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Steeltown
Steeltown is an ongoing project of mine documenting the town of Stocksbridge, on the Northern outskirts of Sheffield. It started life as a portrait project and its sole aim was to photograph the men of the steel works that the town is built around. As I wandered around however I noticed that there were too many interesting things about the place that were just too good to leave out.
Ironically the image above centre "Jennel" is probably the single most boring image I've ever took but I love it because as a kid I loved Jennels. I still do, there's something magical and enigmatic about them. Once you set off down a Jennel anything can happen, you don't know how far it goes, there could be anything along its unkempt pathway, white dog poo... a porn mag in the hedge row... a featherless fledgling that's fell out of the privet... Sweaty Brian, the local flasher. Anything. As rich in life as they are dangerous, Jennels are wormholes that can transport you almost instantaneously to the chippy, the pub, your birds house... anywhere.
The term Jennel is one that causes much debate, they're also know as Ginnel or Snicket and should never be confused with Back passage. If life has taught me one thing it is just that, Never confuse anything with the back passage!
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Across the water she came...
Through the mist, her ferry drew closer... each wave breaking upon the bow seemed to take forever. The boat gently rearing up again and again as it neared the jetty. I couldn't see her on the boat but I knew she was aboard... the mist cleared as it sidled up to the boardwalk.. slowly the hull door lowered and there she stood... "Eee lad its fucken baltic today, Alreet ya bastadd... lets go tek some pikchas...", so we did.
South Shields in February is no place for the feint of heart, the wind blows colder there but the people make up for it with a warm greeting. Shot on my Fujifilm GFX.
I'd like to say we had a full crew on this but it was just myself and the model, her trying to get changed behind the car while mumbling "who the fuck drives an MX5 anyway... fucken hairdressers car man pet" and me desperately holding onto my Profoto flash in the howling wind whilst explaining that the MX5 Mk III is the last of a dying breed of motor car.
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British Journal of Photography Portrait of Britain awards.
I entered the Portrait of Britain awards almost as an afterthought, I'd always seen the winners, I'd even bought the previous 3 Volumes from Hoxton Mini Press. The portraits within those books were always a source of inspiration, a level to aim for. They were serious portraits, and I struggle to take anything seriously. At the beginning of 2021 I did start to take portraiture seriously, I have no idea why. I changed systems from Canon to medium format Fujifilm at some considerable expense and I've always said that sometimes upgrading your cameras forces you to upgrade your skills. From March of this year I became a portrait machine, camera by my side nearly every day looking for faces to shoot. It was my primary goal.
When the closing date came and passed I didn't think much of it, I was just happy to enter a few images. Fast forward to mid November and I was on a zoom call with a client. I hate Zoom calls, they're the worst thing to come out of the pandemic. Apart from the deaths.
It was during this zoom call that an email pinged to my phone, glancing down to my left I started to half read it whilst at the same time trying to talk to my two clients. "Congratulations.. your image has b...", and thats all I could see in the preview. That zoom call went on for what seemed like 3 days and upon its termination I quickly grabbed my phone and logged onto my emails.
Oh my god, I'd been shortlisted in the 200, that meant I was in the book. I couldn't believe it, I got up, did a cool kinda victory dance and then had to sit down for 10 minutes as it sent me dizzy, this is normal for me. When I say cool dance I think it was actually more like watching a drunk fight off a wasp but to me, at that point in time, I thought it was cool.
Upon further investigation of the email it turned out I'd had 3 images shortlisted, there wasn't a dance in the world that could convey my glee. As I read the email it turned out I'd have to wait until mid December to find out which, if any had been selected as winners. The 100 winners get seen all over the UK in January 2022 on the JCDecaux screens. Surely that was asking too much.
Mid December and I'm sat at the Mac doing what I call work which basically means sitting at the Mac, with it turned on but playing a fighter pilot game on my iPad. "Ping..." went the email. "Congratulations......"
Holy. Fuck. Trumpets!
All 3 of my shortlisted images were chosen as winners. I couldn't speak for about an hour. It still hasn't sunk in yet.
You can view all the winners 1854.photography and don't forget to look out on the JCDecaux screens in January.
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Frank, bare knuckle fighter, Sheffield
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Encounters with wildlife
So I'm stood on a side street just off Sheffield's Hipster Mecca, Division st. and I'm looking for subjects. So far my only contacts were a group of dangerous 40 somethings on a Hen doo. I'd spotted them early and was downwind of them so as not to alert them to my presence. Hen doo's hunt in packs, they can often be seen wandering around at any time of day or night in various states of undress and sobriety. You can tell a hen doo is coming by the scattering of men in every direction from their immediate vicinity the way that oil separates from water. I stood still and made no eye contact through the rising heat haze of the street. Oncoming, I slowly and stealthily retreated backwards towards my camera once again ensuring my anonymity would remain intact....
"Oi, naaahthen... Oi cameraman... show us your knob?"
"Ohhh fuck" I uttered towards a god I now wished I'd believed in.
"Tek aaaah pictcha...Mr... Tek aaah photo...."
