‘I like being a shadow… a strange, voyeuristic figure.’ Out on the streets of Manchester - at dawn - with the Not Quite Light photo project.

Photojournalist Simon Buckley has worked for the Manchester Evening News, The Telegraph, The Guardian and Elle. But he’s best known for taking a photo called Rainstorm… THAT viral photo of a rainy Deansgate in 2019. It made him a bit famous - something he’s acutely aware of: ‘I’m grateful for what it did,’ he says. ‘But I didn’t enjoy the attention. Also, it doesn't fit anywhere within the current canon of my work… yet that's become my defining picture. It's a bit like Gary Numan and ‘Cars’. Whatever he's done since, it’s like… just play ‘Cars’, mate.’

For the last 11 years he’s been pursuing a very personal project - Not Quite Light – taking photos of the city at the moment it changes… as it starts to get dark and as it starts to get light. The light changes and so does the city itself. And Simon is documenting that change, for good and for… not so good.

For those of you who can’t see quite see themselves getting up at silly o’clock to experience what the city feels like at that time, there’s now a calendar of Simon’s favourite photos from the project. Because let’s face it… what kind of idiot would get up way before dawn to watch someone take photos of run-down areas of Manchester?

5.30am

I’m bang on time at our rendezvous, outside CULTPLEX cinema on Redbank in Cheetham Hill. I spot Simon straight away, for two very good reasons: one, because with his sweep of snowy hair, scarf and a turned-up jeans, he looks very much like a photographer. Two, he’s the only person on the street because it’s half past flippin’ five in the morning. I also can’t help but notice that 5.30 is quite a long way before dawn. It turns out Simon likes to spend a good half an hour or so looking at avenues, alleyways, traffic cones, chimneys and… well, the light. Time is the enemy, because once the streetlights switch off, that’s pretty much it. 

Simon Buckley: Not Quite Light was born out of misery and my own personal transition. It helps me make sense of the changing city. I'm quite interested in what we do to the city and the city we create. And because I've known Manchester for 40 years, or thereabouts, I've got some sense of where it's come from... but I haven't always got a sense of where it's going. So, the reason I come out is because I think it's my way of documenting change, but also my way of making sense of the place where I live and feeling attached to it. I think that's why I do it. When I press the shutter, it's like taking a little shot of methadone. It calms me and I think it makes the world make sense for a few seconds.

Cult Manchester: Manchester’s not as good as it was in the old days. Alternatively, Manchester is much better than it was in the old days… Where do you stand?

Simon: I think it's a more complicated question than that. As in any changing city, it becomes what it becomes. And I think the essence of being Mancunian probably won't change that much. My sense was that the city was really quite parochial in the old days. So, although it was achieving many things and has done over its history, in some ways, it needed the fresh injection of blood that we currently have. Even though I sometimes find the London accents around Ancoats a little irritating, it's probably what the city needed.

But, ultimately, as in all waves of immigration into the city - whether it be from the southeast of England, or Ireland, or Eastern Europe - they'll be subsumed and become Mancs and the city will grow with them. Areas like where we are this morning, Cheetham Hill, these old Manchester places, this has the atmosphere of the city that I recognise and remember.

CM: But there’s change in the air…

Simon: Oh, definitely. I think if you look at the master plans for the area, certainly across Cheetham Hill, a sizeable amount of money is being spent and invested. It's already well underway on the quiet - land is being bought up, planning permission is being prepared, designs are being made. In 10 or 15 years’ time, I suspect that this area will be significantly different.

5.58am

Camera out. Tripod out. Time to get started. Simon figures we’ve got until about 7am to get the shots he wants. He measures time in how long his shutter stays open rather than by his watch. It’ll start at about 90 seconds and drop down to 10 by the time he’s finished.

We’re surrounded by light industrial units, lock-up garages and the rear end of takeaways. Chapati Corner is tantalisingly close, but it’ll be hours until it’s open. The first set-up is in the middle of the road, centred on a surprisingly non-descript business foyer where the light in the hallway is still on. I’m not really seeing what Simon is seeing. I don’t say that out loud, obviously.

