2020 - a baker's dozen
A look back on a year of images - one for each month and one for luck. Heck knows we deserve it.
I don’t ever recall meeting a baker who actually gave me thirteen when I wanted 12. Not loaves, rolls or cream horns. Not of anything. Mind you, I can’t imagine ordering twelve of anything anyway - certainly not cream horns. Nonetheless, as it’s the season of giving, I give to you my baker’s dozen of selected images from the year that we are about to gleefully kick in to touch. 2020.
These aren’t necessarily the most liked on social media - I didn’t check. They’re not necessarily technically the best. They’re not even the ones I think are definitively the best. They’re just the ones I like most at the moment of choosing. And the order is nothing significant either - it’s simply chronological; stretching back to a great afternoon in London walking miles with an old friend in the first days of January, through to images taken masked up and alone in December.
Cinema Three.
Soho, London. Jan 2020.
This was taken on a cold, dark winter evening in Soho, London. It’s an area I often visit, especially at night when the lights, and particularly the neon, are a huge attraction. I love shooting at night and using the artificial light that comes from shop windows, advertising hoardings, and signs. This cinema is a favourite haunt with its retro stylings and its red neon signage. There is often an image to be made here. The image was shot wide open because of the low light but that adds to the sense of depth. On this occasion, several things combined - as is so often the case when an image resonates with the photographer. Firstly, there were three people seated beneath the sign, perfectly placed with each framed in their own “box” of the window frame. The central figure was almost symmetrical with his shaved head which also reflected the red light of the sign. In fact, that unnatural red light permeates the frame.
Beyond, is the blurred figure on the stairs. Is this who they are waiting for? Do they know each other?
I was close to the subjects but, coming from behind, they were unaware. It would have felt quite different if they had turned to face me as I took the shot. Perhaps it’s also important that they are almost unidentifiable.
Reverse Portrait.
National Portrait Gallery, London. Jan 2020.
This image is all about colour and rhythm. It actually has a lot in common with the previous image - Cinema Three - not least that it was made on the same day, but compositionally. For some years now, I have made an annual pilgrimage to the Taylor-Wessing prize exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery, London, and always with my camera in hand. If you have never photographed people in a museum you really should.
Firstly, the rhythm of the four frames provides a great backdrop to the figure in front. Her placement, on the third, creates a good tension to the image. Her dyed blonde hair, roots showing, is echoed in the face covering of the left hand portrait; her roots echoed in its frame. Her blue coat is repeated in the face covering of the portrait on the right.
The take away from this image is to never pack your camera away, even when doing something which is not expected to yield any photographic result.
Gone Fishing.
Sweetwater, Witley, Surrey. June 2020.
Another image which is predominantly one colour - the lush verdant green that came as a result of the incredible spring and early summer that 2020 delivered. Some consolation for the pandemic - at least we could be outside.
Locked down and banished from the city streets, I took to training my lens on my local neighbourhood. This was particularly so on the early morning or evening dog walks. I don’t hold with the idea that street photography can only take place on the tarmac and concrete of an actual street. For me, it is about humanity - candid images of people or even just traces of humanity.
This image of a lone angler was shot on a much longer focal length than I would choose for the street. He was positioned across a private fishing lake and clearly noticed me lining up the image. In fact, I shot several. His expression is one of resignation - as if he’d been caught doing the one thing he loved and couldn’t even rouse himself from his seat to do anything about it.
The Only Living Boy In Soho.
Soho, London. July 2020.
Named after the Simon & Garfunkel song (or, truth be told, the Carter USM track which I knew first), this image was taken early on a Sunday morning and on my first time back in London after the first national lockdown.
London pubs had been reopened the evening before and, by all accounts, Soho was heaving with social distancing pretty much thrown to the wall. By the next morning there was hardly anyone to be seen. I like to think this chap had been part of the celebrations and just hadn’t made it home – his dark glasses a medical necessity.
