Jimmy Pinfield


Based in Cornwall, UK. Graduated with honours in Graphic Design & Communication from Falmouth University . . . and a keen surfer when I’m not glued to my desk! Skills include: print design, web design, photography and videography, identity creation and branding consultancy.

Contact: jimmy@theshoutingplace.com

We grew up in the mine captain’s house of a long-abandoned Cornish copper mine. The granite building stood out stark on the skyline, whilst furze and brambles enveloped the old mine site until little was visible. And where nature might have failed the War Office succeeded, demolishing the engine house to confuse enemy aircraft during the Second World War. The house had plenty of space to play, but when our noisy exuberance got too loud – echoing through the empty rooms and gaps in the floorboards – our Mother would tell us “Get to the Shouting Place and come back when you’re quieter”. The Shouting Place was the spoil heap of waste from the old mine. It rose up a stony island out of the surrounding vegetation and a century after the last tailings were dumped still nothing would grow. But for us it was perfect. It was the highest point and we could see for miles – from Trevose Head to St Ives Bay, and from the spoil mountains of the Clay Country to St Agnes Beacon – but most of all we saw the limitless sky. We screamed and shouted and played and fought. We were kings of the castle and on top of the world. We watched a total eclipse from the Shouting Place. Day turned to night. Cows lay down to sleep and birds flew inland to roost. The mist and mizzle that had enshrouded us all morning lifted enough to witness a pale watery sun disappear behind a misty grey moon. It was the last time we went to the Shouting Place. By then we were beyond the age of childish squabbles. We had all grown up and moved on. But the memory of the Shouting Place would remain with us as that special place of limitless skies, where anything is possible if we all work together.