Picture one. Location - Derby Street. Time: 6.07am

 Simon: I see these pictures as little film stills, really. I use the light in the way that you would use light in film noir and horror films, and there's a sort of power of suggestion. It's just a light in a foyer that's spilling onto the street, but as soon as you take it out of that context, put a frame around it, it becomes something else. Then it's down to the power of the viewer’s imagination. So, this is playing with that idea of suggestion - a story that could be written, that could be about to begin. A degree of mystery, but also, there’s strong elements of social history in here as well. Photograph the ordinary, because one day, it'll be extraordinary.

6.10am

The light’s changing by the second now. I’m quite self-conscious about asking Simon questions as he working - I want to be useful, so I offer to carry his tripod. No thanks, he says.   

CM: It’s getting lighter. Timewise, are you concerned at all? Let’s add some jeopardy.

Simon: I’m aware of the fact that I'm working differently because I'm with somebody, which I very rarely am. I don't mean that as a criticism. When I'm out on my own, I'm a bit more high-octane. I talk a lot to myself, and I move about a lot, and I'll walk away from the camera during the exposure. I'll actually be quite busy, but I'm a little bit more chilled this morning, because I'm chatting. I'm not concerned. You get what you get, don't you?

Picture two. Location - Stanley Street. Time: 6.21am

 Simon: I sometimes wonder whether the reason modern cities look as they do, is simply because the architects grew up playing with Lego. We've now got a very sort of Lego architectural culture. A lot of things sit in the subconscious, don't they? I think that we'll probably regret the one-dimensional view of how we've rebuilt a city. It's a shame that we don't pay attention to the little details that we used to have with buildings. All these apartments - they look great on Instagram, but ultimately, I think they're quite alienating. What I really don't like about them is the way in which they greet the pavement. The way in which we’re involved as pedestrians, it really doesn't work for me. It's a very transient population. It seems almost designed to create sadness. There's a lot of isolation.

CM: That famous Deansgate picture of yours - how do you feel about it now? It leaned into that whole ‘rainy Manchester’ thing. I'm very fond of pointing out to people that Manchester's not even in the top 10 of rainiest cities in the country.

Simon: No, it's not. I mean, I nearly didn't post the picture because of that. I felt it was a bit of a cliché. There was no agenda with that picture. I just happened to be there. I thought… oh, that looks pretty, and took a picture of it. But I agree, there's a certain romanticism in the rainy city. I've often wondered why that picture did what it did. I think it's because it's an anchor point for people, in that they feel that the essence of Manchester - which seems to be encapsulated in that picture - still exists for them.

Picture three. Location – Stock Street East. Time: 6.30am

 We move down the road towards a giant primary-colour takeaway sign that blares MY TREATS. Again, Simon had scoped it out beforehand. The city skyscrapers loom behind the in-your-face artwork of the sign. It’s out of place among the brown-brick units and NO PARKING signs.

Simon: I came and looked the other day and there was some guy smoking crack by the bins. Everybody's got this very sort of fluffy, ‘what a great city’ attitude towards Manchester. But actually, beneath the surface, it's still that hard, slightly scurrilous place that it has been for hundreds of years. It's not a city of sentiment, is it? It’s quite hard and capitalism runs through its veins as well. It's got a socialist council and a capitalist attitude. I keep trying to leave it. I always say that I've lived here 40 years, temporarily. I keep trying to go, and every time I go, I keep going back.

Picture four. Location - Derby Street. Time: 6.36am

CM: You’re turning this project into calendars…

Simon: Yes. It's been interesting looking back through the work for the calendar, so I've dug right back into the start of it. And there was an awful lot of rubbish.

CM: You're not going to sell many calendars like that, mate…

Simon: I obviously chose good ones, but I really didn't know what I was doing when I first started. I was still trying to work out what this project was.

