untitled #98 [albert road gasworks, new barnet, london, england, 2018]
This is another photograph I submitted to issue #149 of Shots Magazine.
The Albert Road gasworks in New Barnet looming in silhouette over neighbouring houses during the blue hour in winter 2018.
into the blue
They walked together in the cold dusk air in silence. Holding hands, gazing up at the clouds moving across the sky. The clouds transforming, breaking apart and reforming, moulded by the wind before their eyes. The blue hour came and went as they walked along the beach; a layer of sand clinging to their damp feet, the excess falling from their toes as they walked. The clouds, at first plump and white before sunset, became thin and wispy and moved at the whim of the salty night air. As the sky darkened and the sun disappeared below the horizon the clouds became less and less distinct from the sky. But as the moon rose in the sky and the clouds moved between them and it, the moon’s glow picked out the frayed edges of the clouds. They watched as the shapes of the clouds morphed, reminding each of them of one thing then another.
As they moved through the club, the music so loud they felt it in their bellies, the lights moved through their cycle of colours. Pink, red and yellow, then green, violet and blue. The strobe pulsed with the bass. Lighting up the dancefloor like a camera flash; capturing still moments while dancers moved in time with the music. She led him by the hand as they walked through the crowded club. They made a bee-line toward the dancefloor sticky with spilt drinks and humid from the sweat of so many bodies in such a small space. The smoke machine by the DJ's booth belched out coconut-scented smoke, masking the odour of so many sweaty bodies and the scent of sex. They danced for a while; favourite songs pouring out of the speakers. Their bodies in rhythm with each other from so many nights spent together on dancefloors around town. When they'd had enough they collapsed into each other on a stained and worn velour couch that's original colour was now hard to discern even when the house lights went up at 5 am. They sank blissfully into the couch and each other's arms.
They sat on the sand, the headlights from his car providing light for them to see each other by. Rugged up in coats and blankets, mittens and beanies, they curled up close to draw heat from each other. They couldn't light a fire on the beach, so they shivered in the spotlight of the low beams, watching the fog drift in from the sea and their warm breath billow against the cold night air. They giggled together as they attempted to blow smoke rings into the sky. The car radio, picking up the only station nearby, played a mixture of golden oldies, and love songs and dedications. They pressed their faces, blushed pink from the cold, together in an attempt to bring feeling back to flesh. Their warm breath mingled and rose into the cold night air as though from one person. They lay back to stare up at the cloudless sky and the stars overhead as the classic hits continued to pour from the tinny speakers in the car’s dashboard.
Their clothes were strewn behind them, discarded on the sand like breadcrumbs in fairytales, as they ran through the rain toward the waves. The beach was deserted this time of night, especially in this inclement weather. There was no one around to see their antics or their naked bodies as they ran into the water. The water still warm from the heat of the sun earlier in the day, but cooling on their skin. They waded together and splashed each other with the salty, foamy water as they moved into the shallows. As they sauntered further in they savoured the lapping tide moving against their bodies and the rain falling on their bare skin. The water now up to their waists, they clasped hands again and moved out until the water was almost up to their shoulders. They leaned their heads back in the water, lifting their feet off the seabed, floating with eyes up toward the sky. After allowing their bodies to float for a while, they swam together, heads under the water. They rolled over in the water from time to time and opened their eyes to look up at the night sky through the waves. Watching the ripples of moonlight and the lights along the boardwalk refracting through the water's surface. Marvelling at the patterns and shapes of light drifting through the water. Lost together in the beauty of the moment and submerged in their muted underwater world.
overpass
As children, they crossed the overpass every day. They congregated near the 'tin tabernacle' as each of them arrived. They swung their schoolbags, pulled up their white knee-high socks, and lingered as long as they could by the entrance to the overpass.
They talked about antics in the schoolyard the previous day. They gossiped about the boys they liked and the girls they didn't. They compared their bruises and blisters from swinging and twirling on the monkey bars the day before.
Sarah would always have some sweets to share, but she doled them out like party favours to each girl in turn. You knew whether you were Sarah's 'favourite' today by the order in which you received your chocolate drop or musk stick. Or if you got stuck with a black jelly-baby. No one else liked the liquorice-flavoured jelly-babies, but she did. So she didn't mind if she was last in line for sweets from time to time.
They didn't have to catch the train to school. In truth, they didn't actually have to pass the station at all to get there. But they detoured by the station to watch the trains pass by, thinking of where it might take them away from here. They thought the men and women in their suits were so sophisticated and stylish. They wondered at what they might find at the other end of the line, in the city. A destination that seemed so magical and far away from their suburban homes.
