Alan Burnett

It was twenty years ago today (well, in fact, it was twenty years ago yesterday, but that doesn’t have the same musical ring to it) that I uploaded the first post to my News From Nowhere blog. Since then, there have been 3,230 posts and 3,913,493 visits. That first post featured a picture of the village of Burton Salmon in Yorkshire, and I’m reprising it for this special anniversary. If you want to know what I was doing in Burton Salmon back in 2006, you’ll have to become the 3,913,494th visitor to the blog.

Street scenes like this one - which I photographed in France half a century or so ago - are wonderful reflections of everyday life. Nobody is posing, and no Sunday best clothes are on display; all you have is life in all its variety and confusion. There is no subject, and that itself is the subject. There is no story being told - which is a story in itself. That's life.

I've been taking photographs for a long time. Here's one from sixty years ago, taken when I was still at school in Halifax. Some ran, some jumped, and others held the tape measure to see how far they had travelled. I just stood there and took photographs.

It was such a long time ago. I look at the photograph now and search for myself. I find the hint of a look, the corner of a dream, and the start of a story. Yes, it is a photograph of me, but it is also a photograph of time itself.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that the view from Halifax, looking up the hillside towards the church of St Thomas on Claremount Road, is one that I have photographed again and again over the last six decades. The same is true of the view in the opposite direction: on so many occasions, I have stood amongst those stone gravestones and taken pictures looking down on Halifax. Here is one from 2009, when the church was still an active place of worship rather than the sad building it is today.

Another of my Sheffield photos from the early 1980s. When using black-and-white film, cut out the grey middleman and concentrate on shapes and outlines - a fancy way of saying I didn’t get the exposure right!

This was among some photographs of mine from the late 1980s, and I must confess that I had completely forgotten what it was or where I had taken it. A quick reverse image search provided the answer: "The image shows a historic bronze water pump spout in Bruges, Belgium, featuring a grotesque or Green Man face and water-spitting dragons or serpents".

The start of a new month - where will it lead us? If this photograph is anything to go by, it will lead us to Firth House in Rastrick.

This week, Sepia Saturday is celebrating Halloween with ghosts as its theme. In many ways, this is a suitable theme for lovers of old photographs, because so many early photos were linked in one way or another to ghostly phenomena. My photograph shows my Uncle Frank’s parents, Frank and Clara Fieldhouse, at the seaside. Whether the ghostly couple following them are the result of spirits, double exposure, or AI is up to you to decide.

You need an old camera, slow film, and a decent downpour to get a good night shot. Modern digital cameras are hopeless: they sharpen the focus, bring up the shadows, and tone down the glare, leaving you with something about as dramatic as a soggy digestive biscuit. Luckily, when I took this photograph of Commercial Street in Halifax back in the 1960s, my camera was old, my film was slow, and it had rained for days.

I took this photograph in Sheffield more than forty years ago. After all this time, I’m not certain where it was taken - possibly around Kelham Island. The exact location does not matter; it is the starkness of the scene that grips the imagination, accentuated by the photograph’s black-and-white composition. The shapes possess a beauty of their own - a kind of industrial cubism - that is both attractive and meaningful.

This map may not mean much to most people, but it shows Northowram, the village where I grew up. It is dated 1920, although it may be based on data from a decade earlier. What is surprising is not the amount of development in the past 70 years, but how much occurred in the 30 years between the map’s publication and the 1950s, when I was growing up in the village.

For as long as I can remember, I have been in love with images. They offer the ultimate freedom of expression and interpretation, allowing you to explore a moment, place, emotion, or expression in detail. They let you freeze time and make the transient permanent. Images are magical.

The Dutch painter Piet Mondrian was one of the founders of the art movement known as Neoplasticism. His palette was limited to the three primary colours - red, blue, and yellow - along with black, white, and grey. The result was art composed of lines and shapes. As far as I know, Mondrian never visited Halifax, but it is hard not to feel that he might have found inspiration there after looking up at the ceiling of Borough Market.

I like to think that, when Bill Brandt walked up Old Lane in Halifax in 1937, he took his famous Snicket in Halifax photo. He then climbed to the top of the steps leading to the railway bridge and took his equally famous Halifax photo. After walking down the other side, he turned and cursed because he had run out of film. Conversely, I had one frame left - so here is the shot Brandt missed. (He would have had to wait a few years for Burdock Way to be built.)

Where can you find Halifax in New York? The answer is on the fifth floor of the Museum of Modern Art on West 53rd Street. There, you will find a copy of Bill Brandt’s 1937 photograph, Halifax - a clear indication that it is regarded as one of the finest twentieth-century photographs. My interpretation, taken forty years ago and the fifth image from my chosen strip of negatives, is but a pale imitation of the original.

Old Lane in Halifax was the setting for two of the finest photographs of the twentieth century. The fourth frame on my forty-year-old strip of negatives is my rather mediocre recreation of Bill Brandt’s magnificent 1937 photograph, Snicket in Halifax. The original is easy to find online, and it is worth noting that little had changed during the half-century leading up to my photograph of the same snicket.

Bridge over bridge, concrete over iron, set against a hillside as old as time. Over my nearly eight decades, I’ve travelled widely, but Halifax was, is, and will remain my greatest source of inspiration. This is the third photograph from that strip of negatives taken forty years ago.