I’m a big fan of ole H.P . . Thats Lovecraft not the sauce. . . . . Well thats not actually true as I am a huge fan of the sauce as well. A sossige sammich just aint the same without some H.P. IMHO. Now there seems to be two camps in the sauce war, (Yes there is a sauce war) those whom prefer Brown sauce (H.P.) or those whom prefer Tomato, or those who say brown for sossige and red for bacon. I however am not one of these, I take the rebel libertarian stance and cover my sammiches, chip,s puddings in all manner of saucy sacrilege. mayo on chips! Yay! Go for it! A big box of meat and chips from the Kebab house smothered in Burger and chilli sauce, and then shaken like a flamenco maracas to ensure a proper level of coating of every morsel, Get in! Rules are there to be broken (If you’ve seen my photographical efforts you will already know this ) Hot sauce with bacon, and I’m sorry to say Salad cream on every thing, those squeezy bottles just make you WANNA!
Ahem! I digress.
Yes, H.P. Lovecraft, I’m a big fan. Love the mental imagery of the New England fishing villages, “A Shadow over Innsmouth” the dark eerie moody horror that he conveys. When someone asks who is my biggest inspiration photographically I won’t peel of a list of famous photographers, i’ll just say “Lovecraft!”
So I was up that Norfolk place the other day and I thought I’d give ole Happisburgh a look before it all totally falls in the sea. Twas a grim stormy day and the rain was a leakin in all over the shop, just right for what I wanted, What do you lovely people reckon? LoveCrafty ?
There are some loverly splotches of rain on the lens, which I left on for effect. Ive deliberately under exposed and gone for a low angle to give the impression of distance and then given them a good old smack around the chops with the vignette fairy.
Took a blunder down that Essex place t’other day to go and visit St Peters on the wall. Now contrary to popular belief, Essex actually consists of more than Thurrock and its dire Ikea store, and that mind numbing bollox “The only way is Essex” Reality Tv show, which is of the highest order of bum gravy. The countryside in the surrounds of St peters is properly chocolate box, that is if you don’t mind biting in to one of the chocolates and finding an old magnox reactor as a centre, saying that I prefer them to the praline ones. And to be fair as magnox reactors go, the one at Bradwell isn’t too ugly, I’ve seen worse. . . . But then after a few pints I kinda find any nuclear reactor kinda funky, them beer goggles have a lot to answer for! Ho Hum! I digress. . . . The countryside around that part of Essex is fabulously old England with wonderfully quaint olde world villages and hamlets. In fact I am now planning an ale trip to Maldon, the home of several excellent breweries :o)
So myself and my buddy Andriy the Russky and his dog Tamm the unsociable arrived at the the little car park at the top of the track that leads to the chapel, and blunder off in a suitably jaunty fashion. Halfway down the track I noticed that there were two WWII pillboxes either side of of us in the fields. Result! Double Whammey! For those unaware, I have a little photographic project on the go called “killer views” where I hunt out nice warry looking pillboxes and bunkers and photograph them from the outside and then from within through the embrasures (Firing ports) to obtain the afore mentioned “Killer Views”.
So Orft I jolly well hobbled to the nearest one to poke it with sticks
It looked pretty funky up close, the embrasures were a bit overgrown so I swore at the brambles and nettles and gave em a good beating until they lay down giving a clear field of fire.
I then attempted access. Much swearing and cursing, they may have heard me in Kent! Some fecker had half filled the entrance with rubble. I have arthritis and suffer from terminal curmudgeonlyness, the ale takes the edge off but there is no cure. so any strenuous activity such as standing or sitting with out the aid of a cuppa tea brings the worst out in me, so having to crawl through bleedin rubble, well you can imagine. But I eventually got inside and added some more images to the collection. Grumpy, biffed and scraped, covered in burrs and nettle stings . . . But Triumphant! Huzzah! No one quite understands me . . . .
With another pillbox “bagged ” we then set off to st peters. Its a stark looking block of old stone full of foreboding and history, It had been standing for 0ver 330 years when The battle of Maldon took place in 991 and Brithnoth let his sense of fair play get the better of him and he lost to them thar pesky Vikings. It was very bright and getting the shot I wanted involved lots of grumpyness and swearing carefully placed filters, but overall I was pleased with the results.
Even though it was a lovely day with blue skies, and eric the little white cloud, the scene still portrays a sense of the the eerie, which is what I was after. So Results all around. I got the images of St peters that I came for, and bonus images for my killer view project. I shall return though as I think that the place would be even better with dark stormy skies, and this would please me greatly.
It was as we were making our way back to the car that I received the text, ” Would you be interested in photographing ladies in their pants?” Intrigued I pursued the text, After further enquiries I found out that Tanks would be involved as well . . . . Ladies in pants and tanks! A good day out in anyones books. The shoot would be for a company that makes boxer shorts specifically for women. I agreed and eventually I undertook the shoot and had a great time, but thats for a future blog. However, I shall leave you with a taster :o)
Righty! Managed to process some images wot I took out at Orford Ness a while back and I added them to the set “The Ness”on the website. I’ve gone back for a bit of lovely old doom and gloom, and dark and eerie mono, I was gettin far to cheerful playin around with all that colour malarky. And lets not forget that where there’s grumpy there’s creativity! Take Vlad the Impaler for example!
And thats the reason there is a lost generation of dancers in this town folks, as many of the bright young things, with dreams and stars in there eyes, who entered through the doors of Mad Dr Fandangos Dance studio . . . . Were never seen again!
Although there is a sad shambling figure who frequents the park benches and hangs with the street drinkers, who occasionally breaks out in to spasms of modern tap, before running screaming in to the shadows, amongst her screams you can just make out the words . . It was the Fandango . . It was the Fandango!
They have now turned the place into some sort of wine bar. Which could possibly be deemed as worse 😀
Quickie post from t’other days blunderings. The Row of Martello towers from Shingle Street in the north to East Lane Bawdsey in the south. The little structure in front of the furthest martello, East Lane, is the Gunnery Observation tower from the last post.