Category Archives: Pictures From Nowhere

Shooting The Past

An old friend of mine recommended Stephen Poliakoff’s “Shooting The Past” (and even better, sent me the DVD through the post), and I have been watching and enjoying it over the past few nights. What struck a particular chord with me was the ability to love photographs for their own sake, not because they feature Uncle Joe or Cousin Ada … or even more bizarrely in these modern days, because they provide an enhanced vision of oneself. Photographs of all types, have played a massive part in my life, and therefore today I am featuring an old photograph from an album of unknown photos of people, which came into my possession via eBay. All I know is that the subject of the photograph was called Derrick. I don’t even need to know that. On its own, it is a fine photograph – good enough to grace the shelves of the Fallon Photo Library.

Making My Mind Up About AI

I still can’t make my mind up about AI. Artificial intelligence (AI) colourising programmes are all the rage: smart little apps where you can feed a monochrome image in at one end, and a beautifully realistic full-colour rendition emerges from the other end. To be honest, sometimes it is beautiful, sometimes realistic and sometimes it is colourful, but rarely all three. And sometimes it has the look of the kind of thing a three-year old, fed too much chocolate and given too many coloured crayons, would produce. I get to thinking that the old, faded, and bleached-out vision of faces from a bygone era is more lifelike than some daisy-fresh technicolour dream. And then I feed another old Victorian pasteboard photo into the AI machine and see life emerge, and it takes me back to the thrill I used to get when black and white images would slowly emerge from a dish of developer solution. As I say, I can’t make my mind up about AI. I will spend the day with these two colourful Victorian girls and see what they say about artificial intelligence.

With A Little Help From A Friend

This is the outcome of yet another late-night, malt-whisky induced, Photoshop adventure. The starting point was a rather tattered little print from an old photograph album. The album contained thirty or forty prints of entirely unknown origin, which I bought off eBay for less than the price of a cup of tea in a coffee shop. The only clue as to the provenance is a short inscription in the front of the album which states “Winter 1946-7 and Summer 1947. 431 ED“. If the prints were in better condition, I would be loath to mess with them, but they are scratched and faded, bent and blurred, and openly invite me and my pal Photoshop to do our worst with them.

Of this particular effort, all the can be said is that the original blurred photograph was the work of our unknown photographer, the somewhat surreal colouring was the work of Photoshop, and the final decision that it was a face that I would be happy to spend the day looking at across my desk was my own …. with a little help from a glass of Bunnahabhain.

As Brief As The Click Of A Shutter

Another plunge into the pool of the unknown. Somehow I acquired an album of photographs from the 1920s and 30s. Photographs of people I don’t know in places I have never been. Photographs that captured an instant in time, which eventually faded into a memory and then was lost forever. Not quite forever: this tiny photograph has been found, restored, re-shared with the world.

The only information I have is that another photograph on the same page in the album was captioned “Sulby Glen”. Sulby Glen is near the village of Lezayre in the Isle of Man. We can assume that this party of walkers were taking a rest and a photo opportunity whilst exploring the glen. Where they came from, I don’t know. Where they went to afterwards is equally unknown. But for a brief instant – as brief as the click of a shutter – we can join them in the glen and share their world.

Photo-Me, Victoria

Some people say that photographs today are as cheap as chips. This is untrue, as anyone who has been to a fish and chip shop recently will know: a bag of chips can set you back the best part of £2. Photographs, captured on smart phones and shared with friends are essentially free goods, and like all free goods, we tend to take them for granted. We can snap a selfie, and if it doesn’t hold up to our glorified self-image, we can dump it quicker than a political adviser.

Go back 150 years, and that was not the case; photographs were a rare thing, something you had to save up for, pose for, and frown for. Nobody was willing to pass up their one chance of immortality in exchange for a cheap grin or a cheeky gesture. If you go back thirty or so years ago, however, back to the late pre-digital age, it was the era of the photo booths. You could put a coin in a machine and produce four portrait poses: one serious one for your passport or driving licence, and three silly ones just for the fun of it. 

So how would our perceptions of the Victorians be changed if they had coin-in-the-slot Photo-Me booths? Perhaps we would be left with more than endless portraits of serious and unsmiling faces. Modern technology helps us to test these theories out, so here is our Victorian lady relaxing in front of the Photo-Me camera …. with a little help from Photoshop’s new Neural filters!

Unknown And Superb

This is one of a batch of old photographs which was sent to me through the post. There was no indication as to who sent them, but the envelope also contained the funeral programme of one of my wife’s cousins. I can only assume that the two children featured in this particular photograph are members of that extended family. Written on the back of the photograph is the single word: “unknown”.

I can only express my thanks to whoever sent these photographs: the fact that the subject is unknown is of no consequence. The photograph is superb.

Imaginary Prospecting

So here we are again: locked down and searching for ways of occupying ourselves between box sets. Next to my desk I have a suitcase full of old orphan photographs. These are photographs of unknown origin, things I have bought by the box full, job lots of memories. Whenever I have nothing better to do – and the whole point of retirement, indeed the whole joy of it, is never having anything better to do – I dip into the suitcase and go prospecting for images. I am not looking for Uncle Jim or Cousin Ada (by definition the subjects of these photographs, most of which are eighty or ninety years old, are nameless), I am looking for pleasing images. Like any kind of prospecting, success is not guaranteed and pictorial nuggets only occasionally come to the surface. That’s half the fun.

Love Amongst The Cabbages

It’s just one of those photos; taken in happier days, developed, printed and stuck in an album to fade to a memory. Then the memory is gone and the rememberer is gone and the album page gets lost and torn until someone says, “put it in a job lot of old photos on eBay, there’s a mad chap in Huddersfield who’ll pay good money for it”. And you do, and he does, and he re-awakens the memory, because memories never deserve to die. Especially memories of love amongst the cabbages.

Framed By A Window

This is quite an unusual shot for a variety of reasons. Let’s forget for a moment who these four people are, and where they were: both are unknown and not massively important in the great scheme of things – especially to the lover of old lost and found photographs. We do have, however, quite a striking image that has been taken through an open window. The four subjects are outside on an open balcony whilst the photographer is inside …. or are they? There is something about the lady in the front and centre of the group that makes me wonder whether she, herself, is the photographer. When you take someone’s photograph – and they are aware of it – there is always an element of the captive visible in the facial expression of the subjects. They have been photographed, a process that has been controlled by someone else. You can see it in three of the faces here, a certain subjugation, a look that quickly reminds you why some people see photography as robbery of the soul. That look is completely absent from the fourth face: she radiates control: if souls are to be collected, then she is doing the collecting. Could the secret of her powers be found in whatever she is holding in her hands? It looks like a piece of optical equipment, could it be some form of remote control device to fire the camera shutter? Perhaps the camera had been set up inside on a tripod, and the group had gone onto the balcony for a photograph taking using a remote shutter release. Get ready, she says, smile, watch the birdie!

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