Guy Dickinson was born in Thirsk, North Yorkshire. He trained as an architect in London, winning the RIBA Presidents Medal in 1993. He cut his teeth with Niall McLaughlin and Branson Coates, and is now an associate at John Pawson.
He is partial to occasional bouts of ascetic behavior comprised largely of extended meandering in the wilderness. This always seems to involve traveling north, solitude and a large degree of discomfort. A visual journal of his peregrinations is shared in these pages.
"The rhythm of walking generates a kind of rhythm of thinking, and the passage through a landscape echoes or stimulates the passage through a series of thoughts. This creates an odd consonance between internal and external passage, one that suggests that the mind is also a landscape of sorts and that walking is one way to traverse it. A new thought often seems like a feature of the landscape that was there all along, as though thinking were traveling rather than making."
"Guy Dickinson’s instinct to head off to the remote edges of things goes deep. The visible traces of these solitary odysseys are sequences of photographs whose intensity comes not, one senses, from a desire for self-knowledge, but from a yearning for total immersion in the encounter with a physical environment. Landscape or seascape, in their ability to encompass the grand and the granular, these images take the viewer similarly deep into their field of vision. It is of the essence of Guy’s work not to tell us how to look, but rather to clear the way we see, so that it is the place itself – the fissured limestone, boulder strewn shores and roiling swell – not the photograph, that we feel on our retinas. In so doing he achieves that rare feat of conjuring Heaney’s ‘salt of our earth’."
‘What do we say any more
to conjure the salt of our earth?
So much comes and is gone
that should be crystal and kept.’
Seamus Heaney, from ‘The Singer’s House’