Since childhood I have loved the supernatural stories of M R James, the Cambridge Don who turned the genre of ghost stories into something very special, a unique, terrifying art form.
Subtlety was the key; the glimpse, the shadow, the inference of something terrible and horrifying rather than coarse and crude descriptions. His work has strongly influenced my own photography. I am constantly trying to catch that glimmer of the other world, always trying to see beyond that grey and impenetrable veil.
'Oh Whistle, And I'll Come To You My Lad' ~ M R James
M R James wrote a wonderful story called 'Oh Whistle, And I'll Come To You My Lad' - It involves an entity which is awakened appearing to possess no substance other than the bed sheets from which it rises, the classic (or rather clichéd) image of a ghost. I think I've captured something of that 'pleasing terror' I get from his stories.
Genius Loci
“In Roman mythology a Genius Loci was the protective spirit of a place. In contemporary usage, ‘Genius Loci’ usually refers to a location’s distinctive atmosphere, or ‘spirit of place’” Andreas Vogler & Arturo Vittori
Black Brook Woods
There are some places which in the depths of winter when the sun never quite breaks through the dark clouds and the shrouding mist never leaves the woods, it is probably best not to wander too far from the ancient track.
The Misty Road to Matlock
It was Halloween and the mist that morning could not have been more eerie.
Hemingford Grey ~ Cambridgeshire
The surreal and eerie landscape of the Cambridge Fens can be unsettling and disturbing.
The Memorial
For me this is a faintly disturbing photograph, the resting cold marble figure of the child lends an eerie tone to the scene.
(Memorial located in Haddon Hall, High Peak District, Derbyshire, England.)
The Ventriliquist's Doll
Ever since seeing Michael Redgrave in that classic British 1945 black and white horror film: Dead of Night I have always been wary of Ventriloquists and their dummies. This photograph I think captures some of that disquiet.
Light and Shade
Wardsend Cemetery, Sheffield.
On Visiting an Abandoned Graveyard
When was it? I cannot tell?
That last moment you were remembered?
The last moment before you were forgotten
And shadows fell like rain
When was your name called for the final time?
When you were not there to answer
Who was the last person to say goodbye?
Who then turned away never to look back?
When did the ivy begin to grow?
Over how many years and decades?
Until mouldering green, you were lost
The remembrances ironically unremembered
Gone as well as forgotten then
This little time we have, to end like this?
In fettered ranks and back to back
With funeral urns and jam jars filled with plastic flowers
No ticket here for paradise the price too high by half
If you had known this was journeys end
What other path would you have taken?
What other route would you have followed?
No wonder Gods are called upon
To stem a culling tide
So I will not come here again
I trespass in your sleep
But soon enough this autumn world awaits
And life as they say is for the living
'A Warning To The Curious' ~ M R James
'Our visitor - his name was Paxton - was in a worse state of shivers than before, and went hurriedly into the room, and beckoned us after him, turned on the light, and shut the door carefully. Then he unlocked his kit-bag, and produced a bundle of clean pocket-handkerchiefs in which something was wrapped, laid it on the bed, and undid it. I can now say I have seen an actual Anglo-Saxon crown. It was of silver - as the Rendlesham one is always said to have been - '
In Memorium -
Edensor Church in the High Peak District contains a rather disturbing representation of death. Of course, it awaits us all.
St Stephens Church, Edinburgh
There are very few places that I have encountered where I have felt that something was not ‘quite right’ so to speak. But this flight of stairs inside St Stephens Church located in the New Town of Edinburgh is one of them. It is difficult to articulate the experience, however there was something amiss here, a moment in time and space which was out of kilter with everything else.
'Quis est iste, qui venit?' - 'Who is this who comes?'
M R James wrote a wonderful story called; ‘Oh Whistle and I’ll Come to You, My Lad’. A rationalist academic is confronted by a supernatural figure who pursues him after blowing a relic whistle with a strange Latin inscription. What is the figure and what does it want?
The Girl
A mannequin head of a young girl - I was immediately struck by the look this individual had and the immediate impact of the gaze.
The Brink of Madness
I think the expression is meant to express joy and happiness. To me it imparts a sense of consciousness or awareness and looks like someone on the edge of madness.
Upper Moor - Beech Walk
The Shadowed Path - Beneath a canopy of twisted trees, the narrow path beckons those who dare tread its ancient course. Gnarled branches reach out like skeletal fingers, clawing at the way ahead, as if the forest itself harbors lost secrets. The dim light struggles to break through, casting an eerie glow on the undergrowth. Here, time passes slower, and every footfall echoes as if disturbing something long since dormant. A journey through this place often brings more than just solitude.
