As I stepped through the boulders I began to wonder how much I actually see and feel of the landscape as I cross it. We hear great stories of bold treks across continents and jungles but very little of smaller more modest walks. Twinges in my knees had already planted the seed of a question in my mind: never mind big journeys, what if a walk to the shops was a physical challenge? What if to walk across a room was an impossibility? How differently would I see things then? And how lucky I am not to be incapacitated physically! Then the thought: what if here, now I could walk only ten steps? What would I see? How differently would I use my eyes? How much more significant would all this rock, heather and water appear if this were to be the limit of my walk today? I had been toying with the idea of short excursions of very concentrated image making for some days and now seemed an ideal time to make a first attempt. Ten steps and ten photographs. What would I see? It felt quite daunting. How could I possibly make ten photographs in such a small area? The only choice I gave myself was the direction in which to travel so setting off to the North, where the most variety seemed to be, I set out.
Walking through the bleak stones and peat in this way was as if to undertake a small parallel journey to the larger one which brought me here.
Made possible by the flexibility and lightness of the wonderful Populist cardboard pinhole camera.