Andy Aitken was born in Edinburgh at a very early age. He grew up in the war-torn Scottish Borders of the 1970s (where spacehoppers and 18-inch flares lurked around every corner) and despite many unsuccessful attempts to escape remains there. The 80s for Andy were a time of failed rebellion and endless teenage angst. Upon leaving school he did not study photography and journalism at college, instead choosing a series of dead end careers in electronics during which he cultivated an interest and sideline in photography.

He worked as a semi-pro photographer for a few years (until the Inland Revenue caught up with him). His early photographic work was characterised by extremes in contrast and subject matter, his portfolio of Òstreet photographsÓ and ravaged landscapes considered by many to be a cry for help.

His interest in things photographic later became fused with a love/hate obsession with indie and alternative music and writing. He also writes/snaps/rants/suffers for an independent music/culture magazine under various pseudonyms. He is an acute observer of life and one day hopes to get one. He has unhealthy obsessions for computer games, beer, things which are old or broken (this includes the majority of his camera equipment), music, heather, sleeping and Mexican food.

Dislikes : shell suits, sport, suits, sport, port, rugby, skulduggery and broccoli. Favourite words: ÒexcruciationÓ and ÒfestoonedÓ.

Rumour has it that he is a practising solipsist, although he denies this strongly. He still thinks that e-mail has something to do with drugs and that Internet is a basketball term.

Andy loves travel but has never been anywhere. He currently spends his days dying slowly of radiation sickness in front of a vast computer monitor. He is married with 0 children and a cat and lives in abject poverty in a disused church in Selkirk (and is a compulsive liar).