I met John Perivolaris at Redeye’s first Photography Symposium in Manchester in 2009, in the way that one tends to meet people at conferences, briefly and in passing. We were using Twitter for the first time at a major UK photography event, both he and me and Julian from Little Star and Ed Horwich were the first to use the #nps1 hashtag. Twitter is a superb way to engage with someone at a distance. You don’t have to actually communicate, but if someone seems to be doing something interesting, or that connects, you inevitably do, and this is how I first found out about North to North.
Using the Shoot it Application for iPhones, and with real life postcards, people are encouraged to communicate with John on his travels through France to the Magreb. He’s documenting the whole thing, his own thoughts, photographs, itinerary, here at The Cardographer.
I’m sending John a small series of photographs from the deep dark Saddleworth Moor taken during the Redye Symposium while I was staying at a sleepy little hotel under the hillside, away from the cacophany of the city, and with free wifi to boot. This may or may not be one of the pictures: I don’t want to pre-empt the triangulation. The one at the top is an alternative version of the postcard that’s already arrived.
A few other small connections:
Dr Ed Welch , a collaborator in John’s project, is a key instigator in the Durham Centre for Advanced Photography’s seminar series and conferences, many of which I’ve been lucky enough to attend. Ed was in Newcastle, photographing the Tyne Bridges, on the day and in the same minutes that the engineer George Fenwick allowed me to make a series of photographs from the control tower. The Swing Bridge, a favourite personal project (in many ways but also because it has won me some money), is a feat of marketing genius by Armstrong the arms manufacturer: it turns through 360 degrees, just like his gun turrets.
On that same day, June 5th 2010, a woman I first met more than 40 years ago was celebrating the 35th anniversary of her graduation as a medical doctor by charting a boat trip down the Tyne. George was opening the bridge for my friend and her 50 jubilant doctor colleagues.
That picture is the first time we’ve seen each other since then. Here are her photographs of that day on the River. Dr Ed will be in one of those, somewhere. I’ll be publishing the best of mine, soon.
Not long after I first met Dr Baillie, I took a bus and boat trip to Greece, passing the coast of Algeria along the way. There were many whispered tales of marauding bandits toting ancient shotguns, fearsome fellows in dark bandanas twirling moustaches and living in the swirling desert. Sounded terribly romantic, ever sceptical as I am of the stories peddled by those who wish to spread fear. Fear of foreigners, fear of strange lands, of the south, fear of some imagined loss, of control, of a compass, or something. To me, then as now, the Magreb sounds a wondrous and exciting place.
I sent another two postcards today, one to Dr Ed Welch’s office in Durham, another to Dr Perivolaris via his colleague Manchester. If any of this moves you as much as it moves me, you can do the same.
Perivolaris Moves North
I met John Perivolaris at Redeye’s first Photography Symposium in Manchester in 2009, in the way that one tends to meet people at conferences, briefly and in passing. We were using Twitter for the first time at a major UK photography event, both he and me and Julian from Little Star and Ed Horwich were the first to use the #nps1 hashtag. Twitter is a superb way to engage with someone at a distance. You don’t have to actually communicate, but if someone seems to be doing something interesting, or that connects, you inevitably do, and this is how I first found out about North to North.
Using the Shoot it Application for iPhones, and with real life postcards, people are encouraged to communicate with John on his travels through France to the Magreb. He’s documenting the whole thing, his own thoughts, photographs, itinerary, here at The Cardographer.
I’m sending John a small series of photographs from the deep dark Saddleworth Moor taken during the Redye Symposium while I was staying at a sleepy little hotel under the hillside, away from the cacophany of the city, and with free wifi to boot. This may or may not be one of the pictures: I don’t want to pre-empt the triangulation. The one at the top is an alternative version of the postcard that’s already arrived.
A few other small connections:
Dr Ed Welch , a collaborator in John’s project, is a key instigator in the Durham Centre for Advanced Photography’s seminar series and conferences, many of which I’ve been lucky enough to attend. Ed was in Newcastle, photographing the Tyne Bridges, on the day and in the same minutes that the engineer George Fenwick allowed me to make a series of photographs from the control tower. The Swing Bridge, a favourite personal project (in many ways but also because it has won me some money), is a feat of marketing genius by Armstrong the arms manufacturer: it turns through 360 degrees, just like his gun turrets.
On that same day, June 5th 2010, a woman I first met more than 40 years ago was celebrating the 35th anniversary of her graduation as a medical doctor by charting a boat trip down the Tyne. George was opening the bridge for my friend and her 50 jubilant doctor colleagues.
That picture is the first time we’ve seen each other since then. Here are her photographs of that day on the River. Dr Ed will be in one of those, somewhere. I’ll be publishing the best of mine, soon.
Not long after I first met Dr Baillie, I took a bus and boat trip to Greece, passing the coast of Algeria along the way. There were many whispered tales of marauding bandits toting ancient shotguns, fearsome fellows in dark bandanas twirling moustaches and living in the swirling desert. Sounded terribly romantic, ever sceptical as I am of the stories peddled by those who wish to spread fear. Fear of foreigners, fear of strange lands, of the south, fear of some imagined loss, of control, of a compass, or something. To me, then as now, the Magreb sounds a wondrous and exciting place.
I sent another two postcards today, one to Dr Ed Welch’s office in Durham, another to Dr Perivolaris via his colleague Manchester. If any of this moves you as much as it moves me, you can do the same.
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