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.   

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