2020: Good Riddance

It’s New Year’s Eve. And instead of attending a party with friends I am, like so many of you, sat at home. And in my case, writing my first blog entry in nearly two years (the last one was in April 2019, for crying out loud).

The studio is cold and quiet, and will stay that way until the current Tier 4 restrictions get lifted. Bookings this year have been scant — that’s okay, I’ve had other ways to keep busy and keep the lights on — and the time and energy needed to do more creative and conceptual work have been scanter still.

And as we celebrate this arbitrary line in the sand, this throwing-in-the-bin of the year just gone, coupled with unreasonable hope for what begins tomorrow, I don’t know when I’m going to be picking up a camera again, at least not professionally.

Maybe when I do it’ll be more headshots, Maybe it’ll be something more “arty” (whatever that means). Maybe, maybe, maybe…

Here’s hoping your 2021 is better than your 2020 was, whatever that means.

New Year, New Start, etc.

It's 2019. And lo, everyone was thankful that the mess of 2018 was over and done with^*.

I didn't make any resolutions this year. After nigh on 38 years, there's not many New Year's resolutions that I can think of that have either stood the test of time or been particularly helpful. Most of the good stuff we do in our lives is about the forming of habits and the following-through on the promises-to-self that we make in the wee hours. So it goes.

But it's a New Year, so it's a time to start thinking about where I've been^** and where I want to go in the next 12 months.

Where I've been

I didn't create much in 2018. And that's not to say I didn't shoot much. I shot quite a lot, and although it wasn't as prolific a year as some have been, I'm satisfied enough with it from a volume-of-work-done point of view. Actors' headshots shoots have become more common, and with a bit of marketing I can see the chance for some real growth there.

But I didn't really push the boat out, creatively. I didn't do any of the crazy big production shoots that I've done in years past. I didn't do much in the way of work on my current projects — although I shot quite a lot of frames for subject|object, I didn't do anything for Celtic Gods. I didn't start any new projects and, crucially, I didn't finish any of the old ones, either, despite my intentions at the outset of the year.

Where I'm going

I've got a number of new challenges and Things To Keep Me Occupied this year. A lot of them aren't for the pages of this blog, really, so I'll spare you those. Photographically speaking, however, here are some Things:

Refurbish and relaunch the studio

Okay, technically not just photography-related, but whatever. I've had my studio space for about two years now. In that time I've shot quite a bit of work in it, but I've never been really happy with it. It's cold, because it's in an old mill. It's dark because it has no windows. It's untidy because it's mine. Etcetera. Hitherto, it's not been the most welcoming place for clients, and I've often found myself apologising for it.

So, new year, new space. Except I'm not going to move — partly because I don't want to spend the extra money on rent and partly because right now I've got all the space I really need (if not all that I'd really want, but see point 1). Instead, I'm refurbishing the space that I have: new floor (laminate wood instead of painted concrete), new furniture (at the very least a couch upon which clients can chill rather than the old office chairs I've been using for the last while), new lights (some reasonable IKEA wall lights rather than the horrible fluorescent overheads which are currently in use).

I'm part way through the project right now; the floor is down at least, and I've put shelving in to house all my equipment so that it takes up less floor space. Already it feels new and exciting, and I like being in it more than I did.

Ideally I'd like it to be more than just a photo studio space. I already use it for musical jams with a group of friends. I hope I'll use it for more things still — there being other forms of visual art besides photography.

Shoot more conceptual stuff

This last year I've shot a lot of portraits. I like shooting portraits; it's my comfort zone. And like all comfort zones, sooner or later, it can get boring.

Once again I find myself with a notebook full of ideas for more concept-driven images with wildly different visual aesthetics. I'm finding myself inspired by Alexia Sinclair, Tim Walker, Gregory Crewdson, John Keatley and others. And I'm in a position where I need shoot the images in my head or get off the proverbial pot.

And here's the thing, as ever: the only thing that's holding me back is me, and how much energy I can bring to the creative process.

FINISH STUFF

I'm terrible at finishing stuff. Absolutely, demonstrably awful. This year, I'm going to finally finish subject|object, and at least get the ball rolling on an exhibition for it.

