out televisions and no doubt defunct Amstrad hi-fi systems the dream living started to turn to nightmare.
I myself took a stroll up there one day with my camera and my long time mate Brian. I daren’t go alone, I was only in my twenties and still wet behind the ears. This was one of the best shots I came away with. Two young pals, playing football. The way I learnt to kick a ball with my mates, hour after hour. This was in the eighties.
