Exhibition: Strange and Familiar (study visit)

Manchester Art Gallery, 08/04/17
Tutor: Derek Trillo

I was looking forward to this exhibition for its subject matter and curatorial approach: in a nutshell, it is Britain as seen by non-British photographers. It was curated by Martin Parr and much of the content is from his own collection. I was curious to find out how much one would be able to discern the curatorial hand of someone with such a distinctive style (in the end: not much – it came across as the work of Parr the photography enthusiast more than Parr the photographer).

Study visit group

My particular interest at this point in time is how the exhibition could inform my current (slowly progressing) Assignment 5. I could do with some inspiration on how to see familiar places in a different light, so seeing work on Britain by other nationalities could be just the ticket.

I was curious as to the intent of the photographers at the time of shooting; were they:

  • deliberately aiming to capture their vision of a country foreign to them?
  • shooting for a more specific project that happened to be placed in Britain?
  • just shooting what they liked the look of, unaware of the context in which the work would later be placed?

Spoiler: it’s a mix of all of the above.

It’s a pretty big exhibition and I won’t comment on all the participants. Instead I will pick out some themes and photographers that resonated with me.

Strangeness is subjective

The exhibition’s full name is Strange and Familiar: Britain as Revealed by International Photographer. It’s easy to play semantics but I did find myself checking my reactions to images against the nominal scope of the exhibition, and found the title to be more ambiguous and nuanced the more I thought about it.

On the face of it the exhibition concept can be interpreted as: subject matter that is strange to the (non-British) photographer but familiar to the British viewer. However, some of the content is inherently strange, even to most Brits. Some of it is either strange or familiar depending on exactly where you live (Paul Strand’s series on the Outer Hebrides would be alien to a Londoner but familiar to a Cornwall farmer) – Britain is incredibly diverse for a relatively small landmass. Perhaps this is Parr’s overriding message.

Some of the subject matter is universal and has no inherent Britishness (Bruce Gilden’s grotesque close-ups happen to have been taken here but could have been from anywhere in the world).

At least some of the strangeness is down to the temporal distance: the past is a foreign country. In a sense the combination of where and when may be more significant than the where and who, and I occasionally found myself wondering whether a British photographer could have taken a particular picture and retained the sense of otherness to a contemporary viewer. I considered whether cultural differences between nations were more pronounced in the past, and the relative isolation of an island nation meant that shooting in the UK was much more novel to the international eye in previous decades (up to the 1960s/70s?) than in the more homogenous, globalised now.

The notion of strangeness also made me think of the Solomon-Godeau essay “Inside/Out” and its debate on the relative merits of being an insider or an outsider. The insider can be too close to the situation to be objective, while the outsider can lack the depth of local knowledge to interpret situations appropriately. It’s interesting that a few of these projects were book or magazine commissions where the outsider status was seen as an advantage (the shadow of Robert Frank, the outsider who nailed America, looms over much of the 60s work). From reading the potted biographies it came across that some of the best work came from ‘semi-outsiders’ that had settled in British communities for long enough to absorb some of the local culture whilst retaining their eye for ‘otherness’.

Photographers and themes

I mention Henri Cartier-Bresson mainly to document a rare disappointment with his work, both from a content and an aesthetic point of view. He covers royal events from the 1930s and 1970s, which came across as shallow, touristic subject matter, and the 1977 work was (whisper it) unremarkable – he looks like he had lost his keen eye for compositional geometry in his later years.

Edith Tudor-Hart, Gian Butterini, Raymond Depardon are presented as social documentarians. Perhaps it’s trying to say that it’s easier – less awkward? – for an outsider to starkly capture social deprivation. Whilst this works as a theory within the construct of this exhibition, it is diluted somewhat when one considers the number of British photographers who captured such conditions equally well (Nick Hedges, Chris Killip, Chris Steele-Perkins et al).

Cas Oorthuys, Evelyn Hofer and Bruce Davidson were displayed close to each other, and they had in common that they took photos for books or magazines with a specific brief of showing representative visions of Britain, or particular cities. Each did inject their own personal voice into their work, especially Davidson, but I found most of these interesting only as historic documents rather than great photographs.

By contrast the same room devoted a wall to much more experimental, expressive work by Sergio Larrain, a new name to me but the star of the show. His work had a Frank/Americans vibe (though broadly contemporary so possibly coincidentally) in terms of disregarding technical and compositional norms and capturing random fleeting moments of visual beauty. The fragmentary presentation matched the style, with the images framed small and hung haphazardly.

