The Valley

 

I half painted this picture, which I am calling "The Valley." It was an exercise I undertook with the grandchildren to try and avoid the dreaded screen-time, and their paintings - even the two-year-old's - were far better than mine. So I cheated: I photographed the pre-primitive "Art Brut" and set to work with some Photoshop filters. The result will see out March, if nothing else.

Forever Gaumont

 

To me, it is, and has always been, the Gaumont Cinema. It’s had other names and been other things, but even today I would probably still refer to it as the Gaumont. The surprising thing is that it has only had that name for a comparatively short period of its 113 year history; for just twelve years from 1948 until 1960. The other surprising thing is that it ceased being a cinema so early – by 1962, shortly before I took this photo, it had become a bingo hall.

The Edit

 

This is what I do. As I get older and my bones get wearier, I seem to spend more and more time sitting at my desk watching my past life flash in front of me in a series of digital edits. I'm not complaining; it's a pleasant enough existence: as I move on, I take my memories with me, and, like any keen photographer, I edit them as I go.

A Pint, A Course And A Castle

 

I will always have fond memories of Wentworth Castle near Barnsley, back in the 1980s when Northern College was first established there under the legendary Michael Barratt Brown. Many are the conferences I've attended there, many the courses I've taught there, many the pints I've enjoyed in the bar there or the nearby Strafford Arms. 

The Light Of Day

 

This is a photograph of mine from the late 1970s of St Peter's Square in Manchester. It dates back to the period when limitations on time and money meant that I was very selective about which photographs I ever printed off, and, to the best of my knowledge, this particular photo has not seen the light of day before today.

Tram Shelter On Broadway

 

Back in the first decade of the twentieth century, picture postcards were the Facebook Posts of their day, and an almost endless supply of images was created so they could have messages attached to them, stamps stuck to them, and postcard albums filled with them. Imagine the excitement in Rochdale when a new picture of the tram shelter on Broadway became available. My Great Aunt Eliza went straight out and bought one - and here it is now.

Halifax From The Hill

 

I spend far too many hours messing around with Photoshop filters, but it keeps me out of mischief, and occasionally I come up with something that has added value as an image. This view of Halifax from Beacon Hill is a case in point: tones and shades have been sacrificed so that attention can be focused on line and shape. Zoom in, and you get a monochrome maze of both the familiar and the unexpected.

The One On The Right Has It

 

As a photographer myself, I've always been fascinated by photographs of photographers. In the first place, there is a rarity value to them: we are the ones who take the photos, not feature in them (perhaps this is why we become photographers!). Secondly, I'm on the lookout for that look, common to all photographers as they appraise a scene, looking for angles and seeking out compositions. The one on the right has it.

Roads And Rain-mates

 

My photograph dates back to 1968, and although the original was in black and white (I couldn't afford colour film back in those days), I've added a touch of colour just for the fun of it. It shows Bradford Road in Brighouse before the days of the Ludenscheid Link, when wagons would race past Blakebrough's Social Club and shoppers would protect their perms with plastic Rain-mates.

The Nail Biter

 

This lady, along with a couple of cherubs, can be found in a corner of one of the rooms in Bankfield Museum, Halifax. I visited her the other day, had a chat, and took her photograph. I think she welcomed the company - it was a slow Wednesday afternoon and there weren't that many people around, and, as you can see, she has a tendency to bite her fingernails when she gets bored.

Ivy And The Celebrity Ladies Orchestra

 

When I was young, my Auntie Annie would tell me tales of her cousin Ivy, who played in an all-women's band. I never met Ivy, and her side of the family remained a mythical branch located far away on the other side of the Pennines. A few years ago, I received a box of old family photographs from someone who traced me through Ancestry, and there amongst them was a picture of Ivy (second from left) and her Celebrity Ladies Orchestra.