The images, opinions and occasional ravings of a photographer and PHD Candidate.
Foreshore of the Isle of Dogs. The boats have been towed down from Richmond where they went in to the water last night. I’ve met up with the crew, and we’re doing the last minutes stuff – strapping cushions onto the thwarts, mounting the rudder, locking oars into the rowlocks. The tide’s coming up quickly – every few minutes the boat starts to drift sideways a little and we have to drag her a little further up the beach.
Five am, and eight of us plus two guides are pushing out onto the black water of the canal. Quiet – quiet as a city gets. The water’s still, no chop, and nothing to really call current – if I paddle four strokes then stop, then I’ll glide onward in that same direction. After all those months of folding my limbs into a lotus position under the spray deck, the sit on top kayaks with their backrests and endless legroom feel absurdly comfortable – like being adrift on a living room lounger, but with the added benefit that the widescreen view unfolding ahead of you is real.
The thing to bear in mind however is that the platform from which I am photographing will never be still – it skims lightly over the top of a moving surface Mobilis in Mobili. If I stop paddling then the current will take me where it will, or the river’s flow, or the wind. There’s times I can stop that – hang onto a handy rock or tree root, or ground myself on a sandbar for a minute – but there are others where I can’t.
All together, we drift down. The river’s full after the recent rains, tall grass and vegetation show partially submerged where they’ve been submerged. Every tree hangs its branches low across the flow which insists on dragging me through each spray of twigs – lean forward and headbutt your way through. Follow the line of plastic helmets above plastic craft against the dark background of riverside forestry. Go west old man. Watch out for the shallows.
In the last few weeks, I’ve been reconsidering where I stand with the local road. That’s an odd sort of statement, to which I’ll try to give a little context. I walk a lot. I don’t currently run a car and I hate buses (there’s always the sense that the ten minutes spent waiting could … Continue reading Going Ever On and On
The PHD continues. And yet again, I sit down to write about the travels that have been involved with it. Which is something I do a lot. Both the travelling part, and the writing about it. I’d say that’s something exclusively tied to this project, but it isn’t. Taking a read back through my blog … Continue reading Living History
In the last post, I said I was going to speak to you about a journey. But in that post I had to say what the purpose of the journey was. A journey without purpose is hardly a journey – it’s a jaunt at best, or a holiday, or a case of “to travel rather … Continue reading Traveller’s Philosophy.
I would like to talk to you, about a journey I made recently. But that journey had a purpose, and so I should really talk about that as well. And so if I begin with the journey before I discuss the destination, then we’d be left with a fascinating narrative, but perhaps not a lot … Continue reading A journey toward … something.
It was with a certain amount of surprise that I noticed it had been a year since I had photographed an XR demonstration. That seems a little off, if only because between April and September of 2019 I photographed seven of these demonstrations in five cities. Then came Covid, and even as things have recovered … Continue reading XR – April 2023
With Her Majesty’s funeral concluded, and the flags returning to full mast, this seems like the moment to note my own experiences around the historic events of the last few weeks. It seems that almost everyone had a memory of the Queen, or one connected with her. It says something for Her work ethic that … Continue reading Where Were You When…….
Photos By Alex 