Producing the book

It seems a like a long time since I have updated my research blog, the reason being my project had now entered the final phase of the creative process. Starting in mid-October, I began to collate all of the work created over the last seven months into a printed book.

The first decision made was that the book should mirror the diaristic nature that the project had developed into and that the written responses I had recorded while capturing the images should be incorporated into the final design. With this in mind, the images were split into six chapters, each of them containing images and text from particular geographic shoots. The chapters created were irregularly sized as the duration of the shoots ranged from a few hours to several days at a time.

Editing down to the final image selections

Selecting the final images was a long-winded process with lots of indecision and many changes. The sequence of the book is roughly chronological to the order of which it was shot with a little artistic license exercised to allow the flow to make a little more sense to the viewer. Various mock-up incarnations were made which included a dramatic culling of images to refine the order of the finished book. The texts I had written in my notebook became increasingly important as the project developed and as my research widened, and so the inclusion of a re-written and edited texts became essential to the project.

Having finalized the image sequence of my book, I started to research further the graphic aesthetics of book design. I had been influenced heavily by the Dragana Jurisic publication, YU: The Lost Country at an earlier point in my project by both the concept of the book and images, and by the book design itself, so this was a good starting point. Adding to this I also revisited other favourite photobooks for design inspiration including John Gossage’s The Pond and William Eggleston’s The Democratic Forest. I concluded that I wanted to create a large format cloth bound book with an image inlayed into the cover and title text debossed into the cloth.

Debossed text stamped into the cover and image inlay on the William Eggleston book

As all of the final images were shot on 6×6 medium format film, the book should be square to allow maximum image sizes. When examining the Jurisic publication, I liked the arrangement of the images ranging from full bleed through to white bordered pages. I also drew inspiration from the placement of the text intermingled with images which was an idea I felt suited to my own work too.

Editing the text I had recorded during the shoots was an especially difficult process. Certain images had text that directly related to them, while other notes I had written formed a more general overview of my responses at revisiting the sites of memories. My research had led me away from a ridged format of book design and so the design process of placing text with key images seemed suitable while other images have none. The final book has a text introduction, an overview accompanying each separate chapter, text annotations linked to key images and an epilogue. Altogether the text within the book runs to 3500 words which is far more than I expected it to be.

With the sequence of images and placement of text arranged, the next task was the selection of font choices and the inclusion of page furniture. I researched font choice briefly, but ultimately informed by the advice of a graphic designer. The nature of the text is my own voice, yet I was reluctant to quote myself as such. Therefore the humanist font family of Univers was selected for use throughout the book.

The design process in InDesign

With the book pages and cover created in InDesign, the final part of the journey was actually producing the book. Previously I have used the Blurb website to create printed books but this would mean too many compromises. Blub offer only two options of fabric for covers and are unable to emboss or print onto it. I needed to source a company that could make the book exactly as I had envisioned it.

Possible cover material options supplied by Bristol Bound

I researched various bookbinders with details about my project and build up a relationship with Bristol Bound Binders who were able to offer me a wealth of advice. Bristol Bound showed me a range of artists books they had previously created and I knew that the work they could produce was far beyond that Blurb were able to offer. They were able to manufacture the book by hand, but they could print the pages. A second company, Jam Jar Print, agreed to print the pages and I was able to choose from various papers for the job. After studying a range of printed samples, I select Mohawk Superfine Smooth 148 GSM paper which rendered the images well on a matt surface. It seems Mohawk paper is just about as expensive as paper can possibly be.

Explaining my project, the concept and the images, Bristol Bound were then able to produce a custom-made book exactly as I had imagined it. We discussed the various fabric choices available before selecting a grey-green that complemented the tones of the seascape image that was to be mounted on the cover. Supplying them with a PDF file of my cover text, Bristol Bound made a metal printing plate for the debossed cover and suggested a slightly faint white colour that echoes the concept of the project. Additionally, Bristol Bound manufactured a matching slip case box for the book also debossed and in the same cover cloth. The book looks superb and I am exceptionally happy with the finished outcome.


