When a rock legend like Robert Plant pens a foreword for a photography book, it’s more than just a celebrity endorsement—it’s a cultural statement. Black Country Type II, a new collection of photographs by Tom Hicks, has captured Plant’s attention, and frankly, it’s not hard to see why. Personally, I think what makes this particularly fascinating is how Plant describes the book as ‘a startling study of our fractured, crazy place.’ Those words alone are a window into his perspective on the Black Country, a region often overlooked but brimming with raw, unfiltered character.
What many people don’t realize is that the Black Country, with its industrial roots and working-class ethos, has always been a muse for artists who dare to look beyond the surface. Hicks’ work, with its focus on color, humor, and the everyday surrealism of the region, feels like a natural fit for Plant’s sensibilities. In my opinion, this collaboration isn’t just about celebrating a place—it’s about reclaiming its identity in a world that often reduces it to stereotypes.
One thing that immediately stands out is the book’s title, Black Country Type II, a clever nod to Led Zeppelin II. It’s a subtle reminder of how deeply intertwined Plant’s legacy is with the region’s cultural fabric. But what this really suggests is that the Black Country isn’t just a backdrop for Plant’s music—it’s a part of his DNA. If you take a step back and think about it, this book is as much about Plant’s roots as it is about Hicks’ photography.
A detail that I find especially interesting is Hicks’ approach to capturing the region. His ‘freeform walks and cycle rides’ through the Black Country reveal a place that’s both familiar and alien, mundane and extraordinary. It’s a perspective that resonates with Plant’s own appreciation for the area’s ‘surreal madness and magnificence.’ From my perspective, this isn’t just photography—it’s a love letter to a place that refuses to be defined by outsiders.
What makes this collaboration even more compelling is the personal connection between Plant and Hicks. Their shared love for Wolverhampton Wanderers might seem like a trivial detail, but it’s a reminder that art and culture thrive on these unexpected intersections. Hicks’ humility in describing Plant’s foreword as ‘perfect’ speaks volumes about the mutual respect between the two. This raises a deeper question: how often do we see artists from different generations and mediums come together to celebrate something as specific as a region’s identity?
If there’s one takeaway from this, it’s that the Black Country is far from a relic of the past. Through Hicks’ lens and Plant’s words, it’s a living, breathing entity that continues to inspire. Personally, I think this book and exhibition are a call to look closer, to appreciate the beauty in the overlooked. After all, as Plant himself notes, it’s a ‘fractured, crazy place’—but isn’t that what makes it so magnificent?
