Zoe Norfolk

Zoë approached Carters Steam Fair, a family-run fair that has been travelling the country since the 1970s, and asked if she could document their story.

After shooting her first set of pictures, the owner, Joby Carter, announced the difficult decision to sell the fair due to rising costs. With many employees living on site and knowing nothing else, this news was heartbreaking and Zoë’s pictures suddenly took on more importance as a personal record for Joby, the staff, and as a document of the fair’s last tour before the rides were sold off individually having failed to secure a buyer.

The project began at the fair’s yard, where winter work such as painting and fixing happens before setting out on the road for the season. Zoë documented the fair at 12 locations across the south of England, slowly gaining the trust of these showmen and women. The final part of the project returned to the yard, where auctions and open days were held. Zoë immersed herself in a community on the cusp of change, focusing her portraits and behind-the-scenes details on identity and belonging as individually and collectively everybody faced the emotional challenges of an irreplaceable way of life.

Zoë’s pictures show the side the public doesn’t see as these skilled showmen build up the beautiful rides while living on the road in their wagons and caravans. The grease, sweat, tears and occasional cherished breaks, and the incredible hard work that goes into getting the fair up and running for the enjoyment of others.

Daily observations that, when looked at closely, reveal a quiet emotional weight. These are not loud moments. They are subtle, strange, tender. Empty spaces, fading light, and small rituals. Aiming to slow the viewer down with visual stillness, bringing awareness to the nearly invisible parts of living that often pass without a sideways glance.

Living through an extraordinary and challenging time.

I wanted to capture the mood and stories of those in my London neighbourhood during the first Covid-19 lockdown. With residents confined to their homes, I photograph over 80 households, each portrait capturing a moment of stillness, resilience, and reflection.

It was important to represent a broad cross-section of the community, showing how people from all walks of life were affected in different ways. A lasting visual record of an unprecedented chapter in our shared history.

The project began in 2003, taking a self portrait on my son’s birthday. From the start, the intention was to create something lasting—something that, when viewed in retrospect, would become more meaningful than any single photo on its own. I wanted to make a quiet, yet powerful statement: that we were a family, and I was proud of that.

Each photograph is taken in our everyday environment. I aimed to capture not just us, but the details of life that shift with time—to show how everything changes, gradually and inevitably.