—–

A week or so ago, I gave money to a child I’d never met. I donated to Caine’s Scholarship Fund.

That’s kind of crazy. I sent cash to a kid on the other side of the world to help enable him to go to University. And not because I felt guilty or was stirred by a charitable campaign, because I saw something he’d done and was pretty damn overwhelmed by it. I saw it in a film.

I spend a lot of time at work espousing the advantages of film; bringing ideas alive, real people, real voices etc. But sometimes you see work that just smashes those sentiments right out of the park. Don’t just say, do.

To date, 3.2M people have watched that film and almost £200,000 has been donated to Caine and his future. That’s the kind of future I want to live in.

It happened thus.

On a bus driving past Alexandra Palace in late January I was pretty struck by the sight of women, men and children of all ages, shapes and sizes streaming up the hill. Confused as to the event that would unite such a diverse mix of people, a quick web search identified the London Model Engineering Exhibition. And so it was that we ended up there the next day, camera in hand, to explore.

It was, as Matt wrote, exactly the kind of show you’re picturing in your head. A hall filled with people showing off their finely tuned wares with an immense amount of (extremely modest) pride. From replica thames barges complete with embroidered sails and handmade winches, to submarines with automatic depth controls capable of firing missiles I was pretty gobsmacked by the level of passion and commitment in the room.

But it wasn’t just blind dedication. The event showed me how model engineering is a true community. A collection of people genuinely supporting each other to make and create. As one of the guys we interviewed said, “it really restores my faith in humanity.” That was wonderful.

And so, this film is a little insight into some of the people we met and the models they’ve made.

[It's not a "proper" documentary, I hasten to add. It being a bustling public show there was a lot of variables we couldn't have any influence over - such as the chap selling power tools! Also, just the one 16 GB memory card put paid to most of the other shots I wanted to capture of the event so the b-roll is a little limited.]

For a paltry £3, 16 pages of colour comics can be yours, including the latest one-pager from Tom and I. Tom has a lovely sneak-peek of the comic over on his blog.

See more on the preview from publishers, WAW+P here.

– Photo by Matthew Sheret | Cover image by Adam Cadwell.

Lots of other things were happening in the world at that point and while the rest of the world was aiming high, we started by just wanting provide a few alternative perspectives on a story that had barely begun to unfold.

As far as personal goals go, 2011 was my year of doing more and being better. With that project Tom and I had more than doubled our previous output together and we’d started the year with a bang. A year later I’m still hugely proud of that body of work.

“I like that house,” I declare as we stroll along the road one morning.

“It’s a fake house,” he says.

He goes on to profusely deny its potential to be a real house. It must be a facade, it must be uninhabited, the neighbours must have been fed up of people creeping along the alleyway between their houses that they clubbed together and built it. This is preposterous, I argue but it is no use. His mind is made up.

—–

It is dark when I return from work. The winding streets are filled with leaves that don’t so much crunch underfoot as crease unwillingly. Lubricated by the damp fog lingering in the air they are an unruly opponent, taking the streets for themselves. Through the darkness I see a faint light illuminating the fake house from the inside. A body is silhouetted against the window.

“There’s someone in the fake house, it’s real!” I text

“It’s a puppet” comes the response.

—–

From across the street a light is triggered by a motion sensor. A door slams. A man has emerged from the fake house. I make a mental note to tell him that a remarkably life like puppet is wandering freely around North London.

I retrace my steps the following evening and my brain kicks into gear. I call him to regale him of the tale of the wandering puppet but he outright refuses to believe me. A learned scholar of the Monty Python school I know he is trying me but I cannot refuse the bait. I protest vociferously.

A door slams. Another man has emerged from the fake house.

“Just a minute,” I whisper, running across the street without stopping to look for cars, cats or bicycles. Luckily I have no unscheduled meetings with anything of the sort.

“Excuse me,” I yell. “Excuse me.”

The man from the fake house turns, bewildered, to face me.

“Did you just come from the corner house?”

“Yes,” he ventures cautiously.

“My boyfriend thinks it’s a fake house.” I declare accusingly.

The man from the fake house laughs nervously eyeing me up and down.”We get that a lot,” he says eventually. Evidently I have passed his security vetting procedure.

“Yeah he doesn’t believe it’s real. He thinks the neighbours built it to block up a dingy back alley but I said that didn’t make any sense because the building goes back too far and who’d make a building that could be a house and not make it a house? That’s just nonsense because you could earn a fortune from the rent couldn’t you and you’d take that rather than risk burglars wouldn’t you and besides I’ve seen lights on and everything.”

“Er… Yes. It’s real. We do live there. I live on the first floor actually. It’s a bit small at the front but it really widens out at the back and we’ve got an awesome garden – you can’t see that of course but it goes right back. It’s great.”

“Well that’s great,” I say. There isn’t much more to say.

“Thanks,” the man from the fake house says.

“Well done.” I say.

The man from the fake house turns. I watch him walk away before returning my phone to my ear.

“Did you hear that?” I whisper.

“I cannot believe you did that,” is all I hear, amongst the guffaws before his train disappears into a tunnel.

One of my images from last year’s holiday to Jordan has been selected for My Own Wilderness, a collection of international photography curated by Christopher Pacquette the editor of PHOTO/arts Magazine.

Pretty chuffed about this – there are some beautiful images in the collection so it’s great to slot in alongside really stunning work that approaches the theme from very different directions.

Buy/preview the book here.