Found Photography

In May 2012, during the final term of my second year of the Foundation Degree at Plymouth College of Art, I began work on my very first personal project.  As anyone who knows anything about me, then you know I do not do these often, preferring to hide behind the camera than put myself out there for others to point at and dissect.  Yet what I had seemed to perfect not to pursue.  Neatly hidden away, having been unknown to me for so many years was a wonderful box of slides, featuring a series of negatives showcasing various family members; from my mum in her early years to when she first met my father, his time in the military, their first home together, the car they took on holiday, a little Jack Russell dog that passed away when I was only a baby, to many more incredible images of their beautiful lives together, along with dozens of photographs of other people I had no clue about.

While work continued on my final major project of the Foundation year, all students were given a choice of various topics to apply for that would essentially make up around eight weeks of this last term and labelled Complimentary Studies.  It was designed as a way of breaking up the general pattern and flow of your particular major and allow an individual to work on something entirely different for a limited time only; for instance, a fashion student may decide to take up an opportunity and study underwater photography for a few months.  Stubborn as I am, I preferred to continue my photographic journey of discovery and opted for Found Photography, considering I had only recently found this box of slides.  At the time it seemed like a very good idea, except much to my dismay after signing on to the module, I found out that Found Photography was more about defacing photographs and various imagery than actually finding photos; the purpose being to create interesting collages and unique ways in presenting an end result.  Well, you can imagine my reaction to the idea of cutting up these slides.  Not a blooming chance dear!

Thankfully the lecturer was quite accommodating to my concerns and I think she quickly realised that I had something special in front of me with this sentimental collection of family history and I was allowed to take my work along a different path; one less print-barbaric compared to the rest of the class, though I was still asked to present my final body of work in some kind of unique fashion.

Over the following weeks I quickly fell in love with my box of slides, yet I wondered how to go about creating and presenting a project out of my found photographs.  My early attempt seemed to follow a typical route in projecting the slides onto a wall and photographing the image thereafter.  Yet despite looking quite beautiful in large format, I didn't quite feel any sort of connection or closeness with the result.  Different textures and materials projected as a backdrop didn't seem to change my thoughts and feelings on the matter and whilst this module was more about fun and expressing oneself than something that would actually affect grades, I still wanted to do my level best and produce a project as fitting and important as the subject matter itself.  Late one evening, whilst holding up a slide to my bedroom ceiling light, I suddenly realised I had exactly what I wanted; my eyes had become the camera and the photo in front of me was picture perfect.

Moments later and I was holding a slide in one hand with my Nikon D60 in the other.  It was incredibly difficult at times achieving a crisp focus but after a few hours of work, I had nine images which quickly became the main body for this mini project.  I decided to represent each image with a caption as a way of narrative, though I admit looking back on this now, my choice of font was a little off.

At the time though, I truly loved what I had created and I felt this mini project was a huge success, not only in terms of the response I received from lecturers, but more so in how it made me feel inside.  There was a definite sense of cathartic pleasure resonating through my work; simply put, it was actually nice to hold my father close once again.  

Having lost such a prominent figure in my life at such a young age certainly didn't help the many years that soon followed, yet despite the negativity I contained for so long, as you get older, you realise time does heal and I try and imagine that there are positives in loss.  After all, I did get fifteen wonderful years with the greatest man I will ever know and it is him, along with the gift of photography that has shaped who I am today.  I suppose you could say this is all somewhat of a blessing, if not wrapped in the strangest of bitter disguise.

With my next venture out at sea being early January, December gave me an ideal chance to revisit this mini project.  During this festive season I have been laying the various groundwork and take the initial idea and develop this to a far great level, with additional years of photographic experience, along with superior equipment and a greater sense of purpose.  

In my next post, I will cover the changes made to the images above and how my final major study, 'i am Alive' shaped the eventual look of this new personal project of mine.  For now, I do hope you all have a lovely Christmas and a fantastic New Year and I will see you all very soon, with work from my new and revised project, 'They Live on in Light'.  

Poseidon by Graphique

I do find it strange how things tend to work out in the end.  Many times we can be faced with such a problem or dilemma that it almost seems futile and a complete an utter a waste of time and energy to continue forth; maybe it would be better just to take the fall and move onto the next trial and tribulation with a clearer mind.  Yet often, through some strange turn of events, things can and do work out for the better; the end result being something you could never have imagined at that one moment, particularly when those circumstances stop everything in their tracks.  If I ever need further proof or a gentle reminder that I'm on the right path with my photography and that there is a certain someone up there watching over me, I think this blog post goes a long way towards highlight this.

