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Mark Littlejohn
Mark Littlejohn is an outdoor photographer who lives on the edge of a beach in the desolate wastelands of the Highlands of Scotland. He takes photographs of anything unlucky enough to pass in front of his camera.
I’ve seen a few photographers discuss mental health and the positive impact that photography has had on their well being. It’s not really something that I’ve discussed. There’s probably an artistic link between internal angst and being rescued in a way by the beauty that surrounds us.
When I was doing computer forensic work, we worked long hours examining pedophiles’ computers. Some quite harrowing jobs. Was I the best person for that sort of work? Probably not. I had two young children, and sometimes I’d be doing examinations and just couldn’t get my head around how some people did what they did to their own children. Despite 25 plus years in the CID I was a bit of a sentimental, soft hearted romantic. I still am. A rufty tufty exterior and a softly squidgy interior. Stress manifested itself mostly when I was at home, trying to sleep. I remember being hooked up to an ECG on a few occasions at Penrith Hospital in the wee small hours. Waking in a panic, resting heart rate of 120 plus. MrsLJ would wake in an empty bed and just think “aye, he’s away again”. At work, such things were never really discussed. Like I say, we were big, gruff northerners. Manly men.
My doctor suggested getting out and about, doing some walking. Exercising to try to keep the stress at bay. We were based five miles from Ullswater and five miles from the Eden Valley. It wasn’t like we had to travel far for a nice walk. So walk we did. Wandering over all the hills surrounding Ullswater with my old Boxer dog Harvey. And one morning in January 2010, we crested the rise of Brown Hills overlooking Ullswater and looked down on that beautiful lake. The rain was just clearing, and wisps of mist were rising in plumes from the woods. The surface of the lake was silvered and shiny. Light was catching the rocky flanks of St Sunday's Crag.
I had to find some way of recording what I was looking at. Recording the memory somewhere other than in the dusty recesses of my brain. Later that week a Pentax DSLR arrived. A lovely wee thing. From my first day with a camera, I was bewitched, besotted. The beauty of the landscape was magnified overnight. I saw the landscape through entirely different eyes. An artist's eyes. Light, colour, darkness. I marvelled at what lay in front of me. And I realised fairly quickly that I could put my own slant on that landscape if I wished. I dealt with the harsh realities of life every day. But with photography, I could create my own realities. Present my reality to you as I envisaged in my mind's eye. I was no longer required to be a faithful servant of the truth. When I was out with a camera, I could feel my blood pressure dropping. Time passed by differently. Clocks stopped. The hands of time stood still. I wandered free as a bird. I would point the camera at whatever took my fancy. See with the heart, shoot with the head. All thoughts of work vanquished.
I remember Tim Parkin from On Landscape contacting me for an interview. I was quite surprised as I’d only been taking pictures a couple of years. He said that he just wanted to ask me some questions about my thought processes when I was out with a camera. I told him that it would be a bloody short interview as I didn’t think about anything. Instinct, intuition, individuality. They were my only thought processes. And I guess that after 25 years in the CID I had the confidence in my instincts to follow my own path. Either that or I was too grumpily arrogant to listen to any other bugger.
Anyway. All that’s a different story about a different person in a way. I remember discussing the clouds one day when I was out with MrsLJ. They were incredible. Tendrils of cloud reaching downwards like a wizard’s fingers. I said as much to Mrs LJ, who turned to me and said “who are you and what the feck have you done with my husband”. It was photography that changed me and gave me what I call my second life. And congratulations if you’ve read all the way to the end. I’m not sure what brought that spiel on. Sitting listening to music while Mrs LJ was out playing with ponies. My mind wandering and reminiscing. The picture? One from this evening. Walking out from the house as the sun set over Harris. The islands viewed through a gap in the dunes.
Read Tim's interviews with Mark:
- A Change of Pace, 2013
- Video interview, Tim and Mark, 2014
- Landscape Photographer of the Year, 2014