For four centuries, Wivenhoe was a busy town for building and repairing ships and boats, blessed by its estuary location downstream of the ancient Roman town of Colchester. But the global economy has blown ill winds, and fifteen years ago the harbour was official closed. Now the dry dock is filled in, and wrecked small boats dot the riverside, merging their substance slowly back into the earth. In the edge of chaos, where human artefacts meld with nature, a strange beauty of decay emerges.
The mask obscures one identity and manifests another. Wearing the mask of your enemy or oppressor gives you symbolic power: you can mock and humiliate those who oppress you. This is a photographic study of a collection of traditional Mexican masks from the 1950s and 60s. These 'portraits' of the masks reveal their uncanny power.
Through the long passages of time, the Self becomes the Other. This series of pictures examines the relationship between the younger self and the older self. In some ways, you are the same person that you always were: but in many ways you have changed so radically, it is as if you are another person. The hypothetical meeting point of the two selves is visualised here, as if seen through a mirror.
This picture is an adjunct to the series Mirror of Identity. A man stands where many had languished in despair, in a centuries-old dungeon, contemplating the view into the faraway sky. When family, society, culture, hope are all stripped away, what are we?
You can never step in the same Grand Canyon twice. Arrayed majestically beneath the desert sky, the chameleon Canyon takes on the identity of the incessantly changing weather conditions. Clouds sweep across the ragged landscape, storms rise up, rage, and die down. The sun pulls itself up from the horizon, hovers in the zenith, and sinks away. Each condition reveals another aspect of the many-faced Canyon.
Existential vertigo, as Sartre formulated it, is the dizzying awareness of our inescapable freedom. In this pair of photographs, the abstract notion of vertigo is examined by extrapolating the normal sense of vertigo. Cut loose from gravity, the visual representation of the vertiginous space can take us in any direction. The tunnel pulls us in, as if unto the depths of the earth. It is complemented by the terror of falling off the Earth, down through uncountable fathoms of space, to the moon. What if we could escape gravity's hold and catapult ourselves into the unimaginable vastness of space? This is a visual metaphor for the Sartrean concern that, released from the constraints of our social, religious, and political conditioning, we are cast into a terrifying freedom.