Geoff Franklin

Posts tagged “Ghost

Lenin

Lenin

Spring cleaning the drives and came across this that I never got around to finishing, looks quite good unfinished so I thought I would give it an airing on the photoblog.


Four Corner Riddle

Four Corner Riddle

Four Corner Riddle : On the High Road To Rye.

Last in the series From Brightling to Dymchurch

Many but not all have been posted on the blog. I shell be loading them onto the website in the near future.

Others from the series can be seen:  http://www.geoff-franklin.com/photoblog/wishing-tree-of-winchelsea/

http://www.geoff-franklin.com/photoblog/owl-of-the-marsh/

http://www.geoff-franklin.com/photoblog/235-les-trois-ballerines/

http://www.geoff-franklin.com/photoblog/itch-the-scrath/

all images ©Geoff Franklin 2016/2017

 


Theatre Ghost

Theatre Ghost

Every Theatre Has A Ghost.

Growing up next to a graveyard, which naturally was my playground, I never really believed in ghosts, i am quite happy wandering graveyards at night.

I have know a few who swear blind they have seen ghosts, I never judged them as I always kept an open mind, my rational side says no but by imaginative side would love it.

I have shot quite a few times in theatres, mostly actor portraits but you nearly always hear the tale, usually from the doormen of the ghosts that roam the theatres.  I like this ides of ghosts roaming, performing.Can you imagine Shakespeare performed by a cast of ghosts.

Is this why all theatres have a ghost light placed in the centre of the stage lit at night?

Then, a couple of years ago I arrived home from a shoot at about two in the morning. Where we live at two a.m.  its quiet, very quiet. So as to not disturb my neighbours I parked in a strip of the road where we don’t have houses, bordering a school playing field. I was just getting my lighting cases out of the back of the car when a womans voice coming from over my shoulder said “Are You Alright?” I shot out of my skin, turned around and there was nobody there. Nothing, just the quiet of the night. There is enough street lighting  to be able to see. The voice was spoken and I would say from no more than a couple of feet away.

No apparition, nothing. I did get a chill. I am still unable to explain it.

 

image ©Geoff Franklin 2017

 


Killing Time

Killing Time

Killing time, A Romney Ghost

I found myself standing outside St Mary in the Marsh church on Pickneybush lane in a foggy autumn twilight. In the eerie silence you become aware of sounds that go unnoticed, rustles in the undergrowth, water dripping from the fence, a distant crow, time has stood still. The trees in the graveyard take on different shapes, one is like a giant stone dragon, another has the face of a demon. St Marys is a fortress of a Norman church, built on a site of earlier Pagan and Saxon settlement.