I really did feel as if I had everything in place to begin my final year of my degree. Just weeks into being back at Plymouth College of Art for the new term, it was quickly apparent that all my preparation and planning clearly amounted to very little, if nothing at all. I had become quite disillusioned by who I was and what it was I was doing. I had somehow generated a defeatist attitude and frame of mind that constantly battered and belittled everything I had built upon in these last few years. A few weeks into December, seeing all of my hard work just fall away like torn up strips as I almost left the art college to take a year off and finish my studies elsewhere became heartbreaking to say the least. At the time I prayed for some kind of divine intervention to save this flagging degree ship, yet what I seemed to get back as a response was very much a darkest comedy from the man upstairs.
The above image was not only my first but one of a few #selfies I had ever taken. It also became the catalyst and starting point for my final body of work at Plymouth College of Art. To this day I still do not remember taking it; fleeting images like sparks from a worn out lighter do attempt to now and again brighten up what was a once a very cloudy scene, yet it always becomes woefully clear that the Morphine had really did such a hallucinogenic number on me during that early Sunday morning. On a side note, had my eye brows always so prominently taken up one third of my face?
The build up to my operation had been some of the scariest moments of my life. Having been rushing into hospital the night before, no wincing or whining would change the fact they were operating on me in twelve hours time. I had generally done well in life concerning staying fit and healthy, yet here I was, really wondering if this was finally it. I was literally terrified and hardly managed to sleep a wink during the night. Typically, as morning broke, all I wanted to do then was sleep; the light now piercingly bright and headache inducing.
Lying down on a bed and heading towards the operation room, head back with just the ceiling in view, it almost didn't seem real. Overhead lights flashed by one by one and I swore I was in a movie. Beeps from the heart monitor and various other instruments wired in and around me didn't help calm my nerves one bit. As the oxygen mask went over my mouth and nose, I honestly thought I would never wake again.
Thankfully I did and it felt like time hadn't passed at all. I was immediately dizzy and nauseous, and my stomach felt and looked like a giant balloon. Apparently there had been complications; key hole surgery hadn't worked and they had to make a large incision to operate. Later the doctor had told me it had been easily the worse looking Appendix he had ever seen. All in all I was a very lucky man.
I lost a heck of a lot of weight in hospital during the following five days as severe reactions to various antibiotics made for some pretty nasty scenes, the worst being a Linda Blair moment of extreme vomiting; a record two litres in one sitting. Apologies for that thought. I didn't eat for most of the week. I just couldn't stomach the very idea and when I tried, it came back up immediately after. Before long I was moved into confinement while additional tests where made. Yet despite not being well, I was still taking photos.
Tired and weak, I was finally allowed home after managing to eat half a plate of hospital fish and chips (compared to the rumours, it wasn't that bad). It was very weird being back in my own bed. As the light went out, there was a strange quietness that I had never experienced before. I thought a lot of the week I had just got through, as well as a future I was glad to still have. I find it incredible that just one moment can completely change a person's perception and understanding of everything that came before.
This whole ordeal had such a profound impact on my photography. It was as if I was picking up the camera for the first time; everything on offer was taken with a sense of amazing, of total freedom to explore and capture. I also found the iPhone (or without showing too much favouritism, Smartphones in general) had a huge impact on what I was taking, and perhaps why and where.
There was something very intimate and instantaneous about Smartphone photography. Unlike a DSLR, you tended to have your Smartphone on you at all time. They were less intrusive; pointing a camera at someone can be quite intimidating, where a Smartphone can be almost hidden or made to appear as if doing something else. Being small and able to fit in the palm of a hand allowed for far more control in terms of angles and positioning that one may not truly achieve or even initially explore with a camera. It really did feel like I was starting out again on this journey, with fresh and renewed energy and interest; my first series of photographs weeks later, the pain slowly easing as I began to get out and about a little more seemed to back up my claim.
While my passion for photography seemed to be very much reinvigorated, I still didn't have a clue what I was going to do with my final major study. Creatively I was feeling confident, yet academically I had little clue at this current moment in time. Thankfully, following a discussion with my head of year, I found the spark I needed.
Throughout my degree my sketchbooks tended to be very diaristic, so when my lecturer saw page after page chronicling my operation and time in hospital, he acknowledged that this was the most interesting work I had produced in my final year. The problem was, where could I go with this work now. Hospital was done with and I couldn't technically go back and have Appendicitis again. I also couldn't or likely couldn't do a documentary about the goings on in hospital or about the many wonderful and selfless doctors and nurses.
