Whitechapel
East End faces, 1968
An image you would not instantly equate with Bailey, nonetheless something about it draws me nearer. Perhaps the shadow creates this strange mysterious quality that is at once partly like a snapshot or a Jacob Holdt still.
It has connotations of an used, bare room near an attic and the smiling faces of youth, or rather the girl seem to juxtapose and cause an irony against the bleak and eery room, one sole bulb lights the night. I would also go as far as saying that it brings me slap back down to being a child and chartering on fearful territory, that phase of wanting to keep the light on, and the fear of going up to bed....
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