Strange Places...

[Shaun Haselden]

And another shot of Sunk Island from yesterday.

 

[Shaun Haselden]

Danes Dyke close to Flamborough in the East Riding of Yorkshire. Huge ancient defensive earthwork with WW2 objects littered around. Oddly silent apart from deafeningly loud bird song.

 

[Shaun Haselden]

Another selection of images taken in Lincolnshire of it's more strange locations. Places such as Horseshoe Point, Donna Nook and Gibraltar Point. All of these places are immediately on the coast and are oddly silent and deserted. Love it.

 

[Peter Roberts]

This really is a wonderful series!
You certainly have a way of capturing these scenes in a way that that is instantly recognisible as your own style.

 

[Gianluca Drago]

I agree with @Peter Roberts, definitely a great personal recipe. And I see that you are experimenting with increasingly dramatic developments.

 

[Shaun Haselden]

Thank you so much for your comments guys, they mean a lot. I guess I was lucky to be born and to grow into these places; places that always felt empty, lonely and slightly creepy. As a young 'un, I always felt slightly threatened by these surroundings. These places always gave me a feeling of unease. This is what I try to capture because I know these places so well. Once again, thank you.

 

[Gary R. Smith]

Very cool Shaun!

 

[Gary Ayala]

Your integration of manmade objects into the desolate shoreline is special. Thank you for sharing.

 

[Shaun Haselden]

Again, using my new found style of photo 'processing' I have reworked a couple from my past. The tank image is a lost beach in Lincolnshire that is being swallowed by salt marsh and Marram grass. Way back in the 70's and earlier this place was a military firing and bombing range. At some point around '75 someone or other thought it OK to build a large gas terminal within a mile or so of the range. This forced the closure of the range which was moved a bit further up the coast.

The waiting for the tide image puts me in the mind of the story of King Canute.

"They told of one who tired of all
Singing "Praise him, praise him"
"We heed not flatterers, " he cried
"By our command, waters retreat
Show my power, halt at my feet"
But the cause was lost, now cold winds blow"

 

[Gary R. Smith]

Shaun, I too like to experiment with different processing (at least with my digital shots). I like how you have a unique style that I can identify with you. Thanks for sharing!

 

[Shaun Haselden]

Thank you for your comments all of you. We all do what we do for differing reasons I guess but for me it is the quest to find stark, lonely locations within easy reach that I can then turn into something bordering art. I have never been able to paint or draw to any great degree of skill so since I was ten years old I have used a camera. I enjoyed my darkroom days so much but I love my Photoshop days.

 

[Tony Warren]

As I ahve said before, having grown up in Yorkshire and lived in Grimsby/Cleethorpes/Lincolnshire for a number of years, your images really resonate. The airfield ones are particularly poignant. My uncle was a tail gunner on a Lanc and died over Holland. His final flight no doubt took off from one of these.

 

[Shaun Haselden]

As I ahve said before, having grown up in Yorkshire and lived in Grimsby/Cleethorpes/Lincolnshire for a number of years, your images really resonate. The airfield ones are particularly poignant. My uncle was a tail gunner on a Lanc and died over Holland. His final flight no doubt took off from one of these.

Tony, what can I say ? To have had an effect on just one person who understands the emotions these places have on some of us means that I have had success. The fragments of each one of these airfields triggers what those from Wales refer to as 'Hiraeth' a kind of spiritual longing and recognition for somewhere we have never been. A huge sense of loss for a place and/or time we couldn't possibly have known.

I always salute these people in my mind whenever I am close to their place of departure. I'm sure they have peace.

 

[Tony Warren]

Well said Shaun.