Fieldstudy 5

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The history of the New British Photography is complex, contested and vivid. Its roots are in the growth of state subsidy to the arts, reforms in Art and Design education, radical politics, fine print aesthetics, popular culture, mass media and independent publishing. It is a history of a time when photography gained new confidence, in which groupings of young photographers, curators and editors challenged the establishment. It is a history too of almost – forgotten events and initiatives – seminar series which changed the way we looked at the medium, commissions which provided starting points for emerging photographers, publications which began important debates.

This issue of Fieldstudy signals the beginning of a concerted research interest in the archives of 1970s photography. In his essay, Professor David Alan Mellor discusses the work of Peter Mitchell and Euan Duff, whose projects The New Refutation of the Viking 4 Space Mission (Mitchell) and How We Are (Duff) prompted the curation of this exhibition and conference. These two archives have different histories, but both form an important part of our understanding of the emergence of the New British Photography of the 1970s. Duff’s archive is cared for at the Mass Observation archive at the University of Sussex, while Mitchell’s has stayed close to home, on the upper floors of his home in the decaying Chapeltown district of Leeds. The partnership between PARC, the University of Sussex and Photoworks UK , in displaying and re-examining these important bodies of work has utilised the skills and resources of all three organizations.

The history of the New British Photography in the late Sixties and early Seventies is, inevitably, a contested one. But, however interpretations may vary, its energy, argumentativeness and pioneering nature cannot be denied.

In 1950, the British Journal of Photography informed its readers: “Demand has outrun supply and there are simply no large schools where instruction can be had. In the early Fifties Photography magazine, anticipated the growth of the independent sector in its ‘Young Britain’ section, but noted: There are no invigorating exhibitions staged in this country as seen at the New York Museum of Modern Art. There is a new generation, which will not subscribe to the outmoded conventions in pictorial photography. There is evidence that among the post-war youth of different countries that this tremendous surge in interest in photography will bring many new artists to the surface.”

In the 1950s and 1960s, Roger Mayne, John Blakemore, John Hilliard and Raymond Moore emerged as models for the Young British Photographers of the 1970s, and galleries such as the ICA emerged as a venue for photography, showing Brassai (1958), Man Ray (1959), Marc Riboud (1966), Spectrum (1969), and Bill Jay’s Photography Study Centre (1969). Sue Davies, who had worked at the ICA in

Histories

the late 1960s, founded the Photographers Gallery in 1971, the first UK non-commercial photography venue.

Independent ventures such as Modfot One (1967), Aaron Scharf’s MOMENT and George Pollock’s programme at the Westcott Art Centre, all evidenced the upsurge in interest in photography. Initiatives in the USA were important – the 1967 New Documents at MOMA, New York, was influential, while Bill Owens’ Suburbia (1973) inspired young photographers in the UK, as did the 1975 reissue of Walker Evans’ American Photographs.

The 1970 Bill Brandt exhibition at the Hayward was an important moment in the emergence of the new photography, but also important were Camden Arts Centre’s 1969 John Hilliard exhibition, and Photography into Art (1973). The Circulation Department at the V&A toured photography to the regions, Mark Haworth-Booth became Curator of Photographs there in 1975, and the Museum’s 1969 Cartier Bresson exhibition had attracted huge audiences. The British Council promoted photography in its 1971 exhibition Personal Views. The emerging private sector (Robert Self and Nigel Greenwood galleries) indicated the emergence of a UK fine photography market, as did the first auction of photographs at Sothebys’, London, in 1971.

In London, the Photographers Gallery gave photographers, critics and curators a new focus. Other photography-only initiatives followed, the Half Moon (later Camerawork), Impressions (York), Stills (Edinburgh), Side (Newcastle) and the Photography Gallery (Southampton). New British Photography captured the imagination of new venues, aware of rising enthusiasm and press interest around the medium. Important, but curiously forgotten were exhibitions such as Young British Photographers (MOMA Oxford 1975); Serpentine Photography ’73; Three Perspectives on Photography (Hayward 1973); Problem in the City (ICA 1976) and The Land (V&A 1975). Three Perspectives, with its discussion of feminism, representation and social documentary began a debate around photography which continues to this day.

