Archive | January, 2015

Urban Decay and Regeneration by Debbie Yare

30 Jan

This photo project follows the fate of an old industrial site situated on the banks of the River Lune, in my home town of Lancaster in North West England. The majority of old factories and warehouses here had been earmarked for demolition to make room for a new affordable housing development. Long before the construction companies moved in these old buildings had been left to rot. I began photographing at the site at the beginning of 2013 and returned several times over the next 16 months.
During my first walkabout I got chatting to some people who were watching the buildings being torn down. They had been employed at one of the factories and were coming here daily to witness the demolition of the site. They felt an important part of the town’s history was being wiped out, and expressed a mistrust of the developers and those responsible for ringing the changes. It occurred to me that their memories and experiences had woven their way in to the fabric of the buildings; and as the buildings came down those memories would fade with them. It seemed wasterful that the old factories were not being restored to their former glory and incorporated into the new development. On the other hand, new people would soon come here to live in the affordable housing. Perhaps they would be optimistic and hopeful for a positive future; beginning the cycle all over again, and starting the next page in the history of the area. It was with these two conflicting thoughts at the forefront of my mind that I began taking pictures.
I’m Debbie, a full time Artist based near Lancaster in North West England. I walk, draw, paint, and make photographs about the landscape You can find me on flickr and via my website:
https://www.flickr.com/photos/debbie_yare/
http://debbieyare.com

Martin Bartholmy Just Walking

16 Jan

Ok, I admit it – over the years I did take a few pictures from a car (I don’t drive), a couple even from a train or plane. But that’s just because I carry a camera most of the time, and sometimes, though not often, I’m stuck inside a conveyance with windows that is spiriting me away to someplace else. When I was still living in Berlin, I never took a picture on the underground, a bus, tram etc. because that’s more for taking pictures of people, which I don’t do. Nothing wrong with it as such, I guess – it just doesn’t suit me. Most of the time I’m at my desk and, because I’m static, I don’t take pictures there either. For me, photography has to do with movement and places, with patterns and shapes, with objects in space – objects that frequently take on a life of their own.
And that’s the thing – the mysterious doings of things. People who shoot animal documentaries spent months in camouflage in order to get a few seconds of beastly activity on film. With objects – be they street lamps, cones, pipes, bins, or cars – this doesn’t work. They’re not shy like forest musk deer, not at all, they live on a very different plane – we reify them and they, in turn, anthropomorphise. However, as soon as we stop to observe and study them as if they were alive, they not only play possum, no, they become completely inanimate, that is, they’re not even a carcass, they’re just stuff that never was and never will be alive. The only way to get a tiny glimpse of their secret doings is to be on the move yourself and take pictures as you move along, hardly without ever stopping.
Which is why I never wait for the right light, for something or someone to get out of the way, or for inspiration. If inspiration’s not there on the spot, it will never arrive in time; if the light’s cruddy, so be it. What matters is to catch a minute view of the ballet of things, the moment just before all the objects that surround us in our cities, towns, and villages once again pretend they’re nothing but matter.

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