Scratchin the Itch !

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.

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.  

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.

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.

Autumn battles it out with winter and winter wins. It won’t always be this way but for now the mild Autumn we’ve had so far gives way and we are forced to consider the onset of the cold, the wet and the damp. A double layer of socks, a vest, a long sleeve t-shirt, a thick pair of trousers, a fleece top, hat, gloves and scarf.  The snow is in the post !

 It was this elderly gentleman’s birthday,  and the nurses, one of who was my girlfriend at the time arranged a cake and some beer for him. I was asked to go up and take some images  and they teased him gently that I was from the local paper. My girlfriend and her colleagues fussed over him and made him as comfortable as they possibly could. They did this with love and kindness. This was about 28 years ago but I often look at this image. I think it’s the saddest image  I’ve ever taken.

A special thankyou to all those who’ve taken the time to subscribe and follow my blog. Your encouragement is very much appreciated. I hope I can continue to deliver thought provoking images and words for you.
Regards