At the beginning of the year, my Professor casually mentioned Bonfire Night, a fire-barrel carrying event in a nearby town, held annually on the 5th of November. It sounded crazy, a spectacle like nothing I had ever seen. But the idea also captivated me. I was curious. What was at the core of this event: its motivation? Why was this such a deeply rooted tradition in Ottery St. Mary?
A few weeks later the event came up, again, in my Kenyon-Seminar, during a discussion of James Shapiro’s historical book 1606: Shakespeare and the Year of Lear. November 5th, 1605: A foiled Gunpowder Plot to destroy the House of Parliament. An event that profoundly affected British society.
Over a month later, an email popped up on my desktop: “Tickets to Ottery St. Mary’s annual Bonfire Night.” Five minutes later, the purchase was complete.
Against the advice of almost everyone, I took my camera. Even the photo society told its members to be extremely careful and refrain from bringing anything valuable. Attaching a 50mm, the smallest lens I owned, I was able to move through a crowd of 20,000.
The event was fascinating and crazy! The barrel carriers ran straight through the crowd -- a dance between the fire and its carrier. Adrenaline coursed through the crowd as each new barrel was lit. Nonetheless, the energy remained only positive. While I stayed exceptionally close to the barrels, necessary to capture the action with my lens, I was hyperaware of the barrel marshals (designated community members who understood the movement of the fire and were located on the inside circle to keep everyone safe) -- a tip from a resident I had briefly met. The night was one of pure presence -- moving through streets, the carnival, and the bonfire. Yet, even as the evening ended and I clambered back onto the bus, tired, but still adrenalized, to take the trip back to campus, I knew my night wasn’t over.
When I got back to campus I had a plan: 1. Shower, to wake myself up and get some of the soot off that now lightly covered my skin, and 2. download my photos. Around midnight, I began processing and editing my images. Then, I began researching the BBC. Unsure of how to get my images to them, I first sent them to the national desk and subsequently went to bed. It wasn't until early the next morning, that a new idea came to mind. I began looking up all of the local BBC stations around Devon and Exeter and began sending my images there. Soon after, emails came suddenly back, not just one, but a few -- reporters and multimedia editors asking to use my images. They were going to be published.
