LOST SOCIETY | LOOKING IN THROUGH GLASS

Peering into dark, empty spaces. On the outside, looking in. Camera pressed up to smeared, steamy glass. Glimpses of shiny Christmas decorations; cleaning products and hand sanitisers; abandoned drinks and occasional humour. Grasping at fragments. 

Struggling businesses forced to close yet again this holiday season to halt the pandemic, left deserted. Silent. Dark. Looking in as an observer, no longer a participant. Imagining the fun and the life and the noise. Visceral pleasures are tempting but still dangerous, out of reach. Our lives from before, ever more distant. The allure is becoming irresistible. Evocative and otherworldly. Unimaginable. Fading. Photographing to try to remember. 

On 15 Dec 2020, the night before the UK returned to the highest level of coronavirus restrictions, meaning all bars and restaurants would have to close at 00.01, our family enjoyed a last supper in a small local, family-owned restaurant. 

The atmosphere here, and apparently in bars and restaurants across the country, was curiously celebratory - like one last Mardi Gras before the sacrifices and fasting of Lent.

 As I looked around the room I was touched by the huge effort, time and money spent by the owners, to make everything as safe and comfortable as possible: cleaning and sanitising products; plastic partitions; patio heaters and blankets. But also, and somehow more poignantly, the elaborate Christmas decorations just put up in preparation for their busiest time of the year, which was now not to be.

The next day I returned to find this restaurant and others like it, now shut but otherwise left untouched. I looked in through the glass and photographed into the darkness. I became spellbound, beguiled by every scene frozen in time, like a metaphor for our lives. Each story unique.

I spent the next four months of lockdown walking the streets of London - out most mornings for an entire winter, usually on my own, in all weather - sometimes too numb from wet and cold to even press the shutter. Driven by some palpable sense of urgency I couldn’t quite explain, I just had to photograph every single one I could reach on foot, within the quarantine regulations, to create a record of these spaces and document our collective pause.

Here are a few of my favourites.