They stood on tiptoe trying to see the train as it pulled in to the station and then pulled away. The shorter girls warped the plastic sides of their lunchboxes as they stood on them to see. The steel barriers were set so high they could barely see the train until it was almost gone.
They talked non-stop about how different their lives would be if they lived in the city. How much more exciting and glamorous their lives would be then. Because, of course, one day they would live in the city. One day they would meet nice boys, get married, and be swept away from the dull part of town in which they now lived. But not the boys from their school. None of them were nice. Well, except that one boy.
They skipped across the overpass, realising they'd lingered and chattered too long. They had mere minutes before the school bell would ring out across the train tracks to tell them they were late again. Their teachers would give them stern looks, knowing they'd dawdled, not been attentive. Too distracted by other things to arrive on time and avoid disruption to the class, again. Their skipping accelerated to a run as they imagined the stern words they'd hear as they found their seats in class.
As she stood at the end of the overpass, her mind ran over those memories. In her mind's eye she watched the girls laugh and wave their arms as they ran down the other side of the overpass. Girls full of hopeful dreams of moving on. Girls too caught up in the small things to mind too much about the big things. Yet always wanting the big things. Not the small-mindedness of the neighbourhood they'd grown up in.
The laughter of a group of children approaching brought her back to the moment. She realised her mind had wandered. Waiting for the train, she'd let her mind slip back into the past, not for the first time, and no doubt not for the last.
She caught sight of her reflection in the convex mirror at the end of the overpass, in front of the 'tin tabernacle'. Once again the sight was a little unnerving. She was still becoming accustomed to the change of tone in her hair as she'd let the last of the dye grow out. As her hair colour faded from red to brown then to a light silver, she found herself fascinated by its new colour when she caught sight of it in mirrors. She knew it was her reflected in the mirrored surface, but it seemed like someone else altogether.
Her mind brought back into the moment by her reflection, her ear caught the sound of the bells at the level crossing announcing the arrival of the train from the city. She straightened her sweater; ran a hand through her hair to smooth it. She walked along the overpass. She was still not tall enough to see the train over the barrier as it pulled in. Nevertheless, she raised herself onto tiptoes in the attempt before walking along the overpass to wait for passengers to alight at the end of their journey from the city.
all saints [portobello road, notting hill, london, england, 2011]
women in uniform [portobello road, notting hill, london, england, 2011]
untitled #146 [portobello road, notting hill, london, england, 2011]
children of vision (or, rubber ducky, you're the one) [portobello road, notting hill, london, england, 2011]
untitled #6 [wood green, london, england, 2011]
untitled #7 [wood green, london, england, 2011]
untitled #142 [trafalgar square, westminster, london, england, 2011]
ship in a bottle [trafalgar square, westminster, london, england, 2011]
untitled #130 [trafalgar square, westminster, london, england, 2011]
untitled #140 [trafalgar square, westminster, london, england, 2011]
untitled #141 [trafalgar square, westminster, london, england, 2011]
untitled #133 [trafalgar square, westminster, london, england, 2011]
untitled #139 [trafalgar square, westminster, london, england, 2011]
untitled #138 [trafalgar square, westminster, london, england, 2011]
fortitude [trafalgar square, westminster, london, england, 2011]
humanity [trafalgar square, westminster, london, england, 2011]
the salisbury [covent garden, london, england, 2011]
covent garden market [covent garden, london, england, 2011]
st paul's church [covent garden, london, england, 2011]
apple market [covent garden, london, england, 2011]
untitled #108 [covent garden, london, england, 2011]
untitled #101 [the ship tavern, holborn, london, england, 2011]
untitled #102 [the ship tavern, holborn, london, england, 2011]
untitled #67 [lloyd's of london, 1 lime street, london, england, 2011]
untitled #75 ['the gherkin', 30 st mary axe, london, england, 2011]
untitled #87 [staple inn, holborn, london, england, 2011]
untitled #92 [cittie of yorke, holborn, london, england, 2011]
untitled #90 [cittie of yorke, holborn, london, england, 2011]
untitled #44 [ealing, london, england, 2011]
food [not] served [the town house, ealing, london, england, 2011]
untitled #16 [the north star, ealing, london, england, 2011]
the north town star house [ealing, london, england, 2011]
l.a. confidential [ealing, london, england, 2011]
untitled #29
untitled #38 [the grove, ealing, london, england, 2011]
untitled #8 [the grove, ealing, london, england, 2011]
welsh presbyterian church [ealing, london, england, 2011]
untitled #50 [pitzhanger manor house, ealing, london, england, 2011]
untitled #55 [pitzhanger manor house, ealing, london, england, 2011]
ealing studios [ealing, london, england, 2011]
untitled #43 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
Almost a week after the snowfall captured in my previous post, we had another overnight snowfall allowing me to capture the portraits of Kyle cavorting in a local park the next day [also in a previous post], and to capture the snow up close and personal, rather than from the warmth and dry of my home.