Sergio Larrain

Similar but different was Shinro Ohtake, whose snapshot aesthetic really appealed to me. Ohtake took the idea of stream-of-consciousness photography to the streets of Britain and managed to simultaneously remind me of Martin Parr and Daido Moriyama. Another student on the study visit commented that Ohtake’s work was the first set where the aesthetics of the output was identifiable to the nationality of the photographer, in terms of the use of light and shade in particular images being reminiscent of traditional Japanese art. Again the presentation complemented the visual style – some pinned unframed to the wall, some as tiny snapshots in vitrines.

Shinro Ohtake

In the same way that Ohtake often managed to make suburban England resemble Japan, Garry Winogrand replicates his US street style so well that he makes London look like New York. These two are probably the most successful examples of photographers bringing their home country aesthetic to the UK – in a spin on the exhibition concept, they appeared to be (subconsciously?) making the strange more familiar to themselves, rather than emphasise the strangeness. If that makes sense…

Whilst most of the content is from mainland Britain, some of the most interesting images are from Northern Ireland, documenting the Troubles. Gilles Peress and Akihiko Okamura captured strikingly strange scenes that show, especially with the passage of time, just how other-worldly Northern Ireland could seem to British eyes. Peress used black and white which gives many of his images a timeless quality, while Okamura displays a keen eye for rapidly-captured surreal detail. Both created memorable images that accentuated what an unusual time and place they documented.

A handful of photographers’ work seemed a poor fit with the concept and the content of the rest of the exhibition: Bruce Gilden’s aforementioned grotesque close-up portraits are not distinctively British (having seen them online previously I had projected US nationality onto them, oddly), Tina Barney’s aristocracy shots look overly glossy and glamorous, and the Rineke Dijstra work is surprisingly small-scale (three portraits) that are nominally about Liverpool nightclub customers but are devoid of contextual cues. These may have been shot in Britain but say little or nothing about the nation. Interestingly there was one Gilden image I did appreciate as it did exude Britishness in a meaningful way: the dirty tattooed worker’s arm. I just didn’t see his portraits as successful in this context.

Bruce Gilden

For me the photographers whose work best fit the construct of the exhibition were those who found a view on idiosyncratic British scenes that made them look simultaneously strange and familiar – those who identified the quirk and held it up for examination in quite a deliberate way. Two in particular were Jim Dow, who found mesmeric patterns in the repetition of sweet shop jars and tower block stairwell tiles, and Hans van der Meer, whose wide shots of local football games in unlikely environments made me smile, and said more to me (as a non-fan) about the peculiarly British appeal of football than the usual shot of a premier league stadium.

Study visit group discussing Hans van der Meer


I found this to be a fascinating and insightful exhibition, with thoughtful curation and sequencing that subtly accentuated themes and connections, with only a couple of exceptions (forgivable of course, as it’s all so subjective and a show as diverse as this can’t please all the people all the time). A few exclusions struck me as odd – no Bill Brandt, for example – but I’m sure there’s good reason for that.

I came away with the sense that the diversity of the photographers and the imagery is analogous to the diversity of the United Kingdom itself. The message seemed to be that Britain is – or has been – all of these places, as seen by these ‘outsiders’. Can anyone really ‘reveal’ Britain? Only in parts, and even the amalgamation of the ‘Britains’ revealed in this exhibition is just one version of the bigger picture.

But to revert to an earlier point: is it really the non-British status of the photographers that enabled a particular eye for the strangeness? Val Williams and Susan Bright edited How We Are: Photographing Britain from the 1840s to the Present (2007) which is full of idiosyncratic images of Britain, and the vast majority of photographers were British. My take is that it doesn’t specifically take an outsider to nail the distinctly British, although they may have a natural advantage; the British insider can also capture such imagery as long as they possess an enquiring mind and an observant eye.

Finally, as ever I really appreciated the study visit format as it gives me an opportunity to discuss what I’m seeing with like-minded people, and to bounce ideas and interpretations off each other. It’s a really enriching part of the study experience, and I should do more of it.


