These are Alex's latest Ulverston builds, sourced from old photographs but for those few - and the town's shadowy cats - who ventured out, evocative of the town just last night.
Strange things happen to a town when you drain the life from its' streets; things get closer together, odd juxtapositions of style and scale are revealed. At the right time - and sought by choice - it can be refreshing. Winter will do it sometimes; snow can provide the psychogeographers dream of fresh sightlines through the familiar, "entrances uncovered."
Enforced absences are not immediately detectable. Ghost towns, clearances, villages requisitioned in wartime or for drowning under dams.. they cling to the life we find in them for a while, before doors rust shut forever and gardens burst thier boundaries and the elements move in.
Then there are towns under curfew and lockdown; the passing show reduced to withdrawal into the spaces behind these doors and windows, and then into the spaces within them.
When we emerge and fill the streets again, how will we react to each other? Some will be effervescent and huggy, others will find crowds and queues difficult, pubs will overflow with curdling bonhomie.
Some decompression time will be needed.
These are the days your grandchildren will bore thier grandchildren with. Folk memory will emerge too; not just of shortages and sorrow but of intimacy, distance, rumour and unreliable wisdom, of
security with family and an odd silence and stillness on the other side of the door.
Keep safe folks, and see you soon.
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