Photo stories
Concerned for his career, photographer Peter Dench explains how the pandemic forced him to search harder for stories – resulting in his lockdown diaries
It took me three years after purchasing my rst camera to point it at a stranger. I’ve been consistently pointing it at them ever since. I’m a people photographer. Persons are at the heart of my photography. When the coronavirus pandemic descended, my lens was denied its people-portions. At the height of lockdown one, it was a lonely ve-mile walk from my home into central London. If I got the bus, at times it didn’t stop for another passenger.
I’d photographed what were fast becoming lockdown clichés: empty supermarket shelves, empty streets, masked individuals on the underground train and every shop window coronavirus sign but I’d not yet made a unique visual contribution to this extraordinary time in history. I was in pandemic-panic.
In April 2020 I received an email from my editor at Getty Images: ‘Are you free a few days this week for an assignment? I’d like to make a set of very graphic images of social distancing markers and taped-off areas, benches, bus front doors, etc. These pictures should all be high-key, sunlight plus strobe [he’s American]. I want them to tend toward the abstract but still be journalistic.’ I wasn’t convinced but over the next three days, that’s what I did.
Tapping into tape
Seemingly overnight, red-and-white-striped tape had become ubiquitous across the capital. A citywide stay-at-home order meant Londoners could leave the house only for essentials and exercise. The caution tape was meant to discourage the use of public facilities. Walking over 50km across London, I photographed every bit of tape I could nd. On the 23rd of April, as my age clicked forward to 48, I was lying in the dirt on the south bank trying to frame tape around a view of St Paul’s Cathedral. It literally felt a new low – a passing ock of parakeets squawked their derision. Encouragingly, The Guardian and Wired published the series online – my lockdown diaries had begun.
As lockdown restrictions began to ease across England in May, there was concern the population, fed-up with con nement, would make a dash en masse to the beach. Those concerns were veri ed.
I suggested to Getty a day trip to Southend. The beach was overwhelmed. Families jostled for space along the promenade. Skin blistered in queues for the toilets. Alcohol was enthusiastically consumed. The sea air was infused with menace. When the images went live online, I sent the link to The Sunday Times Magazine (STM), snif ng the potential for a wider feature.
The STM packed me off to eight beaches across three counties over ve days to document what an English summer staycation might look like. The pro le was southern as travel was restricted, overnight stays unavailable, a trip to Blackpool or Skegness, unrealistic. My beach odyssey concluded in Bournemouth, the day a ‘Major Incident’ was declared. The irresponsible behaviour and shocking actions of some visitors overstretched services trying to keep everyone safe. Police were highly visible, the temperature sizzled and scuf es ared between gangs.
The STM published 11 pictures over ve pages and asked if I had any more ideas. I had one. Project Restart was the nickname being given to the Premier League’s attempts to resume the football season interrupted by Covid-19. Would any fanatical fans turn up despite government warnings to stay away? On a grim Friday night, I visited the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium for their match against Manchester United. It was deserted. Security guards pounded the area, digital boards instructed fans to watch from home. It seemed they had complied and the story was a non-starter.
Then I met and photographed United fans who had driven the 200 miles from Manchester to watch the game on an iPad opposite the stadium. An 87-year-old lifelong Spurs fan, Joyce, had broken her 93 days of home con nement – the temptation to be close to her idols, too much. It was enough to believe the project would work. A dozen more stadiums followed with positive outcomes. The STM published 12 images over six pages.
The pandemic has changed my photography and changed me as a photographer. It has taught me to hunt harder, look closer, walk further and realise there will always be a story to tell, some even without people.