about martin reeves:
As a lad from Brighton, a stony seaside town in southern England, I witnessed incredible rainbows that dipped down to where the green sea met the grey sky. And like many children, I dribbled at the thought of what adventures lay beyond. However, before I could go anywhere, there were many things on my plate I would have to taste, swallow and ultimately digest first.
On my 7th birthday I was given a Polaroid B/W camera and a stapler. The stapler and the staple in my finger were quickly taken away from me (and the blood cleaned up from the carpet) but luckily I got to keep the camera.
It snapped relentlessly at relatives and pets, controlled by four-foot nothing me.
It was 1970. I was in awe of the Luna Module, crunched on pickled onions and unwittingly danced my way through 7-years of Ballet, gaining honours in five grades - eventually landing a scholarship to enter the Royal Ballet School in London. But at the last minute their physician measured my bones and calculated I would grow too tall to hurl petite ballerinas about the stage, and so I was dropped.
Hearing this news, my spirit soared, as I no longer had to worry about the ‘nutters’ at school finding out.
I spent the next four years hardening myself from a gangly ballet dancer into a biker/punk rocker.
A series of pass-me-down cameras accompanied me down the years after the Polaroid broke, and quite early on I realized the emotional power a photo could possess — even if it was technically incorrect or shot through a plastic lens.
I decided to enrol at Eastbourne Art College to learn more about photography and art, but left on the first day when I saw a teacher tear up a student’s painting in front of the class and stamp on it saying it was rubbish. I remember thinking, ‘Who are you to decide what is good and what is bad art?’ — I thought art was about personal expression?
In 1984 I became aware of infrared black & white film after seeing the album cover of U2’s Unforgettable Fire.
I shot the amazing Indian-styled Royal Pavilion in Brighton and ancient stone circles such as Stonehenge in Wiltshire.
The proprietors of First Light - a wonderful photo lab in Brighton saw my emerging photo portfolio and encourage me to delve deeper.
After visiting India in 1986 I ended up travelling Asia for the next 24-years with my 1972 Nikon and a bag of infrared b/w film.
I wandered aimlessly with no more than a love for travel and meeting exotic people and a love for creating photos.
I’ve regained partial consciousness covered in mud 2,000 ft above sea level after nights among Hmong friends in the Golden Triangle and I’ve taken tea with Cambodian Princesses after my photos of Angkor were requested as state gifts by the King.
But nothing lasts forever, and two things close to my heart are being lost to the march of time…
The film I use has been discontinued and I have only the (fortunately quite large) stock left in my fridge.
Also, the mid-1980s were the beginning of the end for many ancient sites and cultures once found at the ends of the Earth.
My destiny was to stumble upon this treasure trove of mystery and magic before it was dissolved and I used the otherworldly infrared black & white film to reveal and capture the last remnants of this magical period in history.
In essence, infrared black & white film reveals elements we can’t see, because it captures light we can’t see; yet this light does exist beyond the confines of our visual spectrum. The photograph is infused with a dream-like, timeless feel. For me, no other film came close to capturing the aura of possibly the most extraordinary places on earth.
Today, ancient stone temples stand like empty shells teeming with ever increasing lines of visitors, devoid of all foliage bar neatly cropped lawns.
But their blood is on my hands too… tourists, travellers, whatever we call ourselves, are the nail in the coffin for many a secret Shangri-La.