Thoughts about the course Documentary

It is perhaps apposite that at the end of a course one might reflect on what one recorded at the beginning of it, and in this course the question was raised about the nature of Documentary. In my post entitled ‘What is Documentary’ I concluded with a quotation from ‘Transparent Pictures: On the nature of Photographic Realism’ by Kenneth L Walton “And this is, I think, what Walton refers to at the end of his piece. That there is a…”failure to recognize and distinguish between the special kind of seeing which actually occurs and the ordinary kind of seeing which only fictionally takes place, between a viewer’s really seeing something through a photograph and his fictionally seeing something directly. A vague awareness of both, ….,could conceivably tempt one toward the absurdity that the viewer is really in the presence of something.”

Coming blessed or burdened with my personal and professional background I suspect that I have always had a notion of the difference that Walton refers to, but I was, I think, more interested in testing the veracity of the image as opposed to the veracity of intent. A natural Post-Modernist’s cynicism of image’s innocence and purity has been informed by researching the medium’s practitioners – with a distance still to travel – and one which has provided a healthier and much broader perspective of this visual medium under study. Where I think and hope I have moved to is into the purposeful use of fiction to illuminate a truth, and here it has also scaled my ambition. I don’t now expect to reveal a ‘big’ truth; that aspiration needs to be matched by an ego of equal ambition. I think though I want to score stories of much quieter narratives. Investigating smaller particles of life. Fontcuberta’s investigation into the fallacy of photographic truth for example, has been a key revelation along with other artists studied along the way. A document is something that informs, what and how it informs is in the gift of the creator of the text; it’s nuances or otherwise are variables to be manipulated with a purposeful intent whether in an ‘Open’ or ‘Closed’ narrative form.

The course also seems a smaller venture than the other course I have undertaken concurrently with it – Gesture and Meaning – but I feel I have travelled a further distance and ploughed a deeper furrow, more straighter and less deflected.

On average I think I have averaged a visit to a gallery every week, and when I haven’t its because I have been to more than that number, and in that process I have traduced my earlier comprehension of what “Documentary” is and I wonder if that was the purpose of the course, if so it has succeeded. Of equal importance is the development of a cohort of students with whom I can talk regularly with, to confide in, to ask questions and to seek, in some cases, authority in testing margins in the territories that I am researching. I am aware that in Level 3 I will be expected to cultivate a cohort, to find ways to network and to build a professional web as I develop myself from where I am to a fledgling artist in practice. I am also aware that the Thames Valley Group is another vehicle that has allowed me and fellow students to coalesce and filter ideas and I have gained from that greatly; as well as much as meeting practicing artists, Fiona Yaron-Field, Anna Fox, Tom Hunter amongst others as well as tutors for which I am very grateful. I have enjoyed this course immensely and I feel, as I suspect I should do, on a path looking forward to the next phase and thanks in no small part to Sharon.



Deutsche Börse Photography Prize 2014 part III

I remember last year’s DB exhibition and how the arrangement of finalists had affected me, specifically how the impact of one exhibit as it rested by another artist’s work. Probably most affecting was ‘The Afronauts’ by Cristina De Middel next to Bloomberg and Chanarin’s work ‘War Primer 2’.

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

I am equally sure that whilst the emotional response was less for me this year, it must surely have an effect on the viewer to have such disparate work on show in such close proximity when the only contextual touchstone is that they have all been proposed to win a prestigious prize in the photographic calendar. Lorna Simpson’s work reminded me of the discussion that took place at the Thames Valley Group’s previous meeting a couple of day’s earlier. Simpson’s view, in my opinion was very ‘female’ a gendered perspective and singular amongst the other practitioners on view at TPG’s annual show. The earlier discussion raised, amongst other subjects to do with feminism and the arts, whether a view could be determined, or determinedly, feminine. Last year’s solo female’s work (one hopes this isn’t a case of tokenism – perhaps I’ll check previous year’s statistics?) ‘The Afronauts’ wasn’t, I think, a particularly gendered set, but I concede my view may be masked by how I felt about the work as a whole.


Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

This work didn’t deal with war, as it’s co-companion on the fifth floor Richard Mosse’s work did, the expressed and hidden violence of a land desecrated by men for men; no Lorna’s work was intimate and personal, a look at a life projected through time. Small and needing to viewed at close distance, it had no notion of power, it was a look at how people were with each other, even if the other was, seemingly, the other side of the camera. The subject and the image maker seemed intimately bonded.

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

This quiet conversation with the viewer (quieter still perhaps after the Congo perils of Mosse’s work) in tender monochrome tones allowed the viewer to consider the relationships that existed for women of colour a half century earlier in the West Coast of America and have those thoughts mediated through a lens today. No less deep because of the apparent leif-motif of the production compared to Mosse’s carcinogenic perspective of riotous colour, but no better because of the proximity to it.

And so to Jochen Lempert:

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

Harking back to the recent Thames Valley meeting at which I had decided to air my first attempt at an “Open Work”. This piece had been with me since I created it a month or so earlier – I have written about it here, here and here. I presented these images as I had coded them from a large set of images and I wanted to see if any of the other people present could muster a narrative from them. I have to say that if what I hoped to achieve was even a connection to the image set then I failed; but no matter. The general comment that maybe it was ‘too open’ that I provided no sense of an emotional hook to attach the viewer to, maybe the ‘my narrative’ that I refused to explain was too obscure, or ‘too loose’ to be made liminal for others and that if I had provided, even a sense of a narrative/contextual axis to pivot from it may have worked. I’m not sure, but the experiment taught me some lessons and I am very grateful to the group for indulging me.

And so back to Jochen Lempert’s work. Well the first thing that struck me was the text; there was some and more than I had expected. Whether this was a strategy on behalf of the artist or the gallery I have no idea, but situating text there was. In fact I think the material to accompany this exhibit was considerably greater than any of the other artists, with a handout to title/explain most, if not all the images.

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

And whilst the images on the wall had no title or caption, the viewer was allowed the privilege to consider the printed document and edit their way through the imagery. As a strategy for ‘Open Work’ I found that interesting, the images were numbered – which usually predetermines an order – but there was no other indication as to which way, or indeed order, one should contemplate the works on view. On one hand most of these images had, as a common visual theme, the natural world, they were all monochrome and analogue based. As regards my reaction to them as a whole, as a work with an underlying narrative I couldn’t discern one, even with the text. I do think however that I was maybe looking to deeply, or not deep enough and that I need to do some more research into this to be able to connect in a form that is attractive to me.

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery


Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery


Deutsche Börse Photography Prize 2014 part II

I have written about Richard Mosse’s work previously at The Photographers Gallery where they are mounting the Deutsche Börse work. Of the other three artists I didn’t expect to be drawn to Alberto Garcia-Alix’s work and I left it ‘till last, as it was closet to the exit from the fourth floor and knowing that coffee would be closer; but drawn to it I was. Russell Squires wrote about it here for the WeAreOCA site

I didn’t really feel any sense of the work from the images on the wall, certainly they were graphic, wonderfully printed and presented, but over the last few decades I have seen lots of very good prints, expertly made and created to draw the viewer to engage. These images weren’t any worse, nor perhaps any better at developing that discourse – but I felt it was (yet) another set of visually graphic images of an artist in torment, or perhaps an artist’s recording of his torment. What I hadn’t bargained for was the video.

The single images portrayed the said artist’s torment but I wasn’t ready to be engaged with it, I had purposefully walked right on by these mounted photographs to view the Lempert piece, that I had been looking forward to – the subject of another post – and had expected to walk right back after a cursory glance on my way to the coffee. There was though something about the audio (the soundtrack to the video) that perhaps triggered a purpose to linger longer than I had planned.

The deadpan, monotonic commentary that accompanied the video with, in the main, still images the sub-titled translation that worked extremely well. I wonder now whether there was a purpose in the English sub-titles given the need to focus on the image, then script, then image and maybe script again that forced a connection that a voice-over in English might not have achieved?

The language of this artist was very poetic and the complete experience of image/audio and text held me there on the viewing bench for the duration. I was transfixed.