For my own assignment research this was a useful reference and inspiration source. There are some specific pointers I took away:

Firstly it reinforced the increasingly strong sense I have (and wish to communicate with the assignment) that documentary photography is just so inherently subjective. That a couple of dozen photographers can take the same subject matter (albeit as broad as a country) and find such a diversity of imagery is testament to the individual reflexivity brought to the task. The overriding lesson I’ve learned on the entire Documentary course is that there is no such thing as a single truth. This exhibition was a good reminder.

The main new point of inspiration is to look to isolate small details more than I have been doing. Often a close-up of a small part of a scene can intensify the significance. I need to look more closely for the details that can communicate my message. the Ohtake and Larrain work was particularly inspirational in this regard.


Strange and Familiar: Britain as Revealed by International Photographers. Manchester Art Gallery. Friday 25 November 2016–Monday 29 May 2017

Solomon-Godeau, A. “Inside/Out” in La Grange, A. (2005) Basic Critical Theory for Photographers. Burlington, MA: Focal Press

Bright, S. and Williams, V. (2007). How We Are: Photographing Britain from the 1840s to the Present. London: Tate Publishing.


Exhibition: Edmund Clark: War of Terror

Imperial War Museum, London. 28th July 2016 – 28th August 2017

This impressive and immersive exhibition starts with a double-take on the title: this is about a War of, rather than on, Terror. It is a collection of several projects by British photographer Edmund Clark, all themed around US and UK reactions to the global post-9/11 terrorist threat. It’s about the less obvious aspects of the War on Terror; the parts that governments don’t like to talk about.

Specifically, the works look at three subjects:

  • The detention centre at Guantanamo Bay
  • Extraordinary rendition (government-sponsored extrajudicial transfer of a suspect to another country)
  • Control orders (a form of house arrest or detention without trial used in the UK)

I was particularly impressed with the different methods used to display the works. It’s a combination of audio, video and stills. Alongside traditionally framed prints it includes text-based slideshows describing photos, wall-sized partially pixelated images and physical artefacts such as transit paperwork, redacted letters and handwritten diary extracts.

One of the simplest yet most affecting installations was in the Control Order section the exhibition. The premise is that the subject of the control order is under constant surveillance and denied any real privacy; Clark emulates this with a room filled floor-to-ceiling with every JPG on his memory card from his time at the control order house – to show that there is nowhere to hide, there’s no selective version you can present to others, there’s no covering up anything you’re not happy with.


Maybe it’s just me as a photographer, but the concept of having to show every outtake on your camera serves as a perfect metaphor for constant surveillance (I’m not so sure how well this metaphor goes down with non-photography geeks, however).

This was the fourth exhibition I saw at the end of a long day and my expectations weren’t high, but in the end it was possibly the highlight of the trip. Two things really impressed me about Clark’s work, above and beyond the content itself, and strangely enough both aspects remind me of another photographer that I’ve got into recently, Eamonn Doyle.

Both photographers mine a particular subject in great detail – returning to it, taking different viewpoints, diving deeper into particular aspects. For Clark this is the surreal and scary underworld of the War on Terror, for Doyle it is the more down-to-earth streets of the city of Dublin.

The other thing they have in common, as mentioned above, is the variety of presentation methods. Doyle’s exhibition at Arles amounted to a multi-room, multimedia installation in a similar way to the Clark show, and in both cases it really worked for me.


Edmund Clark: War of Terror http://www.iwm.org.uk/visits/iwm-london/exhibitions/edmundclark (accessed 29/09/2016)

Exhibition: ? The Image as Question

Michael Hoppen Gallery, London. 28th September – 26th November 2016.

This engrossing (but mildly frustrating – more on that later) exhibition is built around an eclectic collection of photographs that all have in common that they are, in some form or another, evidence of something. As the official blurb puts it:

“Many of the images were originally taken to provide empirical evidence of a theory or record of an event. Dislocated from their original context and distanced by time, they do not so much provide an answer, rather question the viewer afresh.” (Michael Hoppen Gallery 2016)

It works as a set of diverse and often fascinatingly unusual images, though the ‘evidence’ thread can be a little tenuous at times. A lot of the work was evidential in the literal police sense: lots of mugshots, crime scenes and forensics, and this covered similar ground to the Burden of Proof exhibition I saw at The Photographers’ Gallery last year and was therefore less inherently novel or interesting.

