A Friday in Sparkhill – Observations, Bins, and 35mm

On Friday, I spent the day exploring Sparkhill with fellow photographer Luke Rados. We didn’t go with a strict brief or project in mind – more of a loose photographic exercise and an excuse to walk, observe, and speak to people. A collaborative day. No rush. Just letting the place guide the work.

Sparkhill is layered. It’s noisy and calm at the same time. Tired in parts, proud in others. There’s a rhythm to the streets – the mix of corner shops, independent takeaways, cracked pavements, and everyday movement. It’s not curated, and that’s what makes it worth photographing.

Luke shot 35mm on his Nikon and also brought along his Mamiya RB67 for a few medium format frames. I worked digitally with my Canon R. Different tools, different approaches, but the same intent – to observe without interfering too much.

One of the main topics we encountered was the ongoing bin strike in Birmingham. It’s hard to miss. Piles of black bags lined the kerbs, drifting slightly in the wind, creating strange and accidental compositions. We spoke to a few residents – not formal interviews, just conversations. Most people were open. Some were tired of it. Others shrugged it off. “We’ve seen worse,” one man told us. And he probably had.

There was no clear narrative to chase, which felt right. Sometimes it’s enough to walk, to document what’s already there without trying to shape it too much. The cameras gave us a reason to slow down. To notice things. A man repainting his shop sign by hand. A pair of kids sharing a can of Rubicon on a doorstep. A balloon tangled in overhead wires.

Collaborating with Luke was straightforward and enjoyable. He has an eye for the kinds of details I usually miss, and the contrast between our formats brought an extra layer to the day. It’s always good to work with someone who sees things differently but with the same level of attention and care.

In the end, the day wasn’t about producing a finished piece of work. It was about being present. About letting the place show itself without asking too much of it. Photography, for me, is often just that – an excuse to look closer, to have conversations I wouldn’t otherwise have, and to spend time in places I might usually pass through.

We left Sparkhill as the light started to dip, tired in a good way. No grand conclusions, just rolls of film and memory cards full of moments that might become something later – or maybe just stay as they are.