The 6 of them gathered in front of my Mamiya's 110mm lens not knowing that only one and a half of them was actually filling my already full frame. I raised my flashgun above the camera and fired it directly at them, not one of them noticing that the sync lead wasn't even in the camera. The moment the flash fired it engraved an image onto the back of my retina which still haunts me today... it's mainly pink, there's some fur and glitter, an exposed breast, half a tray of chips and a large black dildo... the faces I can't remember but my therapist says that's probably a good thing, the rest should fade over time.
Shortly after, this fella popped out of the Skateboard shop, luckily he wasn't on a hen doo and politely accepted my request for a portrait so all in all my day wasn't lost.
Shot this on my Mamiya RZ67 with my standard 110mm f2.8 lens. Film was Ilford FP4 developed in Rodinal 1:50 at 20 degrees which sounds proper technical until you realise I developed it in my kitchen with the dog watching my every move as he thought I was cooking.
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Crime report
"At happroximately 6.15 on the morning of the 27th of May 2021 I was proceeding through the kitchen heading in a North North Easterly direction when I happened across the partially dressed body of a recently deceased gingerbread man laying face up on the worktop. Wearing only an icing bow tie and two buttons the deceased biscuit man appeared to have been dead for some time. I ascertained his deathness using my powers of detection by combining two facts...
1. The victim had lain motionless for at least 3 minutes..
2. He had no head.
Given the brutality of the murder and his lack of head, identification has proved problematic and so I handed him over to the coroner who tagged him under the name of 'John Dough'."
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Dusk, Cornwall on the hottest day of the year... so far..
There are days when carrying a camera is second nature... then there are days when it is an absolute chore. Today was one of those days, the surface of the earth was hotter than Mars. Matt Damons shit fuelled potato farm* would have been dust had he planted it in Cornwall this July. No chips for him.
As dusk approached however, the temperature plummeted to a chilly 26.5 degrees according to my girlfriends Audi, which is unofficially the official temperature gauge of the Met Office.
I was actually looking for areas to fish for Bass the following morning when I came across a bunch of feral miscreants with no regard for their own safety or that of a thousand limpets. Clambering across the barnacled landscape I drew blood numerous times, my tanned legs and knees now a bloodied mess although still somewhat magnificent for a 50 year old. The shutter clicked as each kid hurled themselves to their ultimate demises after which I wandered off, bleeding... a hero.. into the night..
*Matt Damon, as far as I'm aware does not, for the record run his own shit fuelled potato farm although in the film 'Martian' (I think) he did exactly that, I shouldn't have to put these disclaimers in here you should know this but its purely for the people who have no depth or culture.
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Be more Lucy....
"Don't model...." thats my standard advice at the beginning of a shoot to anyone I photograph. Luckily, Lucy was already on my wavelength. We talked about Ghosts, Leonardo Di-Caprio's bedroom habits, some girl in Paris, doughnuts, a woman who showed me her boobs for no reason at all and a stoner who owes everyone money. It was one of those fun shoots with absolutely no focus at all. Just playing around with the light and location. It's how all shoots should be.
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Spur of the moment golden hour shoot.
Early March and the sun is shining. That cold blue light of winter is starting to wane and the golden evening sunlight of warmer months is starting to show its face. Albeit, fleetingly. A quick insta message to my go to muse Alana and two hours later we're shooting.
We live in a city built on 7 hills so the sun is fast approaching a higher horizon than you'd get in most places but it doesn't matter. We only need a few shots. 20 minutes after we start the light is gone and we're heading our separate ways. Alana did try to steal my jumper but I haven't pressed charges. Yet.
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Robyn. Sheffield hard bastards.
This is Robyn, she's from Sheffield and she's hard as nails. She runs the estate. No one messes with Robyn. Not ever. *
*None of this is true.
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At home with the Moomin
Emilia lives in Sheffield with some adults and a dog. She likes dancing and talking, a lot. She hate wooly things, like balaclavas. She also likes to smile too but I bribed her with McDonalds. Easy peasy.
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Street Portrait
Yeah I know it's a landscape and not a street portrait but read on. I set off from the house at 9am. The dog gave me that longing stare that suggested he knew I wasn't taking him. I couldn't, I was doing street portraits in Sheffield. "It's no place for a dog, Ralph" I explained... "those streets are raw and dangerous... ". Releasing a quiet whimper he got into his bed crate, turned around 14 times then flopped into his cushion with a disgruntled "hummph" - we were both in the doghouse, his a literal one, £38.99 from pets home and mine, a metaphorical and ultimately less comfortable one.
I considered doing that thing where I trick him into thinking he's having a home day then grab his lead and run full pelt into the living room closely followed by a tongue out tail wagging Ralph, not dis-similar to a post war cartoon showing a cleaver wielding butcher chasing a dog with a string of sausages, the roles this time reversed. Alas no, this was going to be a me day, seeking out interesting faces in the Steel city. The car sprang into life with a belch of diesel fumes and off I went. I called for a coffee at the Drive-thru and before long the coffee was gone, as was my street shooter mojo. It was warm in the car and before I knew it, Sheffield was just a distant misty blur in my rear view mirror.