Compositionally, he is framed on the third by the sides of Bridle Lane and, furthermore, by the double yellow lines. The twisted arrow is the final element and he has very conveniently chosen to sit right at its tip. And so he should.
Blue Ball.
Aberaeron, Wales. Aug 2020.
I have to confess to feeling a little uncomfortable in making this image. Running down the street in order to get parallel with two teenage girls is not a good look! However, I knew this street was lined by different coloured houses and it was really a question of reaching a specific point and from the other side of the road without them noticing me. Luckily, they were engrossed in their chat and concentrating on bouncing and catching their ball.
The blue van was just one of those great strokes of luck. On the other hand, the colour in the yellow short was obscured the ball carrying friend. Even better if the ball had been mid-air. You can’t have it all – not in candid street photography. Nonetheless, I was pleased with the final image because I had visualised it several hundred yards earlier and worked at it to get this final version.
Post.
Battersea, London. Aug 2020.
This image is the result of always having a camera with me – my everyday pocketable Fuji x-100f. images don’t take a break just because you’re not ready.
So this was taken looking down from the balcony of a fourth floor Battersea apartment. I was supposed to be moving boxes – not looking for shots.
The side of the balcony is very reflective and I was enjoying the potential symmetrical images that unfolded below. The street was quiet – Covid protocols – but the mail still has to be delivered. And here it comes all wrapped in red, pushing a cart.
Compositionally, the double yellows again form an integral part of the image – it’s important that they don’t go out of the right side of the hand frame.
Nothing clever, just spotted the potential.
Scoot.
London Waterloo. Aug 2020.
As much as I love to explore, I also like to make sure that I will definitely bag a few certainties when I’m on a photowalk. It’s never good to go home empty handed. I do need to go off the beaten track more in the year ahead.
Arriving in London, I’ve usually clicked off a few images on the train between Clapham Junction and Waterloo – just to warm up and get my eye in.
Just to mix things up (crazy eh?), on this occasion I left the station by a different exit to usual and was immediately faced by this fabulous wall of windows. Beyond, the sky was blue, trees green and the odd train heading out to Kent flashed yellow on to what resembled cathedral stained glass.
There was a slow but steady procession of passers-by but I had to get down to ground level for them to register against the coloured backdrop. This one was my favourite – a baseball capped scooter rider on his phone.
Three For The Festival.
South Bank, London. Aug 2020.
Excuse the slightly obscure title. It references a Roland Kirk track from one of my favourite albums (We Free Kings) and came to mind as I shot this against the chalky white walls of the Royal Festival hall.
It was actually taken shortly after Scoot, the previous image; a very hot late Summer holiday when London was busying up but definitely not back to pre-pandemic levels of anything.
Harsh afternoon sun scorched the stone wall and, by metering for this, the carnival of pedestrians was thrown into harsh silhouette. Composition became a question of finding the right rhythm in the walkers and waiting for some clear separation. This image had a satisfying stepped progression in heights and a great clarity around the facial features. Notice, also, the important part played by the railings which are black in silhouette apart from where the sun catches them and shows them bright white.
Corona Trim.
London. Aug 2020.
Another from August in London – a period which now looks like a precious time between Covid waves and varying degrees of lockdown. The virus was comparatively quiet down south and barbers were able to open and their clippers could run amok.
The classic red and white poles in a new-fangled configuration draw the eye in and dwarf the two characters. I wonder if the longest lasting images contain features which fix them at a specific time. The full PPE face visor does just that here.
I have no idea what the customer looked like before he took his place in the chair to be held down by the weight of the barber’s white towel. However, he does not look like the kind of chap who has much need for a barbershop. This only adds to the quirkiness of the narrative.
Red Alert.
Soho, London. Sept 2020.
Another shaved head. In times to come, I suspect this image will be one more that is very much of its time – twixt lockdowns. The disposable mask made in surgical colours indicates that the situation was still not permanent enough to require investment in a three-layered fabric version. The mobile phone in its wallet casing. The wired headphones. Move on twenty years and this will really speak of 2020.
