There are no villains here.

Summerland

Summerland is a documentary project looking at a tragic fire that took place at the Summerland leisure centre in Douglas, Isle of Man on the 2nd August 1973. Fifty people lost their lives in what was one of the worst fires in British history. It was initially well-covered by the main news outlets of the day with headlines demanding to know how such horror could unfold amidst a leisurely dream, but this attention gradually subsided as the tragedy faded from memory and the pursuit of justice ran aground. While the memory of the event might have changed and faded in the collective consciousness, the island itself has not forgotten and still bares the physical scars of tragedy with the ruins of the building still visible. People remain traumatised by what they survived, what they witnessed, and by who they lost.

The project deals specifically with the themes of collective memory, the relationship between memory and reality, and the use of images as evidence. There is a marked difference in the way different people have remembered the fire and I’ve been continually surprised by the number of people who have never heard of the fire or simply do not wish to talk about it. This time period in the Isle of Man’s history is remembered as one of sun-kissed summers, with families enjoying the peak era of British home holidaymaking. Local governments were encouraging people to vacation at home at caravan sites and beach towns across the country, and much of the imagery that remains of these places is testament to that ideal.

More generally, the project raises questions of justice, and the effects of trauma and loss. I want to encourage the viewer to piece together the different parts of the project and to discover some element of truth to what happened. I hope that Summerland will also force them to ask ‘Why hasn’t someone been held to account for this?’ I hope these questions become self-evident as the viewer progresses through the material.

This project itself has several strands, which together attempt to create comparisons between the imagery that is used to depict Summerland and the Isle of Man, with the memories of what happened. Using postcards adorned in both archive and original documentary images, coupled with printed text and hand-written testimony, the project encourages the viewer to piece together the evidence, both memory and fiction, and in the process discover what happened and the ways it has affected the island and its people. The project hand-in will consist of these postcards, as well as an abbreviated version of this critical report (printed in a brochure format), and a small View-master, which contains stereoscopic images which superimpose images of the fire over landscapes of the ruined Summerland. The View-master also houses portraits of subjects that have been kind enough to speak to me of their memories and experiences. This critical report takes the form of a reflective look at the decision making process behind the project, assessing the project’s strengths and weaknesses, and asking where it could be extended to.

Background & Research

Summerland was a state of the art, climate-controlled leisure complex that opened on May 25, 1971 in Douglas, Isle of Man. The site offered restaurants, bars, a disco, swimming, and other forms of entertainment that made it an attraction to the whole family. It covered an area of nearly four acres with around fifty thousand square feet of floor space, and was designed to easily accommodate upwards of five thousand visitors. Developed by the Douglas Corporation, the design was based around the notion of creating a place ‘where the sun always shines’ (Kelly, 1972: 25). The concept aimed to neutralise the negative effects of changeable weather in the British Isles, offering holidaymakers an opportunity for sun and sand year-round without going abroad. A faltering leisure economy and cheap flights to Europe were causing downturns in the numbers of British families visiting seaside towns and resorts. The design itself was new and innovative, and the exciting new concept was widely discussed in architecture journals. Such a building did not exist in Europe at the time.

Employing glass-like material in the roof and front face of the building, the design would allow light to flow into the space while retaining heat, acting almost like a greenhouse. As Phillips (2009) notes, Summerland was the first building in Europe to make extensive use of Oroglas acrylic sheeting. It was claimed the design would ‘set the architectural world alight’ (Phillips, 2009; 115).

Unfortunately due to the lack of knowledge about Oroglas, sufficient testing hadn’t been carried out to determine the extent of its use. The architects didn’t have a full understanding of its properties, which included a low melting point, and flammable characteristics. This made it a dangerous material to use in a building that was not designed with adequate health and safety considerations, and without sufficient preparations for fire control or prevention.

