Marc Provins

An incongruous clash of title and images I'll admit, but stick with me, it all joins up. An excellent day out in Liverpool on Friday, meeting up with Michelle for coffee and culture. Two of these photographs taken whilst in Duke Street Espresso Bar, which I love. It's small, quiet, beautifully designed and decked and the coffee is superb, made and served by a barista who knows his beans. Then on to Tate for the Glam! exhibition. I must admit I didn't have hugely high hopes for it, however it is fascinating, cleverly curated and it kept us engaged for a good couple of hours. Apparently Boy George and Mick Jones of The Clash were also there today, not together. The best room for me was halfway around, a stark space with Allen Jones table and chair and Guy Bourdin photographs hanging on the walls - perfect! There is also a Guy Bourdin short film which is breathtakingly sophisticated, easy to see why every fashion photographer since has been influenced by his aesthetic

A proud moment for me, this is my 100th blog post! I've been struggling to think of something appropriate/ witty without success, then stumbled across this fantastic machine from the past. So it's a self portrait made using an old passport machine in Fred Aldous, Manchester. This last year has been very much about digital photography for me, finding a camera that I enjoy using and wanting to be spontaneous and able to share my work as soon as I've made it. However this week has been more about chemical photography. Firstly I found three medium format films that I'd not processed from my Mamiya 7, so they were sent off and have arrived back, will be sharing soon. Then I bought some more Impossible Project film to experiment with in my Polaroid SX-70, and lastly of course I found this beautiful passport machine. I wonder if film will always be around? I certainly hope so as there is still a certain excitement, and aesthetic that is different to digital, even Instagram

The theme  today  was definitely staying alive. We went for a walk in Lymm, Cheshire, a smart-ish area on the outskirts of Manchester with a canal and green spaces. However I was shocked at the amount of aggressive drivers behind the wheels of Chelsea Tractors. They don't take any prisoners out there which made crossing roads pretty hair raising. Two pictures along that theme, a squirrel that didn't make it and a lost inhaler, owner unknown. There seemed to be strong complimentary elements of colour in these two, so I've sampled and enhanced them.

I try to keep my blog pretty upbeat and optimistic, and that's not particularly hard for me as those are my natural states for most of the time. However this last week or so have seemed a bit gruelling and the lack of light, hassles at work and ill health in our household have got to me. So the photographs below are a visual reflection of that I guess. The good news is it's half term and I have nine days ahead of me to be a photographer! I'm more cheerful already.

The flattop haircut is the perfect style for a control freak or perfectionist. I should know as I am a bit of both of those and really enjoyed my flattop days. There is an element of ceremony, almost ritual to having a haircut anyway but the introduction of the flattop comb really enhances that experience. The style itself also knocks any hint of wave or curl into a cocked hat, meaning a level of neatness and uniformity is achieved. So all of these thoughts arose after seeing the specimen above, and I started to wonder if the residents of this 70's semi had flattops or expressed traits of control freakiness. This is also one of my favourite subjects, the suburban front garden. It is where street life and the domestic meet and what people choose to display is quite revealing about what goes on indoors.

Quite strange light today, so I walked into Manchester and back, weaving through some bits that strayed away from my normal route. I made some photographs that I liked, and when I got back to the computer realised they all contained some kind of square or rectangle. However the best picture of the day was the one I didn't take. I was on my way home cutting across the streets of Old Trafford when I saw the most mesmerising scene. I reached a row of industrial units, and noticed quite a big bloke, probably in his forties in a cable knit jumper and trilby perched on a stool in front of one of the units. The shutter was up which revealed a space filled, and I mean filled, almost to the ceiling with what most people might describe as junk, but it could well have been treasure. The sun was about to set and the light was warm and the shadows long, but the main thing that drew me in was the man's look of complete tranquility, he looked at peace with his place in the bigger scheme of t

Well I'm writing this as snow, hail and rain take turns to lash a pretty cold Manchester. To demonstrate the unpredictable nature of the British weather the two pictures included here were taken just three days ago. This post is an addendum to my my last one taken on a day out to Cleveleys, just outside Blackpool. I spoke about seaside towns having probably seen their hey days come and go, but I didn't stress enough how hard some places are working to reinvent themselves and create exciting new additions to their bits of the coastline. This was my first visit to Cleveleys and I was very impressed by the newly developed prom. I'm a big fan of concrete and love what's been done here to simultaneously defend the eroding coastline and make a series of seats, shelters and sculptures. The light was strong and the shadows long so the effect was particularly powerful. The shapes made me think of St Ives, both the curves of the Tate building and the Barbara Hepworth works

Any visitor to Britain would be well advised to go immediately to a seaside town if they want to get inside our collective psyche. This will probably disturb, amuse and uplift in equal measures. Yesterday was a sunny Saturday, and those don't come along too often in February so we headed to the coast. Initially to Cleveleys which is just north of Blackpool on the Fylde coast and then onto Blackpool itself. There were four of us, none of which grew up in  North West, but the beauty of an English seaside town is that they all resonate at the same frequency, so you feel like you are being reminded of places you've been as a child. The nostalgia is key as it would seem most coastal towns in Britain have seen their hey days come and go and are now struggling to make sense of their place in our lives.  So there was much discussion on our day trip of change in the way we live, as each week passes another institution goes into liquidation. The Internet has created a global economy