Fallen

It's that time of year again, the time when I can be found on my hands and knees in churchyards and other locations beset by decaying plant life and shrivelled fruits. My favourite haunt is the old graveyard behind the church of St John the Baptist in Cirencester, the place where I was myself baptised - perhaps the water wasn't strong enough.

Burials ceased here in the mid 1800s due to overcrowding. Today it is a peaceful place on a warm, autumnal afternoon, populated only by the birds and the few locals who escape there to sit and eat lunch, or have a quick ciggie. Beyond, the sound of the traffic in the busy town is damped by the buildings, high, dry-stone walls and the enveloping foliage.

The fascination of this place to me is the endless opportunities to photograph leaves and other debris on ancient slabs of limestone, lit by light filtered through aged yew and birch trees. The juxtaposition of these elements with the inscriptions on the stones is the main compositional imperative. I like to shoot what's already there rather than indulge in a festival of arranging but occasionally I have to help out nature. I'm sure she appreciates it.

I’ve added a GV (general view) of the churchyard – thought it might set the scene – just add a large chap in a blue jacket with dirty knees to get the full effect.