Death of a Duck

Death of a Duck

Even to this day, I still feel 'Death of a Duck' may just be the saddest photograph I have ever taken. It was shot a month into my first term at Plymouth College of Art, while out on one of our regular out of class, exploring Plymouth with a camera kind of sessions. Through much of the first year, there seemed to be far more emphasis placed on freedom to express oneself via imagery rather than the importance of subject matter and context (which did indeed come later), helping me as new student to find a true sense of exploring this medium without ever overcomplicating my practice.

As with many of our weekly activities back then, we were given a starting point to build from - colour, rule of thirds, etc - for this particularly session it was all about depth of field. Generally, as long as we kept to the basic structure of what was determined of us, the end result could be as open and varied as one could make it.

After a lovely Autumn morning of messing around and attempting to understand various aperture settings, I came across this rather emotional scene upon the rocky seaweed shores of the Barbican. Within seconds I was transfixed, lying on the ground without a care for my jeans, capturing the moment. There was nothing staged or constructed about the above either; the rubber duck tilted on its side was photographed exactly as I found it. I also  left it as it was for anyone else to discover before it would inevitably wash out to sea.

For some time I continued to wonder about this plastic duck and its final resting state and what possible (artificial) life may have led before this moment, and from that moment forward, I slowly began to notice that there was a potential story in almost everything around me, and that these instruments I used to capture could be perceived as a method of storytelling. I do miss the inquisitive nature one has as they begin a journey so special. Back then it didn't seem to matter what I was taking, it just mattered that I was taking something; when I got it just right, when all the elements finally came together, there was an undeniable sense of achievement, cementing further reason as to why I had chosen this career path.

The decision this week to re-edit 'Death of a Duck' in Lightroom has certainly been very rewarding and I firmly believe the outcome of this image is far better than it was before. As a first year student all those years ago, I was often quite heavy handed with my edits, pushing various levels a little too much this way and that, for no reason I can think other than perhaps because I could. With a great deal of practise and tuition from a wonderful and supportive group of lecturers, those four years spent studying certainly helped me develop a sensible level of control. 

Just as I find it important to continue to develop new material (such as I am with my Emily Rose project, featured again recently in Fishing News as a two page spread), I think it is equally importantly to look back on what you have already taken. With fresh eyes, looking back on the past can often make for a better and more interesting future. 

Two page spread in issue no. 5300 - 10th March 2016 of Fishing News

Emily Rose, Round Two

The plan was to follow up to my first venture out at sea with another trip just weeks after my November exhibition at the National Marine Aquarium in Plymouth, though unfortunately this had to be put on hold. For the rest of 2015, the Brixham trawler Emily Rose was grounded due to extensive maintenance and repair work, particularly to the roof on the wheelhouse. And while this did allow me to begin work on my 'They Live on in Light', I was somewhat gutted that the momentum on my 'Emily Rose' project had slowed after such a progressive and wonderful start.

Yet as with every year, it wasn't long before Christmas came and went and 2016 was quickly upon me.  I spoke to Arthur during the first week of this new year and with work now completed on the Emily Rose, along with his Caribbean Cruise over for another year, we arranged for my next venture out with the crew for mid January.  

I was really interested in capturing the cold harsh feel of winter fishing.  While many of us will be tucked up in the warmth of our homes during these icy months, the idea that a group of fishermen, 30 miles from the coast, working day in day out and in some of the harshest conditions you could imagine, I always found this difficult to comprehend.  

While I arrived in Brixham on the Wednesday, the other crew members were delayed and instead expected till the following morning. I spent much of the afternoon and evening taking in the goings on around the harbour, the sights and many sounds, before Arthur and I enjoyed a good helping of evening fish and chips from the local Rockfish chippy.  This time around, I had my very own bunk and as the night drew in, I got my head down for a few hours.

Arthur Dewhirst, Skipper of the Emily Rose

Early evening at Brixham harbour (Instagram)

My bunk for the journey (Instagram)

It was a much smaller team this time round, with Arthur also getting his scrubs on and pulling shifts on deck; 18 hours on, 6 hours off for this crew of three. I didn't envy the graft one bit, and these weren't young guys either. Seeing them in action really did put me to shame, as I'm sure you can guess what is coming next.

Clifford Warren (right) and Sean 'Scribo' Scrivens

Ship to ship chats in the harbour (Instagram)

The freezer room is filled with ice (Instagram)

Not more than 30 minutes after leaving Brixham harbour and my legs turned to jelly.  The gentle calm that was contained in the wake disappeared as we hit open seas; rough waves lifting the trawler back and forth with absolute ease.  I felt awful, throwing up over and over till there was nothing left inside me. Even then I was still trying, with only belching noises followed by long stringy spit (my apologies for that description).  I literally thought having done so well during the last outing (or at least towards the back end of the week), having braved that gale force 8 storm and rode the waves like a complete champion, I was cured forever of seasickness.  I was a sailor now.  I had my very own sea legs and nothing could stop me!  But no, that was not quite how it worked.