“And time keeps moving backwards” the narrator is translated as saying, of course all photographs are memories – how could they be anything else? But the statement, in the context of the artist’s life, was all the more poignant for the story he narrated. Addiction is perhaps the single greatest act of selfishness that humans have devised for themselves and we saw those selfishnesses, heard them through the narration, how he continued to sacrifice, in the same way many addicts do, all those around him. And how those that travelled with him on that journey fell by the wayside. “My intentions are never honest” he says at one point, an addict slips and slides around the notion of veracity together with its implications. It is a prioritized life, that of an addict, and this video presented scenes of a life that slipped from lucidity to apparent lunacy.

What I took from this though was the power of the edit, over and above the visceral reaction to an artists depiction of himself in all his guises. As image crashed with text and it’s audio accompaniment presenting this viewer with a reaction that chimed with another of his sets of words, blandly expressed “they [the images] leave an echo in their wake”.

Deutsche Börse Photography Prize 2014

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

I don’t think I was expecting to be as moved as I was, last year’s exhibition had me quite affected with the Bloomberg and Chanarin exhibit, and whilst I am always going to somewhat cynical about these big prize events, with their association with the marketing effort of some major organization seeking to project its brand, I hadn’t expected to be so moved.

Knowing that the principle reason for attending – the Jochen Lempert piece, resonating as it does with the works of Eco’s ‘Open Works’ was on the fourth floor but I headed one flight higher and viewed two quite extraordinary works: Lorna Simpson’s work ‘Summer 1957 – 2009’ about identity in a large series of monochrome images which complimented the strident colour work of Richard Mosse’s ‘The Enclave’.

I have been aware of Mosse’s work for some time now; it has been featured on WeAreOCA before and has caused controversy there and elsewhere for its approach to documentary photography. Utilizing film that was intended to help reconnaissance aircraft find people it renders the land in a range of hues that seem, at first glance, to prettify it. But moved I was. I will return to the other finalists later in a separate post.

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

Yesterday, at the Thames Valley meeting we discussed feminist art and the discussion ranged into the gendered depiction of ‘view’, for example was there a difference in the way in which women ‘see’ or want to ‘record’ things compared to men. The land in Mosse’s very large digital ‘C’ prints was a very pretty pink, but the land was ‘Male’; scaped by Man for Men. Their appearance in the Pink permitted the viewer to stop and consider what it was that might be happening in the frame. This, seemingly slow, film projected a land so defiled as to defy imagination – listen to Eve Ensler’s visceral depiction of the same land towards the end of this lecture – it is the desecration of the land and humanity that is so appalling and moving at the same time. The use of outdated film provides another layer, this war is about who controls the land – another trope from yesterday’s discussion – for the wealth that it holds – those rare earths and minerals extracted to enable the digital revolution to continue on it’s inexorable course – with iPhones and Androids, allowing a the distance learner the ability to participate, but also to contribute to the vision before them on the top floor.

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

The size of these prints is impressive, but I felt drawn into them to look and search for humanity, for some semblance of life amongst the horror of the sharp end of neo-liberalism, and what I found was sadness, waste, loss and a sense of how man has become lost in the land scaped by Men who are absent from the frame and live a long way away.

Photograph courtesy The Photographer's Gallery

Photograph courtesy The Photographer’s Gallery

It is a virtuoso piece. Quite brilliant. Quite empty and quite emptying.

I don’t photograph biscuits, that’s not what I do. Sophy Rickett and Bettina von Zwehl at the Benjamin Stone archive


I visited the current small exhibition of Sophy Rickett and Bettina von Zwehl at the City Library in Birmingham, which is their response to the Sir Benjamin Stone archive; and to view both the Daniel Meadows retrospective, which is quite impressive.

This is the third work I have seen that responds to that archive, Anna Fox’s ‘Back to the Village’ was inspired by it and I went to listen to a talk by Faye Claridge last year as she spoke about her residency working on the archive . Before attending the talk by these two collaborators I went to see the work (definitely a work in progress), which is on display very near the Daniel Meadow’s work.

