Colin McPherson

Photographer and Visual Artist

Posts tagged ‘photographer’

Creative Courses on Easdale Island in 2019

The new year brings with it a new series of creative courses which I will be offering on the magical Hebridean island of Easdale on Scotland’s beautiful west coast.

Myself and fellow professional Adam Lee will be collaborating together to present our popular short, residential photography courses where participants will creatively re-set whilst learning about how to transform your images into a mini-series or visual short story. Accommodation on Easdale is provided as are all your meals: all you have to do is turn up, learn and enjoy. It’s very sociable and participants can immerse themselves in the wonderful landscape and lose themselves in the history of Easdale, which at one time was the centre of Scotland’s slate-quarrying industry. All levels of photographer are catered for, and we recommend you sign up soon, as places are limited to just six per course, of which there will be four spread over June/July and September, 2019.

Following on from the highly successful week in 2018 when internationally-acclaimed screendance artist Katrina McPherson hosted a week-long exploration of the practical practices involved in this genre, we have added two week-long courses in 2019. Katrina will lead the activity, which is aimed at people who wish to enhance their skills in filmmaking, using professional dancers, and Easdale island as their backdrop. Demand is expected to be high for this specialist course.

Finally, I am delighted to be able to announce that award-winning writer Louise Tickle will be hosting a course in campaigning journalism later in the year. Louise brings with her a wealth of experience working for many top newspapers and magazines as well as being an advocate for various good causes. This course promises to be both illuminating and inspirational.

Please contact me for more details about any of the courses, or keep in touch via social media on Instagram @germanocean or @easdale_experiences, on Twitter @germanocean or @EasdaleE or on the photography courses Facebook page or you can find all the details here: www.easdale-experiences.com

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A Contested Land launched

My collective, Document Scotland, has launched our new exhibition entitled A Contested Land at the prestigious Martin Parr Foundation in Bristol. The show, curated by Martin Parr, will be on until 16th March, before going on to Perth Art Gallery and Museum, the Burgh Halls in Dunoon and FLOW Photofest in Inverness in the autumn. My contribution to the show is Treasured Island, a very personal, insider’s look at Easdale island in Argyll, a place which I have visited, worked at and even lived over the last 30 years.

Here are some photos from the launch on 15th January, and some behind-the-scenes moments at the Martin Parr Foundation, a wonderful, fascinating and stimulating venue for contemporary photography. It was gratifying to see so many luminaries from the world of photography in attendance as well as friends, some of whom had travelled a great distance to be there. A big thank you to my Document Scotland colleagues for all their help and support and also to all the staff at the Foundation for bringing the exhibition from an idea into reality. And to Martin Parr for his generosity in hosting such an enjoyable event.

If you want to see and hear more about the exhibition, we are holding one of our salon events at Stills Gallery in Edinburgh on Thursday 7th February, 2019, where we will be showing some of the work and discussing the themes and ideas behind A Contested Land.

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National Photography Symposium, 2018

On Friday, November 2, I had the pleasure of contributing to one of the events at this year’s National Photography Symposium at MediaCity in Salford, which looked at the future of working in the photography industry. The NPS is a biennial event run by the Redeye photography network. Below is a transcript of my talk:

Can I start by issuing a spoiler alert?

I’m sure you are not alone in thinking you don’t want to hear from another white, middle-aged man on the subject of photography. Well, the good news, is nor do I.

Therefore, I thought I’d do an impersonation.

More accurately, I thought I’d wind the clock back thirty years to 1988, to where it all began for me, and speak to you as if I was that 24-year-old, fresh from securing his first-ever assignment on a local newspaper in Edinburgh, and express my hopes, fears and dreams about my future as – hopefully – a professional photographer.

You see, so much has changed in those three decades since I innocently and carefully loaded a spool of black-and-white film into my non-motorised, non-autofocus, non-electronic Nikon FM2. But, in many ways, so much has stayed the same and so much still needs to change.