The finished book and slip case


Eggleston, W., 2016. William Eggleston: The Democratic Forest – Selected Works. Steidl.

Badger, G., 2010. John Gossage: The Pond. Aperture.

The Huts of Memory Symposium at the Arnolfini Gallery

On the 2nd of November I was fortunate enough to attend the Huts of Memory symposium hosted by the Arnolfini gallery in Bristol. One particular draw to the symposium was Dragana Jurisic talking about her work YU: The Lost Country which had been a key source of research for my own work a few weeks previously.

The Huts of Memory symposium was staged as part of the Still I rise: Feminisms, Gender, Resistance exhibition which is a large-scale exhibition focusing on the experiences of women and celebrating female triumphs. The Symposium featured female photographic artists linked together by the publishing of photobooks and the fact that they were in some way displaced from their own native environments.

Jurisic discussed her work in detail and explained the process of creating YU: The Lost Country had seen her ritualistically retrace her origins in the former Yugoslavia. She explained revisiting the sites of her past as “building a metaphysical home in my mind” to replace the national identity and material home that she has lost. Jurisic cited the link between her work and that of Rebecca West’s book Black Lamb and Grey Falcon (1941) and established a theory that West seemed to know that the country of Yugoslavia would soon cease to exist, perhaps reflecting on the context of world war two rather than the latter part of the nineteenth century. Even then, Yugoslavia was a delicate melting pot of mixed religions and national identities which would eventually be the source of its own demise. Other reasons Jurisic provided included the collapse of communism in the late 1980’s which saw other countries gain freedom from Soviet control and financial support. The conversation then progressed onto the more recent rise in nationalism as the ultimate cause of war in the 1990’s.

Referring to memory specifically, Jurisic theorized that the break-up of the former Yugoslavia has forced upon a nation a sense of collective amnesia, where the past is simply forgotten and no longer recognized. She established that “as individuals, memory outlives our body. Bodies develop and change, memory does not” which resonated well with myself and my own visual recording of memories.

Attending the symposium was a very interesting and thought-provoking experience for me and has allowed me to consider the points raised by the speakers with reference to my own memory linked photography. It was fantastic to hear Dragan Jurisic speak about her own work and answer questions regarding it. This in itself has allowed me to develop my understanding of YU: The Lost Country even further.

Falmouth 28/10/19

I returned to Falmouth again on the 28th of October for a few days. I had felt that a revisit to Falmouth was necessary to gauge my response to my recollections out of the sunny summer season. I had booked into the hotel that was my childhood home and this came with a range of mixed feelings. When I arrived at the hotel it became clear that I was the only guest. The room I was given was once my brothers bedroom. The furniture looked the same, the room layout looked the same, everything came flooding back. It felt homely, that little had changed. I was able to attach a sense of security and familiarity to my stay at the hotel. The Victorian building even smelled the same. It was like stepping back into my own memories of once living in that space. The missing presence was of course my parents.

The following text from notebook was written as I re-photographed the area.

Stack Point and Swanpool

Back to Falmouth and it is a familiar and grey autumn, but welcoming. It is far quieter than my previous visit, the tourists have gone, now replaced by the occasional dog walker on the beach. The weather is promising an imminent rain. From the path I can look down to the sea. Presented are a range of subdued greens and greys. The sea today is stormy with the water being whipped by a penetrating wind. The waves are now tipped with threatening white water and wash, yet I feel strangely content here. The South West coastal path towards Stack Point is waterlogged and muddy, but this is a route I feel urged to take.


South West England
Chilly and dry for most with wet outlook.

Monday morning could see some localized fog, which may be slow to clear. It will be a chilly and dry start for most, with cloud spreading eastwards over the region later, bringing blustery showers to Cornwall and Devon. Maximum Temperature 11C.