I was so excited when Norman at Kaya Gallery asked me if I wanted to exhibit at the National Marine Aquarium in Plymouth alongside a fantastic selection of Ocean City Artists this year, and it felt like such a great opportunity to test the water with my new project, particularly as 'Emily Rose' was still in the early stages of development.  The potential feedback that I hoped to receive could go a long way towards shaping the rest of my first major study post graduation.

Having taken onboard the many positives and negatives from the various exhibitions I have been involved with over this last year or so, I quickly decided to do away with the additional cost of framing and instead simply go with a series of prints pinned to a wall.  I didn't think any more about this till perhaps a month prior to the opening night, when during one of my bi-weekly chats with Norman I found out that I couldn't hang my work from the walls.  Panic set in immediately and that feeling of I can't wait to exhibit was quickly replaced with the notion that I couldn't and wouldn't be able to exhibit.  Before I made any kind of hasty decision though, I arranged to see Mark Du'chesne, the Front of House Operations manager at the National Marine Aquarium, in hope that we could find an accommodating workaround for both parties involved.

I met with Mark the following week and he took me around to view the exhibition space.  With much of the upper floor newly refurbished, I could understand why he didn't want anything hung from the walls with either nails and pins.  I suggested Command Strips, those used quite successfully during my Devonport Guildhall exhibition, though we agreed that the potential for paint being stripped during pack down was quite likely.  I wasn't sure what to do.  I honestly did think this was the end of a great opportunity to exhibit.  Yet before my head drop, I noticed along the middle of the walls and around the room was a lengthy PVC trunking wide enough to rest boards upon at a slight angle and we decided this would easily be the best route to take.  I had a good idea as to where to get a series of images produced to and from utter despair, there was definite relief replacing this emotion upon my face.  When I returned home, I called Graphique in St. Austell, the company that produced my final major project of my degree and crossed my fingers.

Within minutes of speaking to Robin Hubbard, everything was sorted and all I needed to do next was send across the images ready for print.  It seemed like only days later that everything was ready for pick up.  I couldn't wait to see the work Graphique had done.  Later in the evening I received an email asking if I could call them with regards to one of my prints.  My heart sank as my first thought was something had gone very wrong.  I had a habit during my degree of occasionally sending images to print, only to find I had supplied them with the wrong resolution or colour profile and my first thought was that I had done something similar here.  How wrong I was.

The following morning I spoke to Robin and he told me that the team was so impressed with Poseidon, my storm at sea image, that they wanted to produce a limited edition run of this print on high end aluminium.  My jaw literally hit the floor.  Not only did they want to take on the production duties of this print, it wasn't going to cost me a thing.  I could not believe the opportunity I had in front of me, particularly when weeks before I was almost about to pull out of the NMA exhibition.  Like I said, its funny how things work out.

In the past, I have had to take on all costs when it came to selling work and generally my profit margins were quite low.  Graphique were willing to take on everything from the materials and production time needed to create the piece, along with the marketing needs to display and sell this image.  In return I would receive a percentage of each sale, along with my very own framed prints; the icing on the cake was that I still retained full copyright over the image.

Poseidon by Graphique was produced on high end lacquered aluminium as a limited edition 60 image run and looked absolutely fantastic.  After getting home with my framed present, I took a snap on Instagram, yet looking at it compared to actually looking at it, this photo really doesn't do it any justice.  It is simply one of those striking images that you literally have to see in person; the way light catches the print as you side step slowly from left to right is simply exquisite, giving off an almost haunting and life-like 3D effect.  I have never been so utterly blown away by a piece of art and I can not believe that this is mine.  And not mine in the sense that I now own this print on the wall, I actually took this.  This is what I do.  The work done by Robin and the team at Graphique has shown that my photography continues to be a wonderfully fine mix of documentary and commerciality and gives me a good and positive indication that my Emily Rose series will be a huge success next year.

Poseidon by Graphique, on display in the living room

To accompany the print, I was asked to produce a write up that would be added to a plaque and presented with each copy.

Poseidon

by

Tony Fitzsimmons

Shot around 50 miles south south east off the coast of Land's End

and captured during an intense gale force 8 storm.

