I’m still hanging on to my memories of England and Wales. Like every time we’ve spent a lot of time there, I find it hard to settle back in here. I’m fully aware that in the UK I’m swimming in my own little bubble. We only meet people who are involved with photography – especially wet plate. Everyone is happy to see us. We get support, and when we’re travelling around in our van, there’s nothing to work on. We let ourselves drift, visit people we’ve come to know and value, look at old country houses and gardens, and every time – really every time – the weather is perfect for us. Apart from a few mishaps with food, it’s always incredibly lovely.
But I think the magic also lies simply in the history. And in how the English deal with their own history. It fascinates me every time we go into a castle or country house and the exhibition is just so freely accessible. You walk into rooms that still look and feel exactly as they did 150 years ago. You could easily touch everything (of course you don’t), everything is so open and close. And so lovingly done. I love the volunteers who just sit in the rooms and want to chat, telling you little stories about the former owners. And everywhere – for whatever reason – there are second-hand book sales. This time I didn’t drag home a collection of stones and shells; instead the bus was simply full of books.
The people in the UK fascinate me. They think differently, they deal with things differently and – at least all the ones I know – are very educated, considerate and incredibly generous.
Everything feels so much older. I see little to no new ugly buildings – are they all only in London? Country life seems simpler, quieter and less stressful to me. It also seems to me there are fewer rules than here in Germany. I didn’t see anyone sweeping the pavement on a Saturday in the UK. Especially because there simply aren’t any pavements in many places.
Sometimes I dream of buying a little house in England. With a shed for wet plate photography. Going to the pub in the evening. Maybe even letting myself be won over to actually liking the English breakfast.
But then reality catches up with me again, news in the newspaper, and I realise that I don’t know the real UK. But let me keep the dream. If I drift along dreaming and painting my colourful world – so what. Life is hard enough.
Medium format film with the Rolleiflex, my favourite camera when it comes to beautiful places and negatives.
