Hey everyone! This is my sixth week writing Field Notes on this platform, and it feels like a lot has changed since the start.
I want to thank all of you who have joined and have been reading these so far. If you’re new here, I release an issue every Monday, and it would be great if you subscribed and joined along.
From a photography standpoint, it’s been a while since I’ve felt this type of enjoyment, motivation, and energy. I’m very much in one of those states of flow where things feel right, and progress is being made.
I spent part of the last week on the road, working on several videos. One trip took me to the border of England and Wales, where I explored some rural areas as I tested out some new (to me) 4x5 film (Fomapan 100) for an upcoming video.
I’ve been having a ton of fun shooting large format lately and feel like I could stick with it for most of my work moving forward. In the past, I’d always shot it alongside medium format, mostly for my Slate City project.
But as good as things have been, and as much as I’m in a state of flow, I also know that a dip is likely around the corner.
With Images Come Ideas
For the Fomapan 100 shoot, I planned to visit an interesting-looking church just over the border in Wales, roughly a two-hour drive from my home, while leaving the rest of the day open to see what I found along the way.
I spent almost the entire trip driving back roads and stopping at a couple of old garages I encountered. There’s something that attracts me to these rural petrol stations and auto shops. I shot a total of ten sheets of film and made a few images that I’m quite happy with. (*I made a video of this, testing Fomapan 100 and sharing the day out shooting. It should be up on the channel shortly.)
The image below is my favourite from the day. I love the light coming through the interior window and being cast on the wall. I also love the late evening sun illuminating the front of the building and throwing the right side into darkness.
These simple things, like how light interacts with and can change a scene, are what often excite me most about photography. Moments after I made this image, clouds rolled in, and I decided to make a second image with the softer light, which felt flat and lacked depth and contrast.
Unfortunately, many of these old garages are fading away, and with them goes their unique character and charm, which is largely missing from the service stations that dot the motorways nowadays.
A big draw for me is that some of these places often act as time capsules, with their interiors having remained the same for decades—the snack counter, signage, and decor often being of a certain vintage.
There’s also a bit of a nostalgic connection for me. My first ever job when I was 16 was at a full-service gas station back in Canada. I can still picture what the shop looked like, and many of these places remind me of it.
I photographed one garage in the north of England last year, which was the perfect example of this. Its interior was simple and orderly, with an empty cooler and shelves and a counter with only necessities on it. The image I made isn’t flashy, but it’s a favourite of mine. I’d love to get back up there in the future and shoot it on large format and in black and white, hopefully before it’s gone.
Projects Revealing Themselves
A few weeks back, I wrote about how projects can sometimes emerge out of nowhere. This happened to me recently after a big road trip across the UK, which led to an idea about making ‘A British Mile’ as a follow-up to my work in the American West.
The point I stressed in that issue of Field Notes is that rather than trying to pre-plan a project, sometimes, by simply making images over a period of time, themes can develop, and a project can reveal itself to you. Interestingly enough, that’s exactly what happened to me after this trip last week, photographing these garages.
As I developed and scanned the film and started to edit the files, I realised that I’d captured many of these old auto shops over the past couple of years. This led me to go through my older work and start compiling it all, noticing a theme.
From there, ideas started to flow and a real interest and excitement to start intentionally focusing on capturing these subjects across the UK, documenting them before they’re gone, as a way to share a piece of motoring history that will (and already does) look very different.
It very much feels like there’s something here, and I’m excited about it. I’ll add it to the list and see where it goes.
The Ebb & The Flow
As I mentioned at the start, the past few weeks have been very productive. I’ve been full of ideas and making a lot of progress, which has been really cool. This recent project idea is something that I never saw coming, but I am quite excited about it and want to spend time working on it over the next few months.
But, as great as things are right now, I also know this flow period is fleeting and that, at some point, I will hit a patch where I lack energy and enthusiasm for my work. It’s happened many times before (quite recently), and it’ll happen again.
It’s part of the process.
That’s really the main point that I wanted to get across in this issue. I think it’s important to reflect on the fact that the creative process isn’t linear. For every high point, there will be an eventual low (or lower point), and then the cycle will repeat itself.
This took me a very long time to understand. As a result, I experienced many moments of frustration where I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t enjoying photography, questioning my interest in the craft and my abilities. A few of those periods almost made me quit.
At the time, I didn’t understand that if I kept at it, the flow would eventually return.
Stick With Things
I know now that there will be moments where nothing seems to work, the craft is extra difficult, and ideas are non-existent.
However, there will also be times when the process is full of energy, more fun than ever, and major progress is made.
These periods are unpredictable—both in frequency and length. I’ve been through months of unfulfilling and unproductive work—the same goes for the opposite.
Understanding and accepting the rhythm doesn’t eliminate the low points but makes it easier to get through them. More importantly, it can help you avoid making bad decisions, like giving up on an idea or project or, even worse, deciding to quit!
So, as much as this is a reminder for myself, I’d also encourage you to stick with things. You may be at a low point, struggling to make images you’re happy with and questioning your interest in this craft. If you are, just know that it happens to most, if not all, of us, and eventually, you’ll get back to where you want to be.
That’s it for this week. I hope you enjoyed this issue, and thank you again for reading it. I’ll see you next week with another!
I love it when projects reveal themselves like that. The best part is, if we don’t keep moving forward, pushing through the lower periods by still creating, they never would be revealed. Lesson in there! Thanks for sharing 🍻
I think both -the ebb and the flow- have a place in the creative process and are intertwined and depend on each other. Even though if would prefer to be in the flow all the time it is important to pause, breath and reflect.