Amy Shore

b500 magazine

The Goodwood Revival 2021

Amy Shore is renowned for her photojournalistic style in the automotive world. Her aim is to portray the love and passion we all have for machines on wheels through rose tinted spectacles, whether that be road trips across Europe, humble workshops or worldwide events such as the Goodwood Revival.

For some days after the Goodwood Revival, I will post photographs and tag those who I know, friends old and new, and others do the same of me. I was tagged in a photograph of my partner and I which is now on my wall. I was tagged doing my job as I fought for a spot to shoot in the pits. And then I was tagged by a self-described journalist and photographer who wrote that my shooting stance resembled that of Victor Hugo’s Hunchback of Notre-Dame with an accompanying photograph. When I dressed in my wine red tea dress bought for £30 off eBay and fashioned poorly constructed victory rolls that morning, Quasimodo wasn’t quite the look I was going for.

Unlike myself, the Goodwood Revival teems each year with 150,000 visitors, most of which are dressed impeccably in their outfits from the 1940s, 50s and 60s. You have to be careful not to light

a match outside of Betty’s Salon on the main Goodwood High Street for fear of igniting the hairspray that billows out of the doors. One section of my brief this year was to photograph the details of some of the outfits. Jewelled hat pins, vintage cricket badges, ties once worn by their own grandfather in period. The effort which each visitor goes to with their outfit is the fairy dust to the magic of Revival. After a year of deprivation, the smells, sounds, tastes and sights were more magical than any of us have ever experienced at Revival. The dancers moved with more swing in their hips, the drivers fought for places with more vigour and theatre, the exhaust tones more powerful through the soles of your feet.

For the first set of photographs I took at the event, my camera pointed towards a string of SWB Ferraris, rolling towards the assembly area through crowds either side. The morning light forming long shadows from vehicles and humans alike. Twenty photographs in and I already felt at home. One of the most frustrating things about being a photographer at Goodwood - professional or not - is that you constantly feel like you’re missing shots. A couple will lean in to kiss and have detached from their quiet moment

before I managed to throw my camera to my face. Drivers run from one side of the assembly area to the other, trying to pull their gloves on, whilst I’m focussed on something else in front of me. I’ll head back to the media centre where other photographers edit the images they have achieved so far that day, images of exquisite light and composition which could dishearten even the most celebrated of photographers. But then you have to remind yourself that sometimes, it’s you who is in the right place at the right time. Goodwood Revival is one of those events that you could close your eyes, point your camera in the general direction of something, and you’ll more than likely get a shot you’re happy with back. Of all of the moments you miss, there are plenty you won’t.

I rarely know if I managed to capture an image I’m really proud of until I get back home and begin to edit my shots. There’s something about looking at images retrospectively. You spot things you miss. You can edit the image to feel the way you felt, rather than simply the way the technology in your hands recorded that moment. For this year’s Revival, the images I was excited to edit were the ones I grabbed as I walked towards the exit on the final evening. I keep my cameras swinging from me right until the last moment where I get into my car as there will always be something to photograph in that fading, navy-purple light. Sunday had been grey and wet. The entire circuit was dotted with puddles. It was only as I began walking towards the circuit that I noticed one car has its warm, ageing headlights on which sparkled in a small puddle. ‘That’s pretty’, I thought. As I stood there capturing an array of angles, more cars began to ignite to life and switch on their lights. More puddles. Less daylight. The shots I captured over the brief moment of departure of these cars were by far my favourite of the weekend. In that short moment, I was the lucky one to be in the right place at the right time.