



Words and photographs from North Hertfordshire
There’s a new page on the blog that you may like. Click here to view it.
An oak leaf…
descends…
on a silver thread.
The curated beach huts of the English seaside – Felixstowe for the Continent, Frinton for the incontinent – are iconic. They hark back to childhoods perhaps more imagined than real. We see them as timeless, Everyman’s refuge, although their kitsch decor changes with the generations and their purchase prices now exceed the pocket of most.
As the beach huts are secured for the oncoming winter, I offer an alternative icon to the mini-palaces of Southwold – the lock-ups of Pirton.
Please see the home page for a new set of pictures and words, exploring contradictions and conflicting views of a borderland close to home.
I’ve just published a new page that you might like to have a look at. For now, it’s the homepage so just click here to find it.
It’s a one-off series from an accidental installation created by the collision of dereliction and street art, and stumbled upon by chance.