Category: Remembrance
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Autumn Lives
Autumn. The heating goes on again. Sunrise is after breakfast. The first gales blow more and more leaves off the trees. Rain starts to be more frequent, harder, sometimes horizontal. Long coats appear, the barber talks of wearing his Barbour when he walks his dog
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In a Mad World
Sandberg died in 1984, a true creative and social hero. The show shows both the man and his work. It is small but beautifully formed and makes the trip to the de la Warr Pavilion well worthwhile
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France is failing in Laon
Grey narrow streets carry the dust of ages. Pale blue skies and sunshine throw shade echoing the dark shadows that are the past of this ancient town. Ghosts walk the streets . A town that has a past but seems to have little future
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Silly Season in Seaford
The frenzy started when a photographer for the Mirror saw the pictures. Although on a holiday he lives in Seaford and has himself linked into the local Coastguard, so he saw the images straight away. He rang me and persuaded me that the Mirror should have the pics ahead of any other national media, but…
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A Waiting Game
The gallery is unusual with at its heart the 13th century wine merchants ‘shop’, or at least the cellar he used to deal his wines from. Looked after in part by English Heritage its flint rubble walls proved to make a fine background to my work.
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The Art of Remembrance
Three of my relations died in France, and one of my partners. Grandad, I was told, suffered the after effects from a gas attack until his death in the 1960’s. OH and I have bought one of the ceramic poppies in memory primarily of her Australian antecedent.
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NYNY WTC remembered
In 1976 I took advantage of Laker Skytrain to fly to the USA to see the celebrations of the bicentenary of their independence. New York was the destination and for three weeks I walked the city with a camera photographing anything that caught my eye, predominantly architecture and sculpture, including the Twin Towers
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Cyprus Notes
The holiday makers lie broiling in the Mediterranean sun. Bronzed bald headed muscle men stride past mounds of bright reddening flabby granddads; slender brown bikini clad beauties strut their flat stomachs past roly-poly grandmas sunbathing topless like obscene beached whales
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Sixties London
London in 1964 was on the verge of a revolution, a social explosion that involved the whole of society, and which we are still trying to come to terms with today. In real terms the war years were behind us, and Britain was in the throes of casting off imperial pretensions.
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Seaford’s Shingle Shore Saves Streets
I was finishing a triptych of drawings based in the colours from the images taken on a visit to this killing ground of WW1. In Verdun birds still don’t sing. Over half a million men died there and the ground remains sacred to the French nation today. The visit was made in 2001 when digital…
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Seduced by the Seven Sisters Again
It was such a beautiful sunrise, and unusually for mid-November it was followed by a gloriously sunny day, almost Mediterranean. Now the leaves are gone from the trees I can see the headland easily from the house so after my morning porridge I took my camera for a walk
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Poppies are not just for Remembrance
Our wearing a poppy honours these lines and in my mind at least signifies an acceptance of an obligation to the fallen for us, ourselves, to stand against tyranny. The poppy of the poem and of the British Legion still stands powerfully as a symbol of Remembrance, but the poppy is not just a symbol…
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