This isn’t England
This isn’t England. It’s a sub-Saharan dream. A cult film with characters drifting through a cinematic landscape of emptiness, rust, clutter and sea kale.
This isn’t England. It’s a sub-Saharan dream. A cult film with characters drifting through a cinematic landscape of emptiness, rust, clutter and sea kale.
From Kolkata streets to the Shropshire hills, from watching gods to warships: a selection of my photos taken during 2019.
War machines, tav avoiders, climate change. If you want to escape politics, walking along the Firth of Forth is not the place to do it.
Kolkata has been called a city of furious energy, the city of joy, a dying city. It is teeming, intense, broken and modern, old British empire and a stronghold of Bengali pride and culture. It’s crumbling and developing, wealthy and poor. It’s digested a tragic history but has a unique soul where it’s almost obligatory…
In 1918, my grandfather and seven other British officers escaped from a Turkish prisoner of war camp. That was the easy part. They then faced 450 miles of deadly heat, hostile terrain and trigger-happy brigands.
Bedlam is at the end of the road, but that’s the least of it.
It’s outdated, sprawling, industrial and CO2 spewing. Yet there’s also a strange beauty to be found walking by the Grangemouth Refinery.
Nightwalking’s early subversive reputation, a night stroll down Junkfood Junction and meeting the future King of Scotland.
Robert Kirk’s research into fairy folklore is still important today. Was this 17th century Scottish minister punished for prying a little too closely into the world of fairies and elves?
Good news for the endless road walkers, night prowlers, urban explorers, psychogeographers, explorers, threshold stalkers. We have our gods and goddesses and we are protected!