From the series, 'Emily Rose'

After five days at sea onboard the Brixham trawler, the 'Emily Rose', a message sounded across on the radio from the coast guard, warning of an incoming 5 to 7 gale force storm, projected to hit during the early hours of the following morning.  My initial thought was that my first week out at sea with the crew was coming to an end.  I turned to Arthur, the skipper of the vessel and asked if we were heading back to port.  He glanced back at me with an almost bemused look on his face.  "No, we're going fishing".

For the rest of the night I kept tabs on the radar as I watched various trawlers return back to the ports of Newlyn, Plymouth and Brixham, while we continued to remain out, riding the high waves against all odds.  Within hours the radar was completely devoid of any other vessel; the Emily Rose the only trawler still working the sea. 

By morning the gale was upgraded to an 8 and I was treated to some of the most powerful and incredible waves I had ever seen.

"The fisherman know that the sea is dangerous and the storm is terrible,

but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore"

Vincent Van Gogh

While my 'Emily Rose' project is still in its early stages, it really has had such a stunning beginning and there are still a few exciting developments still to mention since my NMA exhibition.  I honestly can not wait to get back out to sea in early January and capture more of the crew and vessel, along with the ever changing and powerful landscape that is the sea.  For now, if I ever need a gentle reminder as to how far I've come since graduation, I just need to walk into the living room and let Poseidon completely wash over me.   

Poseidon

Simply Cute

'Simply Cute' was taken during April 2010 as I continued to build a portfolio of work with the purpose of studying a photography degree at Plymouth College of Art.  Like many of my photographs back then, it was unfortunately shot in JPEG format, using a Nikon D60 and a 70-300mm Tamron lens.  While it can not be printed in the sizeable realms that 'Posiedon' is currently being produced though Graphique in St. Austell and Kaya Gallery in Plymouth, it has found a nice little place along side some of my other work in a different context altogether.

Simply Cute

Over the next month, I will be applying the finishing touches to my Etsy store with a variety of products, ready to go live for the start of the new year.  I've been in the planning stage for a while now and as a way of testing the water in what may or may not sell, I recently produced a series of products, one of which being a batch of fridge magnets for a local cafe. Within weeks, the majority had surprisingly sold and this image in particular quickly became one of the most popular.  They weren't short on quality either, using the same paper as I always do for my actual prints through Kaya Gallery, along with a good weighty plastic and strong magnetic strip from an online company I eventually settled with. With key rings and even Snow Globes planned (though I am hoping to find a company that also does Sand Globes to suit some of my Kenya images), the sky is the limit to the potential of my store. If only I knew this during my time at university.

At the moment I am toying around with the possibility of text across the top of some of the fridge magnet images, though more so as a limited run for particular calendar events.  The theme of love is wonderfully represented with 'Simply Cute' and with a little further editing, I believe this will work out great for Valentines.  I am also producing a run of 'Deirdre' Chicken fridge magnets with possible text of "Love My Girls" and links to BHWT, with the potential to donate a percentage of the profits to this wonderful organisation, though more on this and my Etsy store as I get closer to launch.  I really do miss her.

This last year and a half since graduation has been a real eye opener (and struggle at times) in the ways and means of being a practising documentary photography while generating an income.  I continue to persevere onwards; that is all you can do really, though these last few months have been fantastic with further business ventures and sales due to my 'Emily Rose' project.  I can't wait to get back out to sea (she is currently under maintenance for the next few weeks and with a Christmas job lined up, my next trip has been postponed now till the second week of January) and I firmly believe next year will be a stunning, rewarding and very hard working year for me.  After updating my LinkedIn profile recently, it is comforting to note how far I've come and how much I've been involved with since graduation; I expect to add a great many more opportunities to the already growing list during 2016.  

I will also make some time free during April of next year and head back to the same spot I took 'Simply Cute', situated in a lovely little place called Mount Edgecombe, only this time with my Nikon D700 and a 500mm lens.  Hopefully there will be more wonderful new borns on display, loving their introduction to life and as always, loving one another.  If there is anything this world needs right now, it is a whole lot of love.  After the awful events that have transpired recently, particularly that of Paris, I think it is important to remind ourselves that there is still a great beauty and warmth to be found in this world, despite the various evils that often overshadow the thought.  You just have to look for it, however hidden away it may seem.