I look back at my 24-year-old self and wonder: how and where did he acquire the skills necessary to become a walking, mechanised, computer-literate, one-person media centre, capable of disseminating visual, audio and written content across the globe from the comfort and safety of an iPhone? Who would teach this novice snapper what it would take to be at the frontline of photojournalism, witnessing many great and significant political and social events?

Where would the money come from to finance the constant upgrading, upscaling and uploading?

The answer was: on the job. Looking, listening, learning. A true autodidact, but with influences stretching back to the invention of photography itself.

Mr Deguerre, I salute you and I will buy you a drink when we are together in the big darkroom in the sky. You gifted the world the prize of alchemy, turning one’s imagination into a solid state, with a bit of glass, a sheet of paper and some chemicals.

So it’s 1998. What are those hopes, fears and dreams? What does the future look like and what is my plan to get myself seen and heard. What can I expect of the world of photography? And how can I make sense of it enough to pursue the idea of a career – surviving – making a living.

For starters, I want a fair crack of the whip. While I don’t expect doors to be held open for me, I would like to think if I knocked hard enough, there would be a response. I’m looking for the people who wield the power, who call the shots and make the decisions. Who are they, what do they look like and where can I find them?

The options are limited. This is 1988, after all. There are so few photography courses in this country and the ones that exist are difficult to get into, over-subscribed and therefore able to cream off the best students to fill the places. And there are so few photographers, certainly not many like me, with a passion and a hunger to make it as a professional. To get out on the streets every day, to play with the light, find interesting people and places, tell stories using my camera. Anyone you meet with a camera is either a bird watcher or a train spotter. Or my dad with that funny little camera which only comes out when we go on holiday. To Filey.

Meeting other photographers is really difficult too: I could join a camera club and hang out with all those old men who are hung up on technicals and techniques. Bit I’m a punk rocker and they probably wouldn’t even let me in that posh-looking building where they have their meetings and show pictures of old boats. And sunsets. And children in the playground. Dodgy, most of them, I reckon.

The local art gallery sometimes puts on photography shows, but these are so infrequent that they are almost invisible. And none of the work is relevant to me. To my life. To where I live and what I see every day. I could keep sending my photos to newspapers in the hope that they would like them. I did that a couple of times. I got this really cool picture of a bunch of nuns running for the bus. I developed the film the following day and then made a really nice print in my darkroom (well, it’s actually the spare downstairs toilet. Which is ok to use as long as my brother doesn’t need a pee and open the door and ruin another precious sheet of photo paper.)

So I made this lovely print and found a hard-backed envelope and sent it to our evening newspaper. But they didn’t print it. Maybe I should have used a first-class stamp? More expensive than second class, but worth it. At least it would have got there a day earlier.

But even doing that seems daunting: just finding out whose in charge at the newspaper is nearly impossible. Phone calls go unanswered and I never get a response to the letters I write to them.

So I get a bit frustrated. And I think to myself: Bollocko, I’ll do it myself. I’ll show them. So I put on this little exhibition, in a church hall near where I live and got my mate Barry to design a poster which we photocopied and stuck up all over the town. And guess what? A few people actually came. And they liked it. They even wrote some nice things in the visitor’s book.

Well, not all of them did. Barry’s brother said it was shit and that I should have had more pictures with girls without their tops on, like in the Sun, because that’s what real photography is.

And everyone I come across is, well, so old. And they are all men. And posh. And busy. And important. There don’t seem to be many women in photography. And I certainly haven’t met anyone who isn’t white. But I guess that’s not my problem. All I want is a lucky break, something to go my way, get my career off the ground.

If it is up to me, photography will be different in the future. Imagine what it will be like way in the future, 30 years from now. Because in 2018, I reckon everything will be different.

There will be equal numbers of men and woman photographers. There will be a project called 325 Voices, where 325 women photographers will each make a portrait of each of the 325 women MPs at Westminster.

There will be people from all sorts of ethnic backgrounds, and they will be visible and prominent in the institutions and organisations which represent photography and who represent them. And people of all of abilities in charge.

