Gimli, son of Glóin

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been aware of this house; it sits alone on the north-west coast of the Isle of Man, and every year the sea gets closer. I don’t think it’s going to take more than a couple of powerful and persuasive winter storms to start the once dignified Manx farmhouse on its descent over the fifty-metre high sand cliffs and into the Irish Sea. The back porch is, literally, eight-metres away from destruction.
A few days ago I decided to find out who owns the house to see if I could get inside, so I put a post on Facebook asking for information – within twenty minutes I had all the details I needed, plus a bit of history on the dwelling. The owner, it turned out, had just left the island to go to South Africa. However, a friend contacted him on my behalf; he replied almost immediately and kindly agreed to let me use the house for a photo-shoot (with some warnings and health and safety disclaimers…).
This afternoon, I went up to the now derelict farm with my partner, Hannah, to recce the place for a series of portraits I have planned. While there, I made these images using a Fuji Instax instant film camera.


  1. What impresses me most about you, Phil, is your diversity – portraiture, reportage, erotic, landscapes, even still life – all totally different disciplines, yet you still manage to imprint your own very individual motif onto each image. That’s a rare talent.


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