The Arts Council’s Photography Sub-Committee funded photographers, galleries, commissions and residencies, opening up new non-commercial avenues for photographers. Commissions included Two Views (1973) and Other Eyes (1976). It initiated exhibitions and publications promoting contemporary and historical British photography, including The Real Thing: An Anthology of British Photography 1840-1950 and the British Image publications. Also vital were critical responses and publishing initiatives. Creative Camera, edited by Bill Jay and later by Peter Turner, and owned by Colin Osman was a vital tastemaker and Camerawork magazine established a radicalised, political platform.

Archives from the New British Photography of the 1970s touches on some of these subjects, through the exhibition and conference. But voices remain to be heard and archives to be retrieved. Many testimonies from the period are archived at the British Library National Sound Archive, as part of the Oral History of British Photography, and through these different research initiatives, a clearer picture of these remarkable times will surely emerge.

This project began with a search for How We Are, a book by Euan Duff which was remarkably important at the time, but which had fallen from critical view. It continued with a wish to re-examine another seminal, but obscured body of work by Peter Mitchell, the first of the great British photo colourists. This journey, towards a better understanding both of the work Duff and Mitchell and the context which surrounded them, was undertaken by David Chandler and Gordon MacDonald of Photoworks, Professor David Alan Mellor of the University of Sussex and Val Williams and Lorna Crabbe of PARC. We are grateful to Euan and Peter for allowing us access to their work and their memories, and experience for which we are the richer.

Professor Val Williams

Peter MitchellNoel and his lads. Monday 22 June 78. Noon. Leeds.The last arch of Quarry Hill. Noel with a real sense of occasion got his men to pose for posterity. “I took your picture but you took my mind”. When the men got their snaps most complained because they looked to small

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Euan DuffFrom How We Are

Peter MitchellMrs McArthy and her daughter. Saturday 7 June 75. Noon. Sangley Road, London.Not only nature’s remedy but also purveyors of ‘certain things’ in the discreet manner.

Peter MitchellPlumbers, Leeds, 1974.This building has obviously seen better days, notably in 1775 when it was the Leeds Cloth Hall. I don’t mind it like this.

IntroductionAt the two opposite ends of that still generally uncharted decade of the nineteen seventies, are two largely unknown events in British visual culture: Euan Duff’s book of photographs, How We Are, published in the autumn of 1971 and Peter Mitchell’s 1979-80 exhibition, A New Refutation of the Viking 4 Space Mission. Both bodies of documentary photographs greeted the erosions and catastrophes of everyday life in the seventies with a poetic and thoughtful fearsomeness which then earned them oblivion in terms of those reassuring narratives of photography which were consolidated in the nineteen eighties and still prevail1. How We Are [HWA] and A New Refutation… [ANR] were and still are challenging opposites: on the one hand Duff’s imagistic, Realist subjectivities: on the other, Mitchell’s de-familiarised and fantasticated topographies. Both might stand as eccentric examples of those twin routes of mimesis and fabulation which David Lodge had suggested as strategies for the fabrication of fictions in post-war British culture2.

Euan Duff – How We AreDuff assembled his book from prior sets of assignments and projects across the entirety of the 60s. Some were definitely New Left in outlook – such as his ‘A Day in the Life’ photo-documentary of a shop-fitter, who had been nominated by his trades union, which was a contribution to a travelling exhibition for Arnold Wesker’s Centre 42, and his photo-essay for Frank Fields’ Child Poverty Action Group of a family in Whitechapel. The resigned but vivid pantomime of post-war British class structured society – that which Joan Littlewood animated at Stratford East – can, perhaps be found in HWA. Certainly Littlewood was known to Duff through his mother’s central position in the British New Left as a pre-eminent political organiser and agitator in terms of CND and anti-capital punishment campaigns in the ‘50’s. Like Roger Mayne – the elder photographer he admired – Duff had documented the Aldermaston CND marches. But Duff worked outside the activist paradigm; other elements from HWA were drawn from photo-reporting done for The Sunday Times Colour Magazine, such as his ‘London Termini’ and the public information magazine, Commonwealth Today, which yielded his battered orchid wearing man in Bradford in Section 2. A bulk of photographs which made up HWA were from the Liberal supporting magazine Time and Tide, with its gifted art director, Jan Pienkowski, who had supported Roger Mayne and Patrick Ward. A feature for Time and Tide which he regularly undertook was the

Mimesis and Fabulation: Euan Duff’s How We Are and Peter Mitchell’s A New Refutation of the Viking 4 Space Mission

topographical, cross-section ‘A Doomsday Book’, when he was able, like the touring Picture Post photographers of the late 30’s and 40’s, to document towns and institutions like Butlins. These were the photographic building blocks for HWA.