Leaving Brixham, moments before I was sick (Instagram)

For the next four days I was a complete and utter wreck. I was so disappointed with myself and cursed the fact. I just kept muttering next time, next time I'll take the tablets in between further bouts of throwing up.  Given how I felt and how much time I spent in my bunk (it seemed the only place where I kept things down), you'd be surprised I even took any photos at all. Yet I did.  And just as I did during the last trip, I came back with some crackers.  

Cliffy rescued the trapped Gull and helped it safely overboard

Cliffy working the deck (Instagram)

The Squid actually managed to pull itself up and over and make it back to the sea

Another cold day draws to a close

After four days with no food and most of my Christmas weight now feeding the fishes, things started to get a little better for me.  Despite the way I had been feeling, I was immensely happy with the images taken and I was just glad for the opportunity once again to be out here doing something I loved. It is not every day you get to see scenes like the above, and below.

The familiar sight after a haul (Instagram)

Another 'Poseidon' maybe?

With storm Jonas heading towards the UK following its battering of the States, we headed back a few days early. You could really feel a bitterly cold change to the already icy temperature, the swell of the waves expanding in size that compared very much to last time's gale force 8. With a smaller crew it wasn't worth the risk. They had done a stellar job, worked harder than anyone I could have imagined, in conditions and an environment never gentle on the skin or senses. And there was me, pretty much wetter than most of the catch. I had a very long way to go before I could ever compared myself to a fisherman.

Back on dry land at Brixham Harbour (Instagram)

Since my return, my website has been updated with many more photos from this trip and I really feel like this series is beginning to tell a wonderful story of what life onboard a trawler is really like. I plan to head back out to sea with the Emily Rose during the latter part of March, with two (possibly three) more trips to see me through to June where I will conclude the project. Though next time I will stock up on various tablets and methods to combat sea sickness. I know who I am now, and its not nowhere near the levels of Arthur Dewhirst and his fine crew.   

They Live on in Light

During the first few weeks of January I spent a great many evenings and nights continually photographing my family slides. It was actually one of the more harder photographic exercises I had involved myself within, simply to due the nature of how I was capturing these slides.  It may sound funny (and perhaps even slightly weak), but holding a camera in one hand at eye height towards a light, with the other holding a slide for hours on end really does take its toll on you; aches and pains as if I had spent countless sessions lifting weights at the gym, as well as Space Invader blotches plaguing my vision from constantly looking at the lamp.  It wasn't easy, put it that way.

Despite these issues, the results were immensely rewarding to begin with, yet there was a part of me that did feel somewhat disappointed.  I always thought that the image of my father (below) taken during my final year at Plymouth College of Art was simply perfect - the lighting, the silhouette of my hand, the crispness of the slide - yet recreating this same atheistic seemed almost impossible a few years on. Perhaps I was trying too hard with this project to replicate the result in the same way; when results didn't quite work out, rather than attempt to understand the problem, I pushed these alternate versions quickly aside and continued repeating the same process, making little or no progress evening after evening.

My father, taken during my final degree project, 'i am Alive'

After a few days of zero progress, I was almost ready to pack this project in.  I became increasingly annoyed with the end result; what I had in my head compared to what was looking back at me from my Mac screen was vastly different.  I took an evening off to clear my thoughts, completely forget about what I was doing or why I was doing this and hope that the following day I would have a better understanding of the direction for this project.  Knowing what I know now, this did seem to work a treat.

The problem I began to note with replication was this was simply down to human error, as opposed to something technical. We can not and will never have the ability of replication that a computer so easily seems to produce, despite the fact that we initially created the machine to begin with; tiny imperfections quickly become giant sized hinderances and no matter how much you strived to recreate, it will never be seen in the same way as it truly began.

With this in mind, I soon realised where I was going wrong and how to direct the project in the right direction.  Looking at the series of images produced so far, much of the problem lay with the idea of far too much empty or unnecessary space. I had already noted this in a previous post, my assumption of cropping the final image in a 1x1 ratio, an improvement would immediately be found. Yet with dozens of images lying side by side, each housed in a black background with a silhouetted hand, the contents with the slide became lost and the full emphasis of this project quickly disappeared.

I called Luke Broadway at Plymouth College of Art the following morning and kindly asked if I could borrow a Macro lens for a limited time and he thankfully obliged.  Using this lens, I was able to completely remove myself from the image and focus solely on the contents of the slide. I didn't need my hand to represent the idea that I was holding onto a memory of someone lost, the Macro, along with how the slide was photographed in front of the lamp affected the picture turned the end result into a true memory within the mind. The produced photos took on a more dream-like state as subtle differences in light and shadow created a wonderful vignette around the subject matter.  What had slowly become a chore over the week, soon became a joyous exercise in bringing the past to an artistic present.

I continued to use the same Instagram styled presets in Instagram I had used during 'i am Alive', while tweaking the exposure and temperature, along with dark and light elements to achieve a look I was ultimately happy with. I decided to capture a few images direct from the camera and showcase the huge difference following various post processing alterations. 
   