A cloudy night for most, with the showers in the far southwest becoming confined to the coasts. The wind will strengthen during the early hours with some coastal gales expected. Minimum Temperature 4C.


Pendennis Point

I moved a few miles across Falmouth bay to Pendennis Point. The weather is now very blustery at the exposed peninsular carpark surrounded by sea on three sides. The area is busy but the drivers who remain sat inside their cars observing. Rows of parked cars, occupants gazing out to sea on three sides deep in thought. No one is willing to engage with this stormy landscape. We are collectively a passive presence at this site, observing but not engaging. My car is rocked and buffeted by the wind, yet I feel safe from the world’s elements inside. I could watch the sea and the weather for hours. The stormy coast has always held the most attraction for me.

Rain is gathering on the windows of the car. The wind has turned the it into a gravity defying flow of sideways shifting water. The sky is today thick with grey cloud with only a few patches of optimistic light puncturing though a ceiling of darkness. I am waiting for a forecast 11 O’clock window of drier weather; it didn’t arrive. If anything, the weather got worse.

Film 20 – 120

Film 21 – 120

Film 22 – 120

Film 23 – 120

Landscape, absence and the geographies of love – Research Paper by John Wylie

This paper by John Wylie develops an account of the landscape and the human presence placed within it and was published by the Royal Geographical Society. It is centred around the abundance of memorial bench’s at Mullion Cove, in Cornwall which relates geographically to my own work. The paper explores ideas of absence, distance, loss and haunting. It goes on to theorise experiential accounts of the memorial benches and the views they present with a conceptual argument regarding the agency between self, memory and the landscape.

As my own work is currently focusing on my own memories embedded into the landscape and the creation of physical agency between location and image, this paper hold a lot of relevance as I try to make sense of my own place-connected recollections.

I have selected some excerpts from the text that relate to the context of my own creative practice

“They would be sites set aside for looking and remembering, and in so being they would vex together in complex fashion landscape and gaze, visible and invisible, presence and absence, blindness and flight, love and loss.”

 The idea of the memorial bench has an established set of conventions attached. Wylie writes poetically at times to describe the scene in front of him and his response to the landscape.

“That was what we were at Mullion Cove: paradoxical incorporations. Landscape and recollection and perception, none of them fusing or coinciding with each other, nor singly present and replete in themselves, but all held tense and tangled none-the less.”

Wylie argued that both landscape and memory, whilst certainly interlinked together, can be considered as separate entities as well.

“So the whole scene was already a watching. Nothing simply visible-in-itself. Without realising it we had been looking at – or, better, looking-with–a host of ghosts and memories.”

“the visual contemplation of an externalised scene”

Memory of place, is of course invisible to all but the holder, it cannot be shared or communicated in a way that is understandable to anyone else. Memory is an externalised scene. Photographically we are able to capture the places that relate to memory but not record the memory itself.

“A third and associated strand of current landscape writing takes some of its cues from phenom-enological and non-representational idioms, but is more centrally concerned with questions of memory, and here it is the looming presence of landscape in memory, and hence within senses of self ,identity, community and belonging ,that is emphasised”

Wylie theorises that landscape within memory is concerned with place, and with this I can draw parallels to my own responses to revisiting the sites of my own memories.

“…stories of life and love weave together landscape and memory as palpable, haunting presences, registering evocatively in multiple locations and times.”

Mirroring my own conclusions developed over the last few months when revisiting the sites of my own memories. I can appreciate the point of memories at times transcending particular sites and times, attaching themselves to forgotten dates and ambiguous locations.

Wylie’s paper has been a stimulating read and challenge in terms of vocabulary to really get to grips with the themes of landscape and memory he has covered. It has been a useful exercise and I am able to take several new perspectives forward in the creation of my own work both photographically and in the written form.


Royal Geographical Society (with IBG). 2019. John Wylie. [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 26 October 2019].

Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe

I have been dipping in and out of Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe over the last few weeks. While Crusoe is an entirely fictional character, I have found useful the way the Crusoe character reflects on his memories prior to being shipwrecked and the internal voice that discusses them in the journal format sections of the text. Also of use to me are Crusoe’s thoughts on the sea which again are relevant to my own diaristic journal recording the responses I felt returning to the coast and the site of my memories as part of my own project.

In Robinson Crusoe Defoe’s character explains his own similar, intimate affinity to the sea:

In a word, as the Sea was returned to its Smoothness of Surface and settled Calmness by the Abatement of that Storm, so the Hurry of my Thoughts being over, my Fears and Apprehensions of being swallow’d up by the Sea being forgotten, and the Current of my former Desires return’d, I entirely forgot the Vows and Promises that I made in my Distress.

Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe (1719)

I don’t want to draw fact or experience from the Defoe text as it is a work of literary fiction. What I am able to adopt, borrow and draw some inspiration from is Defoe’s style self-voice writing which has helped me create and rewrite the annotation texts that will accompany my images. The note recording has become a very important element to this project and has so far enhanced the reflective nature of the project.

The process returning to the sites of my memories has so far been a solitary task. Much like Crusoe, the solitude experienced as I am creating my images is positively affecting the photographs being produced, in the same way as Crusue’s mind was allowed to run wild when shipwrecked. This forced isolation has allowed me an additional focus and inward facing mindset without the contemporary additions of others to blur the image recording process and this has been a real benefit to the project.





Defoe, D., 1992. Robinson Crusoe (Wordsworth Classics). Wordsworth Editions Ltd.

YouTube. 2019. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe – YouTube. [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 25 October 2019].

19/10/19 – Teignmouth

I lived in the coastal town of Teignmouth between 2005 and 2008 while I worked in nearby Newton Abbot. I lived alone in the town and never really settled there, with a stressful and hectic work life, I tended to escape the town and the pressures of work, whenever I possibly could. Although on first impressions the town had plenty to offer me, I made no friends and knew only a handful of people in the area. One crucial ingredient Teignmouth did afford me was access to the sea which along with my work contributed to me staying there for three years.

On the 19th of October, I returned to Teignmouth to photograph the area. Having already captured nearby Dawlish Warren, Teignmouth also needed to be photographed as my time spent in this area was focused on this area of coast.

The following text is an excerpt from my notebook, recorded immediately as I arrived in the town and over the course of the day I spent there.

8.40 – As I approached Teignmouth I was dreading having to return. The chapter of my life living here was not a happy one. I left it behind and reinvented myself far away from the coast.

I drove past my former house. I didn’t stop. Nothing more than a passing glimpse into a world packaged up and forgotten many years ago. I didn’t need to unpack that metaphorical box.

8.55 – As I open the car door I am hit by the familiar smell of the sea and am instantly reminded of where I am. It is a bright and crisp Saturday morning, high tide and a lot of morning fishermen lining the edge of the car park. It is quiet and calm, and there is a sense of serenity on the near empty back beach. My attraction to the coast feels strong again and I am surprised at this.

Peering over the fence of the carpark to the beach below I realise that the space I have selected overlooks the site where I once became victim to horrendous sunburn.

12.10 – I have walked the entire area of the coast now, the back beach, the seafront and over to the red cliffs of Dawlish before wandering around the town centre.

One notable space that is missing is The Lifeboat Inn. A pub that I would frequent often and the site of several dark episodes of my time in the town. It seems to have vanished, redeveloped into something else and certainly a far less toxic influence on me. I can’t actually identify which building it used to be, but I walked along the road it used to be on. I must have walked past it, unaware of its location, harmlessly. If the pub was still open, going inside would have been the pinnacle of uncomfortable experiences.

Perhaps, the absence of that pub and the characters that associated with it, has in some way enhanced my return visit. With the removal of the pub, gone also are my harrowing memories of the town. I feel able to view the town from a refreshed viewpoint.

