David Halliday
David Halliday's photographs are about beauty, pure and simple. His primary subjects are carefully composed still lifes, portraits and landscapes which he shoots in black and white film with only natural light. He is a purist behind the lens, rarely manipulating his negatives in any way and a master in the darkroom. His work has an ethereal quality that's translated not only through the subject, but also by the warm colors and sepia tones he uses in his printing.
Spending time in Nantucket on and off my whole life and living in New Orleans these past twenty years--water has been an ever present element.
A couple of years ago, I found myself in an old Nantucket fishing shanty that belonged to my mother’s lone wolf neighbor, George Andrews. He passed away some 15 years ago at the age of 85 and left behind a place filled to the gills with all of his gear-nets, buoys, clam rakes, scallop dredges, ropes and more. These objects were not about leisure but about individual commerce and an elemental way of life. As eccentric as this man may have seemed to many people on the island, he was a true dory fisherman to the …
David Halliday's photographs are about beauty, pure and simple. His primary subjects are carefully composed still lifes, portraits and landscapes which he shoots in black and white film with only natural light. He is a purist behind the lens, rarely manipulating his negatives in any way and a master in the darkroom. His work has an ethereal quality that's translated not only through the subject, but also by the warm colors and sepia tones he uses in his printing.
Spending time in Nantucket on and off my whole life and living in New Orleans these past twenty years--water has been an ever present element.
A couple of years ago, I found myself in an old Nantucket fishing shanty that belonged to my mother’s lone wolf neighbor, George Andrews. He passed away some 15 years ago at the age of 85 and left behind a place filled to the gills with all of his gear-nets, buoys, clam rakes, scallop dredges, ropes and more. These objects were not about leisure but about individual commerce and an elemental way of life. As eccentric as this man may have seemed to many people on the island, he was a true dory fisherman to the end.
It goes without saying that I was attracted to these objects--great textures, patterns, beautiful forms and colors, the patina of everyday use. As I began to photograph them, my eyes tuned in more and more to these weathered implements--engaging remnants of a fragile and vanishing dispensation. Wherever I went I would find these coastal odds and ends; even in my own shed were objects left behind by previous owners which I had paid little to no attention, had suddenly become of great interest to me and my present work.
Amidst the endlessly streaming coverage of the BP oil spill disaster in the Gulf of Mexico along with the seemingly continual conversations and debate regarding over-fishing in Northeast waters—gave these objects I was photographing a more topical significance
