Whitby fascinates me, it’s a small town steeped in the folklore of the sea, of Captain Cook, tall ships, pirates and the occasional murder. It’s hilly, ‘gothic’, simultaneously quaint and frequently beset by fog, meaning it’s alive to the movement of ghosts, both past and present, whether of people and boats, or bats and vampires. Once briefly home to Bram Stoker, it attracts those looking for fish and chips and those searching for a literary edge. Whitby provides the sand, solace and shadows sought by many, which of course is why it’s somewhere to return to…
The above shot is the opposite of the street photography I enjoy – it’s a requested portrait. Here Whitby was a stage and a theatre in which to perform. Every detail, from the rolled saddle cloth to the expertly rusted tank and the leather gloves on the sprung loaded seat, were chosen for affect… he wanted to be noticed and I thought it was the least he deserved, given his efforts.
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