The good thing about Sheffield is that between us and Manchester there lies a beautiful, magical and mythical land called the Peak District. It was invented in the 1600's by one of my late ancestors (Uncle George Rusty Knacker Ferret-Tickler Fleming - a man of great importance at the time) and it was designed so that anyone approaching from Manchester would get to the Peak District, see how beautiful it was and stay there for a bit, stopping them coming to the Steel city and talking non stop about Manchester and it's under achieving football teams. It worked although to this day they do still talk endlessly about themselves.
As I dropped down into Hathersage and the unravelling Hope Valley I was amazed to find it cloaked in a thick fog. We don't get much fog these days, I remember a lot more in the Victorian years. An hour of quick shooting resulted in a set of beautiful foggy landscapes, the fog quickly burning off as the suns rays heated it from above. As I returned home I was greeted by a tail wagging tongue out Cocker Spaniel who bore no grudge towards me for not taking him, mainly because he'd forgot and also because he's a dog.
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Studio test day
After booking a studio in Manchester I decided I'd better get some faces in to shoot. Creative testing is so important, pre shoot I had no idea what I was going to do but as soon as I get the subjects in front of the lens things just seem to fall into place. All in all I shot 6 people, 4 actors, a girl that someone knew and a kid who'd just been sacked after locking himself in his workplace whilst wearing only his pants. It's important to shoot characters as well as normal people.
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Elise
For this shoot Elise turned up with bleached hair and zero eyebrows. Her dedication to the craft knows no limits.
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Sheffield
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Rulan
But it's not sharp.
The success of this shoot was all down to a really good creative team. I always find if one cog in the chain isn't right then nothing will work. On this job everything was right. Sophie King on make up always does a good job and Kyle Lawson's styling worked perfectly, on top of that he also gave artistic direction to the model, Rulan.
One of my favourite shoots of this year.
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Elise
Elise is somewhat of a polymath, a beat poet and a musician as well as model she is a self styling enigma that I first met in 2017. She was cooler than me, cleverer too.. way cleverer.
She has since become one of my favourite people to shoot. You never know what colour her hair will be or what items will fall out of her styling bag, on one occasion she opened her bag and proceeded to dress in a Popeye style sailor suit complete with lobster hands. She has better stories than most of us, from tales of drinking with Jarvis Cocker to escaping an Alien sex cult in Berlin, true story.
This image was shot on my Mamiya RZ67 with 6x6cm back on Kodak Portra film. She suits film, her skin is pale and it lends itself to the silky tones you get from analogue. I plan to shoot enough of her to get a book or at least a good zine.
This session was shot in Manchester in a time that future generations will call 'Post Lockdown 1.0' but what everyone who was around to witness it will know it simply as 'Clusterfuck 2020'.
You can learn more about Elise and her work at by clicking on https://corporationpopband.bandcamp.com/track/i-bet-your-mum
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Frost/Nixon
I enjoyed this shoot a lot. I arrived at the Crucible theatre in Sheffield and was ushered into a green room on the top floor of the maze like theatre. It was here that I met the two stars of the Sheffield Theatres production, Daniel Rigby and Jonathon Hyde. Both were amiable and happy to work with me to get the shot required. The actors went off to make up and wardrobe and I set about constructing the background, lighting and MAC.
I was shocked when they walked back in, looking every inch the 60's journalist and American President. Shooting tethered we were all able to gather round the MAC and fine tune the portrait session.
As a photographer you don't always get to work in a large fully equipped studio and this certainly wasn't that. Low ceilings encumbered my soft box so I opted for a smaller gridded beauty dish as main light with the feathered soft box just set to fill the harsh shadows.
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Chelsea
Chelsea is an actor, she's Irish. We wanted the shoot to show the realities of how creatives really feel, and this was pre lockdown, imagine how we all feel now. Shot in my studio in Sheffield we experimented with various ideas, some did work, some didn't at all and some were just a bit... Morrisey...
After a couple hours shooting we made an executive decision to go to the pub, I told the make up artist (Laura) and Chelsea that it was a really good location... which it was.. for a pint.
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Boly Hible, Hackney.
I was in London to shoot a set of hair campaign images for a large salon. As always when I work in the smoke I get a hotel, for two reasons... 1. Only an idiot would try and get to London from Sheffield on the day of the shoot, and 2. I like London, I have friends there, and also I like to shoot there.
It's a melting pot of creativity, which I love but I also find it a rather sad place. It's one of the loneliest cities to live in if you have nothing. I don't get why people with nothing go there, go to the countryside, you can catch fish and eat apples. For free.
This shot greeted me as I walked into my hotel room in Hackney. Without putting my bag down I pulled out my 30 something year old Nikon F3 loaded with Kodak Tri-X400 and took the shot. I only took two frames, portrait and landscape format. I love 35mm and the Nikon, it makes me feel like Don McCullin in Vietnam even if I actually look like a tourist, in Rotherham.
The hair shoot went well. We were in a beautiful daylight studio near Hackney. Hair shoots are fickle things. Good hairstylists are picky as, and so they should be, its how you get to the top.
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