Every November in London, there is a stillness in the air. The advent of the autumn : the chill in the air, the russet leaves swirling around the squares and alleyways, the quieter streets which used to bustle with tourists. But there is another kind of stillness too, the kind that comes with the approach of the 11th November.
For this is Remembrance Day, the day on which we remember the lives lost in wars, in particular the two World Wars, the second of which still scars memories to this day. Whilst there are thousands of people who descend on the centre of London to honour the war dead, the veterans, and those still serving, it is a very particular kind of hush and weight that hangs over a thronging street. Experiencing thousands of people fall silent together, where every shuffle of a shoe, every sniffle from a running nose, every emotive throat clear has the effect of a piercing siren call in the quiet.
In London this year, however, the atmosphere was even more subdued. With a very select group at the Cenotaph, the stillness was deafening.
So I thought it a good idea to revisit one of my trips to the Cenotaph a few years ago on Remembrance Sunday, with camera in hand, to go and shoot some portraits of the veterans attending. It was one of my first forays into the frankly terrifying realm of asking people in the street if they would stand for me to take a photo, but every person was proud
to be asked, obliging my fumbles with settings and lens caps with a patience rarely seen in a subject! My only regret is that I was so overwhelmed with getting my photos that I failed to take down names, ranks, details. Here for you now are some of my photos from that lovely day.
