The much-asked riddle 'how did Red Arrows come about' is best described as a fluke. A previous project 'Plane Pictures' was seen by the RAF, its unconventional style for such an aviation project breaking many traditions - that of catching fast-flying machines with high-speed cameras.

As a boy, I used to crane my neck upwards at air show displays and see those formations that made seductively decorative patterns in the sky. As a photographer, I first began noticing how the topographics of landscape might work with a subject like aviation. Documentary and reportage seemed a natural outlet for this attitude and there seemed to be more to aviation photography than long-lenses and motor-driven sequences but this was all that I could see in exisiting books and magazines. The puzzle was marrying high-resolution photography with warp-speed aeroplanes.

To their credit, the RAF foresaw how their beloved aerobatic team might be represented with a fresh outlook, agreeing to me spending a week with the team as they prepared for their 40th display season. To everyone's surprise, especially mine, I stayed 9 months. 

From the outset, I wanted to tell the inside story of a much-loved national treasure. I learned about RAFAT culture which I saw as unique to any other squadron. Here was a group of men and women with far more camaraderie between pilot officers and the lower ranks of ground crew, many of whom share the same highly-qualified aerospace trades. It was therefore very important to make such distinctions because they seemed to be an evolutionary anomaly within the RAF species. I was also attracted to the shoestring inventory of their apparatus and facilities that gave them the low-budget elitism of a Shakespeare rep company. 

Their sole-existence is for RAF-styled showmanship and of course symbolising the 'British excellence and precision' clichés. If they’re expected over the Queen’s balcony to the very second, then every waking moment on duty must be governed by the clock and I was told by a team member one day that he sheds his watch on day’s off. I found that a fascinating paradox. Here was a man who clearly loved his work, synchronised biologically to his Breitling and yet he felt the need to stop the clock when at rest. Such is the pressure in a crack organisation.

Above all I would find a personality, colour and design-rich theme. There are many RAF stations whose personnel are housed in NATO blue and green buildings but where the fighter aircraft have more sexual chemistry. But those qualities just aren’t seductive enough to me when my purpose is to make work based on strong graphics. 

With the possibilities of a book came someone I wanted to use the photography and artwork to break all the rules and I pointed the finger at Stuart Smith to untangle this visual amalgam. I wanted to imitate my ‘Boy’s Own’ comic-influenced youth when the beautifully cutaway artwork of L Ashwell Wood in The Eagle gave an almost macabre insight into a machine’s anatomy on a very accessible level.