The Fog Cleared, As Did The Road

April 26, 2017

Ear full of dirt and crushed leaves, I hurriedly picked myself off the ground, continuing to run deeper into the woods. Rake in one hand and tarpaulin in the other, I was off balance, but my friends' breathy cackling at my tumble, and the shouts and stamping horse hooves behind us, had me stubbornly (and desperately) determined to stay on my feet.

We were often chased from our woodland camp. Getting to it was hard enough. The forest was watched over by an ancient guardian (at least, we figured he was the 'oldest man in the village') and his dog. A short walk from Kenton took us to the crest of a hill with a long field ahead. Crouching or crawling (depending on the height of the crops) through this field was the only safe way into the woods. A large tree stood alone halfway towards the forest's edge- here we'd rest a moment before the final dash to our camp.

We had an axe for cutting logs (thickish branches..), a shovel for digging (one particular geology-oriented friend excelled with this, taking a lot of pride over his holes) and a rake for.. raking (I liked to keep the place neat). In a few days we had a sleeping hut, a fire pit, a storage lean-to and a small walled perimeter.

We spent a couple of nights here over the summer, cooking cans of spaghetti in the fire, failing to have brought cutlery and then carving our own, lighting candles to keep us from falling down The Hole, creating shadow puppets before the lights simultaneously went out leaving us all in the dark with the sound of badgers snuffling around our walls.

In the morning we'd walk back under pink skies, with low clouds pouring down the hills around us. This was about 10 years ago now.

The photo above was taken mid-January this year. To the left is the forest- I checked a few years back and there's nothing left of our woodland encampment.

Driving towards Haldon forest I'd stopped to snap the distant fog down the road in response to another photographer's photo for a competition- it was to continue the story of his own shot (a winding wooded road with mist enveloping two sets of blurred car lights). Although it didn't win, this was the first time I'd posted my film photography on the internet, and the artist's positive response helped chip away at my apprehension to share my work.

I titled the photo 'The Fog Cleared, As Did The Road'.

Reading Between The Lines

April 17, 2017

With the title of this blog post in mind, a montage of poetry analysis flashbacks flashed.. back.. through my head (it's late) and so I figured what better fit for an intro than a shakespearean sonnet. I may have 10 syllables per line, but my iambic pentameter IS not QUITE right. Those troublesome trochees.

betweenst yon struts of telegraph pole high
doth formeth enclosed swathes of open skies
beneath its branches thy dost stand nigh
with thy lens up, one closed, one open- eyes
hark be, think now of these colliding lines
observe, how intersections conjure shape
now thinketh of one’s photos in still time
together, memories linked of one’s day
a moment cast into eternity
alas, the film roll dost not quite tell all
speaketh the parts between the certainty
tell groundlings, galleries, the true tale tall
thy give the ticks, events of thine lifetime
reveal the tocks, betweenst thine life’s lines

Wandering around, camera in hand, spending a day shooting leaves me with three things:

Photos
Stories
Bruises and grazes

I've talked before about how enjoyable the process of taking a picture with a film camera is, but what pieces these moments together are the events in-between(st). And yes, I just wanted to try out the numbered lists. So. A Wednesday, doctor's appointment done and my car perched in one of Exminster's free parking spaces, the day properly begins.

The roll's (Fuji Superia 200) test shot above was taking by a Sam with intact knees. Climbing out of the car I figured it'd be a good idea to practice skating down the hill, putting an emphasis on stopping. Foot dragging on the tarmac, feeling cool, I successfully came to a halt multiple times. 3. Like an experiment. 100% accurate results. I skate off happily, a car turns the corner a considerable distance in front of me, I'm like 'I've got this.' and proceed to use my new found stopping skills only to flail like a starfish with.. human limbs, that has only just realised its limbs are human-y and is understandably freaking out. I laugh, my jeans gasp and my knees cry beneath as the car crawls past sputtering and chuckling as its passengers do the same. The camera's fine and I hobble away down the hill until I come to a bridge over a railway line.