(Official Report of the Summerland Commission: 51)

On the 3rd August 1973, a fire began on the south-facing balcony of the building. Initially thought to be an electrical fire, the consensus is now that the fire began as three young schoolboys stubbed out an illicit cigarette, causing a small fire at a kiosk. Though this fire caused smoke, the alarm was not raised and the fire brigade were not called. Estimates over the length of time that this fire burned differ from five to twenty minutes, but what is certain is that the increasing temperature of the fire caused a part of the acrylic plastic Oroglas sheeting to catch fire. At this stage, the fire took on its full ferocity, quickly ripping through the complex while around three thousand visitors were inside. As the fire spread across parts of the building, so did the panic. Families struggled to get out, and forty-eight people lost their lives, with a further two dying in hospital from their injuries.

While there are better-known disasters and fires that have claimed more lives, there are factors that make this tragedy stand out amongst others. The fire took place at an idyllic holiday resort, full of holidaymakers from across the British Isles. Because of this setting, it also involved children with an estimated one thousand present on the evening of the fire. Summerland remains the second worst loss of life from fire in the British Isles since the Second World War, and is also one of the most ‘rapidly developing’ fires to occur in a public place. Not only this but the scope of death could have been much worse, with the building operating well under capacity at the time of the fire. Phillips (2009) places huge importance on the fact that the new building had only been open for twenty-five months, and was hailed as being unique. It aimed to bring families together and to offer happy memories of summertime spent together, and instead brought tragedy, loss, and heartache.

Despite the scale of what happened and the initial widespread news coverage of the disaster, coverage of the fire quickly faded with public attention. Though the tragic event led to a change in building regulations and the way in which safety planning is conducted, the official report failed to hold anyone responsible for the fire or the criminally negligent circumstances that all but ensured such a tragedy would happen. Blame was not apportioned, and though the victims and their families received settlements (small sums of money along with a non-disclosure agreement), no real form of justice was ever reached. It’s not well known among British people, or even amongst architecture students. Phillips (2009) believes if the fire were to have taken place in the southeast of England, it would have a wide knowledge base and most likely an annual memorial. Though I would never try to compare different tragedies, or use other memorials as a measure against what is remembered of Summerland, it’s hard to rationalise the lack of memorial and memory of the Summerland fire.

I arrived at the idea for the project when my mother brought the fire to my attention – she is a property manager and health and safety consultant who had been studying events that led to changes in building regulations. As well as a professional interest, she was also a resident of Douglas from 1974 to 1978, and had memories of the fire’s aftermath, and the replacement leisure centre built in its place. Partly through our course studies, I had been nurturing a growing interest in memory and the ways in which tragedy and trauma can imbue a place with a sense of melancholy and despair, long after the events have occurred. I looked at the work of photographers such as Simon Norfolk, Edmund Clarke, Jem Southam, and even Gregory Crewdson’s Beneath the Roses series. When my mother told me about a tragic fire that is sometimes referred to as ‘the forgotten tragedy’, my interest was peaked and my research began. The fact that the foundations of the original building were still visible and derelict was the final factor in my decision, giving me a visual reference and starting point.

Initially my research was secondary, using the Internet to find news stories and journals that touch on the fire. I was lucky enough to come across Dr Ian Phillips exhaustive book on the subject, the only substantial source completely dedicated to the Summerland fire. Reading this I began to piece together the story. On top of this, a copy of the report of the Summerland Commission provided the official commentary to the investigation into the fire. Straight away I began to notice inconsistencies – it seemed so obvious the various people at fault for the fire, so why had no one been held to account? The horror of what happened compared to the sterile, tepid language of the official account emphasised a lack of consensus in remembering what happened. It became obvious that without a trip to the island, the research was never going to allow me to think about a creative or visual dimension to the project. I planned a trip to the island in February 2016 accompanied by my mother. I researched what materials would be available at the Henry Bloom Noble library in Douglas, and at the Manx National Heritage Museum. At this stage I also began to set up meetings and interviews with survivors and witnesses of the fire, contacting those I had seen in other news stories through Facebook and email.

