Greatest Yarmouth is a photographic series by Charlie Biglin, created during the first UK national lockdown of the COVID-19 pandemic. Set in the seaside town of Great Yarmouth, where Biglin grew up, the work captures a moment of eerie stillness and quiet transformation. With public life paused, the absence of people allowed for a renewed observation of the town’s architecture, atmosphere, and enduring character, elements that have long shaped Biglin’s personal and creative identity.

Deeply influenced by the music, fashion, and visual culture of the 1990s and early 2000s, Biglin’s photographic language reflects a distinct sense of nostalgia. Greatest Yarmouth is not only a study of place but a self-published tribute to the unconscious imprints of youth and environment, those subtle but powerful forces that shape an artist’s vision over time.

Like many British coastal towns, Great Yarmouth is in a period of change, adjusting to modern demands while trying to retain its soul. Biglin’s project captures this tension with sensitivity, offering a visual archive of a town balancing progress and preservation. The work stands as both personal reflection and cultural record, marking what might soon be lost or reshaped.

Each image in the series is hand printed by Biglin, a conscious decision that speaks to the tactile discipline of traditional photography. The process is slow, deliberate, and rooted in craft which echoes the tone of the work itself: a quiet, thoughtful meditation on memory, identity, and place.

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HE: What was the turning point that made you feel Greatest Yarmouth had to be more than just a personal archive, something worth publishing as a book?

CB: I had already photographed quite a lot of Great Yarmouth by the time I realised it would become a long-term project. With this in mind and the arrival of the UK national lockdowns I didn’t know when the town would ever see such an absence of people again so I decided early on that the work would eventually evolve into book form when I felt I had captured enough to tell a complete and meaningful story. It became about more than just documenting a place, It was about preserving a specific moment that felt both historic and deeply personal.

HE: You started this project during lockdown, which was such a strange, suspended time. Do you think you would’ve seen Yarmouth in the same way if the streets had still been busy?

CB: Without the absence of people, I don’t believe the sustained vision I had for documenting Great Yarmouth would have taken the same shape. The emptiness lent an almost apocalyptic atmosphere to the familiar scenes, that feeling became a central force behind the way I approached the project. Many of the locations I captured were places I’ve known my whole life, normally alive with the energy of holidaymakers and locals, full of movement. During this particular moment in time, it was as if the town had suddenly fallen silent. That stark contrast and sudden stillness of spaces that were once so vibrant allowed me to see and document Great Yarmouth in a completely different light. It became about preserving not just the place, but a fleeting and surreal version of it that people hadnt seen before.

HE: You mention that the 90s and early 2000s energy inspires your visual language, what kind of stuff were you into back then that’s maybe fed into how you shoot now?

CB: Having been born in 1997, I grew up during these eras at quite a young age. I believe that in those early years, you really absorb your surroundings, music, conversations, visuals and all of it, amalgamated, begins to shape how you see and think about the world. Even though I wasn’t fully aware at the time of how treasured those years would become to me, I still mentally revisit moments and stories from that period. For example, I’d often think about stories my uncle used to tell me about the 90’s - the music, the way people dressed, the absence of technology. There’s so much I admire from that time and to this day, I believe it continues to influence my visual language, often in ways I’m not even consciously aware of…

HE: You mention the environment you grow up in leaving a mark on your creative outlook, how do you think Yarmouth shaped yours?

CB: In conjunction with the last question I think It became about more than just photography, it was about preserving something that felt both historic and personal. In many ways, Yarmouth taught me to look closer at the every day, to find meaning in the overlooked, and to appreciate the quiet poetry of place. That mindset continues to shape how I see and document the world around me.

HE: A lot of seaside towns in the UK are in flux, did you feel like you were racing against time to capture certain things before they disappeared?

CB: A lot of the time, I’d find myself walking past places I had photographed sometimes just weeks earlier, sometimes years and noticing that they had either completely disappeared or undergone some sort of facelift. It created this strange, almost disorienting feeling, like the core memories and familiar world I grew up in were slipping away right in front of me. That sense of loss definitely sparked something deeper. A feeling of responsibility, almost a duty, to document what I could. It almost became less about simply taking photos and more about preserving moments, places, and textures from a time that felt increasingly fragile. In a way, it was an act of memory and posterity, a visual record of what once was, before it changes for good.

HE: What made you decide to hand print every photo? That’s a real commitment, was it about control, nostalgia, or something else entirely?

CB: I’ve always been aware of the analogue process of hand-printing negatives in a darkroom but in recent years I developed a strong interest in revisiting my older work and applying this technique. I genuinely fell in love with it - the pace and tactile nature of the process felt very in tune with what I was doing through Greatest Yarmouth. It brought a new level of connection to the work and moving forward, all my current and future projects continued this way. There’s something almost magical about it - the ability to control each element by hand, without relying on computers still amazes me. I still find myself smiling when I see my prints coming off the dryer, it never really gets old.

HE: Were there certain parts of Yarmouth that surprised you such as places you hadn’t really paid attention to before the project?

CB: There were definitely moments that visually surprised me, details and scenes I don’t think I would have noticed without the stillness that came with that period. In the absence of the usual distractions of daily life, people, noise and movement, I was able to slow down and observe the environment in a more attentive way. It revealed subtleties in light, texture, and atmosphere that might otherwise have gone unnoticed. That shift in pace allowed me to engage with the town on a deeper visual level.

HE: Do you see Greatest Yarmouth as finished or is it something you might return to over time?

CB: I think because it was my first long-term project, Greatest Yarmouth holds a special place for me, and I do often think about returning to it. This time, though, I’d like to shift the focus more toward the people of Great Yarmouth. While the original body of work captured the atmosphere, architecture, and quieter corners of the town, I’ve come to realise how much depth and history also lies within the individuals who live there. There are many fascinating people, each with their own stories and lived experiences that reflect the character of the place just as much as its physical environment. Revisiting the project with a focus on portraiture feels like a natural progression, one that could offer a more complete and human side to the visual narrative I’ve started.

HE: I can see a quiet kind of poetry in the book and an atmosphere of stillness. How do you approach creating that feeling in an image?

CB: Yes, I do think there’s a calmness to the images, which I’d attribute to both the time of day, usually sunrise or sunset for that soft light and the solitude in which they were taken. Working alone allowed me to connect more deeply with the mood I was trying to convey. Even now, I prefer shooting during golden hour and on location, a habit that definitely grew out of this project.

HE: How have people from Yarmouth reacted to the book? Anyone surprised by how you’ve shown the place?

CB: Overall, I think my sentiments toward Yarmouth are widely shared among my peers. There’s a collective understanding of its decline, a kind of accepted narrative around its dereliction. It’s a place people often take at face value; it doesn’t go out of its way to surprise you. Yarmouth is honest and upfront, but there’s a certain grim maturity to it as well, shaped by years of change and neglect.

With that in mind, people have often remarked that my work brings a different tone to the town - making what some see as a decaying place feel more visually gentle, even hopeful. Others have mentioned that the images evoke a strong sense of solitude. I think those responses speak to the emotional layer I tried to explore, looking beyond the surface and highlighting the quiet resilience and beauty that still exists there, often in the most unexpected corners.

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