Why should preschool children learn photography?
Preschool children are very curious and eager to explore the world around them. Children who take photos will learn to observe the details in their environment, developing their observation and perception skills. Photography can also help develop their motor skills as they learn to hold the camera and press the shutter button correctly. Learning photography can also encourage confidence and independence in children, as they learn new skills and feel proud of their accomplishments. Additionally, photography can help children learn about new technologies and tackle the challenges brought about by the technological world. With help, children can create exhibitions of their photographs. These can be a great opportunity for them to learn about other cultures. This builds confidence and empathy.

This project has presented quite a challenge for me, as the children are very young. Coordinating eyes, hands, and pressing the shutter button can be a problem. Many of the photographs were aimed at the ground because the child was focusing only on the shutter button and not on framing. Some children needed my help to support the camera as their hands were still too weak. However, I wanted to start early enough so that I could accompany and challenge them until they reach the age of six, when they enter school. The children were very motivated when it came to photography and couldn't wait to have their turn to take pictures. When I started this project, there was always a crowd of other children around the one taking the pictures. At the beginning, I showed them the basics of how to aim the camera and press the shutter button. Then I let them manipulate the camera themselves. After a few days of manipulation, I started directing them towards framing their shots. I guided them by saying things like "Look, you can take a picture of the toy on the table" and "Find the red block and take a picture of it." The children slowly became more attentive to what they saw on the screen.

The children were all very different from each other in their understanding, perception, and coordination so I adjusted my approach to each individual. Some quickly grasped the basic instructions and soon started looking for their own shots, taking pictures of their friends playing, their teachers, toys, decorations, and more. Others needed more guidance, more precise instructions, and, above all, a lot of repetition. Some children lost interest in taking pictures after their initial curiosity.

When reviewing the photographs with the children, I was careful to comment on what I saw, saying things like, "Ah, I see you took a picture of a dinosaur." I refrained from evaluating the shots or the photographs themselves. At this age, I think it's most important for the child to fall in love with this kind of activity. The process is currently more important than the final product. However, when they have mastered the basics, I will take a more critical approach to the process of photography - from framing to commenting - and guide them towards self-reflection.

I also wanted to introduce the children to the entire process of photography, from pressing the shutter button to printing the photograph. So, I took them to the computer room, where we transferred and reviewed the photographs on the computer. Some children recognised their own photographs. Together, we chose the best ones, and the children even saw the printing process. Later, we created an exhibition of their photographs in the playroom, which they still enjoy looking at today.

​I was surprised to see that at this age, some children already showed a sense of photography and camera operation. Some children quickly mastered the camera without any special help. 

Jon Nicholls, Thomas Tallis School

As promised, here is part two of a blog about subjectification in (photography) education, in response to the ideas of Gert Biesta. As I mentioned in the first part of this blog post, Biesta's ideas are sophisticated and carefully argued and I don't pretend to grasp every nuance. I really do encourage you to read them yourselves, in the original. Nevertheless, I'd like to refer to a few ideas here in order to suggest that we photography teachers have a special duty to consider the ethical dimensions of our practice.

Note: Unless otherwise stated, all the quotations are from Gert Biesta's World Centred Education, Routledge 2022

Biesta offers a stark reminder about what's at stake here. In the race to the top of the league tables and ever greater competition between schools, students are at risk of being made the objects of various interventions:

This argument might sound, to some ears, like the kind of typical view of a die-hard 1970s 'progressive', an "enemy of promise". I'm sure you are familiar with this kind of dismissive put-down which features prominently in many Twitter debates. Biesta is keen to side-step the traditional vs progressive binary. He is a defender of teaching and schools and although his ideas are informed by many progressive thinkers, my own sense is that his theoretical standpoint isn't so easily pigeon-holed. If we might be tempted to consider the quotation above as a bit 'soft' or too 'child-centred' (insert your own EduTwitter put-down here), he is quick to remind us of the historical context:

He contrasts democracy with populism. In the "impulse society" we are told repeatedly that we can have whatever we want. ​

​If one of education's primary goals is to ensure that something like Auschwitz never happens again, it must undermine, disrupt and challenge the objectification of young people, and promote subjectification. In order to illustrate the meaning of the (rather odd) word 'subjectification', Biesta refers to the Parks/Eichmann paradox.

In 1955, Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on a Montgomery bus, defying the driver's authority to assign her seat. In his 1961 trial, Adolf Eichmann, architect of the mass deportation of Jews and others to the Nazi extermination camps, denied responsibility for the consequences of his actions using the argument that he was just following orders. Which of these people, asks Biesta, was the best student - the defiant Parks whose action initiated the Montgomery Bus Boycott, or the compliant Eichmann, who carried out his orders precisely and efficiently? Which person has been more successfully educated?

Rosa Parks chose to resist what she considered to be an unjust situation. Adolf Eichmann removes himself as subject from the equation when he delegates the responsibility for his actions. He fails to show up as an "I" when he claims to be just following orders. Biesta argues that this paradox illustrates precisely why learning (qualification) and development (socialisation) is not enough. What will I do with what I have learned and how I have developed when it matters, when I am faced with the question "Hey, you there, where are you?"

Turning our attention to photography education, how might we open ourselves up to a more balanced view of the purposes of our lessons so that we can find more space for subjectification. Biesta, and others, provide us with several clues about how this might be achieved.

There's been plenty of heated debate about the role of knowledge in education. This has prompted some interesting responses from visual arts educators - additional Art History classes, for example. It's a bit of straw person argument in the sense that no-one (I know) is advocating for a knowledge poor curriculum. The issue though is that knowledge isn't enough if it doesn't make sense to the student. As others like Michael Young have argued, knowledge is powerful if it challenges or extends what is already known. Powerful knowledge is disruptive. It is the world calling to the student, but not a world they are necessarily familiar with. The teacher's role is therefore to stage encounters with this new knowledge and to help students step into the frame of that knowledge so that it can make sense. Teachers live in this frame and it's easy to forget what it's like to be outside it. Biesta uses the example of his confusion during maths lessons and his frustrated teacher exclaiming "But can't you see it?" Each student may need a personal invitation, a key with which to unlock the door and appear in the frame.

The PhotoPedagogy contribution to this effort takes the form of Threshold Concepts. These ideas about photography are intentionally troublesome. I often use the analogy of an attic or jumble sale. An invitation is made to cross the threshold into a space that is full of potentially fascinating stuff. There are few labels or sign posts to get started but it's up to the student to rummage around and find something they perhaps didn't even know they were looking for. 

This is one of my favourite photographer quotations because I find it both beautiful and intensely puzzling. As David Campany and Stanley Wolukau-Wanambwa have reminded us recently, photographs are indeterminate and ambiguous. They promise to tell us something about reality but really only show us the light bouncing off a surface. There is something radically open about photographs, almost despite how they look. Perhaps the attitude needed by photographers, then, is a parallel openness, a willingness to be affected. Robert Frank seems to suggest that we might start by listening, very carefully, to what the world wants from us.

Hearing is entirely dependent on sound that comes from outside. We can't intend it. It requires a different kind of attentiveness than the other senses, a certain amount of vulnerability and openness to what will be given to us. What we hear will be a surprise to us, not something we can intentionally control.

