Steven Darbyshire

My Story

The View.

I saw these three ‘friends’ on Walla Crag, soaking in the view of Derwentwater, Keswick and, in the distance, Bassenthwaite. It hit me right away that this is what we all do when we have (or make time to) ‘stand and stare’—as W. H. Davies reminded us. We easily see and accept the connections and links—between ourselves and others, the land and sky, and just about everything in between. It’s almost like a natural, childlike acceptance of our existence, before we sadly move on, disconnect, build barriers and wonder why we don’t have that time to ‘stand and stare’.

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Seaside family 2016

These people are closely grouped on the beach in Llandudno, yet each member appears as if in a dream. The scene evokes a late 1960s seaside atmosphere, reminiscent of memories of potted meat sandwiches (with the addition of wind-blown sand!). The absence of formal adult male attire (including a shirt and tie), and a rented ‘candy-striped’ deckchair are notable features that help date the image. For those fortunate enough to have experienced this, the annual summer holiday was a source of excitement. It was a week-long trip to St Annes, Southport or Llandudno, often accompanied by a visit to the Alex Munro show in Happy Valley. While times have changed, this image serves as a reminder to me that memories persist and the deeper connections made are instantly recognisable, even if they do not depict the expected posed holiday photograph.

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Hello! 2016

I took this photograph nearby the docks in Liverpool, but it was tucked away for a year or so. Then, I started thinking about all the ‘hello’s and ‘goodbyes’ that have happened on the waterfront over the years—the tears of farewell and the tears of happiness when someone returns home. The flags and colours of different countries and shipping lines remind me of the everyday struggles of life: where we come from, where we are and where we are heading. We all need someone to welcome us with open arms and just say ‘hello’.

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All the world’s a stage … 2014

The statue of Eric Morecambe is a favourite for photos, with people often mimicking his ‘bring me sunshine’ pose, usually with a big smile. It’s clear Eric is still bringing sunshine to people even decades after his death. 

It’s a bit of fun, a laugh and a memory of TV from the past—yes, it’s all that, but this photograph (maybe) goes beyond that connection, highlighting the strength and resilience of humour when facing everyday challenges.

‘…And all the men and women are merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts …’

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Eric had heart problems for many years and died soon after a stage performance, at the age of 58.

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The statue was vandalised shortly after this photo was taken, losing one of its legs.

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Living in Wigan, I utilise photography as a means of escaping the world in plain sight through a viewfinder. I am particularly fascinated by the extraordinary nature of the ordinary and the way people present themselves in groups and alone.

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The world I experience is often dark, noisy and threatening. I find that looking through a camera lens can provide a sense of control and perspective. However, this is not always straightforward. There are still days when I struggle to take a photograph or find that my images are a reflection of my inability to comprehend the world. It is during these times that I draw inspiration from the American photographer Bernice Abbot who reminded us that: “Photography can only represent the present. Once photographed, the subject becomes part of the past.” From this perspective I can then move forward—one frame at a time.