It is strange how we look back at a photo and how is speaks back to us years later.  'Simply Cute' seems to translate a scene of fragility and wonderment of what life is all about.  We often strive for things that matter the least, when all we really should be searching for is the necessity to be comfortably safe.  For this is all anyone on this planet should ever want or deserve. To be forever safe, comfortable, and always loved.  Perhaps one day we all will.  

Chickens

After a few weeks of feeling on top of the world, I suppose it is only typical of life to remind you of who really is in control and land one heck of a sucker punch. As I write this, it looks very likely that the beautiful and very timid Deirdre won't be around by morning. Our little love is one of five ex-battery hens that have lived with us for almost three wonderful years.  A few days ago she was her usual happy garden roaming self. Last week she managed to find her way through a slight opening after the kitchen door was left ajar to halfway up the stairs, a mischievous sense of accomplishment in her clucks and swagger; from digging and playing on grass and soil, hiding under apple trees and raspberry bushes, to an everlasting supply of water and variety of food on tap with not a worry in the world or a need to remember or remind herself of just how bad it was before, she really did have it all. This morning, her body began shutting down.

For the best part of the day, we took turns in nursing her. The other Chickens carried on with their day, though I did feel they knew what was happening. I sometimes don't give them enough credit in their understanding of life events and every day goings on, but when they've seen me clear up a ridiculous amount of poop from the kitchen floor over the past few years, I do have to wonder.  To this day they still continue pooping here and there, laying that a minefield of mess in just the right place to catch you off guard. Yet I can't shout at them or get angry, they are what they are and I love them to pieces for it. Today was absolutely heartbreaking.

After nearly five years of looking after to losing many ex-battery hens, you'd think it would get easier, that over time this would be something you would just get use to, accept even.  Yet you don't, and while you know it will happen eventually, it doesn't help the fact that their short lives have already been made shorter by such a horrid life before. All you can do is the best you can, give them everything they need to be content, safe and happy. It just gets harder with each and every passing.

The state many of them are in when we pick them up from a release centre is utterly disgraceful. For that reason alone, you really wouldn't give them many more than a few weeks and months at best; a severe lack of feathers, many with limps and crooked bodies, tumours, all manner of aches and pains, the list of awful woes literally goes on. Yet weeks and months later, after they settle and find comfort in their new surroundings, it is almost like their new found happiness begins to cure their ills.  

It surprises me just how resilient these little creatures are. To think that before they arrived at a loving home, they had never seen anything of the outside world. From noisy cramped conditions and incessant noise caused forgivingly by every other hundred/thousand or so Chicken that has zero clue of why they are there or what they have done to deserve such a fate, to constant 24/7 artificial light, seed on timers and non stop conveyors, that unnerving battle just to get ounce of feed is not something you would wish on your worst enemy, yet here we are, maybe not wishing but actually making this a full blown reality for pretty much every species on this planet. If its not meat it is Ivory, or fur, or skin for boots, fins for soup, the list goes on.  

I understand very well that I am somewhat of a hypocrite.  For most of my life I have eaten meat, loved KFC's and not really considered the poor quality of thought and life that goes a long way in making the fast food business into more of a pandemic.  My new photography project even looks at the livelihoods of fishermen in their pursuit of source to plate. I am as much part of the problem so for that reason alone, I won't be making this too much of a lecture. Nowadays, if I can find a good medium, I guess I can live with that.  

Throughout 2015 I have not eaten meat and I continue to do so today, preferring a healthy (and surprisingly nice) Quorn/Soya alternative.  I still eat fish though, a pescatarian I believe it is called and while out on the trawler I would be lying if I said I didn't eat meat; 50 miles from the coast, there is little point making a song and dance about such menu matters, you either eat or you don't. I did draw the line one evening when Chicken was about to be served; a potato and veg sandwich seemed a more pleasing choice.

One of the many wonderful rescue centres across the country (instagram)

Dixie.  The condition they can be in after being rescued is simply appalling

Dotty.  We thought we were going to lose her days after being rescued.
Thankfully she is still with us (instagram)

Every day I see it on the news and every day I can't imagine that tomorrow can be any worse than yesterday. I wonder why those that commit the various and disgusting crimes that they do, often get another chance to do it again and again. I honestly can not bring myself to believe that we are living in a century where beheadings actually still do happen, that there are those out there that bring down planes, incite hatred, instil violence to the uneducated streets.  Here I have this beautifully sweet Deirdre, the most perfect and considerate of creatures, finally in her own lovely little utopian dream, loved and cared for, only to have this taken away so suddenly, without even an apology or a warning. But hey, some scumbag be it the lowest of the low can still look forward to a fame filled morning on Jezza or at the other end of the spectrum, spending x amount of time in a prison version of the Ritz or cheered on for killing hundreds in a split second. I just don't get it.

