Architecture, photography and its relationship to mental health and wellbeing from my own perspective.
The photographs act like wormholes into the time they were taken, and are often the instigators of the stories that I tell within this digest; but more than that, amidst bouts of punishing low self-esteem, they remind me that I’m not an imposter, that I’m worthy of the places I photograph.
I get a bit obsessed with the textures and patterns - the way that the personality of a place can change in an instant with the light.
As I cycle along the wall, I take in each stone as ballast.
My recovery had something to do with light and something to do with its interaction with buildings.
I walk around the outer edges of the circle (and pick up the crisp packet) - then cut through the centre, past the prostrate couple who are now sitting up and having a smoke. As I move closer the bright orange dot takes shape.
I tell myself that it will pass, but whilst it’s here, I decide to turn my troubles into alms and take advantage of my super-senses.
For a moment, I disappear: Andy Marshall the frustrated and entitled photographer, the writer, the anxiety ridden camper-van-camino chap - completely disappears.
You are not on your own, and I list the posts below as much as to share my experiences rather than as a panacea. We're all in this together, especially in these uncertain times.
Welcome! I’m an architectural photographer and writer. On my van-life travels through the British Isles I’m building up a word and photo-hoard of material culture that celebrates the value and distinctiveness of our built heritage and contributes to a sense of place.My van is my time-machine, it