What makes HWA so poignant is the sense – almost a decade before its formal announcement – of realisation of a disenchantment over the future of social emancipation – of what Eric Hobsbawm was to identify in 1978 as ‘the forward march of labour halted’3, which was part of a growing disbelief in what the Left had taken as progress in British society4. Alongside the Left-progressivism of Berger’s introduction, Duff offers sequenced segments of a world of essential institutions and behaviours – marriage, childhood, domestic and workplace vistas – with the thread of ages – running through the book. Locations are never specified and there are no captions or easily construed narratives. Indeed the book could be said to resemble an attempt to nationally domicile (but make pessimistic) The Family of Man. What the reader is offered, in this greyed vista of British society, is a set of small worlds which move into subjectivity and those small moments of reflection and reveries about day to day life, like those lyrical fragments of womens’ conversations out of which Nell Dunn had shaped her abrupt reports of London working class life in the first part of the 60s, for The New Statesman. It has been argued that the pursuit such new subjectivities was one cultural outcome of the English New left, of which Euan Duff could be said to be part. Patricia Waugh points out that the explorations of New Left Review facilitated a “…belief that rational political analysis must proceed by taking account of subjective and culturally lived experience and that literature… was an important area for the articulation and understanding of such ‘structures of feeling’”5.

Duff presented an indiscernible and awkward world (of contemporary social life). He seemed to promise – through his numbered sections and thematic banding of photographs – that form will structure this world. But the result is so provisional, so tentative, such that kinds of fixed identifications are hard to achieve and the pages and the photographs become indifferent, approximate, indiscernible and meandering6. His experience of psychoanalysis was formative for this tracing and drifting of images. “What came out of it”, that is, Duff’s long period of Freudian psychoanalysis through the second half of the 60s during the composition of HWA – “was a way of analysing things, dreams and self analysis”7. HWA is full of ‘molecular detours’8, of extended vagaries linking the social common-places of courtship, marriage and ageing. HWA, it could be said, traces passages of social life in almost nihilistic movement – the book has a dispersive movement which flows into moments of indifferentiation and indiscernibility, with the promise of death or energy at the close, like the vitalist assertions of The Family of Man. And his wager was that vitality might be restorative against a nihilist culture: Like Mike Leigh’s contemporary feature film from the early 70s – Bleak Moments – Duff’s HWA compiled those ‘bleak moments’ of life which the French revolutionaries of 1968 had summarised in the slogan ‘Boulot (Work), Buffot (Eat), Dodo (Sleep)’– the repetitious series of everyday life in that Zola-like world which John Berger, in his ‘Introduction’ to HWA called “the wretchedness of the kind of society in which we live”9.

HWA’s design – partly harking back to Modernist layouts from photobooks from the twenties and thirties – also reflects the late Modernist humanist universalism of Steichen’s Family of Man, with its romantic and organic thematics. Duff may have wanted a form of romantic association which was poetic rather than constructivist, despite organisational similarities. HWA is a self reflexive book and the foundational image of a wedding photographer going about his work, facing the title page of HWA, not only announces a citation of another opening, the opening of the ‘kitchen sink’ film drama A Kind of Loving (John Schlesinger, 1962). Duff’s initial photographer, at the book’s portal, could

1 Two instances: the Museum of Modern Art’s British Photography from the Thatcher Years set a certain stamp on a pantheon of photographers, while the sequence of three symposia from the Autumn of 2004 to Spring 2005 on the history of British photography from 1968 to the present, held at Bradford and elsewhere, tried and failed to canonise another flow-charted account of significant moments and monuments.

2 Patricia Waugh Harvest of the Sixties, Oxford University Press, 1995, p.131.

3 Cf. Raymond Williams’ discussion of Hobsbawm’s 1978 pronouncement in Raymond Williams Resources of Hope, Verso, 1989, pp. 247-255.

