Dave Whitley (not his real name) was never short of an opinion. Having survived three months as a trainee cameraman, I was summoned to his warren on the sixth floor of Television Centre to discuss my progress and future. Mr Whitley was acting Head of Cameras and enjoying his temporary powers. My first year was probationary so this was to be an important career moment.
My supervisor at the time, Alan Wilton (not his real name either), didn’t welcome the burden of trainees and habitually wrote damning assessments of them whether merited or not. Mine was no exception. Armed with a weapon of personal destruction, Mr Whitley branded me “a brash Northerner” and told me to pull my socks up, or words to that effect.
This apparently irrelevant preamble to a pictorial hike through Yorkshire serves one purpose - to illustrate that the well-worn preconceptions of life at the northern end of the M1 often have little basis in fact. I am not 'brash' - at least I wasn't at the age of 19! Of course, as Southerners, Msrs Whitley and Wilton were as hopeless a pair of jessies as you could ever encounter!
God’s own county is both vast and varied - not easily painted by a broad brush. Some communities thrive whilst others flounder. Dereliction and regeneration are often found on adjacent plots. Real industry, where it still exists, gives birth to grotesque monsters that mutilate the landscape. But the rural vista can be sublime.
Yorkshire has something for everyone and these galleries aim to capture an honest rather than idyllic picture of it. Any complaints about the standard of photography should be directed to Mr D Whitley, Down South.
Graeme Bickerdike, Site Editor
Site last updated: 15th January 2012