I’ve known Len for longer than I like to contemplate. Let’s just say we go back to the 90s. 90s Manchester. In lockdown (yes, please let that be the last time I write that word) Len put together a big, glossy book called ‘Regeneration Manchester. 30 years of storytelling.’ It was Len’s way of archiving his vast back catalogue of photography. A retrospective collection of how our City has progressed over almost three decades. In the intro are words from the 90s: ‘Already the challenge of pulling our City out of its post-industrial malaise has begun. A new home for the Hallé orchestra is in the offing and our magnificent redbrick Victorian warehouses are being converted to loft apartments, although we still call them flats.’ How things progress. 

 

But Len wasn’t always a photographer. A series of uninspiring jobs way back when were merely supplementing his hobby of photography. A hobby that – obviously – developed into a living. Len became embedded in the social and political and practical world(s) of Manchester, hence the resource for his retrospective almanac. In short he captured, in many aspects, a slow motion of the metamorphosis of Manchester and its boroughs. During those years he worked recording the physical and often dramatic changes in buildings and infrastructure. But alongside that he increasingly talked to the people and began to write their stories. Always capturing real life, often encapsulating social deprivation. Real stories, real people. 

 

And so his ‘virtual’ business card changed from ‘Photographer’ to ‘Photographer - Writer.’ But around a decade ago he felt, by his own admission, that he had metaphorically emptied his photographer’s locker. And for one commission, he suggested to the client that he draw the pictures, rather than point a lens. A new and very different challenge. The project was a success and opened a new door to storytelling. 

 

A couple of weeks ago I was walking down Tib Street and spotted someone sitting on a low stool, sketchbook in hand, head down and cap pulled low. I can never resist a glance at any art work, but as I stepped past I clocked that the unknown man was indeed Len. The style of the work in progress sketch was instantly identifiable. Len told me that he was developing a Northern Quarter sketchbook. A follow on from The Burton Road, Rusholme and Mayfield books – and many others. We arranged to meet for a brew in Stevenson Square the following week. Len was meeting up with the Manchester Urban Sketchers Group and we could chat properly. Len sketched, I drank coffee as we talked. 

 

Of course I knew Len’s background and so we talked about his new(ish) passion. To quote him: “Drawing is as old as storytelling itself. And, bizzarely, in the digital age it’s enjoying a resurgence. Maybe that’s because of the digital age. With a proliferation of imagery, sketching stands out.”

 

So Len himself, along with Manchester and its boroughs, has undergone a metamorphosis. His virtual business card changed over the years to ‘Writer – Photographer – Sketcher.’ Now, Len told me with a smile, he’s thinking of changing it to ‘Sketcher – Writer – Photographer.’ I’ve added the copy of The Burton Road Sketchbook to my growing collection of Len Grant books. Have a look for yourself; books and much more of Len Grant’s prolific metamorphosis can be found at lengrant.bigcartel.com. 

 

I left Len sketching away in Stevenson Square, adding people to the vista he was creating. As I stood up to go, a particularly striking NQ hipster bearded man walked by. I’m pretty sure that he will have been added to the sketch by the time of publication.