'The Grass Is Greener' - 2017. An apt name perhaps for the railway's bordering marshlands. After watching the stones chatter amongst themselves as a few trains thundered past, I found myself by an open gate, leading into the marshes. The mud was deep and wide. I couldn't go over it, under it, or even around it. I had to go... and grab loads of rocks and make stepping stones as I did in the estuary. Now feeling as though I should be hosting a show taking celebrities into the wilderness to take shelter in camels(.../badgers?), I snapped the telegraph pole frometh beneath, and a following shot of it playing an incredibly complex game of skipping ropes with its neighbour.

telegraph lines over exminster's marshes

Plowing on through the marshlands I came to an impasse in the form of a not-so-raging-but-wide-enough-to-make-the-required-jump-olympic-in-standard-plus-have-those-games-be-hosted-on-the-moon-for-its-low-gravitational-qualities river. I had to backtrack to a thin slippery log, which seemed to get thinner and slipperier as I sidled over it, lying across the water. This opened up access to a new field full of Canadian geese that, on making my way toward the gaggle, filled the sky with wings and honking, making their way off towards the sun. It was quite stunning. A reedy river marked my next Herculean labour- well.. thing that I had to.. get across.

This time a wooden structure of some sort presented itself quite quickly. Scrambling over it and through the reeds lead me to the path between The Turf Hotel and The Double Locks. I was to meet my friend at the latter, skating under a motorway on the path..way.

The wooden self-repurposed bridge was handy, but far more impressive stood the grand, brutalist pillars of the elevated roadway. I couldn't decide which direction to take a photo, so I opted for both. Greedy. On developing them, a) I was rather shocked (*gasp!*) by how vivid the greens were in the second photo, and b) I decided the water in the first detracted from the weight of the concrete monoliths, so figured I would go back there to try the photo again.

"Half a pint of Hammer, a coke, and one or two plasters, please." I was still bleeding, and so my combined order at the bar might have been described as thirst aid. My mate had brought his Rollei 35 something- it had a bunch of dials on the front and was very pretty.

back of hooded man sat on log by small fire

With a bachelor's in Geology and a master's in Geological Engineering, his hold on the camera was rock steady- stop now. It was nice though, to have a bit of an insight into how he spotted shots, heavily nature based, organic forms whereas I found/find myself drawn more often than not to the human element or, perhaps, human influence in a natural surrounding. E to the G, this sage looking anorak-ed figure sitting on a log by his pocket sized campfire (..never put a campfire in your pocket).

Solitary Marshland Wizard of North Face behind us, we headed on towards the Quay, stopping by this rail-side factory. I liked the clean lines of its roof and chimney. My following approach to photo taking was similarly minimalist, that is to say I didn't take many photos between here and Exeter, and instead just had fun chatting to my mate. We go back about 15 years now. It's nice that with all the life that has happened since, the two of us having worked in various parts of the world, him, the Middle East, and myself in Asia, when we're both in Devon it occasionally still feels like we're getting the bus to school together.

through an open door into a building site

When is a door not a door? An alley on the Quay presented a door I had never noticed before- it being ajar, and with not a soul in sight, I was feeling mischievous, sneaking into what appeared to be a building site. Friend: "Sam, f'god's sake." He didn't approve and remained outside while I nosed around for a shot. The sky's low sun poured a smooth golden light in through the window and over the room's higgledy piggledy collage of construction. Voices echoed from the hallway to my left and on following them, à la the pan pipe sounds of the Lost Woods, I came across what, to me, seemed like a portable stadium floodlight, concrete and wood dust swirling around its beams. Blinded, and with the voices now coming to me, I made my way back to the jar.

I've always enjoyed telling stories, and what are we if not a sum of them. Going out to take photos writes chapters around illustrations, and these words glue it all together. Part of me wants to stop with my daring(?) escape above. However.

Round the front of the building my wanderings took a turn for the less adventurous when the builders in fact didn't seem to mind me coming in to take a picture at all. Following this with a hot chocolate in a cosy little café on the riverfront drained any video-game-style rogue-class cool points I'd managed to fill my life-experience bar with.

The marshmallows were very tasty though.

Two Thousand and Seventeen

March 13, 2017

'The year is two thousand and seventeen.' and 'I don't entirely know what I'm doing.' have the same amount of syllables. Coincidence? Probably. Dumb intro to a blog post? Definitely. (Trust me, it's better than my attempt at cobbling together a metaphor involving that chair being, like, a brain, and the gap in the back-support being the part that knows what's going on.) In any case, going about things without much of a clue seemed to be the theme for the new year's first two rolls of film.