The remaining images range from frivolous to deadly serious. By far the most affecting image, and one that has stayed with me ever since seeing it, is Simon Norfolk’s photograph of a staircase at Auschwitz. The light picks out the wavy steps, worn down by hundreds of thousands of footsteps. It’s the particular pattern of wear – made by people walking two abreast – accompanied by the text explaining that this is the route to the gas chambers that make this image so unexpectedly chilling, once you see it.

Auschwitz: Staircase in a prison block, 1998 by Simon Norfolk

At the other end of the emotive spectrum there are images that just make the viewer smile, such as this fantastic photo of a Russian girl who cheated in an exam by writing notes on her thighs.

Cribs, the faculty of journalism of Moscow State University, 1984 by Valery Khristoforov

There are a few images in the show that knowingly subvert the basic premise of the photograph as evidential. A Guy Bourdin image presented as a murder scene is in fact a constructed set for a shoe advert; a surreal Weegee shot of onlookers staring at a mannequin where you’d expect to see a body is actually a composite image; and Richard Avedon’s Mike Nichols Suzy Parker Rock Europe (1962) is a pastiche of, not an example of, paparazzi photography.

The presentation of the exhibition was however a real game of two halves. One aspect of it pleased me hugely while another infuriated me.

Presentation: the good

The catalogue accompanying the exhibition is in the form of a numbered edition document folder, an ‘evidence file’, with good quality prints of the majority of the images loosely bound. It’s a conceit for sure, but it works very well. I bought it anyway, so it must have impressed me.

Presentation: the not so good

While the presentation of what the visitor can purchase as an aide memoire is exemplary, the display in the gallery itself is bewilderingly odd. The pictures on display carry no captions, no details of artist, title or year – nothing but a tiny numbered pin, presumably for cataloguing purposes. The only reference material is a desk-bound hardback book in each of the two gallery rooms. This features information on each of the 80-odd images in the show, but it isn’t in any particular order! It doesn’t follow either the physical sequencing per room, or the numbering system, In fact the reference guide doesn’t even use the numbering on the wall…!

So working out what each picture was of or about required a trip from the wall to the table, and a flick backwards and forwards through the reference guide until you stumbled upon the picture in question. Quite the oddest and least user-friendly viewing experience I’ve had. I was however too polite to mention it…


? The Image as Question http://www.michaelhoppengallery.com/exhibitions/139/overview/ (accessed 30/09/2016)

Seeing is Believing https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2016/sep/28/photography-and-meaning-in-the-digital-age-from-911-to-fake-crime-scenes (accessed 27/09/2016)

Arles 2016, pt 1: overall impressions

Les Rencontres de la Photographie, Arles
Parc des Ateliers, Les Rencontres de la Photographie, Arles

I experienced my first Rencontres de la Photographie in Arles a couple of weeks ago, and as I’ve been on holiday since then this is a belated attempt to corral my thoughts into some kind of sense.

I didn’t manage to see everything at the festival as timings conspired against me (I arrived the day after about 10 of the shows closed) but I bought the catalogue to get an idea of what I’d missed. In the end I think I’m only really disappointed in missing one show, Charles Fréger‘s Yokainoshima.

I am indebted to some Arles veterans – fellow student Helen, Gareth from OCA and their respective other halves – who provided advice, company and discussion that turned the trip into a kind of (very) informal study visit.

I’ll start with an overview of some of the themes that emerged for me before talking about the exhibitions themselves in a separate post.


The official 2016 festival theme is ‘Storytellers’. Some of the artists on show are undoubtedly telling stories in a traditional sense, while others demonstrate that this theme is sufficiently broad to be able to cover just about any kind of photography if you wanted it to.

Telling stories in an overt way, or at least giving the sense of narrativity in covering a subject, were shows such as Frank Berger, Nader Adem, Phenomena (a collaborative show about UFO enthusiasts), Lady Liberty and Swinging Bamako.

Guillaume Delleuse
Guillaume Delleuse

Taking a more ambiguous and often fragmentary approach to storytelling were people such as Guillaume DelleuseStephanie Kiwitt, Marie Angeletti, PJ Harvey & Seamus Murphy and Eamonn Doyle. These works were more like connecting dots than reading a linear narrative, and not in a bad way – it’s good for the viewer to have some space to piece things together in their own mind.

