Walking to Paddington after seeing the Vivian Maier film with @theramekin at the eclectic ICA

Beds I’ve Slept In. Novotel. London #jwbisi

At today’s location. Am I in Germany?

RIVER from John Wildgoose on Vimeo.

Time lapse and slo mo mix

My work for the Stock Exchange through Rufus Leonard proudly sits among the luminaries at Photography Served today. Happy to be chosen for this lovely site.
http://www.photographyserved.com/gallery/Campaign-photography-for-London-Stock-Exchange/13291381

photographsonthebrain:

The Innovation of Loneliness (by Shimi Cohen)

Prune your networks, prune your feeds!

Loneliness. It’s a very different experience than solitude. Great little thought provoking piece from

Back at the Globe, thrilled to be shooting kids absolutely captivated by what was going on. Back at the Globe, thrilled to be shooting kids absolutely captivated by what was going on.

Back at the Globe, thrilled to be shooting kids absolutely captivated by what was going on.

Shots taken around the Borse Italia for The Stock Exchange via agency Rufus Leonard. Personal Selection. More here: https://www.behance.net/gallery/18136531/Milano

Murder most foul (again) at The Globe last night.

Near Arras, France.

Mike 201. 22:36. Near Beziers. Nap time…

MLP Test Shoot from John Wildgoose on Vimeo.

During a stills shoot at the same location

A response to an invitation.

SImon, this all sounds a bit too bucolic to me.

I need urban grime; good honest quotidian sprawl, spent industrial tracts, neglected, downtrodden suburbs. Not idyllic natural backdrops, that was all over when the last of the Hudson School dried their brushes and (eventually) Ansel Adams et al took up the role of supplying the bourgeois demand to hang pictures on walls that reflect some distant lost sense of utopia that we are ourselves guilty of destroying in our ever panicky need to live near it, if not in it.

So by churning out endless examples of an idealised mythical landscape that were both irrelevant and marginalised even before Adams decided to drag a heavy wooden tripod up a mountain, he really did (albeit unwittingly) compound the fact that the ‘pastoral’, as an art form is utterly trivial, in as much as it is totally lacking in any relevance to society today. Art is a mirror in which we see reflected our current state, this is the role of the artist, to bring a value judgement, and sense of conscience to our existence. It serves little purpose if it merely reports some idealised past that we absolutely can no longer return to.

New Work published on behance. Moscow Central. New Work published on behance. Moscow Central. New Work published on behance. Moscow Central. New Work published on behance. Moscow Central.

New Work published on behance. Moscow Central.

Close on the heels of D Day: this is shrapnel. It embedded itself in a wooden beam near my father’s head during an air raid in Sheffield, toward the end of the war. He hooked it out (it was still hot) and kept it. He carried it in his pocket for many years as a talisman. I remember seeing it on his bedside table at night. I’d often pick it up and handle the strange heavy lump of brass and steel that nearly killed my dad. We talked about it a few years ago after he’d stop carrying it (too much damage to frail modern fabrics). He offered it to me but I refused. I couldn’t take his good luck charm, after all it had severed him well through several life threatening accidents and illnesses, except of course the last one. Today my step mum presented it to me. I will treasure this as much as I treasure him.