But back to the collaboration. As the work is displayed/mounted I could sense the ‘openess’ of the work, how by the images are placed within the mount they provoke a response to the plate as a whole. These plates all have five images, even if an image is a text and even if the image is missing, because the mount has apertures for five images (the structure of the plates are similar – one central large aperture surrounded by four further apertures in the corners of the plates). This plate structure implies a determined placement of imagery, as if there was an association between those on a similar plane, connected by a purpose.

And text. Text which provided an anchor it seems, to the plates of images; seeding/suggesting/implying a narrative direction from which to drift from or to, even if that might be sub-conscious perambulation. I wondered about the presentation and soon after the talk at BIAD later in the early evening started I could see how that came about.

Sir Benjamin Stone’s collection appear in album’s: album 46 for example is titled “types of English, French and Russian women” – and page after page are photographs of women, interestingly there is no denotation of which women came from which country, just pages of female portraits looking out at the viewer, almost as catalogue entries, and perhaps they were.

Rickett and von Zwehl had landed upon Album 31 as their entry (not an easy task it appears) into the archive. Album 31 is entitled “miscellaneous” – though no explanation as to why these images became privileged to be entered in that album, but no matter – it is there they reside. The collaborators used the visual artifacts of album 31 to work out their response and thereby answering my earlier question.

The talk was interesting from a number of perspectives: it was clearly unrehearsed and founded on a PowerPoint presentation with all of it’s traducing potency fully realized. The initial thoughts that were expressed was about their collaborative methodology, and this talk was about how that approach was echoed by the ‘collaborativeness’ of the talk – each taking the lead or withdrawing easily as if the language they spoke was one, but without disguising the ‘seperatedness’ of their travels to the starting point of this work together. It was engaging, serious, often amusing and the talk was better for this unrehearsed, almost haptic, approach.

There were distances between the two artists, most notably when discussing their personal practices, and whilst not meaning to appear pejorative in that assessment because their delivery when talking about their own work was not about the two of them, but a reflection of themselves as a working artist– the collaboration though – which had its own, completely ‘other’ character.

The other significant thought that I took away with me was about the work itself, how these artists, with a common voice, had interpreted the archive and made another piece of work. Similar to the work of Fox and Claridge, whose personal perspectives delivered equally individually voiced reactions, the work presented here gave yet another. Making more work from a base settled in late nineteenth and early twentieth century imagery might enable a freer interpretation and departure from the original photographic presentations. However this work employs very personal work, work that was both discarded but revered enough to not be jettisoned; these artists took from their own archives images that were perhaps consigned to their own miscellaneous album. Images that still had some reason not to be shredded, but without the original target left in them; their resurfacing through the editing process provided the ability to recontextualize themselves. Rickett spoke purposefully about the shifting contestability of images – losing the ‘preciousness’ of the images, how once they meant or spoke about one thing but through the mediation of time and memory they are given permission to present another element in another narrative. Images of half eaten biscuits photographed on impulse for their beauty and resonance, as they lie discarded by a daughter on the wooden floor.

These two artists met every Thursday and went through the process of curating images (text as imagery as well) until coming collaboratively to an agreement. They spoke about how that process would reveal information about themselves to themselves, how sometimes there were disagreements, sometimes evident in the work itself, how it wasn’t all sweetness and light.

I am interested in ‘Open’ works, about the free interpretation of artworks and this collaborative venture by Rickett and von Zwehl presents this viewer with a set of short episodes in a narrative of my own making, their presentation of such a scale that it needed close examination, a strategy that drew me closer to the work and helping to exclude extraneous confusions.

A quite inspiring evening.


Making stories about the truth.

reprinted with the kind consent of the artist Anna Fox

“‘There is nothing wrong with avarice as a motive, as long as it doesn’t lead to dishonest or antisocial conduct’. Business 1986” – reprinted with the kind and acknowledged consent of the artist Anna Fox

I’m not sure if Anna Fox said those words at the study visit to UCA, I know I wrote them, but I think she did; either way the notion of a fiction about truth found a resonance with this listener. I have written before about this idea, that to explore truths it is perhaps best accomplished by a narrative held in check by a storyteller.

