I was going through some old photos recently and came across a few I took on who-knows-what camera around 1993 (maybe 1994?), when I was working part-time at a local Co-op while doing my A-levels. I actually ended up being made redundant from that job, which wasn’t surprising – the place was mostly empty. The only customers were usually there for booze or fags.
A few years ago, I’d have looked at these under-exposed, harshly lit photos and thought, ugh…But now, they feel wonderfully retro and a little bit edgy. Anyways, just scanned them in for future digital archeology or something
The Guardian recently wrote an article about 4 phoneboxes that had recently received Grade II listed status. Only about 50 remain in the country, with these 4 at various tube stations in London1
These are located at High Street Kensington, Chorleywood, Chalfont and Latimer, Northwick Park.
So naturally I took a day out to go and snap them.
For more phonebox photos including a new feature where I take photos of empty space (don’t all visit at once) go to phonebox.photos.
So after lockdown project 1 and project 2 I wanted a new project for tiered semi-lockdown and lockdown 3.
During and since art college I’ve always been fascinated by the mundane and how in society and culture we have objects that are present but we don’t really ‘see’ them.
For the new project I turned to photography, last year I purchased a secondhand Fujifilm X100s (approaching 10 years old but still a cracking camera). I wanted a certain look to my shots and the almost filmic quality of the X100s really appealed. Also something that I could do locally whilst taking in some exercise on walks during lockdown.
The subject I wanted to focus on was phone boxes. Not the classic London ones designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott (although I have made some exceptions), no I am talking about the more ‘modern’ ones. The ones that have become part of the street furniture, but ignored, looked through, abandoned. No-one seems to use them anymore (certainly not through choice or necessarily for their original purpose), the almost ubiquitous proliferation of mobile phones has rendered them obsolete and relics of the past. But they remain, unloved, mistreated, empty, lonely and I’ve found an almost melancholy beauty in their ugliness.
These decaying fixtures of the streets are probably not going to be around for ever, British Telecom and New World Telephones are gradually replacing them with electronic posters with a phone attached. However due to a High Court judgement in 2018 it is not a decision they can make now without local authority permission.
As such many remain in stasis, gradually deteriorating, occupying a little pocket of land on which they slowly atrophy. They remind us of a time before modern technology, a time of reversing the charges for calling home to ask for a lift. Prank calls. Sheltering from the rain. Turning into a superhero. They hold memories. As the uncaring march of technology relentlessly moves on they recede from our consciousness and the physical realm. Some of the phone boxes I have taken photos of have already been removed and many more will have their reign bought to an end soon. We probably won’t miss them, or even notice they have gone. But they are here, sure they have seen better days, but for me there is a quiet, determined, fading connection to a different epoch.
So through a desire to catalogue these fading objects I formally present to you:
