Month: April 2016

Vanishing Point: Bernafay Wood

After Carnoy the cloud started to drop, a shield of it obliterated the sun. Within twenty minutes the light had almost completely failed, the air filled with prickles of moisture. It took a good hour to lift as the edge of a small front slid in from the South West. It had been warm enough to not bother with a jacket, the temperature dropped with the sunlight. Bernafay isn’t far, under ten minutes for a crow, but it’s surprising how different it felt  after the haze and sun of the rise in the land to the West where I’d...

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Vanishing point: Courcelette

I’ve been fortunate at times out on the front, walking the levelled trenches, across the flattened shell holes and in the regrown woods. You meet people, some you know via the curious world of social media, shared interests in a shared space eventually made flesh out here in the dust and mud. This applies to both other people with a similar menu of interests to me; those who dip in and out, the obsessives, and the professional guides, consultants and general wanderers. On a dreary day in a windy cemetery on a ridge in the middle of nowhere it’s...

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Vanishing point: Guillemont, Trones and Jünger’s Lane.

It suddenly struck me yesterday, what I’m trying to finish the unfinishable. The Great War may have ended in 1918, but it didn’t, and so it goes, new layers of images, understanding and history being laid down with every word typed and shutter click. I’d set various target areas to go and shoot and walk and achieved virtually none of them. I get distracted by the little metal signs and the sudden reveal of the regiments of white and brick rising out of valleys and on ridges at every corner. This isn’t a catalogue of everything it’s just what...

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Vanishing Point: Carnoy to Montauban

I’m not far from here now. Sitting in a hotel room on a laptop, watching a dubbed film which was bad enough in English in the first place. So I thought I’d start work. Carnoy is just to the South West of Albert in the Somme region, maybe five miles from the town. It is a village in fields, twisted around a hollow at a join in some roads. Tidy gardens and houses wind up the roads , a solitary barking dog and the sound of a chainsaw and the occasional passing car are all there is to hear....

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