CJ: FEATURES; DANIEL MORGAN, SWANSEA HIGH STREET, WALES

I spend hours on end looking at photographs and reviewing submissions, some images jump out at me for personal reasons. Years ago I worked in hairdressing, lots of good memories, like practicing lots of hairstyles on mannequin’s heads, everyone getting ready for nights out, and then shutting up the shop on a Saturday night. Dan’s photo of a hairdresser’s shop front taken on Swansea high street takes me right back. I love the colors, the old ceiling, and the wicker lights that look like chandeliers creating a glitter and glam vibe, all that pink!

Dan’s image is popping with mood and atmosphere.

CJ: Why do you take photos, Dan?

DM: Taking photos started for me after my late Father died, it felt like a way to connect with him because he’d always have a camera in hand, but shooting felt natural and people always seemed interested in the sort of thing I’d decided to stop and photograph, the things that stood out to me that many people would pass by.

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Swansea, Hight Street, Wales, 2019 Copyright Daniel Morgan

Swansea, Hight Street, Wales, 2019 Copyright Daniel Morgan

CJ: FEATURES; OLIVER BEER, OMAS KITCHEN FLOOR , Linoleum floor worn over four decades

I started photographing discarded objects in 2015, I’m fascinated by the traces of the life that’s often found on them, the life they once lived, the marks, the patterns, the dirt, and fingerprints. I feel I can sense something when photographing let’s say an extremely old hoover, carpets, broken ovens, old televisions, sofas, old fridge freezers that have not been cleaned, the inside still mucky with old food stains, discarded worn-out shoes, half-eaten sandwiches, a blood-stained coat, debt letters, and the list goes on! I sense the owners they once belonged to and can imagine all the possible life stories.  

I have started to realize I’ve always noticed the details of the wear and tear of life. My childhood home was a flat within a regency townhouse in 1980s Brighton. The only one in the street that hadn’t had its frontage restored, it was covered in peeling paint and really stood out against all the other regency cream-painted buildings. Inside was also worn and torn and whilst growing up, I was hyper-aware of the building’s general state of disrepair and signs of use by other tenants. It was very different from my school friend’s houses; I had a love-hate relationship with it. Looking back, it was a beautiful home. My mum did her best to make it so.

I spotted Oliver’s work whilst researching and it immediately resonated with me, the marks his grandmother had made on her lino, all the twists, and turns of her life lived within her kitchen.

Thank you, Oliver, for allowing me to feature your work. It’s one of the best things I have seen in a long time.

"Oma was the name Oliver Beer called his grandmother. She put the lino down in the 1960’s and over four decades her feet gradually wore through the decorative pattern. Over the years marks appeared in front of the oven, the sink, the front door, where she turned around in front of the fridge, where she sat at her table shuffling her feet. Like a drawing made over forty years, these worn patches describe half a lifetime of movement. The earliest work that Beer still exhibits, this object preempts his work with architectural space and transformed readymades." www.oliverbeer.co.uk

Oliver Beer Oma's Kitchen Floor, 2008 Linoleum kitchen floor worn over four decades 511 x 350 cm Collection of the artist. Image © Oliver Beer


Oliver Beer Oma's Kitchen Floor, 2008 Linoleum kitchen floor worn over four decades 511 x 350 cm Collection of the artist. Image © Oliver Beer