With Christmas cracker paper crowns adorned and subsequently composted, and a leather jacket/frilly pink disco shirt combo danced in, rigorously cleaned of NYE glitter and re-hung in the wardrobe, 2016 said goooodbye in a deep and chronologically almighty lowing that I can imagine years, were they to talk, to udder- I mean utter. 2017 said hi in the form of a hangover, Fuji Superia 200, and trips up and down the Exe estuary.

I didn't know where I was going, I didn't really know what I wanted to take photos of, I didn't know quite yet how exactly the aperture and shutter speed choices in varying levels of light I'd made in previous photos affected the images, I didn't know how quickly the tide comes in when out on the mud plains until I was distracted by a cool broken barrel and then finally looked down to find that the water was around my ankles and had to splishsplashingly run back to shore. The best way to learn however is to just go and do. So, I did.

Teignmouth pier. It was a particularly grey day. I had intended to go to Dawlish, but just kept on driving to this nearby town that I'd never really visited. My secondary school was a rival to the school here.

Having not been to Teignmouth before I decided to get myself lost. I chose a squabble of seagulls in the sky as a waypoint and ended up in a small bay in which a boy showed me a crab claw he'd found.

Under Teignmouth pier. A man took a photo of me taking a photo of the waves. I learnt here about how the dark begs a lower aperture (and/or a steady hand) and in turn reduces the amount that is in focus. — Under Teignmouth pier. A man took a photo of me taking a photo of the waves. I learnt here about how the dark begs a lower aperture (and/or a steady hand) and in turn reduces the amount that is in focus.

Here was a lesson in checking the edges of the frame and making sure the exposure is correct. The boat blended in with the overcast background as I blended in with the sand, crouching lower and lower.

Inside Teignmouth pier. I enjoy the noisiness of arcades- 10ps tumbling, various video game beepings and machines spewing long lines of prize tickets. However, on this day, the place was empty and eery.

Finding myself in an industrial port area with large machinery and trucks chugging past me, I spotted a beautiful vivid blue and gold kingfisher perched on a ladder below me. Alas, I wasn't fast enough.

As the sun assumedly went down (I hadn't seen it all day, the cloud cover just got... darker) I met a cat on the way back to the car. In my haste to take the photo before impending strokes, I missed the focus by a bit, highlighting the gra… — As the sun assumedly went down (I hadn't seen it all day, the cloud cover just got... darker) I met a cat on the way back to the car. In my haste to take the photo before impending strokes, I missed the focus by a bit, highlighting the grass patch in front of him/her/meow. Anyway. I still like the photo.

These five photos came together in a small huddle and said to me 'Sam, don't shoot directly into the sun. Buy a lens hood at least. Geez.' Wise guys. But, they had a point- turns out I'm not super keen on lens-flare.

I found the chair at the side of the harbour. Metaphors aside, I wondered as to the sweet, albeit brief, relationship between what I figured to be a fisherman and his thick Frijj chocolate milkshake.

First photo of the new roll, loaded in while sitting on the conveniently placed chair. The passage ahead was another way to get to the estuary- this one involving scaling the bank to the left, getting tangled in a tree, and jumping over deep muddy p… — First photo of the new roll, loaded in while sitting on the conveniently placed chair. The passage ahead was another way to get to the estuary- this one involving scaling the bank to the left, getting tangled in a tree, and jumping over deep muddy puddles under the bridge.

A boat. A blue boat. I thought back to old books I'd find in my grandparents' stu..dy.. piano room...(?) whatever it was- there were these tiny encyclopaedias each about a single topic, bugs, fish, toadstools, boats, and they just felt like sma… — A boat. A blue boat. I thought back to old books I'd find in my grandparents' stu..dy.. piano room...(?) whatever it was- there were these tiny encyclopaedias each about a single topic, bugs, fish, toadstools, boats, and they just felt like small spell tomes or the diary of an explorer. I wanted to get that straight on documentative.. miniwizardadventurerjournal vibe, but with a 50mm lens I struggled to get it all in the frame. The mud was deep around the vessel, so I had to go and find big rocks and logs to throw out and make stepping stones/precarious balancing pedestals far enough away to fit the boat in my viewfinder.

