Paper, Feathers and a Patient Seagull: How We Shot Edward Lear on Margate Sands

There is a moment, when you are balancing a paper owl on a driftwood log in Margate while a seagull stares at you like you owe it money, that you question your career choices. Then the light hits the paper wings, the gull turns its head, and you remember: this is exactly the sort of nonsense Owl's Pics exists for.

The idea: Lear, but make it charity-shop

Edward Lear's The Owl and the Pussycat is 150-odd years old and still a gift for picture-makers: a boat, a guitar, a nose being paid for in coin, and a marriage conducted by a turkey. We wanted a visual retelling that felt handmade, British and a bit silly — no exotic animals, no CGI, no budget line that would make an accountant weep.

Scouting the Kent coast

Margate was the obvious choice: sandy bays, pastel skies, a slightly theatrical promenade and enough chip shops to keep the crew fed. We walked the stretch between the main sands and the Turner Contemporary at low tide, looking for a patch of beach that felt like a stage set without looking like a tourist brochure. The winner was a quiet bit of sand near a groyne, with a clean horizon and just enough wind to make paper flaps dramatic.

Props: the charity-shop shuffle

Everything in the shoot came from charity shops in Margate, Cliftonville and Ramsgate, plus a stationery cupboard and a certain amount of gaffer tape. The owl was a paper cutout — hand-painted, glued to card, and reinforced with skewers. The pussycat was a smaller cutout with a tail on a hinge. The boat was a driftwood frame and a length of blue fabric. The 'guitar' was a ukulele from a charity shop with a broken string, which felt appropriately Lear-ish.

Styling rule: if it looks too polished, rough it up. We sanded edges, crumpled paper, and let the wind do the rest. The aim was not realism; it was the feeling of a child's collage that had escaped into the real world.

The seagull

We did not hire a seagull. We did not coax a seagull. We simply chose a spot where one gull — now known as Gerald — had decided to stand. Gerald was patient, professional and entirely uninterested in our paper owl. We shot around him, waited for him to turn his head, and got the frame. No animals were handled, bribed or asked to sign a release form, which is exactly how we like it.

Ethical fun without exotic animals

Using paper cutouts and found objects means no welfare concerns, no permits for exotic animals, and no risk of a llama eating the set. It also means the pictures are unmistakably ours. The humour comes from the gap between the poem's grand romance and the reality of a paper owl on a windy beach.

The shoot-it-yourself checklist

• Pick a poem or story with strong visual beats — Lear is perfect.
• Scout at low tide; sand is a free studio floor.
• Hit charity shops for props: ukuleles, fabric, picture frames, tea cups.
• Make your characters from card, paint and skewers; keep them light.
• Bring gaffer tape, scissors, a spare skewer and a plastic bag for wet sand.
• Shoot early or late; Margate light is best when it's being dramatic.
• Use a phone in portrait mode for characters, wide for scenes.
• Leave wildlife alone; shoot around it.
• Pack out everything, including paper scraps.
• Carry chips. Not for the seagull. For you.

What we learned

Paper is a nightmare in wind and a joy in the edit. Charity shops are better prop houses than most prop houses. And a seagull will always upstage you if you let it. The final set — 14 images, one very confused dog walker — will run on Owl's Pics later this month. In the meantime, if you stage your own Lear-inspired shoot, tag us. We'll bring the chips.