February 15th – I hopped off the canal and along the old railway line towards Clayhanger. It’s an interesting spot at dusk, and the views over the rooftops on a clear night are wonderful, as is the view down towards the village. As I arrived, there was a familiar rustle in the undergrowth, and out strolled the old dog fox. He looked at me, as if in recognition, then trotted off down the path.
It was good to see him, I was worried he wouldn’t survive the winter. He must be getting on a bit now.
February 15th – I was off work with stuff to do all day. I slipped out just in the sunset hour, too late for the colour, but just in time for the drama. The going was good and the bike felt fast, and I rode it liquid along the towpaths of Brownhills. The light was superb – just when you think you’ve seen a place in every light possible, something different happens. From Catshill Junction to Pelsall Road, the soft lights of the Watermead to the harsh geometry of Humphries House, the whole of Brownhills seemed to be high on twilight drama.
Brilliant, really enjoyable.
February 13th – oops, I forgot my gorilla pod. Sadly, I only discovered this unfortunate fact in the dark, in Walsall Wood on my comment home. It was raining, and the air had suddenly become quite warm. My planned shots for the two sets of today were therefore lost, and I had to improvise. I don’t have steady hands, and the shake correction on the camera is vicious in it’s manipulation of images. These shots were all ⅛ or ¼ exposure, hand held. Quite pleased, really, although they are quite poor. Time was I couldn’t do 1/60 exposure without blurring the shot, so something is improving, I’m not sure what.
Walsall Wood itself looks great at night, and always has; the pubs and shopfronts cast a great light, and in the wet, the vehicle lights sparkled. Amazing that after so much change, and so much expansion, this place still retains a village atmosphere.
February 10th – Returning along the wet canal towpath in almost total darkness, the going was hard. From the roving bridge at Ogley Junction, not much was visible, so I whipped out the gorilla pod and tried a long exposure shot into the darkness. Not too bad a result, really. It certainly shows how much of the residual light is sodium street light pollution, mainly here from the rear of the CNC Speedwell factory.
And it continued to rain. Rain, rain, endless rain.
Come on spring!
February 9th – Shooting back home to Brownhills, I passed the old surgery in Brickiln Street. It’s now a veterinary surgery – and a very good one too; but up until the early 1980s this was the GP surgery for Brownhills. Back then it was tumbledown, dingy and old; it hadn’t had attention for years, despite the best efforts of the doctors and staff to keep it clean. After decades of service, a new surgery was built, only to be replaced by yet another at the Parkview Centre in 2006.
This bungalow has been healing the sick of Brownhills – human and animal – for decades.
February 8th – At the other end of the architectural spectrum is Silver Court. An odd, split level building, it’s one of the last untouched remnants of sixties-era Wimpey system construction that were so ubiquitous here, although this isn’t a full system build. At the lowest level are garages, at the rear; split level, above are a parade of shops. Split level again, at the rear, there’s an access pathway over the garage roofs to maisonette-style houses above the shops. It’s one of the oddest, most quirky designs I’ve ever seen, and in many ways is deserves recording as an exemplar of what happened when system build was expanded beyond it’s narrow confines. On the other hand, it’s harsh, dark and badly constructed.
On a damp winter’s night, the sodium lighting, hard suffices and dark corners make for very atmospheric photos.
February 8th – Just a short ride today. I shot up through a deserted Brownhills at 8:30pm to clear my head. As I approached Anchor Bridge, I stopped to look at the new developments there. Houses are still being built on one side, but on the other, Knaves Court looks impressive in the night. A sort of sheltered living complex for the elderly, it seems to have a fine community and high regard. I love the modernity of the building, and the boldness of the colours employed in it’s render.
A fine place.
February 7th – I guess my hands must be getting steadier, or I’m getting better at this photography hoohah. Today was pretty much the inverse of yesterday; 24 hours before the morning commute was wet, and the evening rewarded me with a dry, beautiful sunset twilight commute. Today, the morning was stunning in it’s beauty, and in the evening, I got wet.
At the Arboretum junction, I was held, as usual, at the lights. Waiting to cross, I whipped out the camera, and took a couple of quick shots before the lights changed. Oddly for a ¼ exposure, it came out quite crisp even though it was handheld.
February 6th – At the other end of the day, at Walsall, delightfully in the half-light at 5:30pm, the sunset was beautiful, and it was dry. I loved the lights, and the sky, and yet again, the exaggerated vanishing point the elongated geometry formed.
I don’t know where my love of railways at night comes from. It’s not about trains, or the experience of travel. But the light, the signals, the dark and the interaction of machinery and landscape. The windy sweep of trains passing through, and often the solitude. I think it’s from my childhood but can’t place why, exactly.
Back in the 1970s there was a record label called Late Night Feelings. One of it’s logos was a beautiful, childlike crayon drawing of the then new Intercity 125 speeding through a darkened station at night, with a pair of children watching on the platform. That’s exactly how I feel.
A mystery.
January 31st – Evening, Birmingham. It’s about a quarter past five, and the city is sliding gracefully into darkness at the end of another working day. I was here to see the lights come on, in and around Colmore Row and the Cathedral, the grounds of which are affectionately known as ‘Pigeon Park’.
People slag Birmingham off continually. It’s beautiful, if you open your eyes. This could almost be Belgravia.
My city, my past, present and future. How I adore it.
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