MySide: Richard Simpson

I’ve only lived and worked in the North East for the last seven years, meaning that I am most certainly an offcomer, blow-in or (my particular favourite) an offcumden. Even so, the subjects I'm drawn to and the way I approach them haven't shifted much sunce I began my documentary journey almost forty years ago. 

Early on, I was shaped by the work of Tony Ray-Jones. I've always admired the warmth, humour and compositional complexity in his photographs, and I hope a trace of that spirit finds its way into mine. Since moving to Newcastle, Chris Killip has been my photographic lodestar. Not only for the power of his work, but for the seriousness and respect he brought to the people he photographed. My wife, and fellow photographer, Michaela and I were talking with Bever and his family in Skinningrove a while back. [Bever was one of the young men Chris Killip came to know in Skinningrove, a remote coastal village he documented extensively in the late 1970s and early 1980s]. Not only did he produce a box jam-packed with exhibition quality prints, but he also spoke with huge affection of Chris and his wife, and their generosity and support. That sense of continuity and care between photographer and community has stayed with me.

Although I sometimes work digitally, most of my photograhs are still made on film, usually in black and white. In an era shaped by omnivorous AI, I value the negative as a physical record. It matters to me that organisations like AmberSide exist to preserve that material history and introduce important work to new generations.

I tend to work on long-term projects, often centred on people exercising real agency over their lives. At the moment, I'm photographing the semi-official post-war "plotlands" developments that run along parts of our coast. They speak of independence, improvisation and resilience, themes I like to explore.

Like many photographers I’m obsessed with ideas around transience and change: my own, as well as the world’s. Japanese aesthetic principles have increasingly influenced my thinking, particularly ichi-go ichi-e, the idea that each encounter is unique and unrepeatable. I'd like to claim I approach my work with the poise of a tea ceremony. In truth, it can sometimes feel closer to a chimp's tea party.

Still, I keep turning up, paying attention and trying to do the subject justice. And that, for me, is the work.

If this piece has you thinking about your local landscapes and communities, MySide is open now, and we want to see photographs and projects that explore your side of life.