​The sense of smell is invoked by photographer Peter Fraser to describe his (almost uncontrollable) receptivity to both external and internal stimuli:

How can we, therefore, encourage our students to hear (or smell) with their eyes, adopting a radical openness to the world and its gifts, allowing themselves to be affected? Knowing only gets you so far. A state of not knowing is also vital for those of us who wish to be the subjects of our own lives.

If democracy is to be defended and strengthened, Biesta argues, education should be concerned with freedom. But this is not the 'freedom' of the Libertarian market. We must learn to come into relationship with our desires, to test whether other people and the world with its limited resources can tolerate them. Are our desires desirable? Biesta calls this a 'grown up' way of living in and with the world, as opposed to an 'infantile' or 'ego-logical' relationship. He reminds us that this is not a matter of age. Young people are capable of being 'grown up' in this way, just as some adults remain 'infantile' in relation to their desires. Both the world and, more specifically, other people provide resistance. The job of visual arts teachers, therefore, is to encourage students to acknowledge and meet this resistance. 

We may want to impose our will on the materials with which we work - a lump of clay, a blank sheet of paper, a camera etc. These materials will inevitably resist our intentions and we will need to adjust accordingly. Despite appearances, things are not inert. They may push back against our desire to manipulate them. For young people, this resistance can be frustrating and dispiriting. As teachers, we can support students to understand that things are not without their own agency. This ecological attitude supposes that we are all bound together in a constantly shifting network of relationships. 

Biesta's concern with the form of teaching leads him to conclude that its fundamental educational gesture is that of pointing. When we point we show something to someone. We redirect someone's attention, turning their gaze towards the world. Crucially, pointing is beautiful because it is not about control. "Hey you, look there!" is an attempt to redirect the gaze but it does not force the student to do as we wish. It is an open gesture, it opens the world to the student and, potentially, opens the student to the world. The world, however, is not a "playground for the student's desires". Whatever freedom is generated by our pointing is the freedom to exist as subject 'in' and 'with' the world in a grown-up way.

When we point our cameras at the world, there is an implied redirection of the viewer's gaze. We are saying "Hey you, look there." But this gesture of pointing goes in two directions. We gesture out to the world and the world gestures back at us. The world exists in its own right. It is real. It does not exist simply to be an object for us. It resists us, "puts limits on what we can do with it, what we can want from it and how we can make sense of it." Because photography puts us into direct relationship with the world (the world, after all, is already full, not a blank page or canvas on which we can project our desires) it can speak to us if we are paying attention. As photography teachers, we can help to nurture this sensitivity in our students so that they recognise when the world might be calling to them, asking them a question. This is a subjectifying moment or event.

So much of current educational discourse (perhaps influenced by the learning sciences) seems focused on the removal of risk from the educational equation. And yet, when we remove risk we take away what is educational. We diminish the agency of our students to refuse, to walk away, to resist, to become subjects of their own lives. Biesta refers to this as "the beautiful risk of education". Schools need to provide the time and space for students to work through the question of their own freedom - what is the world (social and natural) asking from me? Teachers need to provide them with support and sustenance so that they can stay with this question. There is no way to control how students will respond when the world calls to them. The risk of subjectification needs to be shared and this is a test of the strength of a democracy.

Teaching is as mysterious and ineffable to me now as it was when I started 32 years ago. The same is true for photography and I suppose that's why both endeavours are so fascinating to me. If you've got this far, thank you for your patience. I hope I have provided you with some food for thought and a little sustenance for the year ahead. 

Jon NIcholls, Thomas Tallis School

​The sub-heading for this blog is "occasional musings about photography education". Since we haven't posted anything for over a year, this is something of an understatement. Nevertheless, a new academic year is fast approaching and I have what my wife refers to as "new satchel syndrome" and so here are a few thoughts about teaching.

A brief health warning: 

1. Nearly all of what I'm about to write is based entirely on the work of Gert Biesta, particularly his most recent book World Centred Education (which I strongly recommend every teacher, regardless of specialism, reads). In a relatively long career, I have read numerous education texts but it's no exaggeration to say that none of them has made more sense to me than this one.
2. I am not a philosopher nor an expert on ethics. Therefore, all these thoughts are offered in a spirit of amateur enthusiasm and I welcome any and all feedback about my weak logic.
3. I have divided this post into two parts. Part 1 sets up the argument. Part 2 attempts to answer the question posed at the end of Part 1. The alternative would have been a very long read!

In my experience, when teachers (including me) begin the process of thinking about a new year, uppermost in their minds is what to teach. This might mean returning to successful schemes of work (those which excite students and seem to generate decent results). The more energetic and enterprising may begin to write lists of ideas, materials and processes for new projects (perhaps related to brilliant exhibitions or artists they discovered on their summer holidays). Some may even begin to tentatively sketch out new resources or even whole schemes of work. Most of us will be reflecting on the summer exam results and wondering what worked, what might need tweaking for the coming year and what needs consigning to the dustbin of history.
I wonder how many teachers begin their planning for the new year thinking about ethics?

I took this picture on the recent TUC march in central London. There were loads of brilliant, hand-made signs. My favourite (which I failed to photograph) simply said:

This one came a close second. It got me thinking (again) about the importance of ethics in education. So much of educational discourse is dominated by the "what works" agenda. There is so much pressure on teachers and leaders to 'produce' results that it's easy to lose sight of some fairly fundamental issues concerning the how (pedagogy) and the why (ethics) of education.

I feel very fortunate to work in a local authority state comprehensive school which affords me a high level of professional autonomy. I have friends and colleagues in less fortunate circumstances. What, and to some extent how, they teach is very strictly policed. I am fully aware of my privileged position. Moreover my headteacher chaired a national commission which produced a Framework for Ethical Leadership in Education. But ethics isn't just for school leaders. I suppose what I'm suggesting is that all of us could spend a bit more time reflecting on the purposes of education.

This is where the brilliant Biesta is so helpful. There's no substitute for reading Biesta's lucid, closely-argued but accessible texts. All I can hope to do is cherry-pick the bits that appeal to me and encourage you to seek out the rest for yourselves. There are some very good clips of him speaking on YouTube.

How much professional development time is taken up with discussions about either the curriculum, techniques for more effective dissemination of the curriculum (including how to support students with SEND), exam preparation and behaviour management? My guess would be approaching 100%. Biesta proposes that there are three domains of education: qualification, socialisation and subjectification (see diagram above). He argues that these domains ought to be kept in balance. My experience tells me that we spend a disproportionate amount of time considering issues related to qualification, less time thinking about socialisation and almost no time at all exploring subjectification. But what do these terms mean?

Qualification - knowledge and skills (what students need to know and be able to do)
Socialisation - cultures, traditions and practices (how we do things here)
Subjectification - the freedom to act or refrain from acting as a person

Subjectification is a tricky concept and one that seems (to me) to be less important in CPD planning and provision. Biesta offers this further explanation (my italics):

What's photography education all about?

​No-one would deny that photography education should be concerned with knowledge, skills, cultures and traditions. But If we accept, for a moment, that education should also be oriented towards the freedom of the individual, what implications does that view have on our day-to-day practice in the classroom? And how might we engage our students in reflecting on the relationship between photography and (their) freedom? 

Tune in again soon (hopefully not as long as the last gap between blog posts!) for Part 2, in which I offer some thoughts on the subjectification of photography education.

