This is what I wrote nearly a year ago when I thought I’d given up photography. Clearly I haven’t - I’m just using a different camera at the monment : my iphone.
This blog revisits some of the pictures stored away in my photo hoard. Stuff that I’ve accumulated over 25 years of going snap snap snap through a plastic black box.
Maybe I’ll find out what on earth I was doing all that time! I thought I was a photographer but I’m not sure now. More like a hoarder of memories, a stalker of expressions and emotions. Originator and curator of a visual diary that does …..what?
Every portrait I ever took ended up a picture of someone else. Every landmark a mystery. Every decisive moment an indistinct blur from some other time, another place. All of them lies. Everyone a stranger. None of them evoke a memory that I can trust. I look at them and think “Who and where and what is this??”
And yet when I see the smallest thumb nail of rubbish video taken on my mobile phone with all its noisy atmosphere and sounds and movements and evolving moments I am right there, at that time and in that place. No decisive moment just an endless stream of unfolding scenarios and random chaotic intrusions. Real life. real people. My actual friends. My children. People I know. Places I’m at. Authentic and real. Every one a recognisable portrait of the thing they actually are.
So here’s my chance to breathe some life into the rigor mortis of the frozen image. I’ll add some context, some thoughts, some ideas. I’ll invent and weave a narrative around them - pretend they’re stills from movies never made by a director who doesn’t exist. So please excuse the stolen blurbs from this years London Film Festival brochure that I have ..er… adapted and attached to some of these photographs. I adore the movies. My thefts are done with respect and love.