My first trip to the island was somewhat successful: over the course of three days I shot several rolls of film, conducted my interviews, and carried out a fair amount of research. However, we were often met with a recalcitrant attitude when telling locals and strangers of our purpose in the town of Douglas. My interviewees were helpful and open, and grateful to talk about their experiences, but others met over the three days did not extend these feelings. On my first day, a receptionist in the Manx National Heritage museum, when asked if there were any artefacts relating to the fire, said, ‘No, we would rather just forget about that’, before turning away. This set the tone for many interactions.

On top of this, the Island itself seemed uncooperative with our aims, and provided mist, rain, and freezing temperatures whenever I wanted to take a photograph. It seemed that the island had no interest in helping me to clarify what went on, or in encouraging others to recall the tragedy. I also believed more time was required to go through the archive material in the libraries in Douglas. There was much I didn’t get through, as I only had a limited amount of time, and none of it is accessible online. Only further visits to the island would allow me to explore this material. My second trip to the island came after I had decided to carry the project onto our Major phase, and fell on the forty-third anniversary of the fire. I had a better idea for this second trip of what I needed to achieve in terms of photographs and research, and I would say I was more productive this time. Coincidentally, I was once again met with wind, rain and mist during my attempts to photograph the site – it really did seem like the Island didn’t want me to document the tragedy. On a rainy 3rd August afternoon, I attended a very small memorial to the fire, which was attended by around 40 people. I also shot more images of the site, and shot some additional portraits of those I interviewed during my first trip. I wasn’t sure if these portraits would be valuable to the final project, but it felt natural to capture them in some way. I also spent much time at the Manx National Heritage Museum scanning negatives taken on the evening of the fire and in the immediate aftermath.

Themes, Influences and Approach

Dealing with subject matter like the Summerland fire brings with it obvious themes – trauma, loss, and memory. To me, memory was the most relevant to my interest at the time, looking at the notions of collective memory and the ways in which others were remembering the fire, not just the survivors and witnesses but also those who weren’t involved. I wondered why more people didn’t know about the fire, and why the official report, news stories and the eyewitness accounts weren’t adding up. Dealing with trauma and loss was also important due to the

horrific nature of what happened – families killed, children losing parents, parents losing children. Through meeting and speaking to survivors and witnesses of the fire, it was obvious they were all still affected in some way by what happened. Ruth McQuillan-Wilson, a young girl burned in the fire, is still badly traumatised with the memory of the fire piercing every part of her life as an adult. Richard Davis, a former police officer who attended the fire and helped rescue people, remembers that no psychological support was ever offered to any of the police or emergency services that helped, despite having had to deal with the horrors he describes.

As I began to think of submitting the project in fulfilment of our Rethink phase, I was determined to step outside my comfort zone for that part of the course. My usual photographic practice is portraiture and reportage style journalism – fluid and dynamic, and constantly adjusting to new scenarios and subjects. In order to achieve something outside of this approach, I knew I had to slow my pace down, approaching the topic with in-depth research and knowledge, and capturing photographs in a slower, more deliberate fashion. Looking at work by Simon Norfolk and Edmund Clark (in particular Scenes from a liberated Baghdad and Guantanamo, respectively), I couldn’t help but be drawn in by the still calmness emanating from their images. This absence of composition in itself made me ask questions of each, digging deeper for the stories behind each image. I also took inspiration from Joel Meyerowitz’ ‘late photography’ as seen in his Aftermath project looking at the devastation of the September 11 terror attacks on New York City. These images ‘assume an aesthetic of utility closer to forensic photography than

traditional photojournalism’ (Company, 2003: 3). For this reason I wanted to achieve a similar aesthetic for Summerland, and decided to shoot on medium format film – something I had never done before. I hoped using such a medium would force me to be more thoughtful when composing and creating my own images.

In sharp contrast to this more approach, I decided not to plan any specific images for the project. Granted, this isn’t something I usually do, but I rarely approach a project or commission without an overall plan of attack or intent to capture certain images. For Summerland, I wanted to steep myself in the history of the island and this tragic event. I knew I wanted to visit the site and had no doubts I would make photographs there, but I wanted my compositions to come from a subconscious place as I discovered and reflected on the fire. Learning from the work of Peter Fraser (12 Day Journey, and The Valleys Project), I liked the idea of letting the themes and ideas flow through me and influence the images I was taking. I wanted to avoid overshooting, overthinking, and overseeing.