There is no point being bitter though. If anything, it is just a way of creating further negative energy. I know I can't change a damn thing. No one can, and I think for so long that has always been the problem. While conversation and intent may have always been good, the idea of changing the world will forever be an impossible task. She will gracefully spin on with just as much good and bad as there always has been.  It is a shame it took me half a lifetime and a flock of Chickens to understand and accept this.  In the end, while you will never change the way the world is, you can make a difference, however great, to whatever small, and I hope the next however many years of my life, I will continue to do so.

I had planned to do a Chicken blog for some time now, yet I didn't want it to come across as what it is probably appearing, like some rant and rave about the state and play of our world. I wanted this post to solely reflect on how wonderful these creatures are and concentrate solely on the strength and spirit of these characters.  It may sound strange to some but these little madams have bought so much good into my life and very soon, another will leave me with just as much pain as the last. From the original trio of Dolly, Daisy and Dixie, to the wonderfully inquisitive Delorus, to Doris who only lasted a week, far too traumatised by what came before, to Daenarys, the feistiest and bossiest of them all, fine one day and suddenly gone the next, to Daphne, Deborah, Delia, and Dana, each has left their mark on me and my world.

Daisy

Dana

Daffodil

Deanna (instagram)

Daisy (foreground) & Dolly

Daphne (left) & Delorus

Dana #selfie (instagram)

Deanna enjoying a mud bath (instagram)

Diane, Dotty, Deanna, Deirdre and Daffodil (instagram)

Dotty.  Even a box of straw can keep her happy for hours (instagram)

Diane

Summer time chilling with Diane, Dotty, Deanna, Deirdre and Daffodil (instagram)

Deanna (left) & Deirdre #besties (instagram)

After spending an almost sleepless night with Deirdre in my room, one claw clutched around my finger, her head awkwardly resting on my arm, it was clear nothing could be done.  By morning she became somewhat stressed with what appeared to be a series of panic attacks.  Despite her legs finally giving way, she still had a desire to move around; the amount of power in her wings was incredible given how weak she was. I managed to calm her down each time this happened with a soothing cuddle, but we knew she couldn't keep on going like this. A few hours later, Deirdre was taken to the local vet and put to sleep.

She is at peace now, buried in the garden alongside the rest of the beautiful tribe we have lost over the years. A day later and I still feel so utterly empty; a few more tears trickle down my cheek is testament to that. Yet she did have a lovely time with us and this is what I should and always focus on. I just wish she could had a few more years with us, or at the very least, passed away in her sleep without having to endure whatever suffering she may have experienced on her final day.

The other four women are all just as old and I know soon, each one of them will break my heart all over again. I don't think it matters who or what it may be, attachment to anything in life will hurt a great deal when it is gone. Life is so short and while it may hold so many magical moments, the pain it can also bring at times is simply unbearable. I wonder if this is really what being human is all about?  That the only way we will ever live and learn is through love and loss.

Perhaps one day we will make the world a better place.  A world built on peace and harmony, where religion doesn't preach or dictate that their God or message is the one true whatever but instead underline and explain the principles of what is good or bad through common sense, communication and clarity.  Where politics is actually about forming a better way and means of life instead of simply belittling the opposing party.  Where terrorism or despicable acts are nothing more make-believe than the monsters under your bed.  And where long term goals are not forever battered by a short term way of thinking, of making and destroying millions of lives in an instant through a thoughtless pursuit of the quick buck.

As the most intelligent and dominant species on the planet, we certainly have a huge responsibility; with great power, well you know the rest. Maybe if we saw life through the eyes of those we hold with little or even no regard, things would be different. The very notion that I can love something so vastly different to myself, where language and understanding is literally as alien as our appearance to one another seems as profound as it is beautiful. They have earned the right to be here just as much as we have.  Some even have a stronger case than we do in that right. I really do believe the world has a lot to learn from all creatures, whether great or small.  In these last five years, I know I have.