1.05 – But as I sit here now, writing these thoughts down on the seafront, I am overwhelmed with a feeling of pleasant surprise. The small town I have returned to feels welcoming. I have been here for four hours or so, photographing the area and writing in my notebook, and people have engaged me in conversation. Pleasantries. Where I remembered the town to feel distant and alien, somehow it now it feels inclusive and friendly. Positively inviting.

There have been changes, gone are the empty shops and closed down pubs and hotels. The town is thriving. It feels like this location has developed at a gentle pace over the last 10 or so years, for the better.

On reflection, my memories of regret can now be considered in retrospect, replaced instead with notions of an internal desire to return and unfortunately, overwhelming envy.

I can leave Teignmouth again with a feeling of want. I want to return. The uncomfortable recollections my memory held, packed away securely at the back of my mind have been exorcised and embraced.

This has been a cathartic experience after all.

Film 17, 120

Film 18, 120

Film 19, 120

Dragana Jurisic – YU: The Lost Country

Dragana Jurisic is an artist and academic working with photographic images and text, and she is also assistant professor at Dublin City University. Of Croatian origin, much of Jurisic’s work is centered around identity and memory. Her introduction to image making started when her family home was burned down, thereby destroying the collection of thousands of images her father had accumulated in 1991. This personal life event of one family underscored an individual level of involvement in the breakup of the former Yugoslavia. Jurisic links the destruction of her family memories to the stripping of her national identity. The fire triggered an interest between the photographic image, memory and lost identity.

“The story of me as a photographer begins on the day when our family apartment got burned down together with thousands of prints and negatives my father, an ardent amateur photographer, had accumulated. On that day I became one of those ‘refugees’ with no photographs, with no past. Indeed, my memories of the events and people I encountered before that Sunday in September 1991 are either non-existent or very vague. I learned then the power photography has over memory.”

YU: The Lost Country

YU: The Lost Country is a photographic journey across what is now the former Yugoslavia. The Lost Country is centered around British writer Rebecca West’s book Black Lamb and Grey Falcon (1941), which formed a portrait of pre-war Europe. Jurisic revisted areas she had considered home in the former Yugoslavia up until 1991. The work deals with issues of lost cultural identity and nationality, which had been irrevocably erased after the breakup of Yugoslavia. The result of the war meant it was no longer possible to identify as simply Yugoslavian. Therefore, YU: The Lost Country exists as a recreation of a lost homeland and removed identity. It attempts to assert what a Yugoslavian cultural identity is, in spaces that can be no longer considered Yugoslavian. Whilst creating this body of work, Jurisic recorded her thoughts and responses to revisiting these places in their current form. The outcome is a collection of images and written content that highlights feelings of lost identity and rejection and an experience of displacement.

“Returning “home,” I felt exiled and separate. Suddenly, the foreign place where I had chosen to live felt more familiar.”

The work within The Lost Country is in parts location specific landscape imagery and in other parts constructed tableaux in response to West’s text. Interlinked with the images are short diary style entries. The words of Jurisic are deeply person responses to the images being made and provide an insight into her own feelings regarding the subject being photographed. They inform the viewer of her own emotions of being stripped of the national identity she was born into and it is clear that feelings of resentment and regret have manifested as a result of the breakup of Yugoslavia.

I have been able to gain a lot from my research in Jurisic’s The Lost Country. While my own journey of exploring memory and the landscape/seascape seem trivial in comparison to Jurisic’s, I feel there are some similar themes being explored in my own work. The notion of a desire to return is clear within her work, both to times passed and to specific geographic locations. My own creative practice has so far been identifying my desire to return to the coast and to the life I once lived there. Much the same can be said about Jurisic, there is an emotional attachment within her work that draws her to what was Yugoslavia. Whilst I have previously assumed my own draw to the coast is purely geographical, having examined The Lost Country and reflected on my own work, I now wonder if this draw is also historical as is Jurisics.

