people & places.
Toeing the line between documentation and art, trying not to manipulate or alter a story but capture moments worth sharing.
While film and photojournalism aims to provide accurate representations of people, places and events, it also depends on artistic tools such as composition, lighting, colour and storytelling to engage an audience in a story. Journalists must find the right balance between engaging and accurate, which is becoming increasingly difficult as social media overtakes legacy media in popularity for sourcing news and other information.
When someone travels to a new place they learn about the customs and culture the tourism industry wants them to see. There is an irony in seeking out authentic experiences, as the act of looking for a specific experience would surely undermine the authenticity of it.
The Pursuit for Authenticity
Who told you that you deserve authenticity?
You who swans in from the city wearing £200 workwear trousers.
You who wants your instagram followers to think you have niche and real experiences.
You who asks a west country boy to speak in English.
You the gentrifier who campaigns against gentrification.
You who quite likes when the waiters are rude.
Didn’t they tell you that authenticity comes from within, that once sought out it disappears?
As a tourist, one often pays more. Those who seek out authentic experiences often expect to pay less for
The London makers move to Bridport to craft without the distraction of London and to nurse their scars from the self-flagellation of an urban creative lifestyle. But the west country people don’t make to escape their past, they make to survive the winters with no tourists. They make because it’s needed all year round and because they’ve had to be self sufficient since the train line stopped coming to West Bay.
I resonated, perhaps too strongly, with Joni Mitchell’s lyrics ‘If you want me I’ll be in the bar’ when I lived, worked and socialised at the Scolt Head. On shift I would enjoy the faces people made when they asked for a large wine as if it was an act of rebellion, and the men who sheepishly responded ‘single’ to my ‘single or double?’ with a look that told me the vodka, lime, soda they just ordered was for someone not yet worthy of a £10 drink. The hum of people downstairs evoked a nostalgia for Istanbul where I lived above a backgammon café. I can’t name a more content feeling than falling asleep in the middle of the day to the sound of dice rolling on backgammon boards.
