‘LayBy’ – A Euphoric Exodus Sometimes, someone comes up with an idea that is so blindingly, rightly obvious, that it knocks you off your chair. Yet one of art’s functions is to remind us gently of what, if we stop to think about it for a moment, we were missing all along, but failed to realize it. But, pullover for a moment and consider what has disappeared. A photographic presentation of a British “lay-by” for instance, may sound like as if someone had gone too far this time, to bring back memories. To a certain extent, “lay-by” was always something that happened to other people. This informal stopping place possibly with a café, for people who haven’t got to, where they were going, is what is intriguing. It’s about pure travel, not the “before” or the “after”, but the “during”. It is the area of life where, in America, the road movies were invented. The enigmatic relationship between the British and their cars has no equal, elsewhere in the world. The French have their fritesstops, but there you drink alcohol, so the whole culture is different. The American diner is also quite a separate thing. Only in Britain, it seems do they value so greatly eating in physical proximity to their cars; nobody really knows why, but only they choose to eat at foldup camping tables in the layby or the car park. It isn’t a phenomenon nor is this just a working class thing picnics eaten from the boot of a Rolls Royce, has been a longstanding feature. However, the most extraordinary location is someone’s face, and what’s happening in it. That’s the stuff of drama and it doesn’t change, does it? No matter how nostalgic this may sound, it is not quite like that. It’s about a bygone era, but you are looking at something you know is contemporary contemporary but which does not really exist. The “lay-by ahead” sign is vanishing and if the road planners can help it will soon be completely extinct. The metropolitan speediness of the motorways service area and the creeping homogeneity of the Little Chefs and Happy Easters, were not something the public demanded, but it’s what they got anyway. These are miniscule signs of the militant reaction to the attacks on a pleasant tradition. It isn’t just some fluke here, that I’m collecting history. This is worldwide history, and half of it is in the city dumps. We couldn’t claim to have reached the final frontier but on our voyage of discovery, we proudly announce the introduction of bold directions, informal harmony, and perfect individuality,
precisely distinctive, freedom of choice and beyond. You’re looking at a revolution in indulgence, and varieties to keep you looking good, because it’s what on the inside that counts. A bountiful selection helps with the right choice, rather than starting from scratch.