In 2018, people whose passion is photography but who don’t want to study, or can’t because they cannot afford it, or they are caring for a relative, can have their voices heard, their work seen and their experiences validated.

In 2018 it will not matter whether you have a degree in photography but whether your voice and work are authentic, honest and valuable.

Studying photography will be brilliant though, because there will be literally dozens of courses, all over the country, and you’ll be able to learn about so many different types of photographic practice.

And there will be hundreds of jobs to choose from when you graduate, and you’ll have an equal chance to get employment no matter what your social or ethnic background.

And big companies and powerful media corporations will all respect your rights, your intellectual rights, your copyright because this year, the prime minister Mrs Thatcher actually did the only good thing she ever did and brought in the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, which enshrines our rights and protects us from voracious and greedy people trying to make money out of our skill and hard work.

In 2018, our world view will be seen from different angles and perspectives, and not just narrated through the press and media by people from narrow backgrounds, with vested interests who retain the power and the processes by which photography is funded and viewed.

Male, pale and stale people will have an equal voice alongside everyone else.

In 2018, we will live in politically enlightened times:

There’s no way the most celebrated and influential photography magazine in the world could illustrate the issue of who owns land with an image of an heroic, white cowboy.

There’s no way one of the world’s most influential newspapers could publish a picture of a starving black child on its front page to elicit sympathy and the notion of the white saviour.

There’s no way the four main prize winners in a national portrait competition will be white people presenting images of black people.

There’s no way an image of a stone-throwing protestor will be elevated to Art and discussed in terms which would embarrass great Dutch and Italian masters of the past.

And there’s no way a long-lens image of bikini-clad women reclining on a beach, won’t be seen as objectification, an example of unconscious everyday sexism, whether or not it’s taken by a middle aged man as art.

Because in 2018 none of those things will happen and if they did it would just show that we still have a long, long way to go to break down the barriers, storm the citadel and make photography truly democratic, representative, honest, enlightened and collaborative.

I believe that in 2018 photography will still exist in its vacuum: somewhere between entertainment, art and journalism. Whatever your practice, whatever your outcomes, it will still be a profession or pursuit where you will rely on your own ability, determination and skill as well as the support, cooperation and encouragement of others for your success.

That will mean that photographers and photography will have to continue to act as chroniclers, witnesses and creators, to make their work. But they will also have to continue to be agitators, campaigners, agents of change in order to create and sustain new, transparent and trustworthy power structures which are open and accessible to all.

So my advice to all 24-year-olds in 2018, starting out on your journey in the wondrous world of photography is to question and challenge everything. Be disruptors. Respect yes. But do not stay silent or kowtow. Don’t accept that things cannot change. Recognise and praise progress. Call out wrongdoing and bad practice when you see it.

Photography was, is and always will be about rebellion, insurrection and revolution, after all.

And as the song goes: the revolution will not be televised.

But it sure as hell will be photographed.

Photograph © Craig Easton, 2018.

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Silver jubilee time

Cardiac surgery on a newborn baby, London, 2013. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

On the 14th August 1993, I emerged blinking (and slightly worse for wear) into a brave new world. Little did I imagine that 25 years later I’d be celebrating a quarter of a century of being an independent, freelance photographer.

But that day will always be etched in my memory as the start of an incredible journey. I had taken the decision to leave the security of a staff photographer’s job at the Edinburgh Evening News and now it was up to me to make a go of it. With the help of innumerable people (fellow photographers, journalists, picture editors, friends, family and the thousands of people whom I have encountered along the way), I have managed to survive, somehow, in an industry which has changed beyond recognition in the two-and-a-half decades since I loaded a roll of monochrome film into my Nikon FM2 and began my first freelance assignment – to photograph the beginning of the construction of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Alloa, Scotland.