I've got more Celtic Gods shoots in my notebook than I can shake a stick at, and yet I've done nothing with that project for nearly two years now — and the stuff I shot two years ago once again languishes unfinished.

For subject|object I simply need to go somewhere other than Manchester for a few days and shoot there, because it'd difficult to get ethnic diversity I want in this town, believe it or not. London is a much likelier place to find the folk I want to work with for this last phase. They say the last 10% of the work costs 90% of the efford, and that's definitely what I'm feeling right now.

TL; DR

2019 has to be the year of shooting or getting off the pot for me.

End.

^* Except for those people who see January first as an arbitrary boundary, and believe that all of existence is in fact just one long rolling shitshow from one day to the next. To each their own.

^**Okay, technically this should have been done at the end of 2018. It's a few weeks' difference; I'll live.

And the Bees Still Buzz — One Year On 🐝

It's been a year. That went quickly. A year since people, just out for a good night at a gig were killed or maimed or mentally scarred by a coward. 22 dead, all of them far too young. More than 800 injured. And let's not beat about the bush here: for those that were there, the road to recovery, mental and physical, is a long one.

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And this city is, as it always has been, resolute in the face of the bastards and the cowards, the monsters and the maladjusts who would try to bring it to it's knees. My adopted hometown is going to fall silent today to remember the lost, and think of the wounded. And there will be tears, and sorrow, and grief. Wounds like that heal, but they leave scars.

But this is Manchester. We do things differently here. This is a city that's faced down worse in its time, and stood with its head held high every single day.

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I'm reminded of how Japanese Honey Bees defend their hives against hornets: they form a ball around the invader and, well, cook it. Mancunians — whose symbol has, for 175 years, bee a worker bee — gang together too, but with love and kindness and understanding and a togetherness that's a wonder to behold.

I love this town. I love its people. I love the staccato of the northern voices in the streets, the rumble of the derby days and the gentle susurrus in the city's squares on a sun-drenched* summer lunchtime. I'm proud to be one of its residents, one generation removed from being an actual Manc as I am.

Anniversaries like this are awful, and sad, and hopeful, and full of love. And there's no love like Northern love. Not anywhere in the world.

Peace to you all, Manchester. Chin up, r kid.

So come at us again, and again if you must,
Time after time we'll rise from the dust,
You'll never prevail, not against us,
This is Manchester, our Manchester
And the bees still buzz
~Ryan Williams

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*Sometimes just drenched. It's Manchester, after all

So long, Wes

Wes Martin, guy most of you never knew, a guy that I didn’t know brilliantly well, has passed away.

When first I met Wes, I knew him as a musician. He played assorted folk instruments and even put out a solo album. I met him at a meeting of the Lancaster Twitterati in perhaps 2009/10. I remember then thinking what a warm and funny character he was. 

We lost touch a bit since I moved away from Lancaster. I knew that he went through a breakup and that he’d reinvented himself as an artist. He painted scenes from the Lancaster and Lakeland countryside that were so achingly evocative that you could almost feel the crisp winter air (or — this being Lancaster — the driving summer rain). 

When he put out his solo record I emailed him and asked if he’d like to collaborate on making some images inspired by tracks he’d written. I remember him being intrigued and cautious, but also enthusiastic and, I hoped, pleased. We never got around to doing it, of course. I moved away, and life went right on stealing away the time you think you have, as it always does.

in more recent years Wes and I had corresponded on Twitter or Instagram from time to time. He always had encouraging comments to make on my evening.camera pictures. More importantly he would often give me encouragement when I posted about the voice in my head that tells me to give up, to jack it in, to stop trying to be an “artist”.

I miss Wes. I wish I’d known him better. I resent the loss of opportunity to collaborate together, and I’m sad that I’ll never get to see more of his beautiful work — and that I never got around to buying one of his paintings from him, since I love them so much. 

We only have the time we have. It’s tiny and insignificant and fragile, and we can miss out on so many things just by getting too busy, or telling ourselves that these always tomorrow.  The truth — being very zen for a minute — is that the past is just an unreliable memory, and the future is solely in our imagination. The perfect time is now, and we need to make our art and say what we need to say before we don’t have the chance any more.  

So long, Wes. Even those of us who didn’t know you well will miss you.

Wes Martin, photographed by Christian Cable