The Wind is whipping through the alleyways and coal bunkers that separate the Cottages in sea town. The waves rake these rough concrete paths, clearing most things forgotten and left and have been know to sail fisherman’s boats to the headland onto the dark rocks below the Snook and before Crovie’s bay. Gulls wheel in the dusk light which manages to beam deep orange between the skirts of the clouds whipping across the sky and the dark sea. The shutters have been latched, the fires lit, and above the uppermost houses the grass palpitates like many tiny hearts pounding in collective fear and anticipation. The night closes in around as she welcomes the storm to shore. Soon the street lights in the village are all that exist in the buffeting chaos. like looking at a candle through watering eyes.
double exposures. not something I’m that keen to pursue, but metering for the sky leaves the ground underexposed, effectively leaving a blank space on the negative on which to place another, or the same in reverse image.
london to brighton multiple exposures rolling the film partly onward each time. i am trying to create a fragmented narrative using overlapping exposures which create more of a sense of experiencing a scene. i have trouble with memory loss so when im trying to understand something, part of my basis for interpretation is usually missing. this is the beginning of exploring this confusion and detachment through my photos.