Say Goodnight Mick
“Say goodnight Mick” my Mother would interject, attempting to interrupt yet another story, one she’d heard a thousand times before. But Mick had the audience in the palm of his hand. A story of horses and men or a tale of his youth, told with the innate skill of a natural raconteur unfettered by considerations of exactitude. This work looks back at a life through two collections of images, those that Mick kept with him from his youth and a second set of images gathered over the years since he became my Dad.
Reproduced in cyanotype, a medium as old as photography itself, the blue chemicals embeded in the fibres of the paper and my fingertips.
The images recall the Man and those stories, often heard but still held dear. Echoes of his voice, and that parting remark spoken with a glint in his eye; “Goodnight Mick” he’d say.