As a novice photographer, it took me a long time to appreciate colour. Here the blue of the mask resonates with the walls of the bus and the darker blue of the seats, complemented by the swatches of yellow. The red of the traffic lights, picked up in the two windows and edged in the closest window frame, speaks of danger – an emergency. It’s even reflected on his head – thoughts of his own peril. Maybe.
It was taken on Shaftesbury avenue in London’s Soho, while the bus was stopped, waiting to enter a quieter than usual Piccadilly Circus.
High Tea At The Edge Of The World.
Whitstable, England. Oct 2020.
One thing lockdown did allow, at various times, was meeting up with people from other households outside. Of course, here, being English, tea was an essential part of this.
This was taken during a weekend stay in Whitstable, Kent in October – not the warmest time of year for a picnic by the sea; hence the mountain strength fleece jackets. This is no causal meet up. Brightly coloured chairs, a camping stove and kettle (also nice and bright) have all been factored into the planning.
The position, way up high, above the rows of beach huts, affords views to the wind farm on the horizon (and even the rusting old hulks of the defences for London against German invasion threats). The clouds threatened but nothing was going to detract them from their tea.
Red Flag.
West Wittering, England. Oct 2020.
Another shot of red – another warning. I suppose that must be something of a theme for 2020.
Unable to walk the city streets, I took this at West Wittering, Sussex. It was a dull October morning with grey skies, greyer seas and reflective grey beaches. The only real colour came from the “Don’t Swim” flag billowing in the wind that made white horses of the incoming tide.
I’m really drawn to the textures of the stones in the foreground and of the waves frozen in a fraction of time. The soft, dark grey clouds counterbalance the solid shapes of the groynes, and the flagpole provides balance to the other markers nearer the water’s edge. The tonal range is much greater than might be expected with tiny dark figures silhouetted against the bright reflected light of the beach. The tiny stick-like figures remind me of a Lowry painting.
Night Grind.
Soho, London. Dec 2020.
In many ways, this image brings us full circle back to the kind of images that I might have expected to have been making all year. However, this picture gives a misleading impression.
This was taken during, what we now know was, a brief interlude between two national lockdowns. London did not feel 100% safe but it was quiet despite being what should have been full-on Christmas shopping and office party season. It wasn’t difficult to walk the streets and avoid contact.
So, this is Soho again. And it’s a much visited street photography site – not without good reason. The neon signs are such a draw. The writing on the wall in the café harks back to the area’s more seedy times and says “French lessons given downstairs” – gotta love a euphemism. These provide the backdrop on to which characters come and go. Here, it’s that beautiful collection of curves that is a London taxi, stacked up in the slow moving jam, pulling into Regent Street; and being overtaken by the blonde pedestrian heading home from the office.
No doubt 2020 will go down in infamy. It has impacted upon so many people in many tragic ways through the loss of loved ones and friends – myself included.
It seems trite, or worse, to speak of the impact of Covid 19 on my photography. I only do so to highlight the fact that street photographs speak of the times in which they are made. Most of the images here have been impacted upon by the virus. Sometimes this is down to the subject matter – mask wearers, deserted streets or outdoor tea parties – or because of an enforced change of location – a British holiday or a walk on a beach instead of a city street.
Perhaps what has surprised me most is that the images chosen are all colour. There’s no doubt I have increased in colour confidence – confidence in myself not to completely over-process an image, I mean. I’ve always had greater “belief” in my black and white work. This year there were black and white images that I was pleased with but they seemed out of place or tokenistic in this colour-field.
Maybe we all just need a bit more colour in our lives right now.
Stay safe people.
Post Lockdown London - The New Normal
As London began to reopen in early July, I photographed the deserted streets.
I always remember seeing photographs from the Second World War showing streets with people rushing to sand bagged air raid shelters, or newspaper boys with hoardings proclaiming the outbreak of war, or crowds dancing jubilant in Trafalgar Square on VE Day. There was something mesmeric, possibly haunting, abut the familiarity but strangeness of these images. Here were places I knew, and scenes that were familiar, but distorted by the events that had transformed them at that point in time.
