Half The Story

I don’t think I’ll ever not get excited when an email pops up from the lab to say my scans are ready. When I started shooting film again a few years ago, there’s sometimes that little added element of surprise with the first of the roll shot. The ones that are not shown in their entirety. The ones where I’ve taken the first test shot when the film wasn’t fully wound to its correct beginning position. What makes up the other section? Those colours that seep onto the image, the embers that burn onto the emulsion. Tiny fires that swallow a little part of the story.

I thought I’d share a few from the last couple of years.

And very occasionally, there’s a little surprise at the end too.

A Meadow On Film

I don’t know if your family were the same when you were growing up, but mine liked routine and found comfort in familiar places especially when it came to holidays. We’d pack the car up and drive to Loch Awe in Scotland. We’d stay in the same house, we’d meet family in the same service station for lunch (the delights of Tebay). I’ve battled many of the other routines that my parents surrounded themselves with, but I’ve realised there is one that is part of our year. An annual trip to Wild Meadow!

We first took a trip down there in 2016 for Suzi’s birthday. We’ve been back every year since, sometimes a couple of times. There’s such a pull to the place. A beautiful eco house, located in the middle of a meadow, with an orchard, kitchen garden, pond, and the best swing you ever have seen! We’ve celebrated birthdays, and had hazy days in the golden light with the sun prickling our skin. It seems strange to think we started visiting before Olive was here, but now she’s been twice, and meadow life certainly seems to suit her. The tall grass was taller than her as she walked down the paths with my Mum and Dad, learning all about the flora and fauna, taking it all in. She is now obsessed by birds of prey, as the buzzards are a very frequent sight circling high above the meadow.

As the season is turning the page, I want to hold onto these days a little while longer, and to put these photos together in as blog, to share with you, but to show Olive too. Although I took my digital camera with me, it didn’t come out of the bag, and I just took photos on my 35mm Olympus OM1 and my medium format Mamiya 645. These photos are a mixture from the two cameras.

There’s something about film that just suspends these moments more significantly, the warmth and the colours sing.

It’s always SO hard to leave. But I’m happy to say that we’ll be back there again next May. A home from home.

Moira and Jim

I remember the air stewardess holding my hand as we climbed the steps to the plane which was emblazoned with the British Airways flag and logo. It was the first time I was going to fly, and I was a little bit nervous as I turned round to wave to Mum and Dad in the terminal. The air stewardess looked down at me, squeezed my hand and said ‘you’re going to have the best seat in the house, you’re a V.I.P.!’ I don’t think I fully understood what that might entail (I got a colouring book, felt tips and a window seat near the front), but it really worked, and as we trundled down the runway of Leeds Bradford, I looked forward to my first trip to the capital.

I was going to visit my Aunty Moira, and her then boyfriend, soon to be her husband and my Uncle, Jim. My memories of the trip are slightly hazy, but it always makes me smile thinking about it, my first great adventure. We ate lots of cheese sandwiches, I remember the pelicans in St James’s Park and the pigeons landing on my head in Trafalgar Square. The smell of the city stays with me to this day, and when I studied and lived down there, that familiar smell always made me jump back into this trip. The memories of taking a black cab ride after seeing The King & I with Yul Brynner, and eating a McDonald’s for the first time. That trip will always have a special place in my heart.

The week before lockdown, we’d travelled down to Oxford to run a filmmaking workshop. On the way back home, we stopped off at my Uncle Jim’s house for a night. Sadly, my Aunty Moira lost her brave battle with breast cancer 20 years ago. We miss her every day, and life still feels very strange without her in it. Olive’s second name is Moira, and she is definitely showing her namesake’s spirit!

My Uncle now lives with his lovely wife Nicola. When we arrived, and Olive was having a nap, Jim told me that he’d recently discovered some old negatives. The images that emerged were of him and Moira down in London in the 70s, taken around the same time as my trip down there.

I absolutely love them, and I asked him if it was OK for me to share them here. I love that they were taking pictures of each other. And even though they are mainly individual portraits, you can feel that both of them are in the shots. The way they are looking at each other, well it absolutely gets me. The black and white, the flares, the cars. The newspapers and tube fares that send out clues to the time they were taken. The blemishes and dust scratches on the photos, and the washing line image, which seems to be a family obsession!

I’ve been turning to my film camera more lately, and have had it close to me during lockdown, seeing these has deepened my love for film. I can’t quite describe it, it just seems to ramp up what I’m feeling a bit more. People describe film photos as timeless, but these images depict the time they were taken so well, the timeless quality comes with the way they look at each other. That absolute look of love.

Here are Moira & Jim.

My Uncle has just sent me these gems from my trip down there!