The historic image

A surprising number of the exhibitions were, in one way or another, predicated on the use or re-use of existing images – there was a little less original contemporary photography than I had expected. There was a wide continuum of existing image use:

  • Straight recreations of historic exhibitions (e.g. Peter Mitchell‘s A New Refutation of the Viking 4 Space Mission from 1979) and single-source magazine photography (Hara Kiri Photo)
  • Retrospectives of particular photographers (e.g. Sid Grossman, Garry Winogrand)
  • Curated trawls through themed archives (e.g. the Sincerely Queer collection of historic LGBT images, the Swinging Bamako look at 1960s Malian musicians)
  • Appropriation, in particular the group show Where the Other Rests which is built entirely around “quoting, borrowing and re-using images” but also evident in a number of other works elsewhere such as in the Systematically Open?Discovery Award and Tear My Bra (Nollywood) exhibitions

For the first three categories above I found myself trying to work out if my interest in the images was purely the historic detachment – any and all images of, say, 1940s New York can invoke an otherworldly fascination, for example – or whether the photographs themselves stand as interesting and thought-provoking regardless of age. To generalise, there was more of the former than the latter.

I also pondered the reasons why these particular collections were being presented at this time; is it because of some potential relevance to contemporary times? to re-evaluate works that are now seen in a different light? to show previously unseen archives? More questions than answers, certainly, but an interesting train of thought.

Broomberg & Chanarin, 'Afterlife 8', from Where the Other Rests
Broomberg & Chanarin, ‘Afterlife 8’, from Where the Other Rests

For the appropriation-based work, my question was whether the re-use or incorporation of the existing image(s) had genuinely created something new and interesting. Sometimes it’s the appropriation technique that’s memorable, other times it’s more that some individual images ‘work’ while others do not.

There’s a lot of appropriated image work that I admire, but overall I am a little concerned that the well of photographic inspiration sometimes seems to be running a little dry for some folk. I was left with the feeling that a lot of current practitioners are trying to push photography ‘forwards’ by reaching back into the past. It becomes quite self-referential. Photography about photography may be of more interest to other artists than to a wider audience?

Presentation formats

One major takeaway for me was the variety of methods of displaying photography, and how the presentation method can greatly help (and occasionally hinder) the interpretation of the work. Four of the standout shows for me – Eamonn Doyle, Sarah WaiswaLaia Abril and Fabulous Failures – presented their work in unorthodox ways, and it was part of their success. It made me think about how best to present my own work, beyond the printed-mounted-framed paradigm.

Joachim Schmid, in Fabulous Failures
Joachim Schmid, in Fabulous Failures

On the other hand, some of the presentation techniques in shows such as Peter Mitchell’s and Nothing But Blue Skies (art based on media imagery from the 9/11 attacks) went beyond thought-provoking into gimmickry, and actually detracted from the work in my opinion; sometimes a straight presentation of the images serves the subject matter best.

That’s it for the general observations – specific exhibitions will be covered in a separate post.

Study visit: Martin Parr

The Rhubarb Triangle & Other Stories: Photographs by Martin Parr

The Hepworth, Wakefield 4th February to 12th June 2016

My first official study visit, led by Derek Trillo who just happens to be my tutor for this course – nice to meet a tutor face to face for the first time.

I came into this exhibition from a stance of being pretty ambivalent about Martin Parr and his work, possibly borderline negative. I know he can be somewhat divisive. Having discussed him with other students I’ve found quite a few people that neither love nor loathe him but find him ‘good in parts’. I recently captured my own thoughts on Parr in a learning log post for the Gesture & Meaning course.

I’ll run through the component parts of the exhibition before summarising my views.


The Rhubarb Triangle

Not necessarily a classic Parr set but engaging nonetheless. The red/yellow colour palette, the quirkiness of the subject matter and the sequencing makes this a more interesting series than it might otherwise have been. One assumes that part of the Hepworth show was to have a new locally-themed project, and luckily rhubarb is quite a photogenic subject.

The Rhubarb Triangle – Martin Parr

Lots of us students commented on display method: not mounted or framed but merely pinned to the wall on bare paper. I’ve seen Parr do this before at a popup show and assumed it was due to the transient nature of the event but speaking to other students he’s been doing this on other shows recently. To me it speaks of his lack of certainty on which images will make it into his ‘permanent collection’.


