Inside this issue
Kevin is a musician, photographer and teacher. Born and brought up in Penzance, West Cornwall, he moved to Nottingham in the 1970s and worked in education until 2016 when he relocated to Dorset. His images have been reproduced in various magazines in the UK and sold widely. Kevin teaches creative photography techniques on one-to-one and small group workshops.
In 2012 I paused by my local river and everything changed. I’ve moved away from what many expect photographs to be: my images deconstruct the literal and reimagine the subjective, reflecting the curiosity that water has inspired in my practice. Water has been my conduit: it has sharpened my vision, given me permission to experiment and continues to introduce me to new ways of seeing.
I contacted Kevin early in 2017, but as he was in the midst of a hasty departure from the East Midlands (I hasten to add he wasn’t on the run) and searching for a new home in West Dorset we decided to wait. Now that he has a house and a newly plastered and painted office, his computer and files have emerged from storage and we thought we would pick up on the conversation. Last time I moved, photography did not occupy such a major part of my day to day life, so I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to have to put everything on hold. But I wonder too about what might come of an enforced sabbatical and whether less time and less gear for photography can have hidden benefits. If nothing else, it may give us chance to take stock and make new plans.
You don’t say a lot about yourself on your website, and I know that you’ve said you don’t like talking about your work. I’m hoping we can persuade you to share a little more with our readers. Can we start with a little background about you growing up in West Cornwall and how this influenced your early interests, education and career?
Firstly, I am very proud of my Cornish roots and felt very lucky as a child to be living in such a beautiful and dramatic part of the UK. We didn’t have a lot of spare money in our family so holidays tended to be spent close to home. There were certainly no foreign trips (although I did visit Yorkshire a couple of times!). The thing I remember most from those days was the sense of freedom in the landscape and what we could do in it. Big skies, Atlantic swells and huge seas, hidden coves and beaches, moorland and open countryside. Places to explore. Places to get lost in. There is a sense of magic – a special quality of light and air that many visitors to West Penwith often remark on. We were fortunate to be in touch with it all the time. It seemed to seep in somehow and colour the way we saw life. Days seemed endless.