In memory of Deirdre

Emily Rose @ National Marine Aquarium

With my next venture out at sea with the crew of the Emily Rose just around the corner, it was wonderful to see my previous outing onboard gaining so much positive attention.  Emily Rose was fast becoming more than just another project; I honestly had a genuine interest into the lives of these fishermen and the many hardships they face on a day to day basis.  After all, they were out for weeks on end on one of the most dangerous and ever changing landscapes this world had evolved and perfectly perfected; for that reason alone I had nothing but absolute admiration, as well as a huge amount of intrigue into what lifts someone from the comfort and (almost) safety of dry land to working in such harsh, and at times, wretched conditions.

My expectation for this project had always been to honestly, and with the greatest amount of respect, portray a way life that for many (and no different to myself not so long ago), whose only association with these trawlermen was to order a fish supper from the chippy or pursuing today's catch at the local market.  This lack of understanding was not so much caused by ignorance; I simply felt that coverage of this livelihood was not hugely represented, thus leading to a severe lack of awareness.  To be fair, there was and is so much happening in the world, so many varied lifestyle and life choices, I suppose it is impossible to keep tabs on everything that goes on.  In my mind, if I could just inform even a few people, open a series of eyes and minds to a world vastly different, though one very much within and connected to their own, I was heading in the right direction.

My latest exhibition and first public display of 'Emily Rose' was held over the weekend (29.10 | 1.11.2015) at the National Marine Aquarium, in association with Norman Holmes and Kaya Gallery, featuring a stunning selection of work by Plymouth's Ocean City Artists.  It was a real privilege to be amongst the likes of David Gray, Julie Hammonds, David Chambers, Julianna Depledge, Carol Rolfe, Sophie Johnson, Jenny Evans and many many more.  My display consisted of six single image prints (21x14 inch), along with a montage piece (36x28 inch), all printed on 5mm foamex with a laminate finish.  Graphique in St. Austell, the same company that produced my 'i am Alive' image for my end of year show in London through Plymouth College of Art provided a fabulous job with the printing and left me stunned with the results.

The idea that I was the only photographer on display in this melting pot of such talented painters, glass makers and designers was fantastic, and often throughout the evening this was how I was referred to.  Wow, so you're the photographer!  Hearing that on repeat never got old.  By the end of the night I was mentally exhausted, though this was a good exhausted of course; my throat sore from constant yet welcoming conversations regarding my work, my first week at sea, the next outing and in particular, 'Poseidon'

'Poseidon' quickly became the main talking point during the night.  Comments generally begun or ended with the word phenomenal, elevating my head to a place way past cloud nine.  With a run of 64 limited edition prints on high end aluminium going into production this month following interesting from a company in the south west, as well as a recent three page spread in Fishing News (huge thanks to Dave Linkie and the team), I felt everything, touch wood, was finally coming together following a tough yet eventful first year as a practising photographer post-graduation.  With the winter fishing season now in full swing, I couldn't wait to see what images I would return with when I landed back on dry land.   

Poseidon

My recent article in Fishing News, found in WH Smiths

The Power of Colour

The more I think about it, the more I firmly believe emotion and the way someone is feeling at that particular moment governs the way we take and edit photographs.  

In a previous post, I mentioned how the hard drive on my Macbook Pro fatally crashed during Christmas 2014, and that losing all my edited work resulted in having to go back through hundreds and hundreds of RAW files and re-edit, only his time with additional years of knowledge and experience I acquired through the latter stage of my degree and the subsequent months following graduation.  What I don’t understand is why I suddenly began to edit my work in black and white.  

I am not saying that this was a bad move; from the sudden change at the beginning of the year in how I was producing my images, I did get a further two exhibitions from a newly completed and highly praised project, work as a contributor for an online publication, as well as a few emails and new contacts that I will soon (and very excitedly) talk about.    

I just found colour strange to look at.  For a good while, tones and spectral range just seemed considerably off and whatever the issue was, I simply could not put my finger on it.  It wasn't just in my images either.  Everywhere I seemed to look, imagery just didn't seem quite up to the standard that I was aware of during my degree.  It was as if I was now viewing imagery with production values firmly focused on saturation and vibrance through sliders turned up to 11 or lost within some convoluted mess of HDR exposures.  I got immensely tiring of seeing so much of the same export, wherever I looked; beautiful scenes seemingly altered to the point of no return.  Had photography become solely art over documentation?   

Perhaps this is why I began to play around in black and white, and for a good few months thereafter, a newfound interest and control over what could be done with an image began to present itself.  Shadows and blacks easily masked noticeable issues, while contrast could be ramped up in a way that if copy pasted in colour, the result would likely look entirely horrendous; perhaps this was how I was viewing things prior, though here in black and white, it seemed to only add further to the beauty of a piece.  There was also this interesting element that when producing work in black and white, imagery became somewhat and immediately timeless, as if the only way to view history was via this format.

