This is me in 1946 sitting on the beach at Broadstairs in Kent
I was born during the last years of WW2 and, as a young boy growing up in post-war Britain, things were pretty bleak. The scares of the Blitz in London were very evident for well over two decades and there was a drabness to daily life, often exacerbated by what was called ‘pea soupers’ – extreme smogs brought about by excessive coal burning. But, as is often the way, with a negative comes a positive. The smog would transform the streets of London into exotic expressionist paintings.
Smog, a very regular event in the 1950s
For as long as I can remember, I have had a highly tuned visual awareness, which was developed in no uncertain terms by weekly visits to the cinema with my mother. I would lose myself in the Technicolor wonders whose projected shafts of light would dance through the curling cigarette smoke. This cinematic experience took me away from the greyness of post-war Britain to a wonderful dreamland.
Terence Davies's wonderful The Long Day Closes (1992) an evocation of 1950's Britain echoing my own childhood but without the beatings.
Reading was something I struggled with and it was not until my adult years that I realised that I was, and still am, dyslexic. But it was not a condition recognised back in the 1950s. So I was labelled as being a slow learner. But I actually loved books, but not to read: to look at. The local reference library was a haven for me. It was warm on the long winter days and there was a comforting peace about the place. I would sit quietly in the corner and make my way through the many large, heavily illustrated encyclopaedias, and I particularly loved the National Geographic Magazines, which were in plentiful supply on the shelves.
My American dream as experienced through the advertisments in National Geographic Magazines
I would flick through those pages and be transported to faraway places, and between the articles were wonderful advertisements that gave an insight into an intensely colourful and exciting world 3,500 miles away across the Atlantic: the US, the place of plenty. They even had colour television in the 1950s and cars that looked like they were from outer space in vivid colours under their endless blue skies – here in rain-swept Britain, the majority of cars were black. For a ten-year-old, the US was so seductive. I fantasised about living there and spent a lot of time copying the advertisements onto large sheets of paper to decorate my bedroom wall.
Being visually distracted has always given me enormous delight and I am constantly aware of my surroundings, constantly on the lookout for the unexpected. And my trusty camera or iPhone help me record those moments.
It is surprising what is in front of you, if you can be bothered to look.
Last year, I did a little personal investigation on how people were interacting with each other in this age of Twitter, Facebook and all other social media, and my findings were depressing.
This is 21st century conversation. Isolated from ones surroundings.
Aboveis a group of snaps that I took just walking around my local neighbourhood. As you can see, no one was physically communicating but doing it at a distance, even though they often had friends directly in front of them.
The seduction of the digital world has removed people from the here and now. When you are next out and about, turn your phone off and look around you. I guarantee you’ll be shocked at the number of people completely cut off from their surroundings, and in the process they miss so much. And others are so engrossed in texting that they will walk straight out onto a busy road, oblivious to the danger. But put your mobiles away and look around you and you’ll catch moments like this…
Just a small selection of things I have snapped when I am out and about. You just have to look.
These days, we are stuck in front our computers, almost motionless, for long periods of the day, so there is even more reason to get out and make a point of taking in the surroundings. There are always new things to see, which in turn set the creative cogs spinning. A stroll for me is recharging my brain. So why people, especially young creatives, don’t take advantage of the free show on offer, I’ll never know.
The great, late Alan Fletcher used to stalk his local area for discarded debris for use in his many collages: had he never bothered, we would be the poorer for it.
The title for this piece “Embrace distraction” has been a guiding principle for years. If I am trying to crack a tough creative problem, I’ll stop what I’m doing to look for something else, anything and everything. You never know where it might take you. So, next time you are stuck, go take a walk.
This post was first published in Kyoorius magazine.
A few images snapped over the holiday period for no other reason than they either amused or caught my eye in the moment.
An unusually overt presentation of a very discreet business.
With all those Christmas present delivered even he needs to stop and take stock.
One of London’s prettiest shops. It has been trading since 1830 and surviving in this super fast digital age. I can vouch for the quality of their umbrellas. I’ve had one for 25 years and it’s still perfect.
Richard Seifert’s much reassessed Space House in Kemble Street, Kingsway London.
And this rather sad sight while I was waiting in A&E at Weymouth hostpital. An imate from Portland prison.