I wanted the Summerland project to be emotional, but not draw heavily on visual cues; instead I wanted the absence of tragedy and chaos to affect the viewer. I hoped that this approach, coupled with the slower, considered method of image making would allow me to create something well outside my usual image-making practises.

From an early stage, I recognised that the project would have to involve more than I could show from my images alone. The photographs in the news coverage of the fire are dramatic and chaotic, and I knew they could become an important of the finished project. In addition to this, I began researching postcards and holiday brochures after a tutor pointed me in the direction of John Hinde and the postcards he created during the same era. During my first trip to the Manx National Heritage Museum I found postcards directly relating to Summerland and the Isle of Man from the early 1970s. These fantastically colourful images, saturated and showing the classic British holiday resort inspired me to look beyond the Summerland fire, into the image of the Island as a holiday destination in the late 60s and early 70s. The dichotomy between these and the images taken after the fire only served to highlight the horror of what happened at Summerland. Using these photographs as part of the project asks questions about the nature of photographs as evidence. I know something terrible happened, but the photographs presented to the general public as a representation of that period do not have the full truth. The sun kissed beaches and happy families are only one part of the Isle of Man story.

As well as these archive images, I planned to use text as an extra dimension to the project. The official commission report served as a basis for my knowledge of what happened during the fire and why, so I endeavoured to use it within the project to educate the viewer in the same way. Select cuttings of text are used throughout the project to contextualise the images within the event, though the language used is often arcane and sterilised. I believe this is important in showing how the fire has been ‘officially’ remembered, and the lack of blame and emotion in remembering the tragedy.

For the Rethink hand-in, I opted for a simple book layout, with the medium-format images lending themselves well to the page. The comparisons between colourful postcard images and my own would work well, and I believe a viewer would have been initially curious and able to piece together the strands to reach a conclusion. However, feedback rightly highlighted that the narrative could be refined. Moving forward towards the major project, I knew I had to use the various strands more effectively, though I didn’t want to give away any more information. I began to investigate ways of delivering the images in a different format, encouraging interaction with the project and instead allowing the viewer to refine the narrative for me.

At the late stages of the project, a contemporary project became useful in influencing what direction I needed to go. Jack Latham’s Sugar Paper Theories (2016) deals with memory distrust syndrome, looking at an investigation into disappearances in Iceland in the 1970s, and the questions it raises about memory were relevant to Summerland. How accurate and trustworthy can memories be? Just as a photograph, memories can be manipulated and turned into fictions. Supporting his own original photographs, Latham dissects the evidence around the cases,

and presents the project in a way that allows the viewer to piece together their own version of events. To me, this was really important in strengthening what the viewer takes away from the project. In assuming more from the viewer, Latham allows them to ignite their own curiosity and draw their own conclusions, which could be much more effective than simply educating and telling the viewer what happened.

Moving away from the book format, I was increasingly drawn to the dissonance of the tragedy within the narrative of the Isle of Man as a family holiday destination. I wanted to turn this image on its head, questioning the reality and veracity of these postcards that showed the island in this very specific and enduring way. By forcing the viewer to look past this imagery, maybe they would uncover the tragedy that occurred and quickly disappeared from the Island’s history. Postcards allowed me to draw attention to this, and include my own images of the now derelict Summerland site in contrast to the originals. The postcards would also give me the opportunity to add the text from the commission report, which I feel, still had an important part to play in the project.

After settling on this idea of postcards, I began to worry about the emotional base of the project. I had interviewed people and taken portraits, but to me these wouldn’t be effective in the postcard format, and so I was feeling uneasy about leaving this human factor behind. The project required something to remind the viewer that at the centre of this Summerland story, there are people. I decided that I would ask my previous interview subjects if they would be willing to write their own memories on the original Manx postcards. Not only would these handwritten notes give the project an emotional grounding, but their personal memories would provide a powerful contrast to the official commission text which would go on the back of the postcards baring my own images.

