The building for the UK TV station, Channel 4, is one of my favourite buildings in London. Located on Horseferry Road, near Victoria, I used to walk by it often when I lived in the area a number of years ago.

I decided to visit the area recently – in order to re-visit some of my favourite buildings in the area – and found that there was an interesting art installation outside the main entrance. There were a few spray cans with skeletons inside them and rubble around the cans. 

One of my – rather ongoing – projects is about graffiti, and this public art display caught my eye. I did wonder what the meaning of it was, particularly when there was a note on the floor with #stoppoliccuts …

I am not sure who the artist is or artists are, but it did challenge my initial thoughts that it was faintly supporting street art. Perhaps it was a statement about urban decay and declined, with the bones inside the spray cans …

The spray cans were possibly symbolising a certain disrespect rather than artistic expression. Graffiti is nothing new, but opinion about it is somewhat polarised between the art and wanton defacing. There is a fine line between the two.

I did feel, however, that the note with #stoppolicecuts was somewhat poignant in light of the riots in England; although, I am not sure when this installation was set up so am not sure whether it was in response to this. What was a legitimate, and peaceful, protest in regards to policing in one of the most deprived areas in London, if not England, turned into wanton disrespect to other people’s property and livelihoods.

I did have a quick look on Twitter to see if anyone had tweeted #stoppolicecuts, and no one really had. I did wonder how effective the statement was.

What I took away from the installation was the fine line between what is perceived to be acceptable and unacceptable – whether it’s expression, art or social norms - is very fine, if not very ambiguous. 

Some photos appear rather unexpected. I was taking photos of graffiti in Hoxton and Shoreditch, East London recently. It was getting late in the day, and the winter light was fading quickly. 

I happened upon some graffiti of a mother holding a child in a doorway near Hoxton Square. The image of a mother and child can be very powerful and can also hold a lot of - sometimes conflicting – emotions. It was hidden down a side street, but hard to miss due to its size. 

One of earliest human experiences, as well as relationships, is most often of our mothers. This bond often influences us for the rest of our lives. The mother and child bond is often idealised, but can also be fraught with difficulties. 

Childbirth is also heavily influenced by social mores of a time and place. What struck me about this particular image was that it hinted at something a bit risqué. 

A mother standing in a doorway, possibly in an alleyway – what was the story? Was she hiding from something, or someone? Was the child born out of wedlock, in a time when this was less acceptable? Or perhaps she was just pausing for a moment, sheltering from the elements?

The image was a simple one, but holds a powerful story - or stories - for the viewer. It was much more powerful in black and white rather than colour. 

I was also caught by the paradox of where the graffiti was (side street) and its size (much larger than the average human). It did make me wonder whether this was indicative of how society views motherhood. On one hand, humanity’s need to sanitise and idealise motherhood; and on the other the undercurrent of how it really is. 

Whatever is happening around the mother and child, he underlying tone of the image is one of nurturing and protection. 

The above image is available to buy as a print.

Graffiti - love it or hate it. The dichotomy is that graffiti is a social taboo, but it is also an art form. It is often considered a nuisance, or even part of urban decay, but few would consider Bansky a vandal.

So what does this have to do with photography?

On the surface, probably not much. For me, it is a part of my urban experience. Travelling on the train or walking down the street, graffiti tags or art appear, and often the most random of places. Sometimes it caught my eye; sometimes I ignored it.

Even photographing graffiti wouldn’t have been my first choice, I must admit.

So, what attracted me?

It was a subject that found me really. After returning to B&W photography, I was exploring projects I could work on. A few months back, I had decided to photography Borough Market in London and the surround area.

On the edge of The City, Borough is an area that has a certain charm, but I don’t know it well. It has an old worldly feel to it, but there were elements of regeneration as well. I was looking forward to exploring it.

Whilst exploring the streets close to the Market, I noticed ‘Robbery is sincerest form of business’ subtly spray panted on a couple of buildings. It interested me enough to incorporate it in a couple of shots, but it wasn’t strong enough to take centre stage.

It wasn’t until I stumbled upon a rather large piece of work under a viaduct near the market that graffiti grabbed my attention with both hands. The piece of work was a triangle with an eye in the middle. It had seen me, and I had seen it. It was then that my best laid plans were side tracked.

Visually, I was interested in a very abstract view of this piece of art. It was about the texture of the paint and the rather rough and imperfect brickwork; it was about the roughness and how light and shadows played with it.

On a more intellectual level, graffiti is rather subversive and transient, whether it’s tagging or a work of art. Contradictory, it also says ‘I was here’, ‘I exist’. It’s a fleeting moment sometimes, as much of graffiti is painted over or removed by councils.

These are qualities are paralleled in photography. Capturing a fleeting moment, mood, character and emotion. It can be subversive enough cause governments and authority to try to control it or bury images. But it can also be an art form.

It was there, however briefly, and so was I.