Newhaven Breakwater, Sussex.
A yellow ferry chimney glides past yacht masts and a tupperware sky. A dog walker is emphatic that my chosen path to the cliffs is really boring and told me an alternative route – she was right.
WW2 Emergency Battery, Eastern gun emplacement with shell lockers. Newhaven, Sussex.
A portentous sign by a tarmac road informs me I was entering “The Brighton and Lewis Biosphere”. Three huge gun positions overlooked by a manned coastguard station suggest Newhaven must have been an important port in WW2.
Newhaven Heights, Sussex.
Despite the Daily Mash claiming Brighton is “To become the UK’s first ‘twats only’ town” the city can’t come too soon as this stretch of bungalow coast is Britain at its most tawdry.
Peacehaven Heights, Sussex.
Very fresh and dramatic cliff erosion with alarmingly large bites into the existing footpath leaving fence wires hanging into the abyss as if a huge sea monster took a munch. Note to self: no cloud gazing reveries!
English Channel from Friars Bay, Sussex.
Monument to the Greenwich Meridian, an invisible line last passed eighteen days ago in London and next to be crossed in Sand Le Mere in Yorkshire in a few years time.
Coastal Defences I, Peacehaven, Sussex.
Concrete promenade below the cliffs slows the rapid erosion of the chalk cliffs edged with houses around Peacehaven.
Coastal Defences II, Peacehaven, Sussex.
A miniature cricket bat zip-tied to the cliff top fence – it’s inscription long since faded away. A memorial to a beloved pooch?
Coastal Defences III, Peacehaven, Sussex.
Undercliff, Rottingdean, Sussex.
Coastal Defences IV, Peacehaven, Sussex.
Undercliff steps, Rottingdean, Sussex.
Coastal Defences V, Saltdean, Sussex.
Two promenading Greek Orthodox Clergymen nod as I pass. Sea mist makes hands and camera sticky.
Beach Hut I, Rottingdean, Sussex.
Beach Hut II, Rottingdean, Sussex.
At Saltdean a charming Spanish cafe owner had all his female clients giggling shamelessly. Lifeguard alone except for the drizzle.
Marine Parade, Brighton.
I Love Your Art, Brighton.
The pier etched against the overcast sky. Walk into a naturist beach by accident and then get surprised for a second time by the almost silent electric railway packed with parents and kids coming out of nowhere.
Brighton Pier, Sussex.
The worldly and the innocent intermingle and deck chairs are still being hired in the drizzle, I’ve arrived at Brighton.
Royal Pavilion with scaffolding, Brighton.
Reblogged this on Geometry & Silence.
Sometimes I hit delete because I’m impatient or my brain is sick of input and I don’t look at your photographs, and sometimes I don’t hit delete. This time I didn’t, and I’m so glad. I love the subtle hues and sensuous curves and straight angles. I love the concrete. I love the sense of fragility posed by erosion. Thank you.
know what you mean about being sick of input sometimes – glad this got to you at the right time and that you enjoyed the fragile strangeness
Beach Hut and the pavilion scaffolding. You do have a really good eye for symmetry for buildings, their surrounds and framing of your shots of them.
I’m a commercial architectural photographer when I’m not doing this and I trained as an architect so I can’t help it!