Hi, I’m Daniel. I’m a New Zealand based photographer and educator. Prior to the COVID-19 pandemic I had been working 3 months on/off in China. I was contracted by a New Zealand polytechnic to deliver a programme of lens-based media and visual culture to Chinese students in the city of Huangshi (100km from the more well-known Wuhan). The aim was to prepare Chinese students for further study abroad. Huangshi, population almost 3 million, is historically an industrial mining city but has more recently promoted itself as a picturesque tourist destination with its lake, mountains and the Yangtze River.

Prior to working in China, I had completed a MFA specialising in photography and moving image at Massey University, Wellington in 2016. It was during this study that I had participated in a 2-week artist residency in Singapore and, while there, discovered the work of Shanghai photography duo, ‘Birdhead’ in a local art gallery exhibition. Birdhead’s casual attitude and use of traditional Chinese craft techniques seemed refreshing to me. Until this point I had largely been influenced by European innovators such as Juergen Teller, the more subtle Anders Edström, and well-known Japanese photographer, Araki. My MFA research focused on the atmospheric street photography of Japanese Provoke era photographers such as Takuma Nakahira and Daido Moriyama along with younger digital photographers who were producing work in dialogue with emergent internet technologies and aesthetics. So even before I set foot within The Middle Kingdom, my interest in aspects of Asian aesthetics was piqued, and I appreciated the degree of sensitivity towards practices of observation that are perhaps not as developed within Western photography traditions.

I began my first teaching contract in China in 2017 and had built a lifestyle around spending half the year in China teaching and working on personal photography projects, and the other half freelancing as a photographer in Wellington, New Zealand. Prior to my first contract in China I had taught at several NZ based institutions, where I had developed a somewhat free and open student-driven pedagogy, while being nimbly receptive to student need and desire. But my immersion into the Chinese university system was an abrupt culture shock, which offered both personal learnings, and opportunities for innovation within my teaching practice.

At this point I should note that my Chinese language ability was poor (albeit I’m now attending Mandarin night classes in New Zealand), and the English language abilities of individual students was diverse. Additional challenges to teaching in China were around technology and access to research material related to the topics we covered. The students each had a portable computer or tablet and a mobile phone, and local internet access, and most but not all of my teaching rooms had a projector for delivery of teaching materials. I was supported by a translator (human), and while this slowed the flow of dialogue between myself and students, it did enable a workable starting point to explore ideas specific to Western art history and contemporary photography practices, within a Chinese context. I’m grateful for the students' patience as I adapted to the new environment in those early weeks of teaching.

I have made use of a few of the teaching plans found on photopedgaogy.com as shorter warm-up projects before the students embark on their main assignments. A lesson plan I found particularly useful was ‘Wrong’. Based on John Baldessari’s artwork of the same name, the project introduced students to postmodernism in a way that directly activated their willingness to explore unconventional composition in photography and consider by what/whose standards an image is judged. I found this to be an excellent point of departure to explore post-modernism in more depth and allow students to express their own culture and aesthetic sensibility within the post modern paradigm. Using post-it notes was a useful way to engage the students to share their thinking with the group, though as teaching has now shifted to online classes, I have replaced physical post-it notes with Padlet.

'How I see things' is a new series of posts from guest contributors. The idea is to present an individual viewpoint about some aspect of photography education. The way we teach is intimately connected to our experiences, our knowledge and our interests. We are delighted that Meg Wellington-Barratt has kindly agreed to kick us off with a thoughtful post exploring her own photography education, her experiences as a student and teacher, her research interests and a plea for more and better photoliteracy in schools. 

I started out wanting to photograph animals. Travelling around the world capturing wildlife was the dream. As a teenager I was besotted with American punk rock and the culture that accompanied it. Then it was extreme sports. I carried disposable cameras everywhere, compelled to photograph and not really knowing why. ​

The photographic education I received was mixed, mostly because I wasn’t a brilliant student. Studying A-level Photography was the key to developing my knowledge of genre, technique and image analysis. I had no breakthrough moment, no big ideas and I still wasn’t sure if it was something I wanted to pursue beyond school. Like most 17-year olds, I was pretty lost. I’m glad of this experience now as a teacher because I can empathise with students’ struggles.
​
I fell into photography as a degree choice and decided to combine it with psychology at a middle of the road university. I received no help with UCAS and, coming from a small seaside town, it was an unwritten rule that we had to leave quickly or resign ourselves to being there forever. I chose the former, rushed my university options and attended no open days. Despite not having flashy facilities, or being top of the league table, we were given the bones of an excellent photographic education - we were taught to stop and look. Tom Wood was one of my visiting tutors and, after a gruelling group critique, he invited me on a shoot in North Wales. He turned up to the shoot with 3 decorators’ lamps and camera kit in a Tesco trolley. He doesn’t drive, so seeing him lugging this kit with him to a student charity shop photoshoot really helped me pay attention. He took every moment of every shoot as seriously as the last and placed no more or less value on this day despite the grim weather. I was full of admiration for this. Gobsmacked in fact. It was there and then I started to take my work much more seriously. He spoke to me at length about my degree project, a study of my grandmother. I read in an article recently that photography students often focus on safe spaces or stories before trying out their skills on unfamiliar subjects. This is what I did. I lacked confidence and was dragging my heels. Tom Wood said, “She won’t be here forever”. With that, photography became my obsession.

I adore photobooks. Currently, I love Stephen Gill’s books. I attended his excellent talk at Martin Parr’s BOP festival in Bristol. It helped me understand his process. The Pillar was a Christmas addition to my growing library and is as valuable to me as Tom Wood turning up with his trolley. I feel photography departments should all have a copy of Nan Goldin’s Ballad of Sexual Dependency. Students are always in awe of Goldin’s images when they are first introduced to her work. It means so much more to them seeing it in a book than on screen, although it’s good to remind them that the project started life as a slideshow with music! Photobooks always inspire students. Choices about types of paper, scale and binding help students see that photobooks can be a vehicle for delivering their visual stories.

I don’t see as many photography exhibitions as I would like to. The last one that I really enjoyed was last year’s Format Festival in Derby. I enjoy a group exhibition much more than a solo exhibition. I enjoy thinking about curators’ choices, how context affects the meaning of photographs. Craig Easton’s Sixteen was poignant and benefited from an unusual location. It screamed first job, first social experiences, first memories as a teenager. Seeing the work of Kensuke Koike at Format helped me get a stuck student out of a rut. I approach exhibitions as both a photographer and a teacher. I am thoroughly looking forward to seeing Hannah Starkey at the Hepworth Gallery.

I feel that students get the most inspiration from looking at physical books and photographs, seeing work in exhibitions and experiencing life. However many Pinterest boards they look at, however many photographers I give them, the most powerful influence is often something they’ve discovered, seen or been through themselves. I highly recommend students listen to Ben Smith’s A Small Voice podcast. I discovered it last year and it has really helped fill a gap. The process and experience of a photographer making work is something I spend a lot of time thinking about. Hearing them talk candidly for an hour with brilliant host Ben is particularly refreshing. I often have it on in the background during A-level lessons. The best thing about discovering it late is that I have so many back episodes to get through! The Daniel Meadows episode was an enjoyable listen, as was Ian Weldon’s. The Photographer’s Playbook is a brilliant resource for students who want to expand their practice, but it works equally as well for students who have no ideas and for me when I’m short on ideas for assignments. Photography magazines are a widely overlooked resource too. They combine the fresh practitioner perspectives and thematic curation with tactile presentation and decision making. I subscribe to British Journal of Photography, Foam, and Source but there are dozens more.

