Holloway, Gate

Digital Prints, 2007

Holloway, Gate draws on my fascination with the dark, storied places woven into the landscape around me—places where folklore, ghost stories, and traces of cunning craft continue to linger beneath the surface of everyday life.

The photograph was taken at an abandoned church, notorious in local legend, with a strange superstition surrounding its orientation—it faced west to east, an unusual alignment steeped in mystery. This setting aligned perfectly with my longstanding interest in twilight, that ethereal space between light and dark, the seen and unseen, existing together in the same time frame. I found the church by accident, as twilight began to settle. There was a peculiar electricity in the air, an eerie stillness like the calm before a storm.

The sound of traffic, far off, fought its way through the quiet Holloway lane—a sunken path worn by centuries of human traffic. There was something off about the place, and as I trespassed in the growing darkness, I couldn’t help but think it resembled the start of some teen horror film. But then I spotted a McDonald’s chip packet, a bizarre but oddly grounding detail—that shit gets everywhere!

As I stood there, feeling a presence behind me and hearing heavy footsteps, I turned, snapping a photo in the instinctive hope of capturing whoever might be there. But there was no one. Relieved but spooked, I photographed the farm gate on my way out, another threshold, marking my departure.

When I got to the car and started the engine, the electrics flickered, and the radio turned on by itself. The song was Road to Nowhere. Since you were never going to ask.