There was another boat, but no angle looked right, so I snapped a picture of its anchor's chain. A manmade shape/pattern amidst a natural mishmash is something I quite like.

Further up the estuary towards Starcross was another tunnel which I had absolutely never noticed before despite having passed it everyday for years on my way to secondary school.

I found a thing. I have no idea what it is, or what it does, but I decided that climbing on it would be a good idea. I couldn't help but see some sort of antiquated tank from this angle.

This was the cool barrel that distracted me enough to almost get marooned at sea (can you be marooned at estuary?) Anyway. I like this one. There's an object that is clearly the subject with a background that isn't just superfluous, but helps p… — This was the cool barrel that distracted me enough to almost get marooned at sea (can you be marooned at estuary?) Anyway. I like this one. There's an object that is clearly the subject with a background that isn't just superfluous, but helps put the foreground into context, the framing of the puddle is nice and someone told me the barrel looks like an elephant, so that's good. Obviously.

Told you the tide came in quickly. From the shore I walked along a large pipe to snap this facing the railway. This way I didn't have to wear waders. (I'm seriously considering buying some- there are some really cool shipwrecks I'd love to wander ar… — Told you the tide came in quickly. From the shore I walked along a large pipe to snap this facing the railway. This way I didn't have to wear waders. (I'm seriously considering buying some- there are some really cool shipwrecks I'd love to wander around.)

Stone to block to tower. I went inside that tower as a kid, or at least, the hall connected to it for a meal that I attended with my family. I was wearing a green jumper. When I took it off to reveal my green t-shirt underneath someone commented on … — Stone to block to tower. I went inside that tower as a kid, or at least, the hall connected to it for a meal that I attended with my family. I was wearing a green jumper. When I took it off to reveal my green t-shirt underneath someone commented on the.. greenness of my attire. From that day I decided to stop wearing so much green.

I went under the pier. Through the slats of wood to my left I met a kayaker seemingly surprised to see a non-wetsuited person so close to the water's edge. We talked about the tide- I was naturally still in shock as to how fast it comes in. Did I me… — I went under the pier. Through the slats of wood to my left I met a kayaker seemingly surprised to see a non-wetsuited person so close to the water's edge. We talked about the tide- I was naturally still in shock as to how fast it comes in. Did I mention how fast it comes in?

The air is pretty noisy at home- lots of not so social-media-esque tweeting. Crows nest in trees across the road from my house. The sparrows that live in the roof hop around bushes just outside the bathroom window when I brush my teeth in … — The air is pretty noisy at home- lots of not so social-media-esque tweeting. Crows nest in trees across the road from my house. The sparrows that live in the roof hop around bushes just outside the bathroom window when I brush my teeth in the morning. We've come to an agreement in which I can look at them without them flying away in return for me not being a very large upright cat that will somehow eat them from the other side of the glass. Pigeons, blackbirds and the occasional pheasant turn up in the garden. One time we had a peacock join the fray. I figure it escaped the castle grounds nearby.

One of my favourite photos. This is the third boat in this post. A hat-ship. A shiptych. The power of thr..sea? Puns ashore- I mean aside, this was a port of departure (point* I'll stop) for me in terms of having faith in the images I was creat… — One of my favourite photos. This is the third boat in this post. A hat-ship. A shiptych. The power of thr..sea? Puns ashore- I mean aside, this was a port of departure (point* I'll stop) for me in terms of having faith in the images I was creating.

The boat above was shot after I'd slipped and slid down this muddy walkway. I love the houses in Topsham. It's a stunning town and great for pubs. Important. There's an antiques centre by the estuary with like, 3 or 4 floors of strange peculiar odd.… — The boat above was shot after I'd slipped and slid down this muddy walkway. I love the houses in Topsham. It's a stunning town and great for pubs. Important. There's an antiques centre by the estuary with like, 3 or 4 floors of strange peculiar odd.. oddities. I saw a couple of masks in there that I'm pretty sure would've turned me into a green faced yellow suit wearing eccentric had I worn them.