Tsavo was bought to life during those few months, along with many other images taken during my time at university.  As I began to lay the ground work with regular visits to Sutton Harbour at the beginning of my trawler/life at sea project, and despite early attempts to edit in colour, I decided that long term I would continue to produce work in this way; the idea to exhibit solely in black and white while still retaining some form of commerciality in selling certain images in colour. It got to the point where I believed the only way to be a good photojournalist was to present your story in black and white.

Of course this is not and never will be the case, but try telling that to someone who is having difficulties in understanding the imperfections of colour; is this the point in which emotion comes storming in?  For example:

Imagine there is a person you have cared about for a number of years.  Perhaps something happens, nothing too serious but certainly a wake up call.  Suddenly they don't appear quite who they were.  You try and put your finger on it but the answer lies dormant.  From this point forward you begin to look at them a little differently.  Whatever the reason, you believe that this new look is for the better, despite your opposite now devoid of what it was that made them so special in the first place.  For a while you forget about the before and concentrate on the now, until a series of reminders and new opportunities quickly reflect on that green grass other side notion and you wonder why you ever did alter the one thing you've always viewed, loved and produced.

While I am often known for going off on a tangent, hopefully you get my point. A few months ago I was approached by a San Francisco based company (I'll go into more detail about this in a later post, to coincide with their website launch). They were interested in my Tsavo series, though when they approached me, 'Tsavo' was still in black and white.  Around the same time I found out I had been shortlisted in the Birds and Bees categories for the Zoological Society of London's Animal Photography Prize 2015, with my image of a Wake of Vultures. Despite 'Tsavo' being in black and white, I exported 'Carrion' (the title of the piece) in colour.  I was over the moon with the news and while I didn't go on to win my category, the acknowledgement does look pretty nice on my LinkedIn as a strong end to my first year as a practising photographer.

With my Emily Rose project now in full swing, I submitted a previous blog post, 'Emily Rose - A Week @ Sea' to Fishing News.  The editor of FN, Dave Linkie, soon replied back.  He seemed very impressed with the series of black and white images from my first outing, though he did finish by asking if I had these in colour.  I didn't.

Still, this and the last month or so did give me much to think about.  I was adamant that I was going to continue exhibiting in black and white; at least I think I was, though perhaps this was becoming more of a case of stubbornness washing over me.  I had pretty much settled on what prints I was going to showcase for my next exhibition (less than a week away as I write this), yet with multiple opportunities presenting themselves, I had a bit of a headache on my hands.

I began first with Tsavo, creating Virtual Copies of each RAW file and went from there.  Was it simply a case that right now, I was feeling on top of the world?  I still can't put my finger on it, which is why I do believe certain emotional factors do have such a huge impact on photography.  Whatever the case maybe, by the end of the week, Tsavo had never looked better. 

There were a few images I felt didn't work - Tsavo went from 51 images to 42 - but as a series, it certainly did look so much stronger.  Colours were awe inspiring; oranges, blues and greens looked positively alive, just as they were when I was there during those magically four days.  I could feel the change; bubbling and stirring inside, like getting home from a cold winter's day to thankfully sitting by a roasting fire, there was this beautiful warmth returning my work.

Emily Rose was next, and it gave me immense pleasure to not only reproduce my new project in this way, but to also create a series of new prints for my forthcoming exhibition at the National Marine Aquarium in Plymouth.  I think Dave Linkie was pretty happy with the change too.

The feedback so far concerning my 'Emily Rose' has been fantastic, and I definitely believe reproducing the series in colour has had a lot to do with it.  In less than a week, this series gets its first exhibition and I'm very sure this will not be just a one off.  Around the same time, Fishing News will be including a series of prints, plus a write up by yours truly over three fantastic pages; a huge thanks to Dave Linkie and the team.  'Emily Rose' will soon be submitted to Viewfind, the San Francisco based company, and I hope their interest in me as a photographer continues.  I suppose when I say I have quite a bit going on and much to tell you about over the next month, I think you'll agree.  Plus round two of my 'Emily Rose' project is coming up, with a second week out to sea in early November.  I really can't wait to get back out there, and this time on cold winter seas.  No rest for the wicked.