4 Cf. Chapter 9 of Robert Colls Identity of England, Oxford University Press, 2002, pp. 143-161.

5 P. Waugh op. cit., p.123

6 Cf. Gilles Deleuze ‘Literature and Life’, Essays Critical and Clinical, Verso, 1998, p.1.

7 Euan Duff in conversation with the author, 13 September 2005.

8 Deleuze, op.cit, p.2.

9 John Berger ‘Introduction’, How We Are, Allen Lane, 1971, unpaginated.

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Euan DuffFrom How We Are

David Alan Mellor

Euan DuffFrom the Mass Observation Archive at Sussex University

be the author (or he is at least a delegated version of himself), whose status – as commercial operator or family member or social spy – is uncertain. That initial photographer is, however, mediator of Duff’s reflections on family, work and social association. HWA begins, like Evans’ American Photographs, with an insistence on the fabrication of photographs and their entanglement with the world.

Just a few years before she emerged as, perhaps, one of the most persuasive and sensitive psychoanalytic commentators on the photo-mechanical arts, Laura Mulvey wrote an insightful but uneasy review of HWA, ‘Gloomy successions’10. But the structure of associations, slips and memories to be found in his sequenced images appeared to elude her, even while she was able to see their disconsolate aspect. That she was, at this point, using a Marxist critical perspective, meant that she could only conclude that Duff had failed to see the supposed motor of history and she detected in him the heresy of universalism.

The lack of photogenic pleasure in Duff’s photographs was registered in Laura Mulvey’s 1971 review, recognising that their offset grey flatness was a kind of resistance against easy visual pleasures and meanings: “At first glance these photographs irritate by their often obscured lighting and apparently arbitrary sequence and size”11. Her review testified to the melancholy of the book’s representation of English society, culture and community: of the photographed humans she wrote: “A general sense of aimlessness and inevitability hangs over them. Duff’s technical approach underlines and coincides with this lack of personal definition…. In spite of his obvious skill and experience, his photographs have no formal composition and seem incoherent and arbitrary when taken as independent units”12. Mulvey recognised those passages when that aesthetic organisation which Duff referred to in metaphors of linkage and connections recently: “The connectedness of human beings, what I have in common with my subjects, is, though, what I have tried to deal with in my own work by putting together sequences of apparently unrelated documentary images that I hoped would provoke some empathy… hence ‘How WE Are’”13. Duff wanted to signal this adhesive sense – not just of the human condition – but also of temporality in relation to the body, by using a passage from T.S.Eliot as superscription for HWA – “ Yet the enchainment of past and future Woven in the weakness of the changing body Protects mankind from heaven and damnation Which flesh cannot endure”14.

But Berger advised him against incorporating any text whatsoever in the book: “I don’t think that the eloquence of what you have to say without any words at all, is really well served by the only words being those rather tight-lipped and doctrinaire words of Eliot”15. Another way of imagining this “enchainment of past and future” in How We Are, is its organicist compounding of age – what Mulvey called the “gloomy succession of marriage, infancy, childhood, adolescence and maturity and old age… turns freedom from the moment before the camera into an overpowering claustrophobia of the photographer’s vision of life in general…. Duff uses photographic sequences to show how every age contains every age… by implication life in general, is purposeless and repetitive.”16.

Peter Mitchell – A New Refutation of the Viking 4 Space MissionComparing Mitchell’s ANR with that of HWA’s fatalistic recurrences and flowing subjectivities, demonstrates a contrast, since Mitchell dealt in discrete spaces and identified portraits, all bounded by comedy and geographic spots on Mars and Leeds But Mitchell’s photographs were also locales for familiar industrial pastoral spaces, marred and broken by the same sense of contemporary cultural collapse which haunted Duff. Mitchell’s Impressions Gallery exhibition of ANR, in November 1979, was mostly populated by vanishing figures involved in declining industries – engineering, cold steel rolling – those sectors which had been in a state of accelerated dereliction and were now, in

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s 10 Studio International November 1971.

