Max Reeves is a photographer with a deep fascination for folk traditions, mythology, and the countercultural fringes of society. His latest project captures morris dancing in unexpected settings, challenging conventional perceptions of the tradition. In this interview, he shares his journey into folk culture, his creative influences, and what he hopes his work contributes to the ongoing evolution of morris.
What first drew you to photographing morris dancing? Do you have a personal connection?
Not really—but also, in a small way, yes.
I’m from New Zealand/Aotearoa, but my parents were British immigrants (English and Welsh). They met on the cricket fields of Guildford, so all our family photos and stories were from here. In the 1970s, the British colonial legacy was still powerful—it shaped everything from TV to traditions to nursery rhymes, reinforcing (while simultaneously deteriorating) the idea of Britain as “home.”
So when I emigrated to the UK, I had a sense—like many other immigrants—of arriving in a mythical homeland, albeit as an outsider. I’ve always been drawn to folk traditions. As a child, the only books I read were folk tales, myths, and legends. It took me a while to discover morris, but my interest has always been in the countercultural and the marginal.
Morris is often seen as “quintessentially English,” yet it also exists on the fringes—almost like a parallel universe. That’s where I like to explore and find meaning. Perhaps that contradiction is part of what makes it so fascinating.
Your book captures morris in a way that challenges traditional expectations—urban settings, diverse participants. Was that a conscious decision, or did it emerge naturally?
Mostly the latter. Folk culture is always mutating and adapting, and since I’m naturally drawn to alternative spaces, I found morris there too.
While I’ve grown to appreciate more “traditional” morris—after some initial hesitation—my interest leans toward the fringes, the unexpected, and the exploratory. I love how traditions evolve, occupying new spaces and taking on fresh meanings.
Also, I’m an urban person with an interest in psychogeography and urban exploration. To me, morris in an inner-city housing estate is just as natural—if not more so—than in a Cotswold village.
The idea for a morris-specific project took shape when I encountered border sides like Black Swan and Wolf’s Head & Vixen at Crossbones Graveyard in Borough, South London. Crossbones is a folk site I’ve been photographing for years. Originally a mass grave for medieval prostitutes and later a paupers’ burial ground, it was rediscovered by urban shaman John Crow (John Constable) and his partner Katy Chaos. Since 1996, John has held monthly rituals there, and with Katy, campaigned until it was turned into a memorial garden in 2014.
Among the many curious happenings at Crossbones, morris was one of them. The project naturally evolved from there, becoming part of a wider folkloric interest.
How did you choose which teams and events to photograph?
It happened organically. As I got to know different sides and people, I became more plugged into the information loop.
I’m particularly grateful to Black Swan, who took me under their wing (sorry!) and invited me to their events—they’re now great friends. Likewise, The Belles of London City. People sometimes contact me on social media and invite me along.
Other events, like the Moulton Crow Dancers, I discovered through research. Crows are a recurring motif in my work, so that one was particularly special. There’s something about the imagery of morris that lends itself to deep symbolism—it’s both theatrical and steeped in history, which makes it incredibly compelling to document.
Were there any moments or images that particularly surprised you while working on this project?
Not particularly, but a highlight was being invited by MAYDAY Morris to their Samhain ritual at the Merrivale Stones on Dartmoor. It was an incredibly generous invitation and gave me insight into their elemental motivations.
My morris dream? To see the England rugby team respond to the All Blacks’ haka with a performance of Constant Billy—not with their fans drowning it out with a slave song!
How did the dancers respond to your presence? Were they open to being photographed, or did it take time to gain trust?
It has been a humbling privilege to photograph these sides. With one or two exceptions, most have been at worst indifferent and at best hugely generous and accommodating.
I feel that I’m there to honor the traditions and those who carry them. The book is a tribute to them as much as it is an artistic expression. I use a wide-angle lens for portraits, which is intrusive when it’s in your face, so the trust given is very great. I also have to thank the audiences for their patience.
Your book mostly features southern teams (with a few exceptions). Was that a deliberate choice, or just where your journey took you? Would you have liked to include other morris traditions like longsword, rapper, or North West?
I’m based in London, and much of my work focuses on it. Out of expedience, I attend events closer to home—it’s cheaper and easier, especially since I don’t have a car.
That said, I do see this as a gap in the project. I love traveling further north when I can and experiencing the traditions there. I hope to expand this as the project continues.
Ben Edge’s foreword talks about a “folk renaissance” rather than a revival. Do you see morris and folk traditions as part of a broader cultural shift?
There’s a lot of discussion about English identity, especially in left-wing folk circles and post-Brexit Britain. Some people have told me that morris has finally given them a way to feel pride in being English.
Additionally, folk customs often align with the pagan calendar, which naturally connects with environmental activism. Sides like MAYDAY and Murky Water Morris are explicitly engaged in this.
How much of this is a wider cultural shift and how much is just fashion—we’ll have to see. But it’s fascinating to witness.
What was the biggest challenge in putting this book together?
Time, money, and my own disorganisation—probably in that order.
I self-publish under my imprint, Entropy Press. I’m self-taught in everything, so things move slowly. The motto of Entropy Press is Think Small.
What do you hope this book contributes to the perception of morris dancing?
I hope my interpretation adds something meaningful to the record and the discussion. Folk has been photographed by true greats—Doc Rowe, Leah Gordon, and Homer Sykes are giants in this field. There are many others now contributing their own invaluable insights and talents.
If my work can add something imaginative and useful to this living tradition, then that’s a success.
Morris by Max Reeves is available now from Entropy Press.
The book will be officially launched at Crossbones Graveyard, Union St, London SE1 1TA 15:00 – 18:00 on Sunday 23rd of March 2025. The launch will feature – what else – an afternoon of dance by some of London’s morris teams:
- Black Swan Border Morris
- Blackhorse and Standard Women’s North West Morris
- The Belles of London City
- Brixton Tatterjacks Morris
