There’s a machine at the village fair that tells you how hard you can punch. I’m not sure what you’re meant to do with that information afterwards, but someone thought we needed to know.
Fair is a series of twelve black and white photographs from a village fair. There are rides and prizes and things to eat, though I tend to get distracted by whoever is standing beside them. Someone looks at the camera. Someone else couldn’t care less. That usually gives me enough to start with.
I keep coming back to the man behind the candyfloss machine. His face is framed by the curved screen, with people passing behind him and that enormous metal bowl in front. He looks straight at me. I can describe the photograph easily enough; his expression is harder to put into words. I’d rather leave it there.
The boy in the bumper car has both hands on the wheel. The man beside him is grinning. At the shooting stall, other children take aim with considerable concentration. A soft toy is at stake, after all. At that age, that’s a perfectly good reason to take things seriously.
There’s work here, too. Behind the food counter, two people wait among pictures of chips and prices large enough to read from a distance. Looking at them, I’m reminded that a day out depends on quite a few people staying put.
Between the stalls, the fair opens out. You can see the ground, the cloudy sky, people walking towards the next attraction. I like having that bit of room among the closer photographs. Even the camera needs to step back occasionally.
Then there are the cartoon balloons, tied to a wheeled bin by the road. All those enormous smiles. The merchandise seems very pleased with how the day is going.
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