Carving out research in photographic education is difficult. There isn’t a whole lot out there but I knew I wanted to contribute my own work to the field. I originally started a practice-based PhD exploring themes of domestic representation in family albums, but quickly became lonely and disenchanted. It was working in schools and colleges that spurred me on. I have taught the subject for eight years now, and it was what I was seeing in the classroom (or not seeing perhaps) that helped me decide to research photography education.

There are no set models for teaching photography and most of what exists is based on art and design practice or historic pedagogies. Photography is so important for students but not only as a standalone subject. Students need to be able to analyse and interpret the imagery they see every day, and photography skills help them do this. Equally, learning how to analyse photographs helps make them better photographers. I am interested in the process of photographic education - what is taught, who is teaching it, what the students are taking photographs of and why. There are several related strands.

For example, a recent paper I have been working on explores the use of photography across the wider curriculum. Another examines the educational backgrounds of the teachers teaching the subject. I plan to work with Source Magazine’s Graduate Photo Online to conduct research into themes and patterns across higher education student work. The collector/obsessive in me wants to know everything, so a doctorate helps to placate this need.

As a teacher of photography, I notice daily what students lack in terms of knowledge and skills and this encourages me to try and fill these gaps with my research discoveries. Students sometimes cannot interpret meaning in imagery, even on the simplest level, and it is my belief that this has come from a desensitisation caused by the sheer number of pictures they are exposed to. A new level of visual literacy, or photoliteracy, is needed. It is also my belief that if photographic literacy was embedded properly and thoroughly across the wider curriculum, then it could pave the way for photography teachers to work together to build a strong and suitable model that suits both the needs of the wider education field and most importantly, photography students.

It's amazing what you can pick up on a PhotoPedagogy CPD course: inspiration, ideas, a soggy old boot...
When an event comes with complementary hand-sanitiser and protective gloves the warning signs are evident: Be prepared to roll your sleeves up and crack on. Thankfully we were addressing a room full of dedicated artists and teachers - so  little cause for concern on our part. That said, while we anticipated collecting something on this two-day adventure, we couldn't have predicted the bags of energy, creativity and good humour that participants would arrive with, and then share so generously along the way. Working with this collective of artists and participants was an absolute treat - good people, sharing, experimenting, getting lost, making strange noises...

Here's how our time together unfolded...

Both days began at Tate Exchange, Tate Modern, with tea, coffee and pastries. How each day would end was far less planned - albeit all part of the plan: uncertainty, discovery and getting lost were some of the key themes (and challenges of teaching photography) that we would be confronting. Jon and I had decided to host a day each, with the responsibility of Day 1 in my hands. In short, the opening presentation was related to provoking authentic experiences in the classroom and beyond. You can view the slides below (which might make more or less sense without the accompanying mutterings):

To start, attendees were asked to reflect on a recent gallery visit, and then to recall a specific detail - something seemingly insignificant, but a memory nevertheless. These were then recorded on masking tape for subsequent display in the space - group pop-up poems, of a sort. This was a simple exercise to encourage early collaboration and sharing, also a means of claiming the room as our own.

I concluded my presentation with an image of a student project (see Slide 35, above), inspired by the work of Danny Treacy. Danny's practice has long fascinated me so it was a treat to hand over to him as our lead artist for Day 1. 
​

Danny works primarily with photography, his process led practice also incorporating elements of sculpture, performance, collecting, archaeology and anthropology. His presentation was fascinating. Danny spoke with honesty and humour about the challenges of being an artist - at times feeling lost, but then trusting intuition, experimentation and curiosity as a means of revealing new pathways. Danny's presentation certainly covered some ground too, from the banks of the River Thames to the migrant paths across Mexico.

Danny concluded his presentation with an outline of a practical activity - an invitation to journey to The Photographers' Gallery in small groups; noticing, documenting, collecting as we travelled. Hand sanitiser, disposable gloves, maps and instant cameras were distributed; a half-way meeting point was established for some further group experimenting. 

Regardless of the rain, dampening clothes but not spirits, there was something elemental within this collective urban harvesting. Danny had focused our attention to the influences of nature on how and where detritus might gather. I found myself not only looking for objects disregarded, overlooked or under-considered, but also reading the architecture in new ways. I felt freshly alert to the corners, cavities, and crevasses of the city - the potential nets, pockets and catch-alls of evidence of human presence and absence.

A stop off en-route, under the shelter of Royal Festival Hall, South Bank, allowed for Danny to lead a brief practical workshop. It was also a chance for groups to catch up and share their spoils; and for Jon and I to work out who we might have lost already (I'll maintain he was in charge of head-counting). Thankfully everyone made it to The Photographers' Gallery in good time, still smiling too.

After some very welcome refreshments, it was time to collectively reconsider the objects and experiences that had been harvested. Within his talk Danny had already touched upon the affordances of photography as a means of researching, evidencing, documenting, and art-making. Groups then had the chance to re-present and record their findings, constructing Still Lives within a controlled studio set-up. Prior to developing these displayed responses, participants also had the opportunity to visit and consider the current shows at The Photographers' Gallery.

As Day 1 drew to a close, Jolie Hockings, TPG's Curator, Schools and Young People, took the opportunity to share some of the excellent opportunities and partnerships that TPG provide for students and educators. Each group then revealed insights into their practical responses. The positive energy in the room was tangible. There was a wonderful sense of collaboration and shared experience; the outcomes (produced with limited time and resources too) were remarkably diverse - sensitive, playful, humorous; authentic.

With Day 1 complete, and time to spare prior to our evening meal, it was off to the pub. Now, which way did you say it was?

Encouraging everyone to get lost might seem like an unusual welcome to Day 2 of Still Moving but we always enjoy a spot of creative mischief at PhotoPedagogy Towers.

It was deeply gratifying that the majority of those who signed up to our event had done so for both days. Consequently, we were able to welcome back lots of friendly faces to Tate Exchange and make a few new friends too. We'd lost the rain and replaced it with late winter sunshine. Thankfully we had not lost the energy and enthusiasm generated during Day 1, so we were all ready to disappear once again into the beautiful labyrinth that is photography education.

We began the day by writing postcards. Working in pairs, colleagues shared stories about their personal experiences of being lost - physically, existentially, temporarily, hopefully. They then wrote what they remembered of these stories on postcards, a simple act of translation. They were then asked to return the postcards to the story tellers so that they could, in turn, 'lose' them in the city later in the day, either giving them to a stranger or leaving them somewhere to be 'found' at a later date. A gift, of sorts.

Both Chris and Danny had touched on the idea of lostness in their presentations and activities on Day 1 but it felt appropriate to burrow into this in greater depth on Day 2. With our Threshold Concepts in mind, each one a gateway into the not yet fully known, my presentation argued for the importance of searching, following, drifting and puzzling in the way we devise the photography curriculum. Could students be taken on an adventurous, circuitous journey of discovery? How might we encourage them to trust their intuitions and get off the beaten track? The labyrinthine quality of teaching and learning photography is perfectly expressed by the great Luigi Ghirri:

My hope was that we could collectively set off on Day 2 prepared to innocently enter the labyrinthine spaces of the city, meandering purposefully through several Threshold Concepts along the way. Luckily, I could rely on the sensitivity and empathy of our guide and lead artist for the day, Tereza Červeňová. 

