A lot of my work relies on precision of geometry. Upright verticals and round circles. Looking for that specific line of sight that makes all of the inherent shapes 'cohere'.
You can do a lot in post-processing to fix any tilt or pitch you may have introduced to the attitude of the camera; but once the 3D world has been projected onto your 2D sensor, there is no true recovery for errors of yaw (z-axis) alignment.
Perhaps the only thing we can't digitally rewrite in post is the picture composition. It might seem as though we can modify the composition post-capture with perspective adjustments and crops; but the truth is, it is extremely rare to be able to do so wholly satisfactorilly. Composition must be right in camera, at the point that the 3D to 2D projection is accomplished.
Here I have used a colour cut-out on top of a black & white base layer to isolate and emphasise the extreme perspective of the close-range wide-angle shot. I think its a treatment that suits the TARDIS, as if and as though it were setting off on a journey and we, the viewer, are being carried along. Look! There's that narrative I insist photographs must have. Sometimes. Mostly.
NB I've never found a consistent set of terms to describe a tilt of the camera in each of the 3 spatial planes. Photographers are used to the terms Tilt and Pan, but that only covers 2 of the 3 cases. Also 'panning' means something quite specific (especially in action shots) and so can be confusing when talking about the attitude of the camera to the subject.
So in this context I use
'Tilt' to mean the lens is off-the-vertical (pointing up or down)
'Pitch' to describe a rotation of the camera between landscape and portrait orientation
'Yaw' to describe a swivel offset, where one side of the camera is nearer the subject than the other.
I moved to London after a couple of years of shuffling back and forth every fortnight on the 500 mile round trip to spend weekends with my (now) wife Christine; who would shuffle herself back and forth by train or coach, on the alternate weekends. I think my wife had the rougher end of the deal not only because she had to spend weekdays alone in London (which isn't always the most caring of environments) but also because she had to rely on public transport whereas I was zipping along in my 2.0L VW Polo.
Putting a 2.0L engine into a little car like a Polo is a ridiculous idea. A ridiculous idea that becomes an utterly insane idea if the intent is then to hand the keys over to a reckless and irresponsible driver such as I was back then in my youth; goddammit but I loved that car.
We were neither of us really troubled by all the weekend travelling, it was just how things were. Given the circumstances, it was what we wanted to do. I think it demonstrated the key to our relationship; we've never really worried about 'what does it mean for the future?'; rather we worry about 'are we happy today?'. If we can be happy day by day, then we'll handle whatever the future throws at us on the day it hoys it in our direction. So there were no big conversations about what it would mean if Chris took a job down sarf; it was the right job for her, so she took and we just handled what that meant. For 2 full years.
Until I landed a job at the BBC.
It was a good job. I was suprised how much I enjoyed it, given that the BBC is such a bastion of the state. For a long time, I did good work; winning a BAFTA for The History of the World in 100 objects (by democratising the proposition and proving that crowd-sourcing could mean so much more than harvesting photographs of snowmen for the so-called-news department).
I was based in old Broadcasting House on Regent's Street. Every lunchtime I would go awandering taking candid street shots. They gave me an unexpected 'productivity' bonus that I spent on a 1938 Leica IIIb film camera, a beautiful but cantankerous little thing; everyday I had a camera with me and everyday I took photographs.
Of course it all went tits-up. They moved me out to White City and Broadcast Centre where all the upper-echelon lunatics hung out and did their damnedest to bleed the meaning out of the work. Things became quite acriminous and I was basically at war with idiots for the last three years (although, I shall never forget the sweetest moment when my 'boss' broke down in tears after I opened his eyes to the fact that he was a workplace bully).
But the BBC brought me some real opportunities: working with the British Museum on our BAFTA winning project; Winning the staff photography competition; visiting TVC for a photoshoot before they sold it off... and basically just funding my creative and hedonistic lifestyle for over a decade. I would say thanks, but they were also tw@ts, so I won't.