There’s light at the end of the tunnel.
March 2020 – Covid Times Unleashed
It came upon us. Our modern, 21st-century version of the plague. The coronavirus entered into our midst and this microscopic menace threatened to be the nemesis of us all. Spreading from person to person, from place to place and from continent to continent with such alarming speed, it looked as if human civilisation could succumb to this germ-laden evil that had been unleashed without mercy. Within just a short while an epidemic had morphed into a global pandemic. I couldn’t bear to watch, read or listen to the endless media streaming (or, should I say, screaming) of this unfolding tragedy in double-quick time. So many were suffering and dying. Nobody seemed safe as Covid was 100% inclusive. No discrimination.
Like many people, I was scared and for the first time in my life, I was petrified at what might happen to my family, friends, and myself. And then by government edict, a nationwide lockdown was imposed on us. All of us. For our welfare and safety, we were informed to remain indoors. Prisoners in our own homes. Only allowed out briefly on permitted trips, such as a walk in the park, shopping for food, obtaining medication or urgent visits to the hospital. Face masks became a mandatory item of protective gear and social distancing a required mode of staying safe in public. All communal gatherings prohibited.
This draconian decree of mass house arrest now entered into the national psyche. Like the ‘This Is The Kit’ song, we were ‘stuck in a room’ with ‘too many rules’. Big time. We were all affected. I recall the emotion. The intensity.
Plucking Up Courage To Go Out, Just To Go Out, For Pity’s Sake
The merciless months of these Covid Times drifted by. On the 16th May 2020 I plucked up the courage to brave the outdoors, duly masked, camera at the ready. It was still light as I wandered through south London taking photos as I passed by three waterways: the Rivers Wandle and Thames and Bell Lane Creek. Even the habitually busy thoroughfare of the South Circular was eerily deserted. Barely any traffic and not another soul to be seen. The uncommon sight of a hushed big city on a Saturday evening was my desolate domain and there I was, strolling along the footpath opposite the new Ram Quarter flat development near Ram Street in Wandsworth. I came across an advert hoarding on a high wooden perimeter wall demarcating a big site for demolition/construction. My eye was drawn to the large multi-coloured, scientific-looking flowchart that was the mainstay of this walled showpiece with an attention- grabbing phrase posted at the ‘start’ and the ‘end’ of this quirky urban street art: ‘There’s light at the end of the tunnel.’
This idiotic visual distraction from the shit clouding our existence during Covid Times became in a weird way the creative catalyst I was looking for. This was my glimmer of hope for survival. Hope. I felt this electrical impulse spring up inside me. Energised. I then snapped away in the knowledge that a swift stream of imaginative oomph had been unleashed overcoming all my reserve and fears brought on by the pandemic. I even visualised putting together a collage of photos and text based on this popular phrase designed to prompt hope. Hope.
Over the coming weeks and months, I did go out regularly camera in hand, walking alone through a muted urban landscape where a new, eerie reality had taken shape, where the streets had next to no people, vehicles, or life.
In a strange way I became accustomed to this ghost town version of south London, and I wandered about just taking photos of my surroundings. It helped so much to escape the stress and the weight of sadness that had descended. Every time I pressed the shutter release, it felt as if the picture I was taking was a dot in the eye of the terrible disease. So, I decided to take lots of photos. My way of fighting back. My solace. Whatever this embryonic contrary notion inside me was, these outings with my camera became an improvised technique to battle against an immense tide of hopelessness not to mention the scourge of the virus that imperilled all of us. Something drove me to document this era we were living through, enduring or dying in. Slowly, hope was reborn. And how I recall the depth of emotion.The intensity.
I wrote a poem to accompany the imagery and the whole thing suddenly came together as, “there’s light at the end of the tunnel”, and then other ideas occurred to me. So I decided to put it all into an A4-sized notebook: the pictures, poetry and assorted scribblings. It proved to be cathartic. It got me through. In a way, I have not only documented an episode of
pain from the 21st century but also my creative struggle in coming to terms with this episode of pain. The photos accompanying this article come from that notebook I made in Covid Times.
To hear an audio recording of the poetry I made, please visit: https://infoaktiv.online/file?filepath=29_photodoc_lifetime%2F8.%20There%27s%20Light%20at%20the%20End%20of%20the%20Tunnel.mp3&mime=audio%2Fmpeg
an existential threat
has come to dwell amongst us
invisible
virus laden
laced with armageddoned menace
I also scribbled notes and even a few quotations remembered from my past interspersed with streams of consciousness as it flowed:
will i survive
or will i succumb
that is the question
does my hope
still have hope
in this pandemic
or is it a hell’s vortex
of hopeful hopeless hope
as this life struggle
plays out
I'm searching
for solace
with defiant frenzy
i glimpse
my past-life
snatching at
comfort
from lyric filled memories
faded brightness of old
flickers
with refound youthful energy
rebirthing
slender bodied courage
echoes of former joy
embraced by
familial love and friendship
help to kickstart
light filled future pathways
i trust myself
to draw strength
from all the resilience
of my being
to fight this evil disease
meanwhile
frantic feeble fumblings of futility
by government and their asinine acolytes
scrabble
out of the confusion they claim
meanwhile,
we all suffer
many die unnecessarily
as we obey crap chopandchange chaos
that passes for safe guidance
but lo,
we welcome
the apparition of a saviour vaccine
clinging on
as we do in that ‘keep calm’ british way
behold
pressganged into lockdowned soul withering isolation
we await the immaculate injection intervention
to save us
we wait and wait and wait
germ laden darkness will fade
as we’re media bombed by an elite press clique
but can we trust
these pathetic pettifogging panjandrums
and their docile organs of state
we wait and wait and wait
as tunnel bound light bursts forth
dazzling all
humanity’s health is resurrected
and the restoration of hope
will have conquered despair
we will emerge
blinking into a new era of freedom
into a new existence we’re lied to as usual
where life will be lived and is to be lived
again and again and again and again and again
there’s always hope
there has to be
“We few minor figures, we many minor figures
We band of brothers and sisters
Those who outlive this age and come safe home
Where they will strip their sleeves and show their scars
And say, “These wounds I have from Covid Times.”
(Apologies to William Shakespeare, Henry V, Act 4/Sc. 3)
This photo essay entitled, 'there’s light at the end of the tunnel', was shortlisted for the Documentary Photographer of the Year Award by the Royal Photographic Society in 2021.
Also, the imagery accompanying this article formed part of an exhibition, PhotoDoc LifeTime at Putney Library, London in April 2023 – please see: https://infoaktiv.online/view?filename=29_photodoc_lifetime
An abiding memory from an exhibition
On the first day of the above exhibition, I saw a young man looking intently at the display of pictures comprising 'there’s light at the end of the tunnel'. I approached him and introduced myself as the artist responsible. He looked at me with a steady eye and in a quiet voice he thanked me for putting this message of hope on display. He went on to say he suffered from mental health issues and seeing my work gave him the strength to carry on.
A final note
We can never lose hope for the future as this publicity display in Wandsworth proclaimed prophetically without realising the true nature of the ghastly nightmare of those Covid Times we’d all been plunged into while yet giving us the uplifting message we were all so desperate to hear:
there’s light at the end of the tunnel.
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