An abandoned project of abandoned Boats on Eastbourne Seafront

Recently, I've found myself delving into my archive of old photos, primarily with the intention of sharing them on social media. My Mamiya RB67 film camera, a long-lost companion, had been gathering dust as I gravitated towards my pinhole cameras. While I briefly reunited with my Mamiya about a year ago, my photography outings have been sparse as of late. At one point, I even contemplated parting ways with my beloved RB to finance other interests, but the thought of bidding it farewell tugged at my heartstrings.


In my quest to unearth photos worth sharing, I stumbled upon forgotten albums filled with images captured by my trusty RB. There's a unique, unparalleled beauty to the photos from the Mamiya – a quality that I believe few other cameras can match. This singular charm has rekindled my desire to embrace this camera once more. Beyond aesthetics, it's a joy to use. Every lever, cog, and spring in the mirror and clockwork mechanism comes to life as you re-cock the shutter, and when you release it, the satisfying 'slap' of the mechanics in action is music to my ears. This camera is an absolute pleasure to wield.


A POV using the Mamiya RB67 https://youtu.be/wVqrPCeP-cc?si=v7pP54Do8w0fQ6gU


As I sifted through these photos, I stumbled upon a series I had initiated but never completed. Along the Eastbourne seafront, there lie abandoned boats resting on the shore, some still employed by local fishermen. I had embarked on capturing these vessels with the specific intention of forming a series, all immortalised through the lens of my faithful RB67. However, for reasons I can't quite recall, I never saw the project through to its conclusion.

Upon rediscovering these images, a newfound sense of purpose has stirred within me. I'm contemplating resurrecting this endeavour over the winter season. Some of the boats that once graced my frames may have vanished, while others may have found their way to the shore. Their conditions could have deteriorated, or perhaps some bear the marks of time more prominently. Yet, the allure of this ongoing photographic exploration beckons me. There remain countless small details, hidden stories, and moments in time that yearn to be captured.


The Black and white images where captured with Ilford Pan F 50 
and the Colour Fuji Velvia 50












Exploring and sharing these forgotten photographs has been a journey of rediscovery and inspiration. Reconnecting with my Mamiya RB67 and the abandoned boats of Eastbourne's seafront has reminded me of the enduring power of photography. It's not just about capturing moments in time; it's about preserving the beauty of the forgotten, the stories untold, and the subtle changes that time etches upon the world.

As I consider revisiting this project over the coming winter, I'm filled with a sense of anticipation. Some of the boats may have disappeared, while others may have taken their place. The passage of time and the unpredictable elements of nature will have left their marks on these vessels. I'm eager to capture these transformations and the ever-evolving stories they tell.

Photography, for me, is not just a means to document the world but a way to connect with the past, present, and future. It's a way to honour the craftsmanship of a camera like the RB67, with its satisfying mechanical symphony, and the enduring beauty of those abandoned boats.

I hope you've enjoyed this photographic journey with me, and I encourage you to revisit your own creative endeavours, whether they involve forgotten photos, neglected cameras, or unfinished projects. There's often more to discover in the familiar and the forgotten than we might initially realise.

Thank you for joining me on this voyage of rediscovery, and I look forward to sharing more with you in the future. Until then, keep exploring, capturing, and cherishing the moments that make life so beautifully fleeting.

Comments

  1. They work very well together. The longer exposures with the tarps blowing around are unsettling in a way especially those vivid blue ones.

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