Both Chris and I had been to see Tereza's wonderful exhibition at Brighton Photo Biennial in October. Our students had responded really sensitively to her pictures and we knew we wanted to work with her on our Tate Exchange project. Her practice is characterised by close attention to subtle atmospheres and care, both for the people she works with and the materials she handles. Using only analogue processes, Tereza's ongoing project 'June' documents her response to the current political climate in the UK and beyond, her sense of belonging and the implications of Brexit. Her talk explored the origins of her practice, her difficult experiences as a fashion model, the therapeutic role that photography has played in her life and the struggles of being a student. She is a recent graduate of the MA in photography at the Royal College of Art and spoke about the challenges of her chosen way of working, the demands of formal education and the need to pursue an authentic and personal vision. She spoke honestly about her own experiences of feeling lost and the opportunities afforded by photography to find a way through doubt and uncertainty. She brought along the version of her beautifully bound photobook version of 'June' that was on show in Brighton, bearing the scars of hundreds of pairs of hands.

Following a brief Q&A we arranged to meet again at Spitalfields Market for lunch and everyone set off on various routes through the city.

Gathered a little later on the steps of Christ Church Spitalfields, we compared journeys, lunch menus and discussed our next dérive to Autograph. As the crow flies it's a short stroll, but we were keen for everyone to take the scenic route, either individually or in pairs, to concentrate on noticing and making photographs. Following Tereza's practice of responding to eloquent details and subtle gestures, taking time and care and responding to the rich history of immigration and creativity evident in the area, we set off to explore the psychogeography of nearby streets.

Autograph (formerly Autograph ABP) is a wonderful institution, collecting, exhibiting and celebrating the work of Black and Minority Ethnic photographers. We had worked with Ali Eisa, their public programme coordinator, at our previous Tate Exchange event in February 2018, and we were delighted to have him on board again this year. After rejuvenating tea and biscuits, Ali took us to see the powerful and immersive sound, video, drawing and photography installation by Phoebe Boswell exhibited  across both floors of the gallery. Appropriately titled 'The Space Between Things', Boswell documents her experience of physical, psychological and emotional trauma with the aid of charcoal, drones and angiography.

Back at the study space, the group were led through a sequence of drawing workshops, exploring ideas of description, translation, chance and control. For example, working in pairs, one colleague described a photograph from the Autograph archive whilst another attempted to draw it with their eyes closed using one of a range of unusual tools (charcoal attached to long sticks proved to very popular). We worked on rolls of paper which were subsequently haphazardly taped to the walls. We projected photographs taken on the day over the drawings at an odd angle, creating distorted views, and then experimented with devising, recording and ultimately reciting short, poetic phrases inspired by the Boswell exhibition. You can see a video document of this impromptu performance below:

This was a wonderful way to end our two day adventure - a collaborative smorgasbord of expanded photographic practice laced with big dollops of creative mischief.

We would like to thank all the participants who put their trust in us over the two days, giving up part of their half term holiday or offers of work to get a little lost with us. We are also grateful to our two lead artists, to our wonderful colleagues at Tate, The Photographers' Gallery and Autograph, for helping to make both days so enjoyable. We always learn such a lot from working with passionate and dedicated colleagues and we hope the event is another way of developing a network of photography educators who will continue to collaborate on projects and reflect on imaginative ways to teach our wonderful subject. Please feel free to leave a comment here or get in touch with us. We'd love to have some feedback from participants and readers of the blog which will help us plan our next event.

​-- Jon and Chris

I can't remember how or when I first encountered @thofolio on Instagram, but my curiosity has been slowly cooking ever since. Here - there - was something, someplace else. Authentic encounters from an unfamiliar edge land of England. With no accompanying bio or website link I settled for my own imaginings of the photographer at work: an MA graduate returned home to reconnect (a childhood love of horses ever-present); an established documentary photographer, swapping tales with sparky teenagers for a place in their here and now; a young photographer-savant, even, that kid with the camera, all adidas and intuition...

Enough. I decided to send a direct message, a 'thank-you', mainly, for the regular breaths of fresh air in my feed (notwithstanding a little grit or charcoal ember). But also, hopefully, a chance to find out more and celebrate this wonderful work wider. Thankfully, Alan - Alan Thoburn, photography educator, as it turns out - agreed.  Below are his generous responses. 

Could you tell us a little bit about your background and how your interest in, and understanding of Photography has unfolded?
I have always had an interest in the photographic image, even as a child. I was, and still am also very interested in all visual art, but photography seemed to have a special magic. Eventually, at the age of about 20, I began to take my photographs ‘properly’. I went on to study a HND and then a degree, with a view to becoming a professional commercial photographer. While at college, I became more interested in ‘fine art’ photography and began to mainly take that kind of approach to my work. I currently teach photography at degree level at Newcastle College, after progressing from a technician role there.

It seems that you are very immersed within the communities that you shoot within, could you tell us a little more?
I became very engaged with the landscape where I live - classic post-industrial ‘edge lands’, sub-rural kinds of places. (Coincidentally, as many writers, artists and photographers also began to explore such places). I don’t really like to think of myself as a landscape photographer, but it is always the main presence in my pictures. Whilst doing this work, I became quite friendly with some of the people who inhabit and use these spaces - for tethering horses etc. - and began to photograph them. It’s not really ever been social documentary, but more a kind of metaphor for change. I should add, all of my work is ‘work in progress’. I don’t think I have yet produced anything final, or even successful. I’m still working on all that. 

What camera(s) or devices do you use?
I shoot on a Nikon D700 and Fuji X100. Short fixed lenses are very important to me. I don’t do much post production, just brightness and contrast etc. I’m always looking for a straight image with accurate tones.
 
What are your further photography hopes/ambitions?
I would love to have a photo book published (by Steidl – please!) a book is a real lasting legacy I feel.

Which photographers have been influential on your work?
My influences are many I suppose. I now tend to prefer work which is nothing like mine, but it has mainly been Eggleston, Paul Graham, Robert Adams, Raymond Moore...
 
What advice would you offer a young student of photography?
Most of my work probably stems from my own childhood experiences - I wish I had had a camera growing up! There was always something interesting/crazy going on in the 1960s housing development where I grew up, but I missed it all! So - young people - try and record your lives and world when you are young. You will be amazed how it changes.

With many thanks to Alan Thoburn. www.alanthoburn.com​ Instagram: @thofolio 

With our 2 day CPD event for photography teachers fast approaching - Still Moving: The Psychogeography of the Gallery Visit - I've been reflecting on themes of exploration and discovery, and the affordances of our surrounding environments for such mischief. And then, with such thoughts bubbling, I arrived at a familiar Instagram feed, @thom_smith, where it occurred to me that: a. This was a feed I always enjoyed - poetic understated; entirely fitting with current concerns; and b. I didn't really know who @thom_smith was, but it would be nice to know more - to say hi and thank-you, and see if he'd be happy to answer a few questions. Thankfully, for the benefit of all, he willingly obliged.

Could you tell us a little bit about your background and how your interest in Photography has evolved?
I’ve been a practicing Architect for the past 7 years, I studied in Nottingham and did my masters at UCL. I'm originally from Sheffield and did an OCN course in Photography before I started at university. I'm currently based in London but I tend to travel out of the city to take photographs. I do find it harder to see photographs in London. I am usually more inspired and observant in places I have not visited before - but London is great for photography exhibitions and bookshops.

