I didn’t see any trainspotters at York station on the day I visited the National Railway Museum. I know they are out there (you only have to travel through Doncaster to see the evidence) and I wanted to find out who they were.
It might be a generalisation, but the image of a typical trainspotter is male, white and aged 30-plus. They may or may not be wearing glasses and an anorak.
It’s not exactly the most glamorous image, which is probably why it’s often claimed that trainspotting is changing; that young people, men and women equipped with iPads rather than notebooks, are taking up the mantle. I’m yet to be convinced of that, but I am open to the suggestion that trainspotting isn’t quite as sad (or strange) as many of us think.
The National Railway Museum’s Trainspotting season is an attempt to change the perception of the pastime and maybe encourage more people to take it up. The museum put out a call earlier this year for ferroequinologists (people who study trains) to share their stories, and about 300 responded.
Many of these have been turned into Spotters’ Stories, shared on bright boards throughout the museum, along with archive images of young lads (and some lasses) in their flares or school uniforms rushing along platforms after steaming and shining beasts of trains.
Making tracks
The museum also has an exhibition by the artist and trainspotter Andrew Cross. Parallel Tracks features an assortment of photographs, maps and objects that beautifully express Cross’s love of trains.
A new film, Being There, features trains in the US and UK streaking across landscapes; as the artist explains in text panels, trainspotting is as much about the suspense of waiting as it is about the eventual appearance.
For Cross, trainspotting directly relates to his love of travel, adventure and music. It’s about living in the moment and knowing there’s a whole world out there to explore.
Love Me Tender
This sentiment is also seen in Love Me Tender, a poem by Ian McMillan commissioned for the season: “It’s a late-night moment on a freezing station,/ A notebook with one page to fill./ It’s a morning that trembles with anticipation/ Of the signal, the whistle, the thrill/ Of the number you thought that you’d never get/ After days of frustration and weeks of regret.”
The poem and exhibition left me feeling romantically enthralled by the thought of trainspotting. I chatted to another visitor, a retired signalman and, as he shared his memories, I started to remember the stories my granddad (also a railway man) used to tell me when I was a child and we went to York station to watch the trains go by.
“Aren’t we all trainspotters deep down?” I said to my fellow visitor with passion. To which he replied, “Oh no. It’s a bit sad, isn’t it?”
He has a point. There is something inherently exciting about trains, but what is it that drives some people to want to document their comings and goings? Is it just another form of collecting (like stamps) or are there other motivations at play?
Memoirs
I went to explore the rest of the museum and read the Spotters' Stories to find out. Some fascinating memories have been shared here, such as being chased by station masters, going on trips with the Boys’ Railway Club and explaining why your school shirt was covered in soot.
Having these short stories displayed alongside the museum’s collection of trains really brought them alive and re-emphasised how extraordinary they are.
But after a while there was a sense of repetition, with too many of the accounts sounding remarkably similar. They were also predominately by men recounting their childhood memories, giving the impression that trainspotting is something that children (boys) do before they grow up.
I wanted to hear some oral history or even see some videos, rather than just text. And more context would have also been helpful; what drove these boys to go trainspotting, what influence did it have in their later lives and, importantly, do they still take part in the activity?
Slim context
Another problem was the fact that none of the stories were dated. Perhaps this was to imbue them with a quality of timelessness, but it felt to me that the majority were memories from the heyday of trainspotting in the 1960s and 1970s.
There was certainly no clear sign of contemporary trainspotting experiences on display – making the whole thing seem like a page out of history rather than a living hobby.
I returned to York station and saw a middle-aged man with a camera and notebook waiting on the platform. I was no clearer as to what had brought him there but, when the train came rolling in, I too stretched my neck to see what the number was on the cabside.
It might be a generalisation, but the image of a typical trainspotter is male, white and aged 30-plus. They may or may not be wearing glasses and an anorak.
It’s not exactly the most glamorous image, which is probably why it’s often claimed that trainspotting is changing; that young people, men and women equipped with iPads rather than notebooks, are taking up the mantle. I’m yet to be convinced of that, but I am open to the suggestion that trainspotting isn’t quite as sad (or strange) as many of us think.
The National Railway Museum’s Trainspotting season is an attempt to change the perception of the pastime and maybe encourage more people to take it up. The museum put out a call earlier this year for ferroequinologists (people who study trains) to share their stories, and about 300 responded.
Many of these have been turned into Spotters’ Stories, shared on bright boards throughout the museum, along with archive images of young lads (and some lasses) in their flares or school uniforms rushing along platforms after steaming and shining beasts of trains.
Making tracks
The museum also has an exhibition by the artist and trainspotter Andrew Cross. Parallel Tracks features an assortment of photographs, maps and objects that beautifully express Cross’s love of trains.
A new film, Being There, features trains in the US and UK streaking across landscapes; as the artist explains in text panels, trainspotting is as much about the suspense of waiting as it is about the eventual appearance.
For Cross, trainspotting directly relates to his love of travel, adventure and music. It’s about living in the moment and knowing there’s a whole world out there to explore.
Love Me Tender
This sentiment is also seen in Love Me Tender, a poem by Ian McMillan commissioned for the season: “It’s a late-night moment on a freezing station,/ A notebook with one page to fill./ It’s a morning that trembles with anticipation/ Of the signal, the whistle, the thrill/ Of the number you thought that you’d never get/ After days of frustration and weeks of regret.”
The poem and exhibition left me feeling romantically enthralled by the thought of trainspotting. I chatted to another visitor, a retired signalman and, as he shared his memories, I started to remember the stories my granddad (also a railway man) used to tell me when I was a child and we went to York station to watch the trains go by.
“Aren’t we all trainspotters deep down?” I said to my fellow visitor with passion. To which he replied, “Oh no. It’s a bit sad, isn’t it?”
He has a point. There is something inherently exciting about trains, but what is it that drives some people to want to document their comings and goings? Is it just another form of collecting (like stamps) or are there other motivations at play?
Memoirs
I went to explore the rest of the museum and read the Spotters' Stories to find out. Some fascinating memories have been shared here, such as being chased by station masters, going on trips with the Boys’ Railway Club and explaining why your school shirt was covered in soot.
Having these short stories displayed alongside the museum’s collection of trains really brought them alive and re-emphasised how extraordinary they are.
But after a while there was a sense of repetition, with too many of the accounts sounding remarkably similar. They were also predominately by men recounting their childhood memories, giving the impression that trainspotting is something that children (boys) do before they grow up.
I wanted to hear some oral history or even see some videos, rather than just text. And more context would have also been helpful; what drove these boys to go trainspotting, what influence did it have in their later lives and, importantly, do they still take part in the activity?
Slim context
Another problem was the fact that none of the stories were dated. Perhaps this was to imbue them with a quality of timelessness, but it felt to me that the majority were memories from the heyday of trainspotting in the 1960s and 1970s.
There was certainly no clear sign of contemporary trainspotting experiences on display – making the whole thing seem like a page out of history rather than a living hobby.
I returned to York station and saw a middle-aged man with a camera and notebook waiting on the platform. I was no clearer as to what had brought him there but, when the train came rolling in, I too stretched my neck to see what the number was on the cabside.
Project data
- Cost £65,000
- Funder Arts Council England
- Graphic design PWO
- Parallel Tracks artist Andrew Cross
- Spotter Stories co-curator Ian McMillan
- Exhibitions manager Amy Banks
- Exhibition ends 1 March
