THE BRIDGES
I actually wrote and published this over at my old blog almost exactly 4 years ago. It’s had a lot of traffic over the years, but it’s high time I had a proper website to show it off in. So here it is. I’ve yet to decide whether I’ll get rid of the old blog or not. But from now on, everything I make, will be here.
It's a strange thing being the troll (the fairytale type, not the internet type) that lives under the bridge. Stranger still when you live under two bridges. About 17 years ago I was one of them. I lived in the coastal village of North Queensferry in Fife, right on the coast of the Firth of Forth in Scotland; and right between the world renowned Forth Rail Bridge, and the stalwart, recently demoted, Forth Road Bridge.
Living in their shadows for several years, seeing it reflected in windows, on the water, even reflected in our TV screen, seemed to trigger something in me. I started to think about different ways of seeing the bridges, different ways to show people how I saw them; and that was absolutely nothing like the traditional sunset tourist shots which populate every tourist shop in the area.
It wasn't really until I started reading The Bridge by the late, great Iain Banks, a fellow North Queensferry resident, sometime in the early 2000s, that the idea really started to sing for me. Reading that book about a fictional version of the rail bridge, told through the lens of a sort of coma fugue, whilst looking out of my window at the real thing, created a resonance, a kind of infinite feedback loop which took hold. So I began to wander and look with intent at how my village framed the bridges.
A move away from the Firth of Forth, the fact that digital tech just wasn't quite up to snuff at that point and the arrival of my daughter not long after, put the project on pause. But still, it had a hold on me and a decade later it continued to occupy a sizable portion of my mind. We eventually moved back into Fife, close enough to the bridges for easy access. I decided I had to get it out of my system. So I spent 3 years visiting North and South Queensferry ( opposite ends of the bridges and very different perspectives of them too), working hard to find the right treatment, and the right framing for the work.
I tried to avoid the usual. I wanted to show how you see these magnificent objects when they occupy every waking moment of your life. When they're in the corner of your vision; when you see them framed through narrow pathways, or looming over the top of your house. When they threaten to drop lumps of rust on your house (and I was told of occasions where biggish chunks were found in peoples gardens before the new "miracle" anti corrosion paint was applied to the bridge), you tend to view them not as a tourist backdrop, but as a very real and imposing object which impacts everything you do.
When you're one of the trolls under the bridges; they become less of a backdrop, more of a ceiling. They can be a threat; but also a lifeline; an artery, a shelter. They're a source of local employment, through tourism, through maintenance. In short; when you live there, they loom large in your vision and in your thoughts. It took a while to settle on a treatment for the work. It took longer to get to the point where I felt it could be exhibited. It's taken even longer for me to give the work some written context.
In the end, I was awarded funding by the local funding body (FCAC) to help me finish the work. The bold step was taken to have it printed on bare, uncoated aluminium, which had the effect of allowing the texture of the bridges to come through, visibly, in the work. It was a risky choice, but it really paid off. When it finally exhibited at Abbot House in nearby Dunfermline, it was something to be proud of. A rare feat for me.
I think, for the most part I succeeded, although I would change some things about it if I were to do it again. I'd edit down a bit further for a start. I feel that a handful of the images shouldn't have made the cut. But it was my first show in nearly 20 years. I was... rusty.
Over 3 years after that exhibition I still get drawn to the bridges, and still can't resist making images of them (like the image below, made just a few months ago), but the passion and drive for them isn't there anymore. It's now far more habit than passion. I'm proud of the work; one of the shots was even part of an exhibition at an international photography festival in Edinburgh last year, but I think - finally - it's time to move on.
There's a new bridge there now too. I see it as somewhat of an interloper; an impostor. I understand the necessity of it, the poor old Forth Road Bridge was literally creaking under the strain of decades of toil, but it takes people away from the Queensferries rather than acting as an artery for them. Much like I suppose the bridges did to the old ferry itself, it seems to suck the life out of them. I'm unsure if I'll ever add that structure as a new chapter to the work. I'm unsure how it would fit. Because of that, I think... hope.... that these words put an end to a near decades long obsession of mine, and allow me to find a new one.
Three and a bit years on, most of which has been wiped out by ill health and a treatment which ended up far worse than the already debilitating illness, I need to put these two old friends to rest. I miss the focus that a long term project gives me, I need to look elsewhere to find that.
End.
FOOTNOTES These days you can find Christi on Instagram. See what he's complaining about here: https://www.instagram.com/pixelchristi