Autoportraits – Martin Parr

These work so much better on display together than cycled through individually in a web slideshow. It’s a brilliant commentary on varying photographic tastes by culture. It’d be fascinating to put one person from each country in front of the set and ask them to pick out the ‘normal’ portrait, then comment on the others (which would no doubt be variously ‘kitsch’ or ‘boring’ depending on the viewer). It’s the one set that’s really ‘about’ photography.

The early works

The Non-Conformists is the oddity in the Parr oeuvre as it is in black and white, and there’s a sense of him still trying to define his style. He was very influenced by Tony Ray-Jones, especially in the sense of humour, as evidenced by the joint exhibition I saw a few years ago.

The Last Resort is an undoubted classic and while I’ve had the book for a while, it was good to see a selection of the images printed large.

The Cost of Living was a series I was aware of but not all that familiar with. More than any of the others I found this set to perfectly capture the absurdities of the era (the 1980s) that only become obvious to the rest of us with the passage of time.

The Cost of Living – Martin Parr

Work and Leisure

These are, I understand, compilations of images taken over multiple projects rather than an intentional series. The connecting themes are, according to the Hepworth: “the labour that produces the objects, food and environments that we consume, and the results of that often, ironically, uneasy experience of leisure time“.

OCA students admiring the Work section

While the Leisure side of the hall was typical Parr, the Work images were less obvious and therefore more interesting. It helped me understand that Parr is not a one-trick pony.

Common Sense

One whole wall is dedicated to an installation of images from Common Sense, Parr’s 1990s take on consumerism. It’s Maximum Parr, a gigantic visual assault on your eyeballs.

Common Sense – Martin Parr

It feels like Parr taking on board all the criticisms about being garish and kitsch and dialling it up to 11, past the point of caricature. The sense of overwhelm is, I guess, exactly what Parr was aiming to emulate with the combination of the subject matter and presentation.

My thoughts

I have to say at this point that the exhibition did win me over. I feel like I ‘get’ Parr more now than I ever did before.


The turning point came as I better understood Parr’s intent. The more I read of his writing about his projects, the more they make sense. It really clicked when I saw the following quote printed on the gallery wall “I make serious photographs disguised as entertainment.” (Parr 2010)

The quote above is from Parr on Parr (2010) and in full it’s even more enlightening:

“Remember I make serious photographs disguised as entertainment. That’s part of my mantra. I make the pictures acceptable in order to find the audience but deep down there is actually a lot going on that’s not sharply written in your face. If you want to read it you can read it.” (Parr 2010)

I confess that until now I think I have been misdirected by the aesthetic and missed his more subtle observations.


One aspect of the show that helped me gain this deeper appreciation was the curation. It showed a range of his work, not just the unflattering, flash-lit beach clichés that journalists reach for. This show includes some of his more ‘serious’ output (such as the ‘work’ half of Work and Leisure). It also excludes the vast majority of the ‘filler’ material that he chomps through in any given year – I still think the man is a little too prolific and could show some more discernment.

Interestingly Parr accepts that not everything he does is a success. In a webchat with the Guardian this week he answered a question about a specific project with:

… you’ll note I’ve never tried to exhibit these photos – they are just part of the archive. I have to confess many of the projects I do do not succeed – I’m only human. I take as many bad photos as anyone else.” (Parr 2016)

This comment on ‘exhibiting vs archiving’ implies an ongoing ‘self-curation’ by Parr. So he is more self-aware than I gave him credit for.


There was a variety of presentation methods and this gave different sections of the show their own vibe. The Rhubarb Triangle’s pinned paper prints felt temporary and insubstantial, Autoportraits suited the mis-matched frames, the early work gets treated with more reverence, and Common Sense is the tightly-packed, wall-sized sensory overload that it needs to be.


Having previously dismissed Parr with the common criticisms – cruel, mocking, patronising – I came to the realisation that he’s not really (intentionally) any of those things. He is curious, probing, prolific and highly observational. He is a thinker and a writer as much as he is a photographer. So maybe I’ve been taken in for too long by the ‘entertainment disguise’. Mea culpa.

The main thing I learned on this study visit is that my mind can be changed in the light of new information.

Oh, and it was great to meet other students and OCA staff to share the visit with. I’ll be going on more study visits. Very useful.


The Rhubarb Triangle & Other Stories http://www.hepworthwakefield.org/martin-parr/ (accessed 14/03/2016)

Martin Parr webchat http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/live/2016/mar/10/martin-parr-webchat-strange-and-familiar-barbican (accessed 15/03/2016)