The project coincided with a dispute that began in December 1987, when the Isle of Man Steam Packet Company sought to impose new working conditions. The conflict spread quickly, with major operators like P&O Ferries following suit. Critchlow’s photographs capture the impact of the dispute on seafarers and their families: on picket lines, in union meetings, and in moments of waiting and reflection. “I did not go with the intention of photographing conflict or picket violence,” he wrote. “But it became unavoidable due to the volatile nature of the dispute and the police acting in tandem with the company in a media war to sway public opinion.”

Seafarers reflects Critchlow’s long-standing commitment to documenting working-class experience from within. It is not simply a record of industrial action. It is also a portrait of a vanishing way of life, seen through the eyes of someone who knew it first-hand.

Mik Critchlow (1955–2023) was a British social documentary photographer whose work centred on the mining town of Ashington in Northumberland, where he was born and lived for much of his life. Working with deep local knowledge and long-term commitment, Critchlow documented the everyday lives of the community, producing an intimate and unsentimental body of work shaped by trust, familiarity and lived experience.

Critchlow’s images are rooted in solidarity, offering a grounded view of working-class life in transition. In 1987 Critchlow wrote, "During the past few years I have documented the area in which I was born, educated and now live. I see my work in the context of a long-term plan – working within a community during a period of rapid social and environmental change."

"I’ve been living in a men’s hostel near Westgate Road in Newcastle for the past six months. I came off my last ship and the place was recommended by a bloke down at the social security office. The hostel was rough as hell, there was another six men staying there, half of them were on the run from trouble, I was paying for a tiny boxroom and two meals a day if I was lucky.

When I was at sea I used to put up with all sorts of lousey living conditions, you can put up with almost anything when you know its only for a short period of time, you know that you’ll get your leave and have a bit of comfort for a while before you ship out again, having to go back to a place like that, it was bloody disgrace.

At my age I have to put up with yobbos fighting all of the time, robbing each other blind. The owners of the place were a strange bunch, gangsters from the West End, If you complained about anything you would get chinned or you wouldn’t get your meals.

You’ve got to remember, with a lot of these hostels, a lot of the blokes that end up in them have either been in trouble, on drink or drugs or have been chucked out of mental hospitals. They’re turfed out onto the streets and end up in these godforsaken holes, there’s no alternative, its terrible.

The owners used to lend some of the blokes money for drink and they used to end up in debt to the owners for rent and other money they had loaned, the blokes used to end up handing over their pension books and giros for repayments. One of the owners used to come in and knock the hell out of some of the residents because they were a cuple of days late with their money.

I’m glad I’m out of there, its nice to have some peace. I saw an advertisement in the Evening Chronicle about this place, I thought it would be too much money but managed to get the housing allowance from the social security. Its great down here, a big difference from the last place, I think I only joined about two ships in South Shields during my time at sea, so I don’t really know the place.

I’ll probably meet some new friends down here, maybe even meet up with some of my old shipmates. I think I’ll enjoy it down here, we’re all seamen so that’s a great start."

- Henry Rafferty, Retires Seaman, South Shields, 1987/88