A long, long time ago when I spent some time in Ireland one summer, based in a church in Rochfortbridge, we'd travel a bit on our trail bikes exploring the lush countryside. I'd lump a big RB67 medium format camera around with me and, very occasionally, take a photograph of a washing line whenever it was set in a nice view. I liked the idea of something so mundane set in the rolling fields or hills. Doing this was always a bit fraught as you can be sure no-one particularly wants a biker pulling up and taking photos of their washing hanging out to dry. But as it turned out no clothes props or expletives were ever aimed in my direction. That was what turned out to be my last post-photography-course little project idea for what was to be half a lifetime. Then I really got started.
Travelling around the Scottish coast recently I found it impossible not to take a few washing lines in the landscape pictures. And, in this case, never have washing lines been so conspicuously publicly on view as to make it almost fraught-free to get my camera out.
