Showing posts from July, 2017

Wummaging around in the undergwoff

People I’ve spoken to in my day to day working locations have commented on this house, as they often pass it on a daily basis when travelling in and out of Durham City on their way to work. The house sits on a hill which houses the old Durham observatory – now derelict and used by Northumbria Water as a storage facility. Despite being within walking distance of the cathedral, it is surrounded by agricultural land, and a short walk to the age of the field affords the viewer a spectacular vista across the basin in which Durham resides. The property was once owned by the University, and was famously the home of the late David Bellamy – a much loved Durham University Botanist who went on to become a broadcaster in the 80’s, and was royally sent up by the largely unfunny Lenny Henry from time to time. The current owners have completely remodelled the place – inside and out, to create a five bedroomed mansion, and a fusion of period features and high-spec contemporary elements which result

Hungry for success

A very short post today – mourning the loss of a pro compact flash memory card that I’ve used for the past few years. I know that nowt lasts forever, but I could have got another few years out of it I’m sure. The moral of the story is “never go to work on an empty stomach”. I did, and then tried to grab something horribly carby to eat from a service station. While stuffing crisps or whatever down my neck in an attempt to quickly satisfy my immediate needs, I picked up this bit of essential gear by mistake, popped it in my boat-race, and chewed instinctively. My mind suddenly clicked back into normal mode, and I spat it out. Unfortunately, it had been damaged irreversibly in my gob, and subsequent attempts to make it readable by any of my cameras were unsuccessful. Another expensive mistake in a seemingly endless list of mistakes created by the universe for its’ own amusement. Goodbye old friend – you served me well. Brian Young shoots all aspects of the built environment

This was your Captain speaking

Houses vacated by the deceased are always depressing to photograph. I’ve done many of these in my time – usually during the cold winter months, which often seem to rob the infirm of their final scraps of the will to live. Each such property tells a story regardless of wether it’s been cleared out or not. If I’m sent in shortly after the death of the householder, I’m met with a complete home devoid of the homemaker – a snapshot of somebody’s everyday life complete with photographs, books and records, communications, notes to self, food and drink left out, and personal items scattered throughout. Imagine that everyone in your household was removed at this instant. I would go in and make judgements based on the stuff I saw lying about – tastes in carpet & curtains, dietary and medication requirements, family history and friend networks, perhaps evidence of a long and successful career, quirks, interests, and physical capabilities. Photographing such sensitive things can be fascina

iPhone magic

This is not a professionally commissioned shot of a Vauxhall Mokka. This is a picture of a Vauxhall Mokka taken just before sundown – by a bloke with an iPhone 6 Plus. I don’t know his name, I only know his gmail username, and the fact that he cleans holiday cottages with his daughter for a client of mine. He asked my opinion of this shot below. It looked brighter on the iPhone screen than on a Mac desktop, but I thought it would be a good idea to have a go at doing some simple improvements on the shot using Lightroom or Photoshop out of the goodness of my heart. As soon as I imported it into Lightroom, and started using the sliders to bring the exposure up, fill in shadows, and get rid of a bit of noise, I was aware that I was onto something incredible. The detail in the shadows is vast, and easily recovered after shooting. Unfortunately, I can’t credit myself with this shot – it’s down to a complete amateur, but it’s becoming clear that the boundary between a pro with a