CM: What do you think people will get out of looking at it? Because you've got to look at each picture for a month…

Simon: Well, for a start, you can ‘go out at dawn with me’ without actually having to get up, that’s one thing. It’ll take you into the city. I think if you look at a photograph over a month, it allows you to really poke about at the details of it as well. I think you become more absorbed by the whole sense of what it is. And there's a narrative story that will go over the 12 pictures, which I think is also interesting.

But yeah, you're right, it’s a long time for someone to stare at a picture. But I like the idea that people might tear off the sheets, cut them out and keep them. Then they can frame them up and keep them forever if they want. Then I think you begin to know the details - it's the atmosphere of the city coming off your wall.

6.37am

We start to see the first people. Shift workers cycling. Shutters going up. Taxi drivers circling. The city is stirring, stretching and scratching itself awake. Simon has shifted up a gear.  

Simon: I love being out in the early morning. The city is a fantastic place to be as it wakes up. One thing I have noticed since COVID is that the pulse of the city streets has changed, in that it gets busier earlier around the inner city. Back in the day, I'd have the streets to myself. But shift work and poorly-paid work has changed that. So now I notice that the ‘pulse’ starts earlier. You're not on your own in the streets in the same way anymore.

CM: How are we doing for time?

Simon: We've probably got about 20-25 minutes left before the streetlights go out. Then the drama's gone. The spell's broken. Whatever happens to make Cinderella's shoe become magic, that's broken when the streetlights go off.

Picture five. Location – Stock Street. Time: 6.38am

 CM: It’s 6.40. Time's running out…

Simon: It is, actually. There you go… jeopardy. I'm not working at quite the speed I wouldn't normally work, because I'm chatting.

CM: Apologies.

Simon: This is what this is - it would have been a bit absurd if I said nothing, wouldn't it? But I don't tend to take people out, because I think fear is part of the process. I think I sort of need the...

CM: What, looking over your shoulder?

Simon: Yeah. I think I kind of need that animalistic fear.

CM: Do you ever get any mither while you’re out?

Simon: There is the slither of fear. Always. I've only had it really go wrong on me once - properly, weirdly go wrong - in Ardwick. A guy with, I think, mental health problems was incredibly aggressive. I thought it was going to end in a stabbing. He just wanted to shout, but it was pretty scary. But it's a lot safer than it feels. I do have a procedure - I don't lock my car, so I can get into it fast. So, it’s… save myself first, then the memory card, then the camera, then the tripod. You sometimes get offered a bit of ‘business’, too. And you see foxes quite regularly out. I've heard a cockerel crow. I hear owls. I once had a kestrel fly past my thigh, which was quite exciting.

CM: Can't be much more of the night left, can there?

Simon: You can see that the drama's changing in the sky, the balance between the different lights is gone. It feels a bit more… normal. The whole thing's gone flat now. What time is it?

CM: Bob on 7am...

Simon: I wasn't far off with my guess.

CM: How do you feel now the night’s gone?

Simon: Sometimes, I feel quite sad. There's a dismissal of the night, and you’re thrown back into your normal day.  But also, I can relax and go home. I feel like I've deserved my cup of tea. Do I have a kip? Depends - not this time. When it's summertime and I go out, I don’t bother going to bed a lot of the time. I'll just go through the night. It's like the sleep patterns of mediaeval peasant. I don't like sleeping. I understand it's essential and all of that. Apart from lunchtime, I think all of the day is interesting. It's a shame that we have to miss it being asleep. There's something of the woodland creature about me, I think.

CM: Last question - you mentioned a few times about it being different this morning because I’m here… Is part of the appeal of this that you’re normally on your own?

Simon: It is. I always feel like I've slightly cheated if I've got somebody with me. I do like the solitude. I like being alone with myself. I've probably worked very differently this morning because I do get distracted. I kind of like that shadowy element of being on the street, unnoticed. I like being a shadow on the streets and quietly capturing it and taking it away with me. And nobody knows I was there. In a way, I'm kind of a strange, voyeuristic figure on the streets.

Simon’s limited edition calendar is available here.

More information about his work here.

Guided walk details - it's ok, they're at dusk - here.