History has always fascinated me and part of it has been a desire to be able to go back and witness momentous events but to be able to do it safely. I think that would be my superpower, if I could choose one. And of course, I’d have a camera in hand.
I have always counted myself lucky that I grew up in a generation that never experienced the world wide conflicts that took place in the first half of the last century. These were events which in many ways defined the age and the generations that lived through them. Now, this global Corona Virus pandemic has provided our defining worldwide event.
The invention of the camera, less than two hundred years ago, gave to history the means to record more objectively and instantly than ever before. As street photographers, I truly believe that it is our responsibility to record our current times for those still to come, just as Bert Hardy, Bill Brandt and Alfred Eisenstaedt did for World War Two with their images of GIs, tube sheltering Blitzed Londoners or sandbagged Whitehall. I have always felt that the ubiquitous appearance of mobile phones, ear pods and vapes would be the accoutrements that would characterise our times when people looked back.
Then along came Covid-19.
Who could have predicted that summer 2020 would be defined by empty streets, face masks and huge government publicity campaigns? In actual fact, very much like World War Two.
So, I was keen to capture these street scenes. But not keen, also.
I wouldn’t be walking the streets of London with one eye skyward for a doodle bug, Stuka or V2 rocket. I wouldn’t get a siren warning of impending danger. My enemy was the Covid-19 virus - invisible, undetectable and potentially anywhere. After months of taking great care and working from home whenever possible, as the government advised, travelling on public transport and being out and about in London felt like a risk I possibly shouldn’t be taking. After all, I was only going to take photos. Who did I think I was? David Bailey?
But there was also a longing to return to normality and a desire to experience the creative process of making a photograph: that moment when everything else ceases to exist or, at least, to matter. Let’s face it. I needed to get back to street photography to recapture a sense of self, of what makes me me; if nothing else.
Two good reasons then - a responsibility to posterity and my own mental well being!
And so it was I found myself exiting an almost deserted Sunday morning train at London Waterloo, glasses steamed up from the mask that I was not yet used to wearing, camera clutched in my sweating right hand, phone gripped with my online ticket ready to scan at the gates.
Waterloo itself was immediately different with just a small number of people on the concourse. I wanted to capture the gates with all of the 2m distancing signage and encouragement to wash hands but was immediately pounced upon by three transport officials who wanted to know what I was doing. I suppose it’s not technically a public space so they were presumably within their rights to challenge me. I explained that I was a street photographer and they looked at each other and shrugged - seemingly proof enough of my credentials. I wasn’t quite so lucky a few moments later when another officious, uniformed woman told me I would need a permit to take photographs at Waterloo. Having shot there unchallenged many times, it did feel like a wartime restriction.
Moved along, the streets were deserted. I know it was a Sunday but it was a shock to see the streets around the station with no one on them. I crossed over Hungerford Bridge to Charing Cross. There seemed to be the lowest tide I had ever witnessed on the Thames (Sunday 5th July) which only served to make what should have been a glorious summer Sunday seem even more surreal. It was as if the people and old Father Thames were deserting the city.
In Trafalgar Square, Nelson gazed down on acres of stone, concrete and pigeons. There were the classic London red buses, making their rounds almost empty, but not a soul in the square.
The same was true of Piccadilly Circus - just a solitary figure at a hand sanitising kiosk, offering a squirt to anyone who happened to walk by. Hardly anyone did.
Regent Street was pretty much the same. Oxford Street only slightly busier, a handful of curious wanderers, but nothing like the usual melee of tourists, office workers and rough sleepers.
This was the day after the Boris Johnson’s government had allowed the pubs, bars and restaurants to reopen after weeks of lockdown. Soho had apparently been heaving with little acknowledgement of social distancing, as revellers enjoyed the cork fizzing out of the bottle of pent up frustrations. The following morning was quiet. Perhaps a hangover. But there was almost no one in good old London town.
