Escaping Darkness : There Is A Light That Can Never Go Out

I grew up through my formative years in the 70’s and 80’s. A time, here in Britain, when terrorism was marked by the IRA; aside from the sectarian violence in Northern Ireland, it was the IRA that brought the reality to the mainland.

Escaping Darkness : There Is A Light That Must Never Go Out
Escaping Darkness : There Is A Light That Must Never Go Out

Their terrorism was, for the most part, marked by disruption and token destruction; bombs were planted, warning telephone calls were made and, relatively speaking, few lives were lost. And no terrorist would either allow themselves to be killed, or intentionally blow themselves up. So, as sometimes tragic and disconcerting as those times – and certainly some significant events – were, the vulnerability felt by the wider public was arguably less terrified and more an uncertain vulnerability.

But terrorism now – in Europe – is something entirely different. When you’re faced with people prepared to die for their perception of the greater cause; people who hold such a twisted sense of mortality that after sadistically murdering numerous innocent people in cold blood will then send themselves to paradise; there is much to be terrified about. And coupled with the 24 hour news and social media; martyrdom, infamy and terror is complete.

However, I want to close by referring to a comment apparently posted on social media last night, from someone caught in the middle of the carnage. They said they’d seen the worst of humanity last night … and the best. Invited in from off the streets by strangers. Terrified but supportive of one another and resolute.

This is the light that must never go out.

First Solo Exhibition and The Anatomy Of A Stroke [One Year Plus]

At The Zoo : Watching The Animals
At The Zoo : Watching The Animals

 

First up: I’ve been organizing my first solo photography exhibition. And I hadn’t quite realised, when supplying everything but the walls, everything can be quite a lot of work! I just about made it – hanging the ten images last night. Time to breathe. Hopefully you’ll all now be booking flights from the four corners of the world for this must see event. Ahem.

Anyhoo… If any of you good [local] folk should head this way, feel free to give me the heads up, and I’ll do my utmost to meet you there. Coffees* are on you! Uh, call it your entrance fee and having the sheer pleasure of my company. Think of me as your photographic pim… uh, escort.

* Oh, yeah, that’s the bonus. Rubicon is a lounge café and chocolatiers. So you can easily be distracted from both my company and images with even more delicious distractible culinary treats.

 

The Anatomy Of A Stroke [One Year Plus]

 

Remarkably… we were both clean shaven for the occasion!
Remarkably… we were both clean shaven for the occasion!

 

When I began the project documenting my father’s battle with his stroke, clearly I had no idea where fate and circumstance might lead us. In my opening public comments I essentially concluded my introduction of the documentary with “…and for what I ultimately truly hope will be an uplifting journey to recovery.” Even when I wrote those words, I wasn’t fully aware, having survived the initial dramatic stroke, how the odds were stacked against him.

Happily, for those who followed the unfolding story, you’ll know that my father was lucky to fall into the third of people having such an event who subsequently go on to make a good recovery.

Once again, thanks for all your support through this difficult period in my/our family’s life. I had mixed feelings about making this public, but I was genuinely overwhelmed by those who took the time to write and offer their support and prayers, etc.

And special thanks to John, Alison, Claudio, Tracie, Louise, Kyre, Chris, Sharon, Hameed, Alex, Robert, Dawn, Jen and Giuliana for taking the time to ask some really quite probing questions, and allowing this to have an ideal completion.

The full Q&A interview can now be read on The Anatomy Of A Stroke website.

 

Chewing Gum For The Eyes

Television’s moments are seemingly getting fewer and fewer and further and further between. It’s virtually reached the point now where I don’t even look any more without receiving some prior, reliable endorsement.

The paucity of imagination across all networks and stations is miserably palpable; maintaining a curious more is less philosophy. Who is watching all these relentless makeover [both personal and house], antique, minimal IQ quizzes and cooking shows? I mean, there are only so many students sat around contemplating going to a lecture; and they can’t afford to buy anything that the advertisers are attempting to sell them. [Aside from a shotgun, when it slowly dawns on them just how large their student debt has become!]

And then there’s the vacuous, brain-dead Saturday night market; when you stumble across a ratings winner then repeat it ad nauseam for years and years and fill it with presenters whose frantic delivery seemingly can’t hide their genuine joy and astonishment that they’re being paid handsomely for this refried leftovers of ever diminishing returns.

From Sir Bruce Forsyth… [Yeah, finally! So can we please now strap him to a bath chair and mop up his relentless, repetitive, dribbling platitudes! Not so much in his twilight years as his undead years!] …to Gok Wan and his ongoing desire to shotblast, overhaul and see the entire country’s frumpy women naked. How To Look Good Naked, it seems, is soft focus lenses, cleverly disguised lighting and shooting from above to avoid the multiple chins. In other words, all the same techniques utilised by the fashion industry and associated magazines which have mercilessly torn asunder these women’s self-esteem in the first place. Oh, the irony. I could almost give them a slap.

Actually, better than that: ditch Gok Wan, recommission with Burt Kwouk, and he can leap out of wardrobes and try and kill the whining harpies. I might watch that… for one series.

Burt Kwouk goes about his work with gusto in the newly recomissioned How To Look Good Naked

Walking The Dog

Someone suggested that they felt “…something slightly apocalyptic about this one. Weren’t there dogs in the ‘Book of Revelations’? ‘Outside are the dogs, those who practice the magic arts…’”

I’m not the most learned of theologians, but I do seem to vaguely recall something from Sunday school along the lines of “…and then a plague of inflatable animals heralded the beginning of the apocalypse…’ or some such, from the Book of Dalmatians, Chapter 1, Verse 101. Mind you, Sunday school was quite a long time ago now, so the memory is getting a little hazy.

Well, apart from that stolen kiss I got from Sherilee Dilling, round by the bins. I have fond memories of that moment.

The Shooting Gallery

As I know some people are occasionally curious as to how I get some of these more ‘blatant’ street shots, I quite enjoyed this one:

I was walking into Bath to meet a friend last week and was running late, but a tourist bus had stopped and the guide was giving an animated lecture on the magnificent Royal Crescent. I couldn’t resist. I walked [quite quickly] between the guide and the assembled faces and took three shots as I passed the regimented ‘gallery’… I dropped the camera from my eye after the final shot, without breaking my stride, smiled and gave a hearty “Morning,” to a chorus of bemused chuckling. I don’t think the guide had been getting many laughs. As I approached he said ‘Any questions?’ to stony  silence. And wasn’t I pointing my camera in the wrong direction?!  : )