As I sat on the bus waiting to get home, I had a lot to think about. Yet strangely, the one thing I was focused on what the simply fact that I was alive. It was a weird moment, but one that suddenly gave me an interest angle and project. What if I produced a documentary about my life following an operation and the selfie I had taken. I knew I couldn't base my final year of my degree on a Smartphone alone, particularly after spending three years perfecting the practise and art of a DSLR. What if I combined the two? What if I used Instagram as the bridge between both mediums? My mind was going into overdrive and it felt great.
Over the next few weeks, I began to document my life through a series of photos. Little moments, things I probably would have missed or simply not acknowledged in the past, things that were of importance or perhaps not so much. It was interesting to note how I was editing my work too. I began to notice a great deal of darkness surrounding my work and while certain colours did seem somewhat vibrant, it was if there was a constant battle between light and dark.
Taking into account how Instagram showcase profiles via the web, I produced my own version as the development stage of the major study was coming to an end. I decided that certain images would feature larger than others, as a way of highlighting importance and story. The font for 'i am Alive' was the same as that used on Instagram (Boomerang for those wishing to know). As a way of showcasing memories in the digital age, I was immensely happy with how this was beginning to take shape; how big this could potential become over the next three months or so was as interest as the story it was going to tell.
The next few months saw me expand greatly on what I had already produced. Things I had put off in the past, people, places, anything and everything that I deemed important were pulled into this project, along with the beautiful elements of an everyday mundane. I visited my dad's grave and the town I grew up in along with the chip shop I loved, 250 miles north of where I live now. I spent a few weeks in Amsterdam with my sister and her Dutch husband. I saw new lives being born into this world and others sadly passing (pets though still just as important). I even finally got that tattoo I had put off for so long. I was documenting my life, in a way that later in life would be too visual to forget. Hundreds of photographs later and an event in my life soon became a story spoken through pictures.
Along with the initial selfie that began this project, I chose another six photos to be displayed larger than the rest to represent key moments and memories. A daunting vision of a hospital corridor that symbolised life's longest journey. An abandoned building that featured a decayed room, a broken television set with the idea that my view, perhaps now or maybe just prior to my operation, was broken. My father, who passed away when I was fifteen, in one of a series of slides I have of his life (a side-project I am working on currently), held up to my bed light, my last and only real way of being close to him now. The Moon, to reflect what this project could have been, having spent months capturing the night and all she had to offer. Two quarry workers that would represent myself and my father, standing on the edge of forever, of vastness and foreboding against an area of crystal cleansing water. The way out of the hospital, as if to say this was the end, or simply just the beginning.
I decided to place the images with chaos in mind, since I viewed life and events that followed very much like that; Images linking by colour, shadow and texture over any form of chronological order. For the seven larger images however, I did want an element of start to finish, with the hospital selfie on the left and the final exit shot to be far right. Like a book or even how we supposedly read a photo, we do from left to right. As a visual story of sorts, I wanted to maintain this method.
I also added a series of quotes that I found emphasised and acknowledged my project. One of these was by a wonderful photographer and lecturer, Richard Koci Hernandez -
'Let's embrace photography, as it exists now. And let's continue to find our individual voice, perspectives, stories and style, regardless of the medium'.
I absolutely loved this quote and it completely resonated with me and my project. Too many time did a discussion regarding photography focus solely on the wrong things. There was a definite snobbery concerning the medium of what you chose to shoot with, especially now given the rise of Smartphones during the last decade. Surely what was more important was the picture and the story it told. To argue over the merits in how it was taken seemed nothing more than a complete waste of time. But hey, whatever floats your boat.
The final print was produced on two Foamex boards and measured over 12 foot when they were attached together. I swore from this day forward I would never create anything so big again, if only to spare my Macbook and what I put her through; even Photoshop gave me a series of warnings due to the pixel count and file size. Unfortunately and somewhat unexpectedly, I had to do it all again. And very soon.
The 12 foot print was designed solely in mind for our end of year show at the Truman Building on Brick Lane in London. What I didn't consider was our end of year show at Plymouth College of Art. I could not use the 12 foot print as I quickly found out I only had around 40 inches by 40 to work with. The original print had pretty much drained me mentally and here I was having to do it again, with not a great deal of time to do it in. Using the same wall, I decided this time to go with a square format frame; it made sense, given that each and every image stuck by a 1x1 ratio.
I found building this second print far harder than the first. I had to be much more critical with which photos I used and which to take out. For the larger images, I kept with the initial selfie, along with the hospital corridor, the broken television set in the decayed room, and the slide of my father. Along with the 'i am Alive' logo, I also included the quote from Koci.
Both the Plymouth and London show were great to be a part of and the feedback I received for both prints made me immensely proud of this project. I was invited to exhibit 'i am Alive' in Manchester, as well as a further three months in Plymouth following my work being selected by the Council. Plymouth College of Art even bought the London version, which is still on display a year later.