Masks, NHS rainbows and thank yous, hand sanitising stations, closed signs on restaurants, familiar buses but fewer and empty, tube exits closed, pedestrians redirected... the first signs of normality.
Arriving home, I shared my images with intrigued friends and families, eager to see what had become of the capital city, just not quite ready to visit it themselves. And the the doubts crept in. Should I have gone? Had I caught anything? Would I be infecting anyone?
And the wait to know I was fine began.
Last Time Out.
Waterloo, London. Feb 2020.
Fuji X-T3 25mm f2.8 1/500 sec
Whilst it also removes many freedoms, life in lockdown gives us plenty of opportunities. When have we ever had the luxury of Time that Covid19 has afforded us? Time to consider things in a far less hurried way.
“...every image seems to have become tainted by the virus...”
Without new photos to edit, many street photographers have gone back through their older images to find that precious nugget that was possibly missed last time round. Or the B List photos that never quite saw the light of the Instagram day. I haven’t quite reached there yet – but it’s on the horizon.
I postponed looking at the images from my last street photography walk for longer than usual because I knew that once I did, then that was it. No new street photos to edit for the foreseeable future.
Ride Or Stride. City of London. Feb 2020.
Fuji X-T3 26mm f2.8 1/500 sec
Week 3 of lockdown saw me take the plunge. I usually wait a week or longer if I can before editing anyway. It’s good practise, enabling me to see the images as they really are. Not subjectively.
Images that I work hard to take become invested in so much unnecessary weight because of the time spent trying to make them work or just to catch them in the first place. A week or two usually alleviates this nagging tug and I can look at them with less emotional attachment. This was now six weeks later, nearly seven. I’d done well.
“Times have changed and photos taken less than fifty days ago have already become historic images.”
What has happened this time is that every image seems to have become tainted by the virus, or at least by the lockdown situation. It’s hard to view a crowded street in the same way as it was when it was shot; or a tube train, crammed like sardines, without an element of judgement; or even a lone figure, without assuming they’re part of the isolation scenario, when actually it was just a quiet underpass.
Of course we read too much into those images with the short sighted lens of history which we are already wearing. Times have changed and photos taken less than fifty days ago have already become historic images. They speak of the past. It’s not a distant past and hopefully we will return to many of those freedoms that we took for granted sooner rather then later. But what will have changed?
One Last Time. Paternoster Square, London. Feb 2020.
Fuji X-T3 55mm f2.8 1/500 sec
For those of you who are interested in kit, gear and where and when, these images were all shot on the Fuji X-T3 with the red badged 16-55mm lens. This is not my usual lens choice. My “go to” lens is the 23mm f1.4 which I love for its clarity and the focal length (equivalent to 35mm full frame) seems to fit about the right amount of street into the image. It allows me to get close and it forces me to get close, if that’s not a contradiction. This time, however, I chose the 16-55mm zoom.
“It’s always good to mix things up.”
One reason for this choice was that I had wanted to try some images in the city where I could experiment with contracting the scene which I knew the longer focal length would allow. Secondly, I was not specifically on a photowalk. I wasn’t out for the whole day but was going to meet up with some other photographers and see the exhibition My London hosted by 3 Street Gallery featuring the work of Brandon Wong, Craig Whitehead, Joshua K Jackson, Josh Edgoose, Mavis CW, Mark Fearnley, Mo Barzegar, Sean Tucker and Shane Taylor. The longer lens, if it proved too heavy or somehow inappropriate, would be only for a relatively short time on my walk to and from the exhibition. It’s always good to mix things up.
The Last Coffee. City of London. Feb 2020
Fuji X-T3 55mm f7 1/500 sec
For those of you who know these streets, my route took me from Waterloo along the Southbank to the National Theatre and over Blackfriars Bridge, up to St Pauls and Paternoster Square, then up through the backsides of The City to Broadgate, and back to Waterloo via Bank.
Orange. The South Bank, London. Feb 2020.
Fuji X-T3 55mm f7 1/500 sec