11 Laura Mulvey, op. cit.

12 Ibid.

13 Euan Duff How WE Are, typescript, June 2005.

14 T.S.Eliot ‘Burnt Norton’ Four Quartets , lines 79-82

15 John Berger, ms. letter to Euan Duff, 18 September 1970.

16 Laura Mulvey, op. cit.

Euan DuffFrom How We Are

16 page booklet produced at the time of Peter Mitchell’s 1979 exhibition. (Private Collection)

NASA’s 1976 Viking Landers were a triumph of robotics, of remote sensing and imaging – that very culture of digitised information which was to supplant the manual world of industrial era Leeds – on an unknown planetary surface: Mitchell used this haunting paradigm to de-familiarise the conventions of photographic urban topography. Another way of considering ANR – in its distinctive displacement of Leeds to Mars – would be in relation to the kinds of geographies of science fiction which have been examined in Kitchen and Kneale’s Lost in Space20. In his documentation of collapsing states of technology in a decaying industrial environment, Mitchell, at the end of the 70s, presaged cyber-punk commonplaces of the 80’s, by his antinomian interleaving of the sites of Mars with places in Leeds. The exhibition was laid out, in York, in 1980, with spatial interruptions of Leeds’ social and physical fabric by NASA photographs of specific locations on Mars, like Chryse Planitia in the Utopia Planitia zone, the basin where the first Viking Lander touched down in 1976.

After a period at Hornsey College of Art, from 1968 to 1972, Mitchell arrived in Leeds at Christmas 1972, joining his architect partner – Diane – who was working in Burnley as part of a local initiative to save the inner-city terraces from demolition: part of that swing away from Modernist imperatives in urbanism and back to low-rise housing. He started making photos of the Chapeltown locality – and particularly his house and street, from which he has not moved – Spencer Place – from the moment he moved to Leeds. Mitchell’s comic homely but also uncanny narratives were rectified by his surveyor like gaze of numbered co-ordinates and digital lettered evidence which literally borders the scenes of ANR. This rectifying screen, bordering a world of enigmas and buildings, would fictionally emerge only two years later with the framing screen of the doomed topographer in Peter Greenaway’s film The Draughtsman’s Contract. Mitchell’s cartographic imagination of cities was formed during his time at The Ministry of Housing in Whitehall – in a drawing office – as a draughtsman, straight from school, in 1959, and later for Colin Buchanan and Partners. In this latter job he devised city plans which registered preferred human traffic routes – kinds of bureaucratised psycho-geographic drift – called ‘desire lines’ on the road to what Buchanan called ‘full motorisation’. The dust jacket design for Ian Sinclair’s London Orbital used Mitchell’s ‘Desire Line diagram’21, for Newbury. This rationalised imaging of mechanised flows as ‘desire lines’ suggests a parallel, but equally technologised form of representation as Mitchell’s ANR with its gridded absurdities and gratuitous locations. Behind so much of art and photography of this moment was the positivist belief in the power of the scientific or technical format; such that Euan Duff, too, wished to assemble HWA through linear bandings, conceptualised by him as a ‘list of different arrows on a flow chart which I wanted to relate together… the whole thing had a logical systematicity”22. Yet, as with Mitchell, this systematicity might be a congruent frame for a melancholy view of an instrumentalised, brutal world.

17 For example, in the winter of 1979-80, her Conservative Government announced plans for the drastic contraction of steel manufacturing in the UK through enforced plant closures

18 Raymond Williams ‘Problems of the coming period’, in Resources of Hope, Verso, London 1989, pp.161-174, p. 167.

19 Peter Mitchell Journal entry, 12 February 1978, Peter Mitchell Archive, Leeds.

20 R. Kitchen and J. Kneale Lost in Space, Continuum, London, 2002.

21 Colin Buchanan Traffic in Towns 1963, p. 58.

22 Euan Duff in conversation with the author, 25th. July 2005.

the Year Zero of Mrs. Thatcher’s restructuring of British industry, being extinguished17. In Mitchell’s photographs both human figures and built environment were celebrated as beautiful in colour – chromatic jubilations of factory walls and stained glass fish shop windows. But a valedictory mood is inescapable in his commentary, which is empirically and sentimentally specific at the other end of a spectrum from Duff’s unidentified inhabitants of cities. There were metaphors of catastrophe in Mitchell’s mind: in his diary entry for 12 February 1978, while photographing the Quarry Hill flats in the snow, he compares them Stalingrad. In this image was a portent of that social war which was about to erupt into the ‘Winter of Discontent’, a year later, and a year before his ANR exhibition was mounted. Even beyond Leeds all things are in collapse – Mitchell’s portrait of Max Babbin is captioned with a glancing summing up that, despite his physical decrepitude, he “is in a better situation than British Leyland”. He is one of a cast of persistent survivors who are nevertheless about to lose their livelihoods or see their businesses close, or are adapting to hard times by small business initiatives – (two men firms seem typical). Mitchell lists wonderful instances of Leeds’ migrant past and present – Mr. Reuben and Mr. Jakinvicius. They take their place in what appears to be a city of the aged, the passed by and the redundant, the ungainly, who are to be celebrated as if Alan Bennett had met Diane Arbus in an urban picaresque which forms an important element in Mitchell’s work, especially in the ANR series.