 What camera(s)/devices do you use?​
I use a digital mirrorless camera and have recently bought a flash and set of filters which I have been experimenting with. This is pretty unscientific, although I have been enjoying some of the results. For me, it’s good not to get too overburdened technically, to just focus on the image.

Do you travel specifically to take photographs?
I’ve recently been trying to take the approach that I should first travel to a place I would like to walk and explore, and then hopefully the photographs will follow. In the past, If I forced trying to find places, or held a predetermined idea of the photos I wanted to take, the less I would see, and the photos would often not turn out as hoped. 

How would you describe your own practice/interests?
I would say I have an interest in still life and landscapes – simple, sometimes minimalist observations – and an interest in the relationship between the man-made and natural world.

Do you have any particular inspirations - photographers (or other artists, forms of art)?
I have collected a large number of photobooks from various photographers with different styles, these are always an important point of reference. I’m not sure if being an architect has influenced my photography, it has never really featured in my work so far. I suppose some of my work focused in on details or compositions set up as elevations. Perhaps this is cross referencing, but not as a conscious decision.

Finally, what advice would you give to a student interested in pursuing a creative pathway?
The most rewarding thing about choosing a creative career is that it opens up your thinking - to question and challenge things around you, and ultimately seek a new position from what has gone before. A creative career more often than not expands a person's options. I know architects that have become graphic designers, furniture makers who have become interior designers. It's enriching and in many ways essential to have multiple creative outlets. Everything informs the other in some way.

With many thanks to Tom Smith. Instagram: @Thom_Smith
CF

I've said it before, often (probably in the last blog post): school trips are important. These shared experiences can be transformative for students. And staff. And additional others, who tag along just for fun. 

And so it transpired: Paris 2018 was a great adventure for all - 12 St Peter's students (KS5); 2 staff (myself and Sabrina, MFL teacher); and Jon Nicholls (Thomas Tallis School), picked up along the way. This post is a celebration of the event, a record for us mainly, but perhaps also inspiration for others to give it a go, because school trips are important. 

Trips don't always go to plan (our 2015 experience was testament to that), but with two weeks passed - and being certain that everyone came back (I checked again yesterday) - I'm declaring it a success; a perfect balance of inspiration, collaboration and creative hiijinks. Here's how it unfolded...

Rail travel featured prominently: Bournemouth to London, Underground to St Pancras; Eurostar to Paris. It's a great way to travel with students. The journey was long enough to feel like an adventure with enough time and space to mix as a group, and even get started in sketchbooks. With every trip we provide students with an art pack - a fun pack, if you like - which includes an A5 sketchbook, a pencil, a drawing pen, a glue stick, sweets, plus some associated nonsense - playful prompts and activities to get students (and staff) mixing and mucking about.

Following our 3.45pm arrival, and some swift negotiating of the Paris Métro, we were checking in to Hotel Ambassadeur, Montmartre, by late afternoon. For the record, as hotels go - for a school trip, at least - it was fine: a short walk from Guy Môquet station, and the staff were friendly enough, even if the embossed wallpaper had lost a little puff. No matter. A quick freshen up and we were out, cameras ready, taking to the streets for our first dérive, an introductory meander through Montmartre.

The rural village of vineyards and windmills depicted by Van Gogh is long-gone. It's the tourists that are drawn to (and drawn in) Montmartre now. But the place is still dripping with its painterly history. Gaudy and mythologised today, as it was over a century ago when Lautrec postered the streets (and a young Picasso peeled them down for inspiration). Regardless, the busy narrow streets and stage-set cafés provided students with a perfect street photography initiation. ​

Not that we had time to hang around. We were booked in at L'Atelier des Lumières, an 'immersive art experience' hosted in a converted foundry.

It was certainly a spectacle, a vast moving space with every inch playing host to projected pixels. There were two short films, animations of the work of Gustav Klimt and Hundertwasser. Disorientating at times, swirling patterns shifted left, right and centre (and up and down), occasionally interrupted with images of the artists and their histories, a loose historical narrative unfolding to an orchestral soundtrack. Mainly the students pranced and posed within the shifting graphics; clicking away, having a lovely time.

In 2015, when news of the terrorist attacks first broke, Jon and I were with two other staff and a group of 18 students, having dinner in Bouillon Chartier. As events unfolded and the scale of the tragedy (and our immediate responsibilities) dawned  upon us all, we made the call to stay put, eventually departing in the early hours to walk to the hotel. Rather than avoiding those memories we wanted to go back. It's a great restaurant, especially for groups, and it felt right to revisit. And so we did, ever-mindful of our good fortune in comparison to others. It was a positive thing to do.

Then, to finish a wonderful first evening, we embarked on a late night walk to Place de l'Opera métro station, mainly to ensure that the last reserves of energies were spent - always a shrewd move if leading a 6th form residential. It did the job. An undisturbed night ensued.

Saturday morning, after an early hotel breakfast we were back on the métro to l'Opera. It was time for students to take on a challenge: to get lost (and hopefully re-find their way), and to document the experience through photography. In unlikely pairings, students were dismissed in different directions with instructions to meet at Musée d'Orsay for 10.am - apart from Joss and Nancy, who set off to complete their own pre-planned fashion shoot.

Eventually - predictably a little late (but all accounted for) - we reunited for the delights of Musée d'Orsay. This time students set out to work independently, a concentrated period with their sketchbooks amidst a remarkable collection of work. For me at least, it was the Vuillard paintings that caught me unaware. With the benefit of close scrutiny these were remarkable - rich in understated gestures; suggestive of the growing influence of photography; anticipating of abstraction. I was absolutely taken with a new respect for the Nabis artists, prophets of an emerging modern art. 

Then, the main event: Paris Photo 2018. We grabbed a quick lunch on the move to the Grand Palais, navigating the diversions courtesy of all the world leaders in town. But we had more important people to mingle with, and Paris Photo didn't disappoint. We'd only been there a minute when legendary French film director Agnes Varda wandered by. Steps later, we encountered Joel Meyerowitz. It was that kind of afternoon. Regardless, photobooks and photographs were everywhere. We needed to get busy: this was the world's biggest photography fair. 

Three hours later, feasted, we needed to move on. We still had the Pompidou Centre to escalate. I'd promised a view of the Eiffel Tower at night, and within our tight itinerary that seemed the best option. Plus - obviously - it's full of art - everyone still wanted more, right?

A busy metro, a rainy walk, and a slow queue later, we were in and rising. The view was a little compromised, what with the rain and top floor renovations, but it didn't matter; everyone was having a great time. We made the most of 45 minutes in the gallery, and argued about Cy Twombly. 

A walk via Notre Dame led us over the river to the Latin Quarter. Pizza was top of the emergency priorities and we did well to find a quiet restaurant and set about disrupting it. Eventually, by the time we'd eaten, it was borderline bedtime for all. It had been a massive day. The students were exhausted. Thankfully Jon, confident of a short route to the metro via Montparnasse, took the lead. Let's just say by the time we crept into the hotel, everyone slept very well.

Sunday, a little time to pack up prior to heading out for the day - we'd grab that luggage later; a busy morning awaited. After a team briefing within the context of being Remembrance Day, we headed out for a group reflection. Literally. A chance to work together, experimenting with mirrors, and appreciating our freedoms to do so.

It was a perfect choice. Students wandered with jaws dropped, spontaneously muttering "This is cool". And it was. Diverse, ambitious, playful and socially aware: JR is a young artist/photographer sticking his neck out to make a difference.  My own preconceptions adjusted (as with Vuillard the day before), I settled to absorb his recent 'Guns in America' TIME magazine commission. It made for mesmerising viewing.