If someone back then had said to me the words social media, smartphone, digital camera, low-cost airline, Holyrood, AppleMac, autofocus, Brexit, Dolly the sheep or English Premier League, I wouldn’t have had a clue what they were talking about. So much has changed, not just in the world around us, but in the way photographers work. But so much has stayed the same, too. The stories, characters and issues which populate our everyday lives are largely cyclical. The way we choose to illustrate them is still very familiar (many would say too much so) to the way it was back then. Men in suits still rule the world and the old enmities and adversaries have been replaced by new ones. That is not to say there haven’t been amazing strides forward and progress too. I have been lucky enough to see changes in science, technology and medicine through the lens. I have witnessed the ebb-and-flow of politics and the achievements of many sporting heroes and cultural icons too. And shared in the pain and pleasure of everyday life.

When I began my freelance career I was solely a newspaper photographer: that kept me busy all the days of the week I needed to make a good living. The intervening years has seen that industry wither and decline. But with that situation, new possibilities have opened up. Photography is a creative practice, but I didn’t realise how many times I would have to adapt my ways of working to survive and thrive. From moving location to working collectively, it has never been a straight road. All the time, however, I have tried to derive as much fun and enjoyment from making a living from what I love doing. There have been ups-and-downs, good years and bad and countless mistakes and missed opportunities. Some of the assignments I have covered I wished had never happened: bad news sells, unfortunately. But over all, it has been a pleasure and a privilege. To work on all five continents of the world, to travel to some of the planet’s most sparsely-populated and beautiful places and to meet people of all different races, religions and backgrounds – and to photograph them. It’s a dream come true. That’s what has kept me going over the last 25 years, and will hopefully do the same over the next!

In no particular oder of preference or relevance, below here are just a tiny – and random – selection of images culled from the hundreds of thousands of clicks of my shutter. Thank you for taking the time to read this and for everyone’s help, encouragement and love down the years. Finally, if you want to purchase a compendium of my work, I still  have a few of commemorative books left, marking my 20 years working for the Independent newspaper.

Salmon netsman, Scotland, 1998. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

The Queen’s Baton Relay, Lesotho, 2017. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Politician Jacob Rees-Mogg, Scotland, 1997. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Dolly the Sheep, Scotland, 1997. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Paul ‘Gazza’ Gascoigne in rehabilitation, England, 2016. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Nottingham Forest football fans, England, 2015. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Sculptor Andy Scott, Scotland, 2014. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Morning exercise, Beijing, 2012. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Writer Douglas Coupland, Scotland, 2009. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Comedian Ken Dodd, England, 2008. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Foot-and-mouth crisis, England, 2001. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

The remnants of East Germany, 1992. © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

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An Independent Eye in Glasgow

My exhibition of photographs commemorating two decades of working for the Independent and Independent on Sunday newspapers will go on show in Glasgow on Thursday, March 1, 2018.

The show will be staged at Hillhead Library and is a collaboration between Street Level Photoworks and Oriel Colwyn, the photography gallery based in north Wales which originally curated and premiered the work last year.

The exhibition was inspired by my book entitled An Independent Eye, which was published in March 2016, the month when the newspaper ceased its print publication and became an online-only media outlet.

The show will run until Saturday, April 14 and admission is free. Thank you to Malcolm Dickson (SLP) and Paul Sampson (Oriel) for making this happen.

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Choice. Change. Contradiction

Travel, they say, broadens the mind. It also focuses it.

My current leg on foreign assignment is taking me through nine countries. Each, naturally, is diverse and unique. So far from what is familiar to me, I look for what I recognise. Traces and places of something I know. The common strand through this section of what was once termed the New World, is that of migration. Of journeying, whether by choice, coercion or necessity. Of finding pastures new, or a refuge, or a place to build a future. Everywhere, people on the move, historically, contemporary, singularly or as part of a mass movement which redefines the host and the guest.

Individuals who represent great cultures swept through here. Columbus is everywhere. Gesturing, pointing, settling and unsettling. As quickly as one representative of a distant Spanish monarch appears, a whole community of Mayans disappears, their oral evidence diluted and forgotten.

