Making the same journey for the umpteenth time I glanced out the window and wondered if I ever really pay attention to the world going by outside. I normally pass the time on the train scrolling through Instagram, catching up on Facebook or replying to emails and messages on my phone. I rarely bother to really look at the scenery passing me by and it got me thinking about how much we miss on our regular journeys through life.
Right now in the town where I live many structural changes are being made. Once buildings are knocked down people often complain about places being missed, but do we ever really appreciate the architecture around us until it is gone?
This lead me to thinking about viewing my journey each day a little more clearly and trying to watch and appreciate the small changes around me.
When I view the world through the viewfinder of my camera I notice so much more beauty in every day things so decided to start using the camera on my phone to document my daily journeys. After a few days of taking photographs I switched to filming my journeys, using a small gorilla pod on the train table to steady my shots.
It was really interesting to see the differences each day and I found that on uploading the footage to my macbook each night and replaying it that I noticed even more differences in the journey’s landscape as each day went by.
While working on this project I came across some photos I took a few years ago when, inspired by the work of Alvin Langdon Coburn, I made my own vortograph and attempted to change my view of the world by photographing places and objects through it.
I wondered if this project was merely a continuation/progression of that last one and decided to attempt to film my next train journey through the vortograph and see what results I got.
I’d used the vortograph to film through once before in the subway scene of my first film Trip (2015).
I’m hoping that the film I’ve made will help to change how we look at the journeys we make every day, help us to spot changes in the landscape and value the architecture and scenery around us before it, inevitably, disappears.