Untitled Underway

After months of planning, my first photography project since graduation was finally underway.  You could be forgiven in thinking that Tsavo came first; technically it did in some regard, though the photos were taken during the beginning of my third year at Plymouth College of Art and it wasn't until the early 2015 that the majority of the series was edited.

I'll be the first to admit that beginning this project felt a little strange.  No assignment brief to peruse through in the photography hub, no grades to aim towards, no criteria to be met and no deadline to panic over; this was entirely on me, by me.  If I wanted, I could stop tomorrow, simply abandon the project, stick the TV on and watch some Jeremy Kyle.  Nothing was stopping me, though what would have been the point in all those years spent studying towards a degree? This was what I had been striving for in the end, to be taken seriously as a documentary photographer post degree; to produce something not only striking in terms of visual quality, but showcase a story and a series of lives and livelihoods that before this week, I knew very little about.

The first few days spent down at Sutton harbour garnered some rather interesting results.  During my second year of my degree, my major study was a look at Plymouth's fishing industry and immediately the images taken this week were far and away superior to anything over the course of that assignment.  Granted I had since switched from a Nikon D60 to a Nikon D700; the move from entry level to full frame was always going to be noticeable, yet my perception and composition had also come on in leaps and bounds over these last few years.  While it seemed obvious to simply take photos of the docked trawlers, I quickly found more interest in the fine details.  Intricate lines and shapes, the mesh of chains and rope, bright colours against worn textures, all nestled on a plethora of ripples and reflections.  

I knew this project would lead to a lot of eye catching imagery, yet I didn't think believe for a moment that this would be the case until I boarded a series of  trawlers and spent many days and weeks out at sea; documenting the brave souls who provided so much for their local community without really any acknowledgement or understanding as to what they actually do out there. This was one of the primary reasons as to why I wanted to take this project on.  My only association with the workers and goings on in and out of Sutton harbour was a visit to the local chip shop or fish market every so often. I didn't know or even pretended to know what went on out at sea; talking to others, this seemed to be the case also.  Some of the larger trawlers stayed out for the better part of a week and even beyond, it wasn't 9 to 5 by any means.  If you didn't get your catch or meet a quota, you didn't get paid.  It was as simple as that.

This was one of the many reasons why I wanted to take on and develop this project into a major body of work.  There were so many stories to be told, so many livelihoods to be discovered and admired thereafter.   How had the fishing industry changed in the last ten, twenty, thirty plus years?  The sea, the Gulf Stream, Global Warming; politicians, bureaucrats, those that seem to take the lead on informing the public about the goings on, yet potentially were in the same boat as the rest of us, waiting in a long line at the local chippy.  That was really their understanding and association with the fishing industry, because we all know how easy it is to read of a piece of paper and look like we know what we are talking about.  I wanted to inform others from actual first hand sources, and over the coming weeks and months this is exactly what I will be doing.  The reasons for me doing my Sea Survival certificate likely makes far more sense now.  I just hope I won't need to put the training in practise any time soon.
  

The fishermen 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