I have been enthralled reading Jurisic’s annotations to her images, as describing the experience as enjoyable seems the wrong. At time harrowing, the accompanying text provides a rich additional level of detail to the viewing experience. When dealing with what are at times a harrowing account of personal life experiences, the texts allow a far deeper and meaningful understanding of the images being presented. I am now able to rethink the text-based notes I have recorded as part of my creative process and allow myself to become further immersed into the process of reliving my memories.

“I remember thinking it all must be some sort of a joke.
I remember being excited and scared at the same time.
I remember how I put all my LP’s into the hallway so they wouldn’t get damaged by the crossfire.
I remember that my father and my brother were out that afternoon.
I remember bullets spraying the front door of our building.
I remember hearing what sounded like someone trying to get in.
I remember my mother thinking ‘it’s them’ and running towards the door.
I remember grabbing onto her until all my nails broke.
I remember meeting my neighbours for the first time in the basement of our building.
I remember thinking ‘pity I met them only now when we are all about to die’.
I remember the building burning above us.
I remember being sad about all those books my parents brought through the syndicate and never read… only consumed by me and the fire.
I remember being pissed off that I would die a virgin.
I remember when they came to pull us out.
I remember how I learned to zigzag run in order to escape sniper’s bullets.
I remember taking shelter in the local supermarket.
I remember falling asleep on bags of washing powder, next to a boy I had a secret crush on (he was our local basketball star).
I remember him waking me up at 3 am and whispering: “What can I get you, Madam?”
I remember asking for ice cream and champagne.
I remember captured Yugoslav army soldiers sitting scared shitless opposite from us.
I remember Croatian soldiers handing them box of sweets.
I remember walking into our burned down apartment the following morning.
I remember feeling relief that all the mess was gone and I would not need to clean up my room.
I remember that everything melted except for a big orange gas bottle, laying in red
crackling ‘coals’, waiting to go off like some post-apocalyptic witches cauldron.
I remember the soles of my red converse shoes melting.
I remember walking out. “

The layout design of the book has also provided me with further inspiration. Up until this point I have considered my work to be date ranged chapters of photography, yet now having seen the ordering of The Lost Country, I feel more confident to think beyond those confines. Jurisic’s simple one line comments have a blunt and direct power to them that perhaps I could mirror in my own publication by editing down much of my text.


YU: The Lost Country – Dragana Jurisic. 2019. YU: The Lost Country – Dragana Jurisic. [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 16 October 2019].

Dragana Jurisic | LensCulture. 2019. Dragana Jurisic | LensCulture. [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 16 October 2019].

YouTube. 2019. Dragana Jurisic – Return To The Lost Country – YouTube. [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 16 October 2019].

Tipi Photo Bookshop. 2019. YU: the lost country by Dragana Jurisic — Tipi Photo Bookshop. [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 16 October 2019].

Financial Times. 2019. Subscribe to read | Financial Times. [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 16 October 2019].

Dragana Jurišić | Golden Fleece Award. 2019. Dragana Jurišić | Golden Fleece Award. [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 16 October 2019].

Bait at The Watershed

Bait Directed by Mark Jenkins

On Sunday evening I went to the Watershed cinema in Bristol to watch the newly released Cornish film Bait. Bait is shot entirely on 16mm black & white film stock, resulting in a simple, low-fi aesthetic that perhaps mirrors the intentions and feelings of the plots main protagonist.

The film is centred around a small unnamed Cornish fishing village. The main protagonist Martin is a displaced local fisherman now living on the outskirts of the village having been forced to sell his ancestral family home. The purchasers of his home are a wealthy family from Londoner who use the house as a weekend holiday home and Air BnB rental, much to the displeasure of Martin.

The film alludes to the death of Martin and his brother Steven’s father, where Martin inherited the family home and Steven the family fishing boat. Martin resents Steven operating the family fishing boat as a sightseeing boat for Stag night tourists and refuses to work alongside him as they once did, attempting to cling on to his past and oppose change. Martin meanwhile has been forced to sell the family home to the family from London which again causes resentment to change. Martin exists as a fisherman without a boat and seems to be the laughing stock of the locals in the village. The relationship between Martin and the owners of his former home is tense throughout the film and ultimately the hapless son of the London family is responsible for the accidental death of Martin’s nephew and Steven’s son, Neil.