Below are some of the other photos I captured.
untitled #40 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
lovers [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #48 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #42 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #22 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #50 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #34 [braemar avenue baptist church, wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #20 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #28 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #52 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #36 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #9 [nightingale gardens, wood green, london, england, 2012]
For those who might be interested, I have work available for sale as open editions on RedBubble [unframed photographic prints, matted framed and canvas prints], as well as postcards, greeting cards, and calendars.
Calendars are available for any starting month, and I'm more than happy to create custom calendars of my work, should you like!
Most of my self-portraiture is only available as limited edition prints, so please contact me directly if you're interested in any on RedBubble that are not for sale; or if there are any other images of mine you have seen on my blog or website that you would like to purchase that aren't on RedBubble.
Additionally, if you would prefer a signed print or a limited edition print, please also feel free to contact me for details
untitled #4 [wood green, london, england, 2012]
I'm from a country where it doesn't snow in the cities.
If you're lucky it might snow in some alpine areas a couple of hours out of the city (see Victorian and New South Wales snowfields), but mostly you only see snow if you go hunting for it, and rarely do you ever see it actually falling. If need be, the holiday resorts manufacture their own snow so they can maintain a ski season in years when the snowfall isn't up to par.
I think the first time I saw snow was in about sixth grade when my parents took us away for a day to the Victorian snowfields, and my brothers and I had our first experience of throwing snowballs at each other, making a snowman, and just generally mucking about in the snow. I can't recall ever attempting to ski, but my memory may be fuzzy on this.
Apart from that, and being sleeted upon in November 2006 whilst tramping around the Tongariro Crossing area of New Zealand (I wasn't brave enough to climb the scree with my friends, Hugh and Jamie, who subsequently got properly snowed upon), my heaviest actual snowfall experienced previously was pretty piddling: a flurry in Birmingham city centre a couple of weeks after arriving in the UK in 1999, and a similarly brief 'white Christmas' in Newcastle a few weeks later.
Even in the two and a half years I lived here previously, most of the snow I experienced was already on the ground. This included when I had to work between the Christmas and New Year holidays one year, and I walked out of my front door in Reading and stopped on the doorstep, utterly perplexed at what confronted me. It took a good couple of beats before my sleep-deprived brain registered "It snowed!" Having snowed overnight whilst we slept, I had still not been snowed upon, good and proper; and since I had to work, I left my housemate and my then-boyfriend to run around in said snow in their boxer shorts throwing snowballs at each other, whilst I attempted to venture into town without falling on my arse.
So you can imagine I was pretty excited by actual snow, actually falling, at the start of February right outside my house. There were a few preliminary flurries over the weeks leading up to it, but I'd managed to blink and miss every single one. And given the windows to my bedroom are quite high up, and mostly obscured from view by the sloping ceiling when I'm sitting at my desk, it was only because I was talking with my housemates at the time and my landlady mentioned it, that I even noticed.
Suffice to say, despite the cold, I grabbed my camera and wandered out to try to catch some photos. Some at the beginning of the snowfall from the footpath outside my house; the rest from the warmth and dry of my bedroom, the landing, the kitchen and lounge.
I even woke at random points through the night to check if it was still snowing (e.g. 4:30am, and again at 8:30am), and shot off some more photos.
My landlady and housemates were not so excited by the prospect of snow, with concerns about driving and potential flight delays. And though I worried about the impact it would have on Kyle's arrival (it caused slight additional delay); and knew the novelty would pass once I had to venture out, once the snow had turned to sludge, and when the pure white snowfall was discoloured by so many neighbourhood dogs' urine, I think my inner tourist was showing.
slow [wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #55 [wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #48 [wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #19 [wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #61 [wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #58 [wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #60 [wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #59 [wood green, london, england, 2012]
untitled #78 [park royal, london, england, 2011]
untitled #82 [park royal, london, england, 2011]
untitled #79 [park royal, london, england, 2011]
untitled #80 [park royal, london, england, 2011]
untitled #81 [park royal, london, england, 2011]