But beside the grotesque human plenitude of these survivors there are always the portents of physical and material absence: the printers, Warren Jepson, whose trade name appears in digitised writing in the frames of the ANR series have closed, eventually, after being absorbed into an American based trans-national company.

So we can say that Mitchell recorded evidence of the pathos of the uprooting and disappearance of urban industries and in 1983, Raymond Williams would diagnose this as a key theme of late 20th century Britain: “…elements of the industrial mode of production itself can now be perceived as inflicting kinds of damage on people and on the physical environment which were not fully recognised when the system was more successful, you have again this curious confusion and misrecognition. It’s apparent in discussions of what’s called ‘de-industrialisation’: that on the one hand people are regretting the collapse of the traditional British industries, the old heavy industries... and on the other hand are recognising that going out with those jobs are some of the most dangerous kinds of work… there’s a very curious interlock between the sense of loss and of dereliction,”18. There is something here which relates to Peter Mitchell’s complex colour reportage spectacles of Leeds’ decline in the 1970s: where ‘Noel and his lads’ stand demolishing Quarry Hill as a kind of Piranesian stage of the passing of the industrial era of modernity, they stand bound together, nostalgic in their union, but surrounded by an epic wreck, performing the larger dereliction, while defying loss. And it was for his future memories that Noel, the Foreman of the Leeds Quarry Hill demolition squad, asked Peter Mitchell on 12 February 1978 for, “some snaps as he said nobody else was bothering and he needed some for his scrapbook of all the places [he’s] demolished – like telling your kids in 20 years time!”19. What Mitchell performed at Quarry Hill was a knowing revival of the celebratory vernacular frontal group portrait. In many ways this became a prevalent form – an index of revived communality on the temporal edge of the social re-structuring of the 80s, or sub-group solidarities, visible in Daniel Meadows’ Pylon Painters, Great Washburne, Gloucestershire, or, of course in Mitchell’s Noel and his Lads…

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Peter MitchellOpticians, London, 1975Stare deeply and intently into these eyes. Concentrate very hard. Keep Staring. Don’t look away but begin ... slowly now ... to take off your clothes ...

Fieldstudy is published by the University of the Arts London Photography and the Archive Research Centre at the London College of Communication. The Research Centre acts as catalyst for, and initiator of, research projects which explore the many-layered relationships between photography, archives and cultural history.

Partnered with organizations which include Photoworks UK and the V&A Museum, the Centre is active in its support of artists and scholars from across the university.

In Autumn 2004 the centre collaborated with Tate Modern on a seven-week study course: The Visual Archive: History, Evidence and Make Believe. Speakers included Rachel Lichtenstein, Stella Mitchell, Stuart Brisley, Alan Dein and forensic anthropologist Tim Thompson.

The Centre’s study day on 27 April 2005 – The Elephant Vanishes: Towards a Contemporary Archive – organized in partnership with LCC School of Media, iinitiated and informed a new project which will document SEI in a time of rapid change. A workshop in collaboration with Tate Modern is planned for Easter 2006

The exhibition Archives from the New British Photography of the 1970s takes place at the Gardner Arts Centre, University of Sussex in collaboration with Photoworks and the University of Sussex from 6 October to 27 November 2005. The conference takes place on 15 October 2005.

Director: Professor Val Williams e mail: v.williams@lcc.arts.ac.ukCentre Administrator: Lorna Crabbe e mail: l.crabbe@lcc.arts.ac.uk

Photography and the Archive Research CentreUniversity of the Arts LondonLondon College of CommunicationElephant and CastleLondon SE1 6SBUKt. +00 44 (0)20 7 514 6625 /6919f. + 00 44 (0)20 7 514 6535e mail: info@photographyresearchcentre.co.ukwww.photographyresearchcentre.co.uk

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Euan DuffFrom the Mass Observation Archive at Sussex University

Cover: Euan DuffFrom the Mass Observation Archive at Sussex University