Welcome, Chris, and thank you for taking the time to speak with us. We’d love to hear a bit about your story and what sparked your passion for photography.

I was born in Liverpool in the UK to a German mother and English father. I had a lot of freedom as a child to go out and explore in the fields and parks near my home. My father wrote poetry and had a love for nature and the outdoors which I inherited. He was also a birdwatcher and as a boy I followed in his footsteps. I got my first camera – a Russian made 35mm rangefinder (and Leica clone), called a Zorki 4 which I used primarily to photograph birds. For years after I mainly photographed family life and random landscapes with a trusty little Olympus rangefinder.

After a degree in Art and Drama I worked on a youth training scheme teaching art and photography before establishing a career in graphic design by taking an MA in Advanced Digital Design at Teesside University. For 25 years I ran a small design studio specialising in work for museums, galleries and arts organisations. Over the past ten years, my photographic practice has become central to my creative life and I now devote more time and attention to photography as an artistic medium.

I’m interested in your creative journey. Did you go to school for photography, or are there any specific workshops you’ve attended that shaped your style?

I attended Trent Polytechnic in Nottingham to do an Art Foundation course at the time that Thomas Joshua Cooper, Ray Moore and Paul Hill were teaching there. Sadly, I was never taught by them and it was only later in life that I realised how significant their contribution was to contemporary British photography. I did learn the basics of photography at Trent Poly, however, using twin lens reflex cameras and developing and printing black and white photographs in the college darkrooms. I experienced the darkroom as a magical place with its red light and slowly emerging images in the chemical trays. Apart from that, I am largely self-taught although I recently took part in Colin Pantall’s online ‘Project Development Workshop’ which I really enjoyed and can recommend to anyone wishing to expand their practice.

Do you work exclusively with analog equipment, or are digital formats included in your workflow?

I shoot both analogue and digital but recently more digital largely due to cost considerations. I develop my own films at home using a Patterson tank and Ilford chemicals. Although I have printed using digital negatives to create cyanotype prints, I am interested in the possibilities offered by liquid emulsion to print on fine art and traditional handmade papers such as lokta paper. With this in mind, I am investigating some options – for example converting my bathroom into a temporary darkroom or travelling to my nearest community darkroom, which unfortunately is about 75 miles away.

In what ways does photography act as a creative outlet or form of therapy for you?

Photography is a kind of lode star – a way of navigating my way through the world. It’s a creative outlet that connects me to my environment and, most importantly, to other people and to myself. Photography for me is a kind of spiritual practice.

Take me back to your earliest memories of taking photographs. What do you remember about them?

The first photographs I took with my own camera were of birds and nature. I shot mainly on slide/transparency film at the time and viewed my photographs using a small daylight or battery powered viewer. The experience was immersive and otherworldly. I remember pictures of gorse – the intense yellow against a blue sky and the green and blue iridescence of a duck’s head. The first black and white prints I made at Trent Polytechnic also stick in my mind.

Do you independently construct your sequences, or do you seek editorial and curatorial assistance?

I generally prefer to create my own sequences, but I do understand that another set of eyes is often helpful. I’m happy to collaborate and did so in a recent workshop, which I found quite liberating.

How do you translate what you see into your own unique vision?

I think I have a strong attachment to formal elements in my work – for example: composition, tonal balance and negative space, but I am also very engaged with my work on an emotional level. Although I appreciate the New Topographics style, I think I would put myself in the category of post-documentary photography. I’m also drawn to Neo-pictorialism as explored in the exhibition and book from the RPS: ‘Squaring the Circles of Confusion: Neo-Pictorialism in the 21st century’.

Could you discuss the inspiration behind your “St. Oswald’s Way” project? What were your primary objectives and artistic intentions when you started?

The project manifested through a natural process. After my father died in 2024 after a long, difficult spell in hospital, I decided to go away on my own – essentially to grieve by spending time in nature. I chose to go to Holy Island on the North-East coast of the UK, which is also known as Lindisfarne. It’s a three-hour car journey from my home. The island has a long and rich history going back to the very earliest days of Christianity in England. The place has a very peaceful, spiritual feeling. I stayed for 3 nights and vowed I would return one day. My hometown, Whitby, is also a significant place in early Christianity and has a famous ruined abbey on the cliff top overlooking the North Sea.

