Not Luxury. Not Ecstasy.
Like an old record passed down through generations. Repeated verses and collected imperfections from wear and tear, love and care. Moral codes of conduct and valued principles learnt over and over, embedded and engrained into society. There are changing methods of interpretation with advancing technologies, but the song remains the same, an endless loop.
This project originated as a way to negotiate my home-town (Grimsby) after returning from university. 3 years is hardly a lifetime, but I suddenly realised that things have remained the same, unchanged in stagnation since my departure. Secondly Grimsby has become subjected to parody and ridicule within mainstream media – seen in Sacha Baron Cohen’s film ‘Grimsby’ and Channel 4’s series ‘Skint’ – which in response I aim to challenge and represent the community from (what was once) an insider’s position.
What became evident from this exploration was an overwhelming sense of uncertainty and acceptance within the community I photographed. It’s an end of the line town in every aspect, nothing passing through to break the surface stagnation, a metaphor that is persistent throughout all 46 pages. It is a typically British notion to ‘take things on the chin’ and get on with life, which is something I aim to outline within this project, to accept the conditions of post-modernity for its unforgiving oppression and hierarchical order. As a generalisation the majority of inhabitants value certain commodities as luxurious items to desire in the constant pursuit of happiness and comfort, something that is installed and hardwired into society as an idealised way of life. Whether these commodities are household items, clothing or automotive luxuries the desire for these items seem unified and almost universal amongst individuals within Grimsby and its surrounding county. Although nothing is ever too dissimilar in any northern British town, apart from the difference in broken English and an on going disagreement with what to call a bread bun.
Retrospectively and subsequently speaking the mass of proletarian way of life in working class estates remain within a state of factual purgatory, neither in a situation of luxury or in experience of true ecstasy. We get by and make ends meet, keeping the upper lip stiff and hope the grass gets greener before the last bus stop.
Published by Meanwhilepress. MWP0011
Now Available through @meanwhilepress​ or @seven-c​
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2016