I continue to think that the conquest of fallacy is best fought not with banners heralding the ‘truth and the light’ but with the muted tones of inference and suggestion, asking questions of the reader and not through the ‘imperative truth’ of ‘the answer’. Anna Fox’s fictions are carefully constructed to elicit inquiries from the reader, to suggest though that they are truths is as far removed from veracity as claiming that they falsehoods. These stories are neither, Fox’s constructions are stories. And the stories do not provide a didactic ordering of the universe, rather suggesting I think, of the lifting of the lids of our prejudices.

Text and image, image and text. Anna Fox’s combinatorial use of these twin illustrators isn’t universal in her work, however I was struck by how the artist described her process. In what appeared to be an identical means to how I constructed the narrative in assignment five – “Dear John”, however text isn’t a major factor in most of her her work, unless it is about the text as in ‘Cockroach Diary

Kareoke night, 2011 - reprinted with the kind and acknowledged consent of the artist Anna Fox

Kareoke night, 2011 – reprinted with the kind and acknowledged consent of the artist Anna Fox

The two nouns that I found myself considering quite often through the talk and for some time after were ‘time’ and ‘construction’. The artist opened her talk describing how time is fundamental to her practice and process and indeed, perhaps to all photographers – I’m now not sure that this precept wouldn’t apply to all artists, but be that as it may. Fox prefers film. And large format film at that. Her choice of medium dictates the speed that she can work at, despite often using a digital medium format camera as back up Fox takes time because of the restrictions of the format (mistakes are costly), and her most recent work exacerbates this stretching of time. Some of her most recent work , a commission from France (Rennes, I think) has the artist constructing images with multiple exposures and stitching them together – ‘joining time together’ – half a dozen or more images stitched together. Each image a construction in itself and then combined to create a story from several episodic instances time. I had a conversation after the event about what value the stitching together brought to the narrative – couldn’t for example, the artist employed more people in the tableau and simply made one construct? I have thought about that a lot, my first thought was that on the face of it there might be no additional narrative value in making half a dozen images with the same ‘cast’; but then I wondered about knowing that they were the same players juxtaposed in various locations on the canvass, providing another layer of context to the narrative. And what I got out of the image may not be what others get out of it, it will, in all likelihood denote/connote something other than my comprehension/feeling for the story.

Another aspect of the talk was something that struck me about how Anna Fox acknowledged her accomplices in the work she produced. There was a determined, albeit natural, desire to acknowledge as many of her assistants/directors/fellows as the work she presented unfolded and I wondered if this wasn’t a particular aspect of this artist, or whether it was a feminine/feminist trait. Either way, it was something that appeared entirely natural as it was often, and something to be remembered. I was particularly interested and impressed by the amount of her work she passed round in published book form and how she emphasised that the presentation of the her work, especially in bound volumes is very important to her.


There was lots to think about and it was a very rewarding trip to UCA.

Personal Project & Study day, Penarth

Original print and text orientation

We make the Path.

The Study visit to the ffotogallery in Penarth to view the work of two landscape photographers – Paul Gaffney and Michal Iwanowski became more interesting than I thought, or hoped it might be. In another course (Gesture and Meaning) an exercise had me documenting ‘where I live‘ and I stuck rather rigidly to the brief and produced some images; I remember at the time considering how little I was presenting of the environment, it’s people and it’s history.  I had thought at the time, about twelve months ago to re-visit some ‘places’ in the village that are mentioned in the local history group’s archive – and maybe reinterpret some of the photographs from the extensive library. The ‘light’ project which I started some time ago has provided me with an opportunity to develop some of those thoughts and I have turned this into a personal project – here and here. I presented the first prints of this project at the ‘Study day’, as we were encouraged to bring some on-going work to critique and it was suggested that I ‘post’ them here as the project has moved on from those initial thoughts. The presentation in print form is unsuited to digital projection on a screen – even if I enlarge the image for the screen the text, which is a vital component of the work, is diminished beyond recognition – see above; so I have restructured the images to reflect their different circumstance. The original prints were made on A3 Canson Infinity Baryta Satin finish paper – the image size was 32 cms X 21.5 cms and the text printed at 10pts in Cambria body font. The decision to choose that text size was to separate the text from the image somewhat and encourage both a connection with the image at a distance and then with the text close up – neither could be encountered at a similar distance thereby creating a tension. I was also aware that I had provided text to all the images, whereas in another setting – a gallery wall or a book – I could afford either images with no text or text with no images, but since I was presenting individuals images that strategy wouldn’t have worked I felt.