I take my identity with me on this journey, but bit-by-bit, I shed it. The colonisation of countries, which has led to the ethnic mash up on small Caribbean islands. Vast swathes of Canada redefined by white European settlers, many of them who were driven from their land in Scotland. First Nation becoming one nation, but only slowly as the yoke of history is loosened and an understanding gained of the past. I find it hard to identify with where I am beyond a commonality with people, bonds of new friendships. But in these small steps, I also lose my old skin.

In the church in Bermuda. On the wall of a bar in Jamaica. In the street name in Vancouver. In the business in Belize. Familiar and yet foreign, a tiny drip of memory, like liquid, squeezed from the past, drying and dying, yet nurturing new life. Facing forward. Yet mindful of the past.

Traders, exploiters, immigrants, slaves, soldiers, tourists. They have all been here. Now it’s my turn. When my footprints have faded and the photographs forgotten, the timeless energy of humanity will continue. Change. Contradiction. Challenge. It’s always faced us and always will.

A final splash in warm water. A chance to forget the past. For the communities around me it’s a constant process of new dawn, fresh beginnings. For me, I’ll just go on my way.

Hamilton, Bermuda. Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

Hamilton, Bermuda. Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

Victoria BC, Canada. Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

Victoria BC, Canada. Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

Vancouver, Canada. Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

Vancouver, Canada. Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

Approaching Belize. Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

Belize. Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

Menonites, Belize. Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

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For a few dollars less

I have seen my fair share of shack strewn shady side streets on this assignment. Some places you expect it: reputations precede most destinations. Other locations it takes you by surprise. But then again, maybe it shouldn’t. Lie back and close your eyes and picture the Bahamas. The endless blue ocean intersecting with gleaming, pristine sands. Palm trees rustle in the breeze. Tourists meander indolently. Danger only lurks in the form of a stray, ripe coconut being pulled by gravity towards your unguarded head. Then open your eyes and find yourself Over the Hill. In Nassau’s back alleys. Amongst the shadow of the wealth which permeates society, but which never reaches the far shore. Drink in the Tip Top bar, where a man darts in, jerks his head back and in an instant a one dollar shot cascades down his throat. Then he’s gone. A small injection of fuel, mainlined to help him through the next part of the day. In the barber’s there a hum of conversation. Local creole patter. The air: Hot. Still. Sweaty. A cloud of talc and a spray of something sweet send me on my way. Past the cycling Rastafarian, handlebars laden with bags of unseen detritus. Cars crashed. Rows of wooden houses. Some windowless, others are churches. Pray for them, my friends. Because they have been forgotten by the God of money. But they have spirit. In the mouths which flash toothless smiles, I see their pride. In the woman who recognises my companion and thanks him for his help and guidance. They are here. Over the Hill. But not beyond it.

Nassau, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Nassau, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Nassau, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Nassau, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Nassau, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Nassau, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Nassau, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Nassau, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

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Sun, sea and salt

I have just finished three exhilarating and fascinating days working in the Turks and Caicos islands. Behind the pristine beaches and holiday hotels peppering the shoreline, there is another world, as is so often the case in tourist destinations. TCI, as the locals call their home, is a disperate and friendly collection of islands, some in the flux of development, others clinging to survival, none more so than Salt Cay, a windswept, ragged landscape of desolate and redundant salt ponds which gave the island past prosperity. Around 70 people still live on Salt Cay, in tumbledown, bleached, ramshackle properties. The sun relentlessly scorches the salinated earth. Trees and bushes are twisted and gnarled. Long rows of dry stone walls indicate the previous presence of British colonialists. But the welcome is warm and the island has an enchantment which made me want to stay beyond my short adventure. TCI people are proud of their country, and indeed for small parchments of land peppered across the Caribbean Sea, it has much to offer. I hope to be back again one day…

Salt Cay, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

South Caicos, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Salt Cay, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Salt Cay, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Salt Cay, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Salt Cay, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Salt Cay, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Salt Cay, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Grand Turk, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Salt Cay, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

Grand Turk, 2017. Photograph © Colin McPherson, all rights reserved.

