The Commute
Summer 2023
I don’t love going to work everyday. It’s fine, but it involves an hour long bus drive and then a typically chaotic stroll along South Bank simultaneously trying to dodge joggers running at you full speed and not bump into tourists who stop in the middle of the path to look up directions on their phones. Most of these photos were taken on the day earlier this year when it snowed spontaneously out of nowhere. It was cold and miserable. No one was around. The usual jovial spirit the area always seems to have was gone and it suddenly felt isolated like an old tourist trap on the coast, abandoned and waiting for life. I wanted to capture this moment. A neon HOTEL sign like a beacon in the rain. One lone woman in her winter coat trudging along the beach. My favourite point of South Bank where you can split London in half; one side ancient architecture, one side modern skyscrapers. The milk carton is from a different day but a similar time. I walked past a stream of milk on my way to the bus and stopped to capture it. It sits outside a pub, next to cars and beer barrels where the only spilt liquid you’d expect would be petrol or alcohol or bodily fluids but instead its whole milk. I still don’t know why they were there but I like the absurdity of it.
I don’t love going to work everyday. It’s fine, but it involves an hour long bus drive and then a typically chaotic stroll along South Bank simultaneously trying to dodge joggers running at you full speed and not bump into tourists who stop in the middle of the path to look up directions on their phones. Most of these photos were taken on the day earlier this year when it snowed spontaneously out of nowhere. It was cold and miserable. No one was around. The usual jovial spirit the area always seems to have was gone and it suddenly felt isolated like an old tourist trap on the coast, abandoned and waiting for life. I wanted to capture this moment. A neon HOTEL sign like a beacon in the rain. One lone woman in her winter coat trudging along the beach. My favourite point of South Bank where you can split London in half; one side ancient architecture, one side modern skyscrapers. The milk carton is from a different day but a similar time. I walked past a stream of milk on my way to the bus and stopped to capture it. It sits outside a pub, next to cars and beer barrels where the only spilt liquid you’d expect would be petrol or alcohol or bodily fluids but instead its whole milk. I still don’t know why they were there but I like the absurdity of it.