The work on view at the ffotogallery by both artists investigated the notion of a journey, which is what I feel this personal project is all about. Paul Gaffney, whose journey was as much conceptual as it was physical and Michal Iwanowski whose work described the very personal echoes in a land that had been trod by two of his predecessors during WWII. The study visit allowed a great deal of conversation about the twin works and what those works communicated to each of the visitors on the day. My personal readings were mediated both by the intents of the artists but also how the conversation on the day coloured that view. Gaffney, who uses meditation as part of his practice, decided to walk and use the meditative process of walking to lead him to make photographs, whereas Iwanowski wanted to re-tread and retrace the escape that his grandfather and great uncle made on foot from Russia to Poland. Gaffney ‘found’ the title for his work in the poem by Antonio Machado “Traveller, there is no path” …. two lines from the poem:

“Traveller, there is no path,
The path is made by walking.”

This seems a perfect analogy for the work that Gaffney undertook – his intent was to walk for 30Km a day – which was to ‘walk and by that process make some work’ . The gallery was at great pains not to reveal any information about the specifics of where Gaffney walked other than to say it was Southern Europe, in his book he mentions France, Spain and Italy – if I remember correctly. The routes he chose all had reasonable trails and overnight stops, but the process of travel, without seemingly a destination in mind, perhaps only a means to an end, seemed to be the purpose:

“By walking the path is made
And when you look back
You’ll see a road
Never to be trodden again.”

And interpreting this text I saw the images he made as either short term staging posts – in the long journey – or as views to the future. I feel that text anchors to the notion of a sort of carpus diem and a letting go of the past, not wanting it to hold him back, the relentless distancing by the continual monotony of the stride. Gaffney’s reflection came before him and not behind on the 3500 Km journey. Further reading here from Photomonitor.

Iwanowski, on the other hand, purposely had a destination in mind and he carried the past with him as luggage on his journey. Though he never retrod the complete distance, some 2000 Km that his forebears did as a means of escape , there was ample evidence of the echoes of his past haunting the journey he made. This work was all about looking back, maybe to reclaim some form of lost inheritance or even to lay some of it to rest – his Grandfather has passed, though his Great Uncle lives on. I was more immediately moved by these images than I was with Gaffney’s. The conceptualness of Gaffney’s work presented itself as more distant, less emotionally charged than Iwanowski’s. And again text was a key element in the amplification of those emotive charges. Iwanowski didn’t have a lot of text, but those that were available in the room were those taken (and sometimes edited by the artist) from the diary of those two escapees in 1945. This anchorage provided a real sense of the personal in this work, it seemed to charge the images with both the echoes of the past and the artist’s present tense reaction to it.

We were told that Gaffney had provided a very clear set of instructions as to how the images were to be presented, their elevation, their proximity to one another and of course their order. This was then a very prescribed order and, as I have said earlier, no hint as the geographic reference of the images. The spectators to Gaffney’s work were invited to accompany him on a very specific journey, I commented on how certain images provided punctuation marks in the series and when I later looked at this work in two other forms, the book he has made of the work and the artist’s website, I note that there are no two layouts similar. The end image (one of those punctuation marks I noticed early on) was the same for all three layouts, but the images were differently sequenced and that made me think about both what the artist was creating. It seems to me now that his purpose for the differing, very specific excursions, was to illuminate alternate narratives that the artist derived from his investigations – no one journey having primacy over another, just a different way of assimilating the information provided by the imagery from the same expedition. As Foncuberta might say, the truth is not in the image it is in the fiction we create from their association.

