The Bureau

Granddad's Bureau, 2012

I have mentioned on here a few times my Grandfathers influence on me and my work. An artist and toymaker, he was always creating something, be it on paper, canvas, or from his workshop.
This image is of my Granddad's Bureau. I still remember the smell inside of the draws and finding all kinds of treasures from pen knives to boxes of pencils, charcoal, erasers and the odd pipe. The Bureau itself resides in my parents bedroom, inherited by my father some thirty years ago. Little did I realize at the time, but the Bureau itself was something of a shrine to my Grandfather. The note books, clock, painting (his own, Southerness, Scotland, 1950), a framed diploma, and a pocket watch all belonged to him. Whats wonderful about photography is that by photographing this Bureau, this object, it has become a personal record. A photograph of an object that itself has become an object for me to treasure. And lets not forget, it also forms a very important part of the ongoing Flowery Room project.

Bank Holiday.

GREEN BEHIND THE DOOR.

My childhood bedroom is so small I couldn't get my tripod and camera in there (and also because my mother has filled it with 'stuff'). But small as it was/ is, it was my own little place where my privacy was respected and my bed so short that from the age of 13 onwards my feet would hang off the end (well I was 6ft 1" and then stopped growing). There was a tiny wardrobe big enough to hold a Harrington Jacket, and that was about it. Unlike my friends bedroom walls covered in page 3 Dollies and Rocky posters, mine were plastered with Averdon posters, landscapes and an image of the space shuttle Challenger at dusk I remember vividly to this day. The windowsill was small, but formed the platform for many a photographic still life making the most of the north facing light and a view overlooking the field with the gypsies in, now a small housing estate. The carpet was green, the curtains were green, and the bedsheets were green. The kind of green that resembles, well actually I cannot think of anything.
If you look closely at the bottom third part of the door you might see a patched up indentation. Thats where I kicked it after I my mother told me I couldn't have any sweets before dinner, or tea if you are from the North..

Stephen Shore
Badlands National Monument, South Dakota 1973
Marcus Doyle
Threkeld Quarry, Cumbria. 2012

Upon making the above image I knew it reminded me of a photograph I had seen before. Trouble was, I couldn't remember. And then upon flicking through a Stephen Shore book, I seen the Badlands image and thought, that reminded me of an image I had seen before. Then it became clear.....

The Legend of Donald Campbell.

When I was very young I was often told the stories of Donanld Campbell and his record breaking speed attempts in his Bluebird K7 on Lake Coniston in Cumbria. He was a big name in my hometown and brought a lot of attention with his record breaking charm and charisma. Although he died long before I was born (tragically in January 4th, 1967 in his final speed attempt), I was fascinated with this legend of a man and like a lot of young boys wanted to be just like him.
I knew that as part of my memory project I had to dip into my fond memories of Campbell and somehow show this in through photography. The obvious route was to visit the Donanld Cambell Memorial Museum. And so after a quick phone call, and a very friendly response, I made the breathtaking drive through the North Lakes.
My morning was spent being shown around the displays in great detail in what turned out to be a wonderful insight into a legend and a very pleasurable day. Photography wise there wasn't a lot of choice and I knew that a simple shot of one of the display cases was all that was needed. Upon leaving I bought several books and spent the next few weeks reading in depth about Donald and his achievements. The strange thing was that I couldn't bring myself to print the images until I had read all that I could right up to Campbell's death in 67. I guess the printing side was a sort of closure as I knew that once made I would no longer need to do any more research. It would be the last chapter in what, for me, is still one of my fondest memories.

THE TINGLE OF THE VISUAL.

A very interesting lecture today from Martin Barnes, curator of photography at the V & A here in that there London. Of course such a place as the V & A only displays the very biggest of names and often in epic proportions, I am thinking in particular about the amazing Diane Arbus retrospect (2005/2006) and the magnificent Twighlight exhibit (2006) which included the likes of Gregory Crewson. Both of these shows blew me away at the time and I remember being so inspired I bought a new camera and headed for the Hills (Hollywood Hills that is Via Death Valley).. Today had a similar effect on me as I was reminded of why I went into photography in the first place. Lately, if I am honest, I have spent too long thinking about photography and not doing it. Theory this, theory that, it's simply no good for someone who relies on gut instinct and the 'tingle of the visual'.
Having said all that, heres a few pics in the old style, and yes, I love the cliche of decay..

YOU CANNOT CLAIM THAT PHOTOGRAPHY IS AN ART UNTIL YOUR WORK CAN HANG ON THE SAME WALL.
PAUL STRAND.