postcards from the sea - no. 2

It's the second day of our Brighton adventure and Mandy and I are up bright and early. We join the steady stream of parents and children on their way to schools and supermarkets and coffee shops and the endless mundane, profoundly beautiful things that make up everyday life.

The sun shines - it's a good day to be alive and random graffiti provides the perfect backdrop.

Breakfast is taken in the rather splendid Bohemia, a bar come restaurant, come nightclub which boasts award-winning toilet facilities. Mandy explores these whilst I order a veggie special for her and a full English for me. Delicious!

During the course of our morning repast we decide to construct a series of Oblique Strategies for photographers based on the ground-breaking work of Brian Eno and Peter Schmidt in the 1970s. In essence the concept of an oblique strategy is to open a path through a creative rut or impasse.

Here's what we came up with ...

• balance on one foot 
• brag like you've got a tail
• you are now six
• just jump or skip
• turn around
• look up
• stop taking photographs
• shake a random stranger's hand
• take a picture of something that's not there
• take something yellow home with you
• put it out of focus
• take it with your eyes closed
• imagine sadness
• sit on the floor
• think pink
• just don't
• I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours

Please be advised no hallucinogenic drugs were involved in the construction of this list.

Breakfast consumed it's a leisurely stroll toward the East Pier, the rendezvous point for The Fujicast Meet. En route we take in a deserted bookstall, an itinerant Brighton & Hove Albion supporter and the water-aisle at Aldi.

The Fujicast folks are great! We soon feel at ease and before you know it we're safely ensconced in the legendary Palm Court Restaurant, chowing down on yet another plate of chips as a fascinating podcast is recorded.

 

 

 

Our post-lunch aerobic workout is a leisurely stroll traversing the length of the pier. The flashing neon-lit world of the amusement arcade awaits us at the far end.

Onward then to the shoreline, retracing our steps from yesterday evening. The sea shimmers, strangers smile, it's a happy place to be.

Time now to return to the town. We dodge in and out of the Indian summer sun, finding refuge in the shadows.

 

postcards from the sea

And so to Brighton.  I'm accompanying the legendary dog-photographer, Mandy Burton on a trip to meet members of The Fujicast, a lively Facebook group brought together by a common love of photography and of Fuji cameras in particular.

I shoot mainly with Leicas, but I do have one Fuji in my possession, the STX-1 which holds a special place in my affections. It was my very first camera, a birthday present from my new bride shortly after we married. It's been dusted down, fitted with new batteries, loaded with a roll of Fujifilm 200 and stowed away in my bag. My main camera for the next two days is, however, my trusty Leica M-P. It's set to shoot in black and white, my chosen mode for the next six months.

The  journey to Brighton is uneventful.  After unpacking at the fabulous Airbnb discovered by Mandy's wife, Lucy, we set off for town. It's a quick stroll down the steep slope to the Royal Pavilion where we pause to take a few shots.

The East Pier is just a short distance away and we take more photographs as we set off towards the i360 Tower.

The stroll along the sea-front is very pleasant. We stop to chat to a couple of people, watch some beach volley-ball players practice and admire a fantastic photographic exhibition on the beach itself.

All the while, the skeletal, fire-charred remains of the West Pier dominate the skyline.

With the light starting to fade we take one last look at the West Pier then make our way to the i360 tower. We catch the last ride of the day, which takes us 450 feet into the air for a panoramic view across Brighton.

It's getting dark now and the rain-streaked windows cast strange reflections across the viewing platform. Down below, the streets of Brighton are transformed into glittering rivers of light as traffic courses the length of the sea-front.

 

We disembark from the tower and the swirl of the sea hooks the two of us back to the shore-line. Mandy and I sink to our knees and watch, transfixed, as wave after wave crashes onto the stony beach in white-flecked spume. 

It's a welcome plate of piping hot chips on the way back to the Airbnb.  I'm also treated to the first sighting of Mandy's ingenious beard disguise! Day done.