Author: Terry

Street markets are as much a part of London’s heritage as Big Ben or Piccadilly Circus. I myself grew up not far from Romford Market – in London’s East End – so they feel part of my heritage also. I remember our Saturday trips as a child to the market, where everything from clothes to fruit and veg would be on sale. I can still hear the loud calls of the stallholders – “six apples for a pound”, “come and get your fresh tulips”.

So I was looking forward to the trip I had planned to London’s Brick Lane market last Sunday. Just a stone’s throw from the shiny glass and steel of the City, Brick Lane throngs every Sunday with a mass of humanity. East End locals, tourists, trendy hipsters, and bargain hunters all cram onto the short strip of London street in the shadow of the brick chimney of the Old Truman Brewery.

This part of London is a vibrant clash of different cultures, where gentrification sits alongside poverty, and communities of every diaspora mix freely with city workers and old-time cockneys. Brick Lane itself starts to the south with lots of South Indian restaurants. The Lane’s other claim to fame is a run of curry houses that could rival Birmingham’s famous ‘Curry Mile’. It then morphs as you head north, and on a Sunday, into Brick Lane market. The market was originally founded by London’s Jewish community in the 17th century where it was licensed to run on a Sunday (highly unusual) because the Jewish Sabbath falls on a Saturday. The market’s Jewish heritage can still be seen in the famous 24 hour bagel shops that can be found further north along Brick Lane where the hub of the old market takes place.

The older market stalls sell old cameras, books, watches, records, coats and bric-a-brac. However, nowadays the original market has been supplemented by additional market spaces which are a haven for those seeking out vintage clothes and similar retro fair. Unsurprisingly, given its proximity to trendy Shoreditch, the markets are a haven for those seeking alternative fashion.

Like all London markets, Brick Lane is a feast for the senses. One minute you’re walking past an acrobat juggling flame throwers, the next minute you feel your stomach rumbling, enticed by the waft of street food. The background buzz of friends catching up whilst they peruse the stalls is every now and again punctuated by music from a stall or a jazz band busking at the side of the street.

The colours of the merchandise on the market stalls clash with the vibrant graffiti that’s everywhere in this part of London. Every now and then a train goes over the bridge which dissects Brick Lane, punctuating the background humdrum with its loud progress, its passengers getting a momentary glimpse of the hustle and bustle of the street scene below.

And then there are the personalities that you pass. Is that guy a trendsetter or hangover from the 1970’s? Is that vibrant pink leopard skin fur coat a fashion statement or just everyday wear? How do people manage to walk in those platform shoes?

My favourite personality of the visit was an old guy who’d set up some chess boards on a table in the street, inviting passers by to challenge him to a game for free. Sat framed by a wall covered in graffiti he looked both entirely out of place, and entirely at home in the Brick Lane bustle. What was his story? Why was he inviting people to play chess with him? Was he some chess master who’d fallen on hard times and was chess busking? Or did he just simply love chatting to strangers and enjoying the challenge of the ultimate game of strategy?

The vibrancy that you encounter when you spend some time in a market link Brick Lane replenishes your faith in community. There are communities within communities that thrive around the Brick Lane market scene. You can feel it as you rub shoulders with the punters. Of course there are a fair share of first time visitors and tourists (and photographers) but you also hear and see people greet each other enthusiastically and ask how their week has been or what they got up to last night. There’s a sense of immediacy and intimacy that you simply don’t encounter on our normal high streets anymore, and I can’t help feeling we are poorer as a society for that reason. Our high streets used to have markets and stalls and independent traders, but decade by decade they have been lost to the inevitable march of the corporate machine.

And that’s why it’s so refreshing to spend some time in a market like this. Of course some of it is superficial, and plenty of the market’s local roots have absolutely been swept aside to cater for the hipsters and fashionistas. But the sense and spirit of independence, defiance and community still rings true. We’re lucky that London’s street markets are enjoying a renaissance – a sign perhaps that we’re all craving just a little bit of the spirit that they still offer.

And for me, just spending a few hours there was enough to trigger further my own memories of my childhood and Romford market. It’s fascinating and a little scary to think about what has happened over the course of the four decades or so that I was once a child in that market – both to me individually and to our society. Maybe one day soon I’ll take a trip back there and explore how the market is faring today.

This post was also published on my substack – https://frametograin.substack.com/

There’s a special resonance to the twixmas period. It’s a luxurious and languid leftover from the madness of Christmas Day. If you’re lucky enough to get those few days off work it feels like the only time in the year when you can genuinely not feel guilty for simply just lazing around (I often find in summer holidays I feel the urge to be active and doing things). All those jobs you’ve been storing up can wait. All those resolutions you’ve promised yourself can be held back a few more days. All those leftover treats from the big day can be tidied up without

We have a tradition of going away for a few days in-between Christmas and New Year with my wife’s family. It’s a joy seeing our kids enjoy reconnecting with their cousins and us getting an opportunity to catch up with parents and siblings. This year we chose a hotel in Brighton and being at the seaside added an extra dimension to our usual twixmas escape. Brighton is a fascinating place – a heady mix of old and new, trendy and edgy, grandeur and decay, hedonism and holistic well-being.

The seafront and Palace Pier provide an inevitable focal point for street photography but also – if you are out with a camera at the right time – help frame some truly beautiful moments of solitude.

But the most surprising thing about being out with a camera in Brighton was finding myself transfixed by a murmuration of starlings moving in sequence together just off the pier in the late afternoon winter sunshine. And what was even more surprising was that I noticed hundreds of people stood on the side of the pier equally mesmerised by the beauty and majesty of what they were seeing.