But the clock was ticking, and we wanted to complete one more practical exercise before heading back. We made our way to Place des Vosges, Marais, the oldest planned square in Paris, for further reflection.

And then it was time to retrace our steps - Hotel, métro, Eurostar; St Pancras. The journey back was really enjoyable, lots of laughs; a tangible sense that we were all closer for the adventure. We'd certainly filled our time and, despite the all-round exhaustion, there was excited talk of new projects and collaborations. 

Two weeks later and some of this work has already come to fruition: Year 12 photography students have collaborated with Sabrina's GCSE French class; students on the trip are hosting an exhibition of their experiences this week - to include images, installations, sound recordings, trip sketchbooks and poetry. In addition, to the students delight - unexpectedly - they received a parcel in the post after only a few days: a photobook each, courtesy of (and by) Jon, a 'thank-you' for being such good company. A typically kind gesture, and a beautiful book - Things I'd Love to Say in French - very appreciated by all. 

To Jon, Sabrina and all the students: Great job team! THANK YOU for all your enthusiasm, energy and good humour - definitely have to do that again. School trips are important.

​It's common knowledge that organising a school trip, in particular a residential one, is rarely a walk in the park. And even if it was, the prospect of a squirrel attack - or at least the associated paperwork - is usually enough to deter most teachers. Add to this increasing trip costs, alongside the bartering for student time, and it soon becomes clear why school trips are on the decline. All far from ideal, especially for Photography students ever-keen to explore the world.

This post sets out to share our recent individual experiences of school trips to Brighton Photo Biennial 2018. Hopefully it might encourage other teachers - those less-inclined or previously nervous to do so - to consider organising a similar trip of their own. There is much to be gained from these shared adventures. The prevailing memories and relationships can fuel a class for months.

Brighton Photo Biennial is a regular fixture - biennial, in fact - in our residential trip plans. It ticks all the boxes. It is also affordable, with costs kept low by using a school minibus and staying in the wonderful Brighton YHA.  Significantly, thanks to the amazing team at Photoworks, deliverers of BPB, all exhibitions are free. (Free! I know).   Coupled with Brighton Photo Fringe, the biggest challenge tends to be choosing what to see, and then balancing this with an artist talk (or two), alongside time to explore with our cameras. Anyhow, Here's how our recent weekend panned out...

We - 14 students, myself and Jasmine O'Hare (accompanying artist/teacher) - arrived early evening and headed straight out for the obligatory fish and chips on Brighton Pier. The pier provided the perfect backdrop for an introduction to night-time photography, which then led us to the beach for a first group activity. 

With this year's BPB18 theme in mind, 'A New Europe', students were challenged to imagine how it might feel to arrive on a foreign shore as a refugee - alone, cold, afraid. Of course this is not easily imagined but, mindful of not trivialising the issue through a practical activity, I wanted students to practically engage with the forthcoming BPB themes. As it was, in this moment, on an unfamiliar coastline under an imposing inky-black sky, the students set about sensitively thinking, discussing and making art together. This was a good start.

Saturday morning we headed straight to Brighton University, Grand Parade site, for The Cross Channel Photographic Mission exhibition. This insightful show features nine photographers who produced diverse work in response to the construction of The Channel Tunnel between 1987-94. This was my second visit, having previously led a PhotoPedagogy workshop for teachers as part of the opening weekend. I was keen to see how students would respond to a similar activity.

Once again, the students did not disappoint. Organised into groups of 4 and 5, they were challenged to produce a response to the exhibition in a marked-out territory 1m x 1m - a member of the group having to stay within the square at all times. Post-it notes, tape, pens, print-outs of the images on show were all available to use.

Their responses were highly imaginative and each group justified their work with integrity. These were sensitive responses to themes of movement, home, connections and edges - goose-bump inducing, in fact. 

​Next stop was Uta Kögelsberger's 'Uncertain Subjects: Part II', a series of portraits of people alienated by the Brexit vote. Presented as a performance of sorts - a series of billboard posters layered and re-layered upon a shipping container - this was a surprisingly captivating experience, the craft of the billboard paster revealing, concealing and combining various identities. We were grateful too for Uta to take time to talk to students and answer questions.

Lunchtime provided a chance for students to explore in small groups, and also to squeeze in a visit to Robin Maddock's 'Nothing We Can't Fix By Running Away'. This proved to be a popular option. Maddock's documentary adventures and mischievous combinations of images were crammed into 3 tight floors of an emptied tattoo studio, playful and provocative in equal measure.

For the afternoon activity we'd taken a punt on a Photoworks offering, reserving tickets for a debate on 'Brexit and the Arts' hosted by Simon Roberts. While Jaz and I were keen, we weren't sure how it would be received by students,  especially those recently exposed to the draw of North Laine shopping. Still, what is this job if not to expose students to new experiences and nurture restraint? We needn't have worried. Thanks to a passionate and articulate panel - Shoair Mavlian, Director of Photoworks, Mahtab Hussain, artist (recently featured on the BBC 4 documentary ‘What Do Artists Do All Day?’), Natasha Caruana, artist and Senior Lecturer of Photography at the University for the Creative Arts, Farnham, Michael Lightfoot, artist, director of Artists for Brexit, and Uta Kogelsberger, artist (see above) - students were kept alert, ever-increasingly engaged when they sensed a fight brewing. Predictably, Michael Lightfoot was swimming against the tide of opinion, unconvincingly bobbling about in a sea of Brighton-based remainers. A more convincing argument for the benefits of Brexit would have been welcomed. But nope. And so - while fair play to Michael for stepping up, his bullet-proof disposition perhaps more suited to a career in politics than the arts - we left still trying to make sense of the Brexit mess. On the plus side, students were now actively discussing the issues: "I'd never really thought about it before" commented one. "Can we go shopping now?".
​

Saturday evening, as is the BPB tradition, we headed out for a pizza, followed by some team games in the youth hostel where we walked that fine line between education and chaos. Lots of laughs all-round. Best leave it at that.

Sunday morning we headed to Brighton University, Edward Street for Émeric Lhuisset's 'L'Autre Rive' and Tereza Ćerveňová's 'June'. This was a welcomed chance for some independent study - a precious, silent hour with sketchbooks/notebooks in a quiet space, responding to the works on show. In particular students were encouraged to consider how the work had been curated, and how they might use words, quotes, song lyrics etc. to connect between images. Amongst a busy itinerary I've learnt that extended reflection time for students can be important - a reminder of how enjoyable it can be to be somewhere unfamiliar, independently engaged, creating and responding.

Next stop: Phoenix Brighton, base camp for Brighton Photo Fringe. There was so much on show here it is difficult to know where to begin. In discussion with students it was the diversity of photographic media and approaches - and presentation techniques too - that most resonated. In particular, following our recent work with Threshold Concept 2, the London Alternative Photography Collective's alternative processes were a timely encounter. In addition, the various documentary strands - from the enabling My Brighton and Hove Project, to Map6: The Shetland Project served as rich demonstrations of both the democratic nature of photography and its potential for poetic, personal expression.

