"I'm not here" is an ongoing exploration of withdrawal - the pull toward solitude, the idea of disappearing into the margins.
Born from my own struggles with depression and the weight of conventional living, this work seeks out those living on society's edges. I photograph people who've retreated – or been pushed – to out-of-the-way places, often near water, where distance from the world becomes both refuge and exile.
The photographs are intimate portraits of the people and the places where they live, alongside traces of their existence.
This project moves slowly, built on trust that takes time to earn. It may never be finished. I make these photographs for myself and for the people who let me into their lives - not for an audience, but as a document of the complicated desire to escape, and the reality of what that escape actually looks like.
The Swale
Left: after boarding the owner quickly and quietly lifts and stows his ladder. In raising the only way onboard, he signals his desire to be left alone. We never speak.
Right: the pegs cling to the lines like small, tropical birds.
The edge
The mirror, left in the undergrowth, captures and offers the last of the day’s light to flowers and artefacts left in memory of a 24 year old woman.
"At night we see lights, a mile out, some of them hover and watch us. They move with the stars, making them, harder to spot."
I've learned to see the path leading to hidden homes. Some of these structures are no more than a few paces from public paths, but they and the people who live in them remain hidden. The majority would never think to walk into the bushes.
Right: this is Anna’s home. “I plan to extend this out, but the bank is sliding away.” On the very edge of an eroding chalk cliff, whilst the ground beneath is moving and splitting, she speaks of home improvement.
Right: parked on the sea front, almost at the tide mark, this converted van offers hidden shelter. “A friend gave me the key to park here. He didn’t say how he got it! I’ll be asked to move on.”
Peninsula
Thick, stern, thorn covered bushes grow in a lunar landscape of homogenous and unnatural looking grey rocks. These bushes are everywhere here, helping to keep people out of the “contaminated zones”.
A small and private community lived here, until the land was fenced off and access removed. Restoration projects are abandoned, homes are beginning to leak. The people left so suddenly everything remains behind.
Left: I spoke to Gabel. Convinced this property is still occupied, he says to look for vials and syringes discarded in the reeds.
Right: Gabel lives "nearby", but he won’t say where. Something about his smile tells me he has claimed one of these shacks, and this is his home.
Left: "He keeps to himself" said a local man without a name. "I don't need a name" he told me.
Right: two years later, the acid traps have now been removed, or the disposition to warn visitors has worn out.
Between the fake birds, fake pig, and the herd of mowers no longer eating grass, this place feels like an zoo abandoned by the keepers.
These pictures change often, if you're interested to see more please bookmark this page.