Settling on these four aspects, the final decision was to include the names of the victims of the fire. The project consists of fifty postcards, one for each of the lives lost and each with a dedication. I believe the personal testimonies and names of the victims will encourage an emotional response from the viewer, hopefully one that mirrors my own reaction as I moved through the project.

In the weeks before the hand in date, I had been fighting an urge to make use of some of the powerful archive imagery, which I had uncovered in the Manx Heritage Library from scanned negatives. These images were taken during and in the immediate aftermath of the fire. In Photoshop I was able to overlay these images onto images I had made from the same location, creating a ghostly apparition of the fire over the site as it sits today. I couldn’t help but feel these were powerful so sought a way to include them in the project.

A fellow student suggested during a tutorial that I look at stereoscope image viewers, and View-masters in particular, which were popular around the years Summerland existed. It seemed fitting that this item, once given as a gifts and souvenirs as a reminder of places and holidays, could now be used to show the difference between the memory and reality of Summerland. The images selected for the View-master explicitly show the scars of trauma that remain.

Strengths, Weaknesses & Further Development

Summerland deals with themes that are not easily visualised, and though there is still visual evidence of what happened, using the images in an effective way was difficult. On deciding to focus on Summerland for my major project, I wondered if it would be sensible to move back towards my own usual practise methods, shooting straight-up reportage and portraiture, but I don’t believe the story could have been told in that way. Using archive imagery and then postcards offered a chance to draw comparisons between memory and reality in an effective way.

I’ve discussed the narrative weaknesses of the Summerland in book format, and while the images looked good they didn’t allow or encourage the viewer to move through the project, as I would have liked. The postcard format offered an opportunity for each viewer to investigate the material in a unique way, and have an experience something akin to my own in researching the project.

One of the more basic criticisms of this project from my perspective is that I did not shoot enough original photographs over my two trips. I believe that my medium was the correct one, and the slow process definitely helped me establish the right mind-set when composing images. However, I believe I would have benefitted from establishing a more detailed plan of what I wanted to achieve before each trip. For example, I shot a few images from the exact same location as their archive counterparts, and have used these ‘ghost’ images in the View-master prop as part of the project. I felt these images were effective in highlighting the gulf between the chaos that took place and the fading memory that exists now. Planning these shots before hand may have resulted in a whole other dimension to the project, rather than just the small contribution it makes now. Not only this, but it also meant a lack of choice when editing the final selection for both the book and final postcard selection.

It’s also important to note that I found editing the project more difficult than originally anticipated. It was a challenge to combine images and text, both original and archive, and still maintain the narrative without giving too much away. I didn’t want the edit to be obvious; I want viewers to have a similar experience to mine as they learn about Summerland and what happened there. I also think the selection of postcard images could have been improved with more visits to the Manx National Heritage Museum. While the postcards all directly relate to Douglas around the era of Summerland, many are more general images of tourism on the island. I would have preferred to have more images directly relating to the Summerland centre, which would not only have been better for the viewer, but also when asking my subjects to write their thoughts and memories around what happened.

Objectivity became an issue in relation to some of the wider themes of justice and truth. The project looks at the use of images as evidence, and encourages the viewer to come to a conclusion that justice plays no part in the Summerland story. However, in researching and working on the project I became emotionally invested in the story and the people I met. I’m no longer objective in my approach to the project and I worry that could have a negative affect on its outcome. How can I expect viewers to see the project as valuable when I am preaching justice for the victims of Summerland from a subjective place? Tutors and friends have assured me that maybe this subjectivity is a good thing, and acted as a motivating factor in the completion of the project, though I worry about how this affects my role as photojournalist. In this case, I followed Chapnick’s (1994) declaration that subjectivity in photograph allows for ‘greater insight and deeper revelations’ (Chapnick, 1994: 25). The debate into the role of the photojournalist is far too complex to open here, but it has been something I’ve wrestled with over the last few months, having always seen myself as an objective witness.

