In a kitchen cupboard are four electric irons lined up in row at an angle like parked cars. I think a certain generation found it very hard to get rid of things – to throw them out even though these were never used and may have been broken.
Once upon a time in the middle of the deep dark forest there was a little cottage. No one knew who lived there, but if a weary traveller dared to rest near it, very quickly they would lay down their pilgrim’s knapsack and sink to sweet green grass to sleep. What they dreamed of no one knew.
A phone box buried among trees and foliage in Suffolk. The light was on in the booth casting a sickly yellow light that made it look as if it had been beamed down from outer space.
Taken on the Rhigos in the South Wales Valleys, a line of crosses, flowers and other tributes mark the places where the ashes of the departed have been scattered. The view from here towards the distant mountains seems to go on into infinity.
Stoke Newington around 1980 – the mirror in the young woman’s hand isn’t a prop, it is the mirror she used while applying her make-up.
This portrait was taken in natural light and was quite formal in the sense that the model was posed by me. Sometimes directing a model means everything from moving them to a better light source to asking them to gaze at a particular spot in the room.
A photo taken in Suffolk recently in the barely tamed grounds of a hotel.