Finally - fittingly, prior to heading home - we found time for one last visit, to 'Homes', Harley Weir's exhibition at Fabrica. The images, printed life-size on fabric, are a revealing insight to the temporary homes and personalised spaces (now destroyed) from within 'The Jungle', Calais' notorious refugee camp. This was an opportunity to remind students of the deceptive nature of photography - these gently billowing abstractions were not without beauty, but it was important to remember our encounter was from a position of privilege, far removed from the plight of these refugees. We were heading home, and easily able to do so.

We enjoyed a rich weekend in Brighton, a profound combination of shared laughs and meaningful encounters. Particular thanks to the team at Photoworks, and also to Jasmine O'Hare for giving her time, wisdom and energy with such enthusiasm. Next up Paris Photo 2018!

​-- Chris Francis, St. Peter's School

I confess, BPB18 was my first time. Following an invitation to co-write the teacher resources and help run a workshop on the opening weekend, I decided that I ought to take our Year 12 and 13 photographers to the seaside for a day. We picked a Tuesday when both classes would normally have photography, helping to reduce the cost of cover. Eleanor, our new recruit to the department, came along (valuable CPD) and our expert technician Yannik, who lives in Brighton, was able to join us (saving him the round trip to south London). We took 27 students in all, each paying just £8 for the train journey. All of the exhibitions were free entry. Marvellous!

Students were equipped with the BPB18 printed guide booklet (sourced prior to the visit), an annotated map of the gallery locations, an itinerary (pretty strict with approximate timings), a small print of one of the exhibition photographs with a hole cut out and a scrap of blue lighting gel. They were also given a sheet of provocations which included some ideas for things to photograph and some prohibitions:

​Some suggested strategies:

• "If your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough.” Robert Capa
• Experiment with shallow depth of field. Look for ways to partially obscure the main subject by including something out of focus in the foreground.
• Look for apertures - holes or gaps to photograph through. Use the photograph with the hole in it I gave you to frame your shot.
• Think about edges, borders and barriers.
• Look out for the colour blue. It’s a theme in the exhibitions since it suggests the sea (a physical barrier between the UK and mainland Europe) and the EU flag. What other blue things can you find?
• Notice (unintentionally) ironic signs that might refer to the current political crisis - E.g. Exit Only
• Photograph works of art from unusual angles or frame them in unexpected ways. Think about lighting and composition.
• Record some ambient sounds on your phone. These could accompany your documentary pictures at a later date.
• Experiment with photographing from different heights (a worm’s eye view is always fun).
• Try re-photographing your own photographs in unusual locations E.g. take a picture on your phone and use your camera to re-photograph it.
• How might you photograph a particular feeling - anxiety, tension, expectation, remorse, authority etc.? How do you feel about the current political situation? How can you represent this in one or more pictures?
• Photograph gaps, absences, missing elements, lost items etc.
• Create a sign and place it somewhere. What will it say? What instructions might it contain? Will it be funny, serious, surreal…? Photograph it. Notice how people react to it. Photograph them too.
• Photograph something very far away.
• Take at least three photographs without looking through your viewfinder or screen. Photograph by feel.

What to avoid:

• Generic photographs of city streets.
• Graffiti.
• People standing, looking bored, on train station platforms.
• Wide angle (Estate Agent) pictures of gallery interiors.
• Excessive portraits of your friends posing.
• Dull, wonky pictures of other people’s photographs.
• Shooting in Automatic mode.

The students had already researched the festival online and rummaged through our PhotoPedagogy teacher resources so I was fairly confident that they would have a good sense of what to expect, making best use of the limited time available.

After arrival and meeting up with Yannik, we made our way to Jubilee Street to see Uta Kögelsberger's 'Uncertain Subjects: Part II' and Heather Agyepong's 'Habitus: Potential Realities'. I was keen for the students to think about not just the images but the various ways they were displayed, their locations, scales, formats and materials. Next was a short walk to Edward Street to see Émeric Lhuisset's 'L'Autre Rive' and Tereza Ćerveňová's 'June', plus a quick peek at the reproductions from Bill Brandt's 'The English at Home'. I was really struck by both Lhuisset's and Ćerveňová's work, their personal, diaristic and poetic responses to geopolitical issues. The inclusion of Ćerveňová's beautiful book, the style of curation, the slow transformation of unfixed cyanotypes and the separation of pictures from captions, all generated interesting discussions. 

Juliette, from Photoworks, had kindly arranged for us to visit Fabrica gallery, usually closed on Tuesdays. So, after a quick lunch, we enjoyed Harley Weir's 'Homes'. The images had been enlarged and printed onto translucent fabric, hanging like banners between the old church columns. The students were able to notice the parallels between the material of the images and that of the homes featured in them, fragile and temporary structures fashioned by refugees in The Jungle. Several copies of Weir's book were available for comparison. The students were quick to spot the potential for shadowy portraits through Weir's images, although they seemed equally drawn to the pulpit, posing with a toy baby we had discovered outside the university (christened Jacob Jnr. - don't ask).

In the week before the trip, the students had experimented with making their own cyanotypes, using negative images photocopied onto acetate. I had then prepared some A1 sheets of cartridge paper with cyanotype chemicals, hoping that the weather would allow us to make some pictures on the beach. Our luck was in. The sun shone and ​we made our way down to the sea front to make our cyanotypes. I was keen for the whole group to take part in the festival, create some images and display them to anyone who was interested. Cyanotypes are relatively easy to make, referenced Émeric Lhuisset's exhibition and continued the blue theme. The beach venue provided a public stage on which to perform the collaborative making of photographs. The students would be seen engaged in an act of creativity in a liminal space between the city and the sea, on the edge of the land, facing France. Given the sense of disenfranchisement felt by many members of the group in the wake of the Brexit vote, this seemed like an appropriate response. I was also hoping it would be good fun!

To be honest, it was mayhem. A couple of volunteers threaded our school cyanotypes through a wire fence surrounding a beach front amusement swathed in tarpaulin. Others sellotaped acetates to sheets of paper, weighing them down with stones in the increasingly blustery conditions. After about 5 minutes, the sheets were hastily taken to the sea where Yannik waited with a shopping bag of water to wash them. I was so keen to document the process that I failed to prevent some students getting totally soaked. I needn't have worried. The shrieks of laughter and grinning faces conveyed the unabashed joy of those taking part. Yannik had brought along an old tape cassette with a microphone and student Jacob, well-dressed for the occasion in a jacket and tie (don't ask), adopted the role of intrepid journalist, capturing sounds and interviewing hapless tourists. You can see his hand in one of the pictures below. In school I often refer to memories of messing about in the sand pit or playing with water at nursery school as an example of the unfettered, unselfconscious experimentation I'd like to see in photography. This activity will now become my reference point for these students.

The pictures came out pretty well. I really like the creases and scratches, an index of their rough treatment on the pebbles. What I love most about them is that they were made by 27 people working together, having fun and taking a risk. I've no idea what the locals or the tourists thought of us. The seagulls took quite an interest, or perhaps they were just posing for the camera. On the way back to the train station, slightly soggy and emotional, we popped into Robin Maddock's 'Nothing We Can't Fix by Running Away' show in the Tattoo Shop. Far from running away, we were returning home to put on dry socks, eat a square meal and admire our handiwork. We were reminded that these simple pleasures are often denied those who seek better lives elsewhere or struggle to find a home.

Here are just a few of the pictures taken by students on the day. I'm hoping to see a lot more after they've got around to documenting the trip in their books and on their websites. #BPB18 will live long in the memory.

-- Jon Nicholls, Thomas Tallis School