Title: Elmet
Author: Photographs by Fay Godwin, Poems by Ted Hughes
Published by: Faber and Faber, Revised edition 1994
It’s not that many British photography books of 20 century which you can call defining. This book certainly is. It brings together the striking black-and-white photographs of Fay Godwin with a text by Ted Hughes. The book is a meditation on place, memory, and the enduring relationship between people and the land. The historic kingdom of Elmet serves as both a geographical location and a symbolic landscape. Godwin presents it as a place shaped by centuries of farming, conflict, and industry, yet still retaining an elemental power.
The book
My copy is a softcover reissue of the book (1994), and it’s the second Fay Godwin book I own. I am a big fan of Godwin’s work. Her
photographs are remarkable for their quiet intensity. Working primarily in medium-format black-and-white, she captures windswept moorland, ancient stone walls, isolated farmhouses, woodland, and traces of human habitation with extraordinary sensitivity. Her compositions avoid picturesque clichés, instead embracing dramatic skies, rich tonal contrasts, and subtle textures that evoke both beauty and melancholy. The absence of people in most images heightens the sense of timelessness, allowing the landscape itself to become the central character.
And then there is poetry.
Ted Hughes’ accompanying text complements rather than explains the photographs. His prose and poetry draw upon folklore, history, and personal memory, enriching the emotional atmosphere without dictating how the images should be interpreted. The collaboration feels natural because both artist and writer share a profound respect for the British landscape as something living and spiritually significant.
The sequencing is deliberate and measured, encouraging readers to move slowly through the book rather than browse casually. Each spread contributes to a cumulative narrative of solitude, endurance, and quiet transformation.
This book resonates with me. I like that sequencing is deliberate and measured, encouraging readers to move slowly through the book rather than browse casually.
So, as a conclusion, what’s my verdict?
As a landscape photographer, the book reminds me that a landscape can tell stories just as powerfully as people can. Fay Godwin’s photographs encourage me to slow down, look more carefully, and appreciate the beauty, history, and quiet atmosphere of the British countryside. It is a book I return to often, as each viewing reveals new details and deepens my appreciation for both the landscape and the art of photography.
Do you own any books by Godwin? Which one is your favourite? Let me know below!