Going on a trip with friends it was a difficult choice. Where could we go which was in a couple of hours, that we hadn’t been before and was great for photography. Berlin, Paris, Amsterdam, Barcelona, Prague. In the end deciding on the Polish city of Krakow. Near Auschwitz, Resonating with past wars and brutalities. Unknowable pain. A pretty city. Picture perfect. Scanning the weather before you go on your trip, praying that BBC, Accu, Met etc.. are wrong in their forecast of incessant drizzle. There to take pictures but no light. Mizzle, more insistent but lighter than drizzle, a constant blanket of gentle spray. You don’t really get wet but there is a dampness, a coldness that starts to seep into your bones, breaking through Gortex through non stop lightness. You start to walk around the city and apparent photo opportunities jump out, peering through doorways, into shops. It’s a great way of looking at a city, as a photographer, especially when the light makes your task really difficult. Walking around, constantly, circling the city, heading for landmarks, the grey relentless. Night time and colours arrive, the neon glow of multicoloured bulbs elongating across vast squares, reflections more dramatic than the actuality, peering down, Crouching down by pools of water, reflections illuminating, doubling images. Adding to the misty intrigue. Umbrellas dotting the skyline, adding shape and colour, providing context and interest. Armed with a pocket camera, fixed wide angle, 28mm. No opportunity to zoom in but stay in the same perspective. Interest in the fore and background. Occasionally relenting from the clicking to move indoors, sample local beers. Atmospheric locales, stylised but resonating with Coldwar, Second World War menace. Dark brooding deep reds, greens and blues. Faded. Old photos, people lost to time, coming back to life. People creating new images, taking the space, providing film sets, stuck in time. Continue to walk, searching for images. The mizzle continues. Searching for a shipwreck, graffiti providing colour contrasting to the grey unchanging sky, no shards of light to provide interest just a grey blanket providing consistency. Statues and memorials. Crumbling buildings, memories hanging in the air, trapped, nowhere to go. Keep walking, searching for form, for light. Trams providing blue and red relief, the lights inside glowing through the dank grey. Previous lives trapped in, nowhere to go. Keep walking, observing, a sadness that is flat, not overwhelming, no drama, just constant and plaintive. Puddles continue to reflect, we walk, we peer, the mizzle continues.
