After recently unearthing some images that he took during 1985, and with this season coming to an end, photographer Steve Pyke was led to consider how the experience of football fans in the UK has changed over the past 40 years and also recall his youth and the role that football played in his relationship with his father
My father has just moved into a residence for the elderly from which he will not return. He’s 92. Care assistants attend to him. He’s succumbed without protest to things he’d have once thought of as indignities. Dementia is taking him, his memory slipping away like wrack drawn by a tide.
He’s in Leicester, where he grew up, where I grew up. I’m in New Orleans, far away in space but also in experience and outlook. He followed, and surpassed, the models for English working-class men of his time. He was taciturn, undemonstrative. He contained himself with an acute and I think painful vigilance. I had punk.
Steve and Dave Pyke. 2006.
Continue reading…After recently unearthing some images that he took during 1985, and with this season coming to an end, photographer Steve Pyke was led to consider how the experience of football fans in the UK has changed over the past 40 years and also recall his youth and the role that football played in his relationship with his fatherMy father has just moved into a residence for the elderly from which he will not return. He’s 92. Care assistants attend to him. He’s succumbed without protest to things he’d have once thought of as indignities. Dementia is taking him, his memory slipping away like wrack drawn by a tide.He’s in Leicester, where he grew up, where I grew up. I’m in New Orleans, far away in space but also in experience and outlook. He followed, and surpassed, the models for English working-class men of his time. He was taciturn, undemonstrative. He contained himself with an acute and I think painful vigilance. I had punk.Steve and Dave Pyke. 2006. Continue reading…