What were you even thinking trying to permit yourself to moor your vessel in the area of this lockpit? Honestly. These were taken by the Turf Hotel, further down the river from the Double Locks which you can get to from the Quay in Exeter. I'd mentioned in an earlier post that this was my first job. The beer garden is enormous and is totally rammed on sunny days. Before we used buzzers to let patrons know their food was ready and that they should meet us by the front doors to collect it, we would have to shout their table number. I was a young teen. My voice was naturally in a state of squeaky croaky ridiculousness. "FORTY twOOWOOEEHEEP" would garner a laugh or a hundred from the field of people.

Snappy Snaps was about 10 metres ahead of me when I decided it would be a good idea to take the film out of the camera. I had not wound it back. Damien Hirst-ing it, the light let in chopped the cows in half. I'd climbed over a fence and sidled… — Snappy Snaps was about 10 metres ahead of me when I decided it would be a good idea to take the film out of the camera. I had not wound it back. Damien Hirst-ing it, the light let in chopped the cows in half. I'd climbed over a fence and sidled along a wooden beam across a river, edging closer to these guys in the hopes that they wouldn't mistake me for hay, to get this photo and all. It's still nice, in it's own glowy kind of way.

2017's literal mooing was its way of letting me know how this is to be a year for making mistakes and learning, trial and error. I think, really, the doing, just doing, is the path to finding the images that I want to make.

under the cockwood harbour railway bridge

My Dad's Old OM10

March 04, 2017

Having shown my dad my new/old/light-leaky camera he disappeared into his office. With the sound of intense stationary rustling from upstairs I had visions of principal Skinner stuck under stacks of paper for days. My dad has a knack of finding long lost (tidied away) things, and he emerged with a camera in hand. The Olympus OM10, and Oh My was it 10 out of 10. Terrible, I know. That's not really what OM stood for! (Ahem.)

a mini history interlude

So, Olympus brings out this range of SLRs in 1972, with the first model being called the M-1. Leica was all like "mate." as they already had an M1, so Olympus was like, "yeah, fine, alright." and renamed the system 'OM'. O for Olympus and M for Maitani (Yoshihisa Maitani was the chap who designed them).

Up Butt Hill (this is not funny, I am an adult), and down past Starcross to Cockwood's harbour (shh), I wandered under a railway bridge over the water. I grew up in this area and had never ventured on to the other side of the tracks. I'm typing and backspacing a lot right now as I'm struggling to convey how I felt when facing the estuary... I had this immediate internal conflict as to whether I would keep this place all to myself (and the couple of mussel pickers in the far distance) or use it as an edgy go-to date spot. Never had mud looked so romantic. I take that back. I also don't want to think about it too much. Anyway. It was overwhelmingly gorgeous and all the better for being on my doorstep this entire time.

Shooting my first roll with the OM10 (Fujifilm Superia 200) was this odd cocktail of familiar but fresh. A gin and tonic with like, passion fruit in it, or something. Looking back over the photos reminded me of stories from my childhood and early teens, but it also made me feel like I'd only dipped my toe into what was to be found around my home- hidden forest nooks and dirt paths up narrow cliff walkways, sheer drops either side.

The first photo I took with the OM10- out of the window at the top of the stairs. My neighbours planted a Christmas tree years ago. It never really stopped growing, and now it holds the title of Kenton's tallest tree. It doesn't, but it should.

My parents used to have a little boat like these. They kept it in the garden. I remember the day a man walked past and asked if he could buy it. I think I was picking cherries from the tree at the top of the drive. The tree, like the boat,&nbsp… — My parents used to have a little boat like these. They kept it in the garden. I remember the day a man walked past and asked if he could buy it. I think I was picking cherries from the tree at the top of the drive. The tree, like the boat, is gone now.

This is a relatively new cycle bridge over the railway that runs through Exeter towards coastal towns like Dawlish and Paignton. The path after the bridge leads to a pub, the Turf Hotel, my first job. I ran food, cleared tables and washed dishes.

Lots of forests surround my village, mostly private- younger Sam found an old tire in one of them and proceeded to chase it down a hill. Later, I was told it contained squirrel poison, so, naturally I figured death was imminent. — Lots of forests surround my village, mostly private- younger Sam found an old tire in one of them and proceeded to chase it down a hill. Later, I was told it contained squirrel poison, so, naturally I figured death was imminent.