Edward Lowe, who plays the character of Martin is someone I have been well aware of for several years. He can be often found in the pubs and social scene of Falmouth where he is usually known as comedian Kernow King. The Cornish accents and stoic mannerisms feel a little too enthusiastic to me, although I do recognize these features from my youth in Cornwall.

There is a lot I can relate to in this film and I am able to link it to my own research in a few different areas. The feeling of displacement is the overriding theme of the film and perhaps this is the root cause of my own desire to be near the sea again. I am able to empathize with Steven’s desire to fight change and to maintain his connection to the sea. I wonder if this is manifested as a desire to live a simpler life than I once had within myself. I know too well that purchasing property in the area I grew up in would be practically impossible for me to do now and the temptation to cash in on inherited family homes is something that several of my Cornish friends have fallen for.

The way the film has been shot in an analogue format and hand processed by director Mark Jenkins adds an element of connection to the work that I too am trying to achieve in my own creative project. This is I consider mirrors my own use of seawater in the processing of film to create agency between image and space.

 I feel directly connected, through my hands to all those people who have been processing movies in the same way for over a hundred years.

Mark Jenkins

The locations of the film are also easily relatable to me. The scenes shot in local Cornish pubs where wealthy outsiders encroach on the world of lower income locals has been a point of resentment for many Cornish going back years. I have seen and experienced this myself, as a youth in Cornwall and as a visitor much more recently.

I feel viewing the film has reinforced some of the feelings I have regarding a return to the coast. On my most recent trip to Cornwall, I felt an internal resentment that I had become disconnected to the area and that it had become unrecognisable to me, much like Martin does in the film. The faces and places I once knew seemed so distant. The film has highlighted this and reminded me of my own attachment to the sea perhaps a desire for a perceived simpler life.



BAIT . 2019. BAIT . [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 26 September 2019].

Watershed. 2019. Bait – info and ticket booking, Bristol | Watershed. [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 26 September 2019].

IMDb. 2019. Bait (2019) – IMDb. [ONLINE] Available at: [Accessed 26 September 2019].

Returning to Falmouth – An uncomfortable plan.

Having re-read A Russian Journal, I feel empowered to push myself further and to dig deeper. I am now working full time and my creative practice has become harder to fit in. I have been going through my notebook to remind myself of my responses to the sites of my memories, and on reflection, I feel that the more uncomfortable responses have enabled me to create my strongest work.

With this in mind I have started planning my next trip to Falmouth, the town for a long time I have considered home. On reading through my notebook, I am a little unclear of what the notion of “home” means to me. My last trip over the summer has left many questions unanswered and a return visit is needed to double-check my previous findings. Perhaps I will feel entirely different on my next visit?

My next trip to Falmouth will be in late October, when I have a half term off work and some time to explore those memories again. My previous trip had me camping on the outskirts of the town, and the forced isolation led me to really think about my responses to the locations I had revisited. It was a useful experience. Unfortunately, the campsite will be closed when I return next which feels a shame as I was able to really dig deeply into my mind in the confines of my tent.

For my October trip I have resorted to booking a hotel. Falmouth has hundreds of hotels to choose from, but my choice is simple to make. I grew up in a hotel in Falmouth and I lived there from 1993 to 2002. I have booked myself into the hotel that was my childhood home.

Even as I write this from Bristol, I have a sense of trepidation and nervousness about returning to that building. Not that it is the site of many significant, drastically unhappy memories, but because this will force me to confront my memories head-on. I am sure the hotel itself will be a pleasant enough place to stay, I don’t know, I’ve not been there for many years, but right now this feels a little uncomfortable.

This could be an overwhelming experience, to paraphrase Casey in Remembering: A phenomenological Study, there is a burden to memory that I am potentially about to unpack.