“Don’t talk to strangers!.”
Strangers
“Humans may be social animals but may not always be social enough for their own well-being” – Nicholas Epley and Juliana Schroeder
Not talking to strangers is something a lot of us learned as children (for justified, though often unfounded reasons), and something that we very often carry over into our adult lives. We don’t talk to strangers when commuting or waiting in line (except to maybe comment on the weather), and those that do, are perhaps considered a rather eccentric bunch. However, recent studies have questioned whether this over abundance of caution might have a negative impact later on in life impacting on our physical and indeed mental, health. (A very interesting article with references to research can be found here; Why talking to strangers can make us happier.)
This project is simply a record of encounters with strangers, where instead of passing by I took the opportunity to indulge my curiosity using the camera as my introduction.
“Photography, for me, is a lot like web surfing in real life”
The “ Whitby Wizard”.
Wearing a Deer Stalker and accompanied by his coffee loving dog, Dag H. Kjelldahl cut a unique profile as he watched sunset turn the sky purple on this cold February afternoon. Having asked if he minded me including him in some images, and receiving permission, I took a few pictures before having a chat with him.
Better known as the “Whitby Wizard”, Dag is a Norwegian Museum Director, Designer, Teacher, Seaman, Archaeologist, Historian, Journalist, Chief Pilot and Whitby Artist. Inspired to live a life of as many adventures as possible, he has been all of the above as well as part of a Norwegian weather observation team in the Arctic on Bear Island. Using his time on the island to create a photographic record of the team and the inhospitable environment they lived and worked in.
More recently he creates oil paintings, with a display currently running at Pannett Art Gallery.
The Photographer.
Having read the book that accompanied the Chris Killip retrospective, I was inspired to try and find the work of his contemporary documentary photographers. A little research introduced me to the photography of Ian Macdonald. The photographs taken around Greatham Creek and industrial sites on Teesside, shown in The Guardian were spell binding.
I was surprised to find that the nearest place exhibiting his work was Flow Photographic Gallery in London. With unwarranted confidence, I reached out to Ian by email to see if it would be possible to visit him and see some of the work in person. Ian graciously agreed, and showed me his studio and converted darkroom. We had a talk whilst looking at the prints he produces himself. Unfortunately, I didn’t pluck up the courage to ask if I could take some pictures whilst there, and so had to call and arrange a time to revisit. Ian was kind enough to give me a few minutes once again whilst he worked on images for a new book.
“...photographs need to be given both time and space, and like any other “good” piece of artwork the “good” photograph will grow with viewing. It will develop, freeing the mind, as looking and reflecting will inevitably raise other notions, associations and feelings and so a process of enrichment goes on.”
The Detectorists.
Having taken the time to speak to the Detectorists, it was great to learn about their passion. In the same way that I use Photography as an excuse to be out and wandering, so do the Detectorists. There is no guarantee that either of us will come back with anything, so it is important to enjoy the process as much as the end result.