There was a slightly surreal feel to the whole spectacle as the birds flew in perfect harmony in the fading daylight. As their shifting patterns swung towards the pier a strange sense of calm and silence descended on the spectators, so much so that you could just about hear the flutter of a thousand wings beating in unison. And in that moment some reassurance that despite our relentless technological advances and our screen addictions, there are still moments of pure natural beauty that can engender that sense of awe in us all.

[This post was previously posted on my substack]

I was lucky enough to spend a few unforgettable days last week in Marrakech. It was unforgettable because of the occasion, but also because it reminded me of my own limitations.

We were visiting the red city for the first time in celebration of our twenty years wedding anniversary (where did all that time go?). It had long been on both of our bucket lists. Marrakech holds such a cultural pull – that promise of North African, Moorish and exotic traditions colliding in its ancient buildings, souks and narrow streets. It did not disappoint.

It’s only when you are there that you realise that many of those tropes about the exotic, ancient, Middle Eastern/North African city we are familiar with from the movies probably originated in Marrakech. Snake charmers – check. Souks selling everything from golden lamps to colourful spices – check. Alleyways and narrow streets crowded with bicycles, motorbikes, donkeys, and all manner of traders carrying their wares – check. In fact, walking down those streets, dodging the oncoming motorcycles, did feel remarkably like you were in that famous chase scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

And whilst we were there to spend time together and celebrate our anniversary, I obviously could not pass up the opportunity to take plenty of pictures. And fortunately I have a very understanding wife who tolerates my photography obsession!

Walking around the Medina, there was just so much to photograph. Everywhere I looked there was an interesting scene. The souks provide a perfect backdrop for street photography – enclosed, narrow, bustling, chaotic, colourful, vibrant. I was a little bit nervous about taking pictures as I’d heard that it was getting more and more difficult to do so in the city. But I had no issues whatsoever as I made sure I wasn’t too obvious in terms of who I was photographing, avoided direct portrait style compositions, and respected shopkeepers who had had put up no photography requests on their stalls.

I decided to just bring my Fujifilm X100F with me on the trip. I toyed with the idea of a film camera as well but I’m glad I resisted. The digital sensor on the Fuji was just much better at dealing with the very variable lighting conditions in the souks. I cannot help feeling that with a film camera I might have got some great shots, but I may have equally come home with at least half of my shots being rejects. Digital reduces this risk. But the flipside is that I found myself shooting a lot more than I ever would have done with film (I’d have come home broke if I’d taken as many frames on film!). But then again, with the Fuji I could use it as an ‘off the hip’ street shooter which has a real benefit when you’re trying to be relatively discrete.

I’ve shared some of these street souk scenes. You’ll see that I’ve gravitated towards framing these compositions as 65:24 X-Pan style. I really love the way these classic panoramic dimensions help your eyes scan a scene, emulating the way our eyes naturally scan scenes horizontally in real life. I think the framing also helps to convey some of the immediacy of the street scenes, placing you in the chaos and hustle-bustle.

The framing I think also works for the scenes I’ve shared from the Jemaa el-Fnaa. Jemaa is known for its lively atmosphere, with street performers, snake charmers, food stalls, musicians, and various other entertainers. Wondering around this UNESCO World Heritage Site was like stepping back into a time before mobile phones, where people entertained each other with stories and songs rather than TikTok videos.

The scenes of the performers and night food markets hopefully convey some of the vibrancy and atmosphere of the Jemaa el-Fnaa in the evening. Although, I have to confess to being slightly frustrated by my own incompetence in that I’d managed to set a slow shutter speed on quite a lot of the frames I took that evening which meant that there was some inevitable camera blur.

Having said that, I decided to keep a few as a first foray into intentional camera movement! The below is one of these and I actually quite like the sense of atmosphere and sensory overload it conveys.

Remember I said at the start of this post that Marrakech had reminded me of my own limitations?

Marrakech is visceral. It can be overwhelming. The sights, the sounds, the smells. The claustrophobia of the souks. The constant invitations to come into this shop or that restaurant. And then there is the haggling. Suffice to say we found ourselves swept along inside a shop selling canvas paintings. We walked away much lighter in cash than we intended and with a canvas that we then had to work out how to get home.

On leaving that shop I felt distinctly uneasy, almost queasy. Haggling for goods is alien to us in the West, and the confrontation it requires particularly alien to my own sensibilities. The unease I felt was a direct result of this confrontation (albeit a friendly one) and feeling very much like I was an interloper in a culture I would never understand.

And it was this realisation that made me recognise my own limitations. Would the twenty-five-year-old me have felt so uneasy? I certainly don’t remember feeling so uneasy backpacking around the world when I was that age. But maybe it is just an inevitability of growing older. At fifty-two my sense of interest and wonder in the world and desire to go and explore it is undiminished. But my souk experience taught me that I’m not quite as adaptable as I used to be and that if I want to continue to see new places I need to do so with an acceptance of what situations I am comfortable with and what situations are too uncomfortable for me. Wandering ancient streets with a camera is fine, haggling for goods not so fine!

But Marrakech is too inspiring and too enchanting to leave you feeling apprehensive for too long. A visit to the Maison de la Photographie provided the perfect tonic. I thoroughly recommend this to anyone visiting the city. The portraits and other photographs on show are simply breathtaking and give a unique glimpse into cultures and traditions that I fear are now lost. The Maison also has a rooftop cafe which provided a perfect place to rise above the Medina and look out across the rooftops to the Atlas Mountains, a view that felt like the perfect spot to sign off on a truly memorable trip.

Marrakech is a feast for the senses and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone who hasn’t been. It provided a perfect backdrop for our anniversary celebration, memories created together that will hopefully last at least another twenty years.

This post previously appeared on my substack.