Iwanowski’s work didn’t have a prescribed starting point, the viewer could enter the walled space and turn left or right, the book of the work of course has a start and an end, the gallery on the artist’s website equally so, so I found it a trifle confusing that the artist and gallery didn’t prescribe a direction of travel. Nevertheless the singularity of purpose of Iwanowski’s work was seemingly key for me, much as the arbitrary walking of Gaffney had perhaps too many layers to it for me. I wandered around Gaffney’s work trying to find a purpose, I thought I noted an impelling forward looking narrative, but this was somewhat diminished when I saw his other sequences. It was Iwanowski’s work that evoked a connection with my personal project. The text that he used (despite an acknowledgement of some editing) stemmed from the past, a personal reflection that seemed to the artist to find an echo in the images he felt compelled to make along the journey. The ‘light’ series have similarly provoked a response, marking a space that have held a history that was important enough to be recorded textually by someone in the past. I wanted, somehow, to be able to bring those moments from the past to ‘re-surface’ them, make them relevant, or gain some relevance once more. Some of the texts have socio-political references, some are about the trivia of everyday life whilst other reference some of the major cultural changes to the land and the those that peopled it in a time perhaps almost forgotten. What follows is an attempt to display the selection I took to Penarth with the text more accessible to this blog structure:

My loving wife Joane shall have the use of all my Goods and furniture in the Chamber where I now usually lye and alsoe of four pair of Sheets one table cloath one dozen of Napkins two hand towels two Little barrels my second best brass Kettle two pewter dishes six pewter plates the metle pottagepott and Such Other of my Goods and Chattles as She Shall have Occasion for and desire not Exceeding the Value of Forty Shillings and from after the decease of my Said Wife the Said Goods Chattells and furniture to said two Children Joseph and Sarah to be equally divided between the Share and Share alike.

My uncle used to make the fizzy drink. It was a funny machine that he had, it was a funny contraption, more like a treadle. He’d only got one leg and it was something you had to work with a pedal and then you put something into it to colour it or to make it fizz. I can remember when he first used to do it the bottles they had – you’ve seen them bottles where there was like a glass marble you pushed down – it used to be that sort.


The meeting was attended by nearly every labourer in the parish. After the warrant of appointment had been read, William Windus, one of the labourers, desired to know how the Rector and parish officers became trustees of land which was common land. This was explained by reading part of the Enclosure act. A lengthened discussion then took place and several labourers present stated their determination never to pay rent for their allotments nor to quit.

It was an obligation of the parish to provide stocks for anyone who misbehaved. The punishment being usually fixed for a Sunday. The stocks were placed at the corner of Fox Lane so that the prisoners could not only feel the scorn and contempt of people going to church but were made an unhappy target for any missiles which had been brought for the occasion.

There was, however, a lot of illness – the dreaded consumption, diphtheria, scarlet fever, head lice and ringworm were very prevalent. I remember boys wearing skull caps to hide the gentian blue on their heads after being treated for ringworm.

That gentleman, whose colleague as churchwarden I became about nine months before his death, told me that before the inclosure of 1797 he had frequently gone to tithe-cart in Middle Barton field – that is, had collected in waggons the bough-crowned tenth shocks of wheat, cocks of barley, oats, &c.,

29th September 1853. The labourers selected four of themselves to act as a committee with the agent in bringing the business into shape. The meeting which was at one period rather turbulent broke up”. It sounds as if the Peasants revolt had started.

December 14th 1650 a servant girl named Anne Green was hanged for murdering her illegitimate child. After being cut down her body was sent to the Anatomy School, Oxford for cutting up. While there she was resuscitated. In 1651 Anne Green came to live in Steeple Barton where she married and had three children. She died in 1659.

Rapid expansion of the village of Middle Barton began with the sewer being installed. Unfortunately, the Bartons have never been a tourist attraction or considered pretty villages. In October 1955 a reporter from the Oxford Mail after visiting Middle Barton wrote “It was quite the ugliest village I have seen in Oxfordshire, indeed it is the only really ugly village I have seen in Oxfordshire”.

I think I am at a point which tests the limitation of blogging and to render them better for virtual viewing I would need to post on a web-site specifically designed for photographic purposes; but like Gaffney I am no hurry, or as Machado might have it: ‘We make the Path’ by the work we do, the journey we take.