There are also a number of ethical and moral implications that come with the project, namely dealing with subjects still dealing with trauma. The project was conducted in a way that would not in any way exploit or diminish their experiences. Each subject was approached in an appropriate manner and treated with the utmost respect. All interview subjects provided informed consent on all aspects of the project, and will be kept updated on its development. I believe that the level of input from subjects decreases the likelihood of any ethical issues in the project’s completion. Hopefully it will help enhance their ability to openly discuss what happened, and find resolution in that clarity. I was initially worried that comparing the archive postcards with my own images in such a stark way would trivialize or diminish the gravity of what happened, and it was something I discussed with tutors and peers, but I believe the project’s aims remain faithful to the memory of those that passed and the interests of those affected.

Summerland shares similarities with Anastasia Taylor-Lind’s Welcome to Donetsk (2015), which attempts to realign the way we think about conflict by using postcards from the Donbass region to draw attention to individuals that have lost their life in the ongoing conflict. Taylor-Lind recognized that there was a discrepancy in the way Donbass and Donetsk in particular was being represented in postcards when compared with the reality she was faced with. Each postcard is aligned with an individual that has lost their life in the conflict; much in the same way each of the fifty Summerland postcards is representative of a life lost in the fire. Taylor-Lind’s project is concerned with drawing attention to an ongoing conflict, and the way in which the human cost of conflict persists long after the world media’s gaze has moved on elsewhere. Whereas, Summerland is about memory, and identifying the differences between memories and the reality of a specific event, and using that comparison to draw attention to the people and stories behind the accepted visual language used to describe a place or time period.

While the Summerland project deals with the relevant themes in a specific way, there are other ways it could have been completed. A more personal focus on the victims and survivors, featuring portraits and personal testimony is most likely the other avenue I would have explored. Visually, the derelict Summerland site would lend itself well to a video piece, with audio testimony supplementing it. The haunting absence in the space where such drama unfolded would be an effective way of highlighting the vacuum that exists between the memory of Summerland and the reality of what happened and what now exists there. I recorded my initial interviews with survivors and witnesses, so this remains an option if I choose to continue the project.

I believe the project raises important questions about the relationship between memory and reality, and the scope of the project could be extended and applied elsewhere. Other ‘forgotten’ tragedies could be explored and researched in the same way, comparing and contrasting the ways in which others have been remembered, both by survivors and witnesses, and officially. The images taken from the same perspective as the archive news shots also offer a potential road for development – a project revisiting the sites of photographs of tragedy and chaos, to explore the calm that now exists in that place, while the memories of tragedy remain.

Conclusion

Summerland is a documentary project looking at the contrasts between the memory and reality of a tragic accident that happened on the Isle of Man in the 1973. Presented as an archive, the project requires the viewer to move through the material, which consists of archive and original postcard designs, coupled with personal testimony and official language from an investigation into the tragedy. Summerland asks the viewer to look beyond the accepted visual language of the Isle of Man as depicted on some of the postcards, and encourages them to find the truth in what happened. I hope that the project will lead the viewer to the conclusion that often the imagery we accept every day does not tell us the full truth of people, of places, or of things. A tragedy in which fifty people died is barely remembered outside those directly affected, and it can be the case the justice can’t be achieved without the attention of the public or the media. While this project aims to further the dialogue around memory and reality and the notion of images as evidence, it also aims to draw attention to those who died and those who lost something in the Summerland fire.

Bibliography

Cantley, Sir Joseph Donald (1974) Official Report of the

Summerland Commission

Carter, H (2003) Isle of Man’s forgotten holiday horror

The Guardian, 2nd August 2003, p.8

Chapnick, H (1994) University of Missouri Press

Truth Needs No Ally: Inside Photojournalism

Clark, E (2010) Guantanamo

http://www.edmundclark.com/works/guantanamo/

Clark, E (2010) Sites of Special Scientific Interest

http://www.edmundclark.com/works/sites-of-special-scientific-interest

Company, D (2003) Safety in Numbers: Some remarks on the