31 May 2015

Artist's Statement: Update

I got to listening to furniture maker, teacher and writer Peter Korn at The Hay Festival the other day. Lots to think about, and I might try and commit some of it to screen at some point. In the meantime, I would just say that I was inspired by his Artist's Statement which was, in essence: 





All that is needed really, isn't it? If I can bear that in mind when making photos in future I will be a happy photographer. No bigging up by neologisms or obscure academic language, no turning off the viewer with reference to arcane theoretical arguments. Integrity, simplicity and grace - done. If you have to ask, you won't understand.

Staying at Mark's Place

Last light.
Not long now.
Darkness coming.
Tempo increases,
Then slows
To a stop.

Ruby is getting old...

Black and White.

She hardly ever gets up here any more - I had to put her there, just to see if she might take an interest in what was going on outside; she didn't stay there long, jumping down and going off upstairs to sleep. Again. I don't even think she actually looked out the window whilst she was there - she sat for a moment with her eyes closed and then thought she'd be more comfortable elsewhere.
She is thin despite eating, and she has some lumps on her side - they have been there for two or three years but because she has lost weight, feel more significant now. She howls in the night until she can find us, in bed, where she sometimes comes and sleeps on our pillows, anything for contact and warmth. Sometimes, she howls and walks right past where I am sitting, oblivious to my presence and lost in her world. She is getting old. She had a turn the other day when her back legs gave out and then she wee'd on the floor (something she'd never normally do). She's made a recovery since, but I can't help feeling

“Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.” 
― Emily Dickinson

Ruby is approximately 18 years old.

30 May 2015

"No" means you haven't asked the right person

More wisdom from Mary Ellen Mark here, including "photography isn't about f-stops and lenses, it is about being able to talk to people". 

Talking to people. 

22 May 2015

Lucia Pizzani - A Garden for Beatrix - Private View

The opening night of Lucia Pizzani's exhibition at the Cecilia Brunson Project in Bermondsey, London, earlier this week. Other photos were taken but, well, I was inspired to shake things up a little this time. Hands. There came a point in the (very lively and successful) evening when everyone seemed to be gesticulating, almost in concert - it was lovely, like being at a performance.

More can be found about the artist here.

15 May 2015

Eden Phillpotts

"The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper."

When children run upon the Moor

"When children run upon the Moor, they seldom look much further than the ground at their feet, for there their treasures lie. When the old come hither, they gaze far off into the hills and upon the sky above them."
Eden Phillpotts.


"There are rare moments when the golden link of all matter seems visible and we forget our insignificance and feel a part appreciable of the splendid whole. The air we breathe is the same that burns in glory under the sun; the water and the lime that build us are also in the precipices and palaces of the summer clouds and the bones of the land beneath our feet. On such days we claim kinship with the elements and share their life and greatness and justification. They are festivals of all earth's thanksgiving and their lyric hymn throbs from the harp of a mighty minstrel, for it is the anthem of the rapture of life."

Lose no chance of attaining beauty - Eden Phillpotts

Orla Jackson as Lady Macbeth.

Mr and Mrs Macbeth