The satellite dish. That reliable, omnipresent parabolic residential appendage, facilitating technology for the rise of satellite television in the late 70s, and modern day delivery medium for Murdoch’s media empire. On a short impromptu photowalk in somewhat economically deprived Bexhill-on-Sea my lens inadvertently captured a huge range of the rusted concave devices, their cables trailing across rooftops like determined vines clamouring for vertical dominance, terminating at this strange metal plate seeking a favourable situation on a pebbledash plain. I wondered: to what extent could the “dish density” of an area be a socioeconomic indicator?
They will sell you a dish outside Asda. Aspiring salesmen, fleece top proudly embroidered with the Sky logo, enthusiastically propping up a portable sales stand, together representing an unavoidable gauntlet between shopper and shop. The determined survive but the weakest are cornered and eventually convinced they sign, committing to 24 months of box sets, premier league and propaganda. A typical contract could cost a day’s pay packet on the minimum wage, but out there in the cold the numbers might just start to make sense.
Dunes under grey skies, 2 of 3.
Dunes under grey skies, 2 of 3.
Dunes under grey skies, 1 of 3.
The wind today blew us around a little. Our first walk of the day was a battle, with rain driving into us on gusts of Atlantic breath. Later it softened a little and we braved the huge expanse of Woolacombe’s beach. Bare feet, rain pocked sand, bitingly cold water, white cloudy skies. It was beautiful. Walking south. Talking a little; observing a lot. The grasses on the dunes shivered in the wind, giving life to the land; hairs on the back of a cold, slumbering giant. We paused at this small formation of rocks – a lone landmark in an ocean of sand. Looking back to Woolacombe village the sea spray fogged the view of the distant buildings; cosy boxes under a featureless grey sky.
These were taken on 22nd December 2014, days before Christmas. The sky was grey and unremarkable but the English channel drove wave upon wave of cold, dark water onto the pebble beach of Bexhill-on-Sea. Just days later we enjoyed a swim in calmer waters with the winter sun in our eyes.
My last trip to New York was an analogue affair. I set out each day with my old OM10 slung over my shoulder loaded with HP5. Not for a long time had I carried a film camera with no digital counterpart tucked away in my bag (where it couldn’t damage that oh-so-fashionable retro camera look). And the anxiety I felt! It took some time to identify the cause of the deep unease I felt as I explored the island of Manhattan.
With less than 50 frames to shoot and a whole city to explore my early captures took far too long as I fussed over composition, exposure, focus. I soon got into the swing of things however, and this shot somewhat makes up for the fact that I was wandering lost, unable to decide whether to commit to the trip over Brooklyn bridge as the biting wind tested my inadequate clothing.
Taken with my little Sony point-and-shoot with the polarized lens of my sunglasses as a makeshift filter for the hazy sunlight…
Central London was buzzing today as thousands of protesters came together at ‘the wave’ climate change demonstration. I weaved amongst the crowds of experienced rally veterans, families, charities and students with my camera in hand trying to avoid the rain and capture the mood.
Whilst marching with the London Youth Labour group we were joined by Ed Miliband and Lord Mandelson, who showed some grit, spending over an hour surrounded by hundreds of individuals eager to impress upon these very politicians just what we expect from them at the upcoming Copenhagen climate talks.