This is one of my favourite metal structures on the estuary. I always had a fascination with metal things as a kid. I used to fill my pencil case at school with nuts and bolts and odd paper clips I'd find on the floor. It was a really heavy pencil c… — This is one of my favourite metal structures on the estuary. I always had a fascination with metal things as a kid. I used to fill my pencil case at school with nuts and bolts and odd paper clips I'd find on the floor. It was a really heavy pencil case.

Hanging from the tree near the bridge in the distance was once a rope-swing. My brother lost his shoe to the water on one daring over-stream swoop. My grandparents used to tell us how there were eels in its depths. I still look to see if I can … — Hanging from the tree near the bridge in the distance was once a rope-swing. My brother lost his shoe to the water on one daring over-stream swoop. My grandparents used to tell us how there were eels in its depths. I still look to see if I can spot any.

Around this time a thick mist rolled over Exeter. The city's new coat suited it, a costume for the old buildings' imagined roles in some theatrical Georgian or Victorian gothic horror. A couple months previous, I moved back to Devon from Singapore. … — Around this time a thick mist rolled over Exeter. The city's new coat suited it, a costume for the old buildings' imagined roles in some theatrical Georgian or Victorian gothic horror. A couple months previous, I moved back to Devon from Singapore. The mist there was more of a far-away-palm-oil-burning-that-leads-to-dangerous-breathing-conditions-so-much-so-that-one-occasionally-should-not-leave-the-house haze. Scarier than spooky water vapour.

With a white winter sky, the seafront walkway from Dawlish Warren to Dawlish takes on a bleakness. You'll hear waves washing pebbles across one another with a long grind- in fact, I feel like this is where I learnt to skim stones. — With a white winter sky, the seafront walkway from Dawlish Warren to Dawlish takes on a bleakness. You'll hear waves washing pebbles across one another with a long grind- in fact, I feel like this is where I learnt to skim stones.

In the summer tourists from around the UK come to visit Dawlish. It's warmer down in the south. On sunny days you'll see people carrying hot sugared doughnuts and taunting each other to walk as far as they dare down the beach's slippery groynes.

This pile of logs was at the side of the path on one of my favourite childhood walks. The Magic Walk, complete with secret woodland routes, an oaken portal, stepping stones, a troll tunnel, endless steps and an abandoned witch's hut. — This pile of logs was at the side of the path on one of my favourite childhood walks. The Magic Walk, complete with secret woodland routes, an oaken portal, stepping stones, a troll tunnel, endless steps and an abandoned witch's hut.

I was called Four Eyes once in a game of 'It' on a campsite when I was about 11. I found it funny. But, with my Dad's old OM10, I felt like Five Eyes- not only because of the extra lens, but, the fact that I felt like I was seeing more around me.

The Road Ahead

February 28, 2017

Late 2016 I met up with a friend in Exeter. He handed me a Praktica MTL3 with a "right, so, this is yours now." Lush. We drifted around town with him deciphering ISOs, hyper-focal distancing and me occasionally snapping old buildings, new buildings and charred buildings (the Royal Clarence Hotel on the city's cathedral green had recently burnt down due to a nearby late night gallery fire and old wooden connecting beams). 31 shots into a roll of 24 we realise the film hasn't wound on. I figured it's okay, it kinda felt like when you and a mate are playing with new characters in Tekken or Super Smash Bros- there's always that initial 'hold on, let's just practice a sec and figure out all the moves'. Inevitably, when it came to the actual fighting, you and your friend are going to inanely button-mash regardless. That, however, would be expensive in regards to film photography, so instead, now that I had the 'moves' down, I could shoot the roll for real.

From the Haldon forest, to Dawlish Warren's beach, to the bottle bank in Kenton it was quite clear, on developing the film, that the Praktica had a bit of a light leak. As pretty as it was, it wasn't ideal- occasionally flash-banging the left side of the image so intensely that landscapes and a dog's nose went missing.

Despite the crash course in technical issues(/my introduction to shooting film), I was hooked on the process. Seeing, stopping, slowly, meticulously picking apertures and shutter speeds, framing, picking settings again, looking at it from another angle, picking settings again, preferring the original way I had it composed, pick the se-... meditative and immensely satisfying, especially since the MTL3 had such a heavy Russian *CLUNK* to its shutter.

I looked forward to the rolls ahead.