The images below represent just a small selection of this final body of work. We often forget just how beautiful our family really is, that our parents and their parents actually did live their own wonderful lives before we came into this world. I still have much to find out and understand about the people in these pictures, where they were and why and what they were doing or feeling at the time. This project has been an immensely cathartic and very rewarding and these photographs go a long way in continuing to connect the dots as to why I am here and who I really am.

I rarely produce work that is on a personal level, yet the way I have conducted myself throughout this project has been very encouraging to see. At some point during the year I will add 'They Live on in Light' to my website, though for the moment this is more for family and friends to embrace in their own time. 

Admittedly this blog post did take a little longer to produce than I had hoped, though I do have a pretty good excuse.  Round two onboard the Brixham trawler Emily Rose happened last week and it has only been just a few days since I have returned back to dry (with exception of the current crazy winds and lashing rain) land.  My next post will be a wonderful insight into the lives and labours of three fishermen during January's cold winter fishing season 30 miles off the south west coast of England. And for the record, I did throw up. Considerably.

Revisiting the Light

During the final term of my degree, as I was building 'i am Alive', my interest quickly grew to one day return to the work produced during the 'Found Photography' module and give it the attention and production values it truly deserved.  It was all due to this photo, a single square format image of a slide of my father, taken of him during his time in the military and held intently by my hand; I realised I had something quite magical of someone very special to me, and someone lost a long time ago.  At the time this was taken, my tutors acknowledged this as a defining moment of my 'i am Alive' project.  Despite the hospital #selfie being the original starting point, the image of my father neatly became the key and central focus of my final print.

'i am Alive'

The difference in terms of the quality and detail captured was always going to be an obvious jump; from an entry level D60 used on 'Found Photography' to a full frame D700 on 'i am Alive', the contrast in terms of ISO control and in particular how the camera behaved in front of a light source was vastly superior.  While the originals were either too dark in many places or simply overcome and washed out from overblown highlights, the D700 allowed the bright glow of light to be far less harsh on the eyes and more accommodating and gentle towards the contents included within the slide.  Perhaps this was also to do with the change in light sources used; the above image did seem to possess a wonderfully subtle outlined finish that resonated an almost angelic appearance around my hand.  It may have be a little strange to consider but sometimes even the littlest of things really do have a huge impact.  The photos taken during 'Found Photography were held in front of my ceiling light, while the image taken for 'i am Alive' used my bedside lamp.  It wasn't just the strength of the source that made such a striking difference, I could also hold the slide much closer to the light.

The way this image had been edited in post was something I wanted to explore further as I delved deeper into this project.  Even though I didn't have the original RAW files, I still managed to achieve a certain level of control.  Using the various saved presets from my 'i am Alive' project, I imported the 'Found Photography' images into Lightroom and began editing the photos as a potential indication of what to expect with the revised, reshot and remastered editions.  I found the Radial tool to be a very important instrument during the edit, allowing me to focus on the most notable aspect in each photo - in this case, my father - as drawing a circle around him allowed me to affect either what was outside or inside without altering its opposite.  It wasn't long before I was bringing him out of those D60 shadowy darks and into a more visible light.

Lightroom - Before & After

I absolutely adored this photo of my father and immediately knew that this would be one of the first slides to be replicated when I came to begin shooting 'They Live on in Light'.  The fact that the contents of the slide were not lying exactly in place added even more to the finished article, like some individual reel from a film.  It was something I simply didn't wish to correct; my father looked every bit the Hollywood film star, a towering presence and power frozen forever within a perfect light.

I decided to crop the images in a 1x1 ratio, just as I did with the entire series of 'i am Alive'.  As with Instagram and my final degree piece, there was something similar here with the look and feel of these slides; the square format and nod towards the long lost Kodak era seemed to beg for the presented shape to be that of equal sides.  The image also seemed far more intimate this way.  I felt that with the initial 2x3 ratio, there was far too much unnecessary information in the picture; condensing the crop bought me closer to the subject as if I was once again holding the slide.

The removal of the text was pretty much a given from the start.  It just seemed, well, tacky, for want of a better word.  The font I had chosen back then was also extremely childish - though at least it was a step up from Comic Sans - and while the chosen words were sweet and thoughtful, they did seem more the unsure me back then than the confident graduate and practising photographer I am today. Sometimes you don't need words to convey a message.  Sometimes an image will speak for you, from within, to each and everyone wishing to listen.  I felt 'They Live on in Light' would do exactly that.

The final stage of this project is now very much underway and I expect to have this fully concluded before my next outing at sea in a few weeks time.  Going back over 'Found Photography' in a more structured way has been immensely helpful in how I will present and publish my new set of images; eighteen months following graduation and it has been encouraging to see that I am still using the same planning and preparation methods to formulate an outcome.  Elements that worked and those that did not may have not been quite so noticeable had it not been for my time spent revisiting and revising the original project, as well as re-editing those initial photos; the Instagram styled presets, the 1x1 ratio, the removal of text, the change in light source, each component added further layers to a perfect foundation.  Along with the vastly superior difference in equipment, I felt that the end results for 'They Live on in Light' were not only going to be very exciting, but immensely beautiful indeed.