One of the things I have been doing this week (not very industriously, truth be told) is going through the piles of photographs and slides that make up my pre-digital photographic career. There are thousands of them. Black and white, colour, slides, 35mm, 6x6, negatives, prints, you name it... There are memories there. Vast swathes of things done, places seen, photographed and experienced. They contain landscapes and details, colours and textures and shapes and images that caught my eye and imagination. And linked to those are names and faces, people I knew and know, friendships gone and relationships long since passed. There are emotions too, residual, echoing back from the visual triggers of the past into the nostalgia of the present.
And there are things I don't remember, places I know I have been and seen, yet whose shape and definition is hazy to me, unclear and uncertain. But the echoes are there, faint, tremulous and illusory. And what remains of those memories resides only in these photos, giving credence and form and detail to what was once forgotten or barely remembered.
The Hillcrawlers, Snowdon
Leon, wedding/soul band, Bristol
Two ships, Scotland
Precursor to a wedding, Newcastle
Matt, trumpeter, wedding band, Bristol
Inside the Grand Hassan II mosque, Casablanca
Clifton Suspension Bridge, Bristol
Charlie and I crossing a very cold river, Ystradfellte Waterfall Walk
Rosie, impromptu portrait session, cafe, Bristol
Hugh and I, Brecon Beacons