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Looking inside out in Africa

A photograph is an object which depicts a scene. Whether it is a landscape, a piece of documentary evidence or indeed a portrait, the act of the photographer pointing the camera creates the space into which the visual architecture is designed. The result can be simplified to an equation which equates to the viewer looking at objects created by the practitioner/artist. One-way traffic. So far, so simple.

In his totemic piece of work entitled RFK Funeral Train, American photographer Paul Fusco turned the equation back-to-front. The images depict people standing transfixed at the sight of the train carrying the coffin of recently-murdered politician Robert F. Kennedy as it snaked its way up the American east coast from New York City to the Arlington Cemetery in Washington D.C. in the summer of 1968. It captures a nation gripped by grief and disbelief, that we know. The often blurred images freeze forever a sense of shock and bewilderment. Taken from on board the moving train, Fusco’s vantage point allows him to be in the ascendancy, often looking down to individuals and groups of people as they form a human daisy chain to pay their respects and mourn the sudden loss of hope in a country in the grip of racial and economic tension.

What has always fascinated me about this body of work is this: many of the images are blurred and imprecise, vignettes of reactions, stares and expressions caught on the move. This gives the sense of movement, but it also does something to alter the perception of who is in control of the process. For me, it becomes clearer with each viewing of the images that there is an ambiguity which I cannot resolve. Fusco has the camera, and constructs the scene. But somewhere in there another dynamic takes over. It is almost as if, by freeze-framing these people, the subject of the photograph is re-imagined: it is now Fusco and his deceased travelling companion which are the primary focus, not the people lining the route.

I have always held these images to be ‘other’. A set which created uncertainty in my mind, asking for a deeper exploration of the relationship between the sitter and the artist, the subject and that which objectifies it. I have always had the intention of trying to experiment with this concept and recently on an assignment I found myself in a place and position which allowed me to reignite this interest. For nearly six weeks, I spent many hours travelling as part of police motorcades, often at high-speed, through eight different countries in southern Africa, with time on my hands and space to contemplate the vast and varied rural landscape and the chaotic and diverse urban environment. What became apparent to me, as the sirens wailed and traffic swerved, were the expressions of people, caught unawares, unsuspecting, slightly bewildered by the sudden encroachment into their lives as a convoy of important-looking cars headed by police outriders and other vehicles whizzed by.

As we sped through Malawi, Zambia, Namibia, Botswana, Mozambique, Swaziland, Lesotho and finally South Africa, scores, if not hundreds, of people were captured, frozen in time, their expressions betraying personal emotions, unaware of the content or context of what they were witnessing. Photographed without particular fastidiousness, the images presented in Africa Drive-By represent the moment when, like a reflection in a mirror, we see our own consternation, surprise, joy, shock, ambivalence or insouciance captured and turned back on us. They are us. And we are them.

Africa Drive-By is presented as a small-scale, 28-page ‘zine publication, with a limited edition first print run of just 150 copies, available exclusively through this website.

To flick through a copy of Africa Drive-By, click here…

Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

Photograph © Colin McPherson, 2017 all rights reserved.

Photograph © Colin McPherson 2017, all rights reserved.

 

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Africa Drive-By

Take a look through this small visual monograph of photographs made during an assignment in southern Africa.

Limited to an initial print run of 150 copies, Africa Drive-By is a 28-page ‘zine-type publication available exclusively through this website. It is a collection of pictures taken from police motorcades as I travelled on assignment through eight countries in April and May 2017. Set against the varied urban and rural landscapes encountered, the images challenge the idea of who the observer is in the moment that pictures are made.

Measuring 148mm x 148mm, and priced just £3.50 plus postage and packaging, the publication will be available from 15th June 2017 and limited to one per person. It sits with other publications I have produced over the last couple of years.

Africa Drive By


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