Above: a selection from St. Oswald’s Way; Below: a selection from The Vanishing Land

Medieval monks and pilgrims would have walked from Lindisfarne to Whitby, so I started by considering walking to Lindisfarne from my home. I then became aware of modern walking routes and one in particular ‘St Oswald’s Way’ stood out. I could walk this path carrying everything I needed in a backpack and complete the 100 mile walk in 7 days. I decided to carry a compact, fixed-lens camera to document my walk. It became a visual diary, recording how my emotional state shifted in response to the landscape – constantly changing, like the weather.

I set myself a goal to create a coherent, though intuitive, sequence of 9 images from each of the 7 days of the week. I was attracted to this formal structure. Although some of the work has been shown at the recent Ryedale Photo Festival, my intention is to create a number of small hand-made books using this structure.

Could you share some details about your series “This Vanishing Land”?

This Vanishing Land is a work in progress. In a similar way to the St Oswald’s Way project, it is a kind of meditation on the theme of loss. I have been walking the coastline of North Yorkshire for over 30 years – the beaches and clifftop paths – and during this time I have witnessed the changes to the cliffs… formations that used to be familiar landmarks have gradually disappeared to the waves and tides that constantly batter the coastline. The disappearance of the land, literally from under my feet, was something I felt in my body – a kind of emotional response to loss in the broadest sense. I intend to continue my response to this coastal erosion, by travelling further afield to the Holderness coast, where rates of erosion are thought to be amongst the worst in Europe. The disappearance of land to the sea, on this coast, has been documented since Roman times; and since then, an estimated five kilometers of land and over 30 villages have been lost to the waves.

Your work often dives into the connection between people and nature. Do you view nature as just a backdrop, a character in its own right, or maybe even a mirror of our emotions?

This is such a good question. For me, nature isn’t simply a passive setting, – I believe humans are fundamentally inseparable from the natural world and we are all deeply woven into it. Caring for the natural world therefore becomes an act of self-preservation. I think I see nature more as a character, for example as in the Gaia hypothesis which says the earth itself is a self-regulating organism. I like the idea of nature as an earth mother – a kind, maternal presence. I have also recently enjoyed reading Robert Macfarlane’s book, “Is a River Alive?” in which he argues that rivers are living entities who deserve legal rights and personhood.

I don’t see nature as so much reflecting our inner states, but I do feel that as humans we naturally project our feelings onto the landscape and in that way, the photographs that we make can convey our emotions to the viewer.

Your imagery conveys a continuous exploration of purpose and being. What core concepts are you currently investigating in your creative evolution?

I grew up in a religious atmosphere, attending church every Sunday and singing in the church choir at services, weddings and funerals. But I lost my (Christian) religion at about 17 years old – there were things I no longer agreed with. As a result, I believe I have always suffered from a ‘God-shaped hole’ in my life. This leads to the big questions: who am I?, what is the purpose of life?, why am I here?, what does it mean to be moral or good? I think this is what drives my work – a search for connection and spirituality.

It seems like themes of loss and mortality are a recurring thread in many of your series. I’m curious about how this focus has changed for you over the years!

I suffered two bereavements in a short time which affected me profoundly. One was the loss of a dear friend to a cruel and terrible disease which caused him great suffering. This in particular has led me to think more about mortality. I now support a campaign in the UK called Dignity in Dying.

Could you share how you, as an up-and-coming artist, go about submitting your work to open calls, galleries, and editors?

I keep an eye out for open calls on Instagram and I also subscribe to a number of lists, such as PhMuseum and Aiden Avery’s Open Call list on Substack. I love to attend Photo Festivals and book fairs whenever I can and have made connections that way.

What tips do you have for young photographers or artists looking to dive into photography?

I would encourage them to throw themselves into the process of making work and not worry too much about how “good” the work is, initially. Taking photographs every day – or at least as often as possible, will subtly train you to see and develop your vision. The word practice should be taken literally, but I would avoid the idea of ‘practice makes perfect’. Try to avoid the concept of perfection as this can stifle creativity. I prefer the aphorism attributed to the philosopher Voltaire: “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good”. I would also say, be kind to yourself, take your time and enjoy the process of creating art for its own sake.

Thank you again for participating in this interview, Chris. It’s been a pleasure!

Thank you!

All Images © Chris Ellis

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