There was a time when taking a photograph like this was deemed unthinkable; when urban-topographical images were only of easily recognisable or famous places – a London street scene, a Parisian cafe, the New York skyline, etc; It wasn’t until the 1960’s that photographs of nowhere-places, the places in-between places began to emerge, the kind of images that were taken on journeys, that describe those places that we spend so much of our time in, yet we give scant regard to.
There is no destination, or at least no evidence of one is given; this could be London, it could be America, it could even be Tokyo or a thousand other places. There is also no time-evidence, something to tell you when it was taken; it could be 1967, it could just as likely be last week. It wasn’t 1967, I wasn’t born then, but there really is no way of knowing. In that way it is dateless, perennial, like a plant that returns year after year in the same form, unrecognisable from the last one.
Many photographers have taken this image, it is far from unique, mine is no different from many others, including the blur. Although in some ways the blur is kind of apt I feel, a blurred image of a blurred memory of an obscure location… of nowhere in particular.