Frank Meadow Sutcliffe
Frank Meadow Sutcliffe’s photographs of Whitby are known far beyond the town itself. Even if you’ve never visited Whitby, there’s a good chance you’ve seen his work.
Born in 1853, Sutcliffe lived and worked in Whitby through the late Victorian era and into the early 20th century. Photographing everyday people in everyday settings, his images leave us with a window into the town as it once was.
I’ve found myself spending more time looking through his photographs recently while researching my family tree. Even when the people in the frame aren’t my relatives, they could easily have been their neighbours, friends, or workmates.
Working with the technology of the day, Sutcliffe would only have been able to carry enough glass plates for around a dozen photographs. I accidentally took twelve pictures of the inside of my pocket the other day. As photography advanced and dry plates arrived, he no longer needed to carry a portable darkroom with him — something that must have felt revolutionary at the time.
He preferred his subjects not to look directly at the camera, giving many of the images the feeling of candid snapshots, even though the long exposures meant scenes were often carefully arranged.
It’s the backgrounds that hold my attention the longest — the faces peering through windows, children lingering in doorways, small details of lives otherwise forgotten.
Whitby Museum
Whitby Museum in Pannett Park is somewhere deeply connected to my childhood. The kind of connection where the memories barely make sense, but still bring back a feeling rather than a clear picture.
I don’t think we went often. I’m sure I visited with family and school, but the place left a mark.
It wasn’t until I had children of my own that I returned, and the feeling became a remembering. Wandering through galleries filled with artefacts that, to a child’s eye, seemed to have little connection to Whitby — or even to each other. Yet somehow they all belonged.
A prehistoric ammonite, a taxidermy seabird, a mummified hand — each one captivating in its own way. Hours can disappear there.
Ever wondered how leeches were once used to predict the weather, or how a Hand of Glory was said to aid a burglary? The answers can be found within the museum, alongside model ships built from bone salvaged from mutton stew, the Ripley Cabinet of Curiosities, Zeppelin III — a dark matter detector — and Bess the wooden doll, with her own remarkable story.
The museum also houses the Frank Meadow Sutcliffe Collection, preserving another view into Whitby’s past.
The Penny Hedge
It’s been made in Whitby since 1159 and only one is built each year.
This edition’s product focus is a little different, but the hedge must still be made properly — for fear of the curse.
Legend tells of hunters who killed a monk after he sheltered a wild boar they were chasing. As he lay dying, he forgave them, but only on the condition that they and their descendants carry out a yearly penance.
Each year, on the eve of Ascension Day, a hedge woven from hazel stakes is built on the east bank of the River Esk, strong enough to withstand three tides.
This week the tradition continued. Watched by a small crowd, the hedge was built, a horn was sounded, and the words “Out on ye!” were shouted three times across the river.
Whitby does tradition well. I think it’s that connection to the past that people love — the feeling that the same sights, sounds, and rituals have echoed through generations before us.
To witness something my ancestors may also have witnessed hundreds of years ago creates a real connection to the place.
I’m still not entirely sure which is the true product here — the hedge itself, carefully made to endure the tides, or the story that has survived even longer.
From Behind the Counter
Happy Birthday!
What a legend! You probably heard he recently celebrated his 100th birthday, but I couldn’t let the occasion pass.
Oak Apples
Ever seen these on an oak tree? They are created by the Gall Wasp to house its larvae.
Music x Engineering
This YouTube Chanel follows one mans mission to engineer music with the help of thousands of marbles.
