_’I have been photographing this garden for a number of months, documenting the change from managed to wild nature. I come for an hour, usually no longer and usually at first light.’
...note posted through the letterbox of ‘The Anchorage’ on 16th August 2018
’We have just bought ‘The Anchorage’ and found your note in amongst a huge pile of old post. We are proposing to demolish it and would be very happy if you wanted to come and take photos of the inside…’_
...note received through the post on 10th April 2019
September 2020
As a crime scene photographer, I regularly entered private spaces to document the aftermath of violent or tragic events. The camera performed a kind of alchemy, transforming the private into the public. Nothing was immune from its authoritative gaze. Fundamental to this system, was the implied objectivity of the photographer, who records according to accepted procedure and protocol.
‘The Anchorage’ is primarily about the slow demise of an ordinary bungalow on the edge of a small rural village. It documents the traces of past lives and recalls past processes of crime scene recording, yet is poised as much in anticipation as in reaction. It is a form of visual archaeology performed away from the context of the institution, concerned more with nature and the seasons than with serial killers. It is an acknowledgement of the way place roots us, literally and metaphorically, to a location that, over time, becomes a sanctuary from the storms that threaten our own peaceful idyll. It is an affirmation of subjectivity, and an attempt to feel part of something universal in a place that is idiosyncratic and specific.
Exhibit A: The apple sculpted into a translucent orb suggests hundreds of small pecks from small beaks.
Exhibit B: The butterfly wing ensnared in a web is consistent with the feeding habits of Eptesicus Serotinus.
Exhibit C: The cub fox is (still) prowling proudly on its matchbox.
©djnorwood2020
...note posted through the letterbox of ‘The Anchorage’ on 16th August 2018
’We have just bought ‘The Anchorage’ and found your note in amongst a huge pile of old post. We are proposing to demolish it and would be very happy if you wanted to come and take photos of the inside…’_
...note received through the post on 10th April 2019
September 2020
As a crime scene photographer, I regularly entered private spaces to document the aftermath of violent or tragic events. The camera performed a kind of alchemy, transforming the private into the public. Nothing was immune from its authoritative gaze. Fundamental to this system, was the implied objectivity of the photographer, who records according to accepted procedure and protocol.
‘The Anchorage’ is primarily about the slow demise of an ordinary bungalow on the edge of a small rural village. It documents the traces of past lives and recalls past processes of crime scene recording, yet is poised as much in anticipation as in reaction. It is a form of visual archaeology performed away from the context of the institution, concerned more with nature and the seasons than with serial killers. It is an acknowledgement of the way place roots us, literally and metaphorically, to a location that, over time, becomes a sanctuary from the storms that threaten our own peaceful idyll. It is an affirmation of subjectivity, and an attempt to feel part of something universal in a place that is idiosyncratic and specific.
Exhibit A: The apple sculpted into a translucent orb suggests hundreds of small pecks from small beaks.
Exhibit B: The butterfly wing ensnared in a web is consistent with the feeding habits of Eptesicus Serotinus.
Exhibit C: The cub fox is (still) prowling proudly on its matchbox.
©djnorwood2020