i fall in love too easily

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 17 April 2024].}

To celebrate my birthday, I thought I'd look through my archives of unedited self-portraits to find something from ten years ago that I may like to edit and share here and on social media.

In doing so, I found quite a number from a shoot I did in my bedroom in June 2014 that caught my eye after all this time.

I had previously edited a handful of photographs from the shoot, but ten years later, I'm drawn to other images.

As I don't share NSFW content at my lowest tier and can't share NSFW images on most social platforms, I decided to edit a photograph I could share publicly and one I could share early access here to those at 'the perfect 10' tier and above.

I also edited another NSFW image from this shoot that I'll share here in future.

It's been a while since I added work to my interior/exterior series (coming up to three years), but I feel this fits into that series.

Although I won't make this public here as I do with much of my work, I'll potentially share it on my blog and Flickr in a week. But, in the meantime, you get the first look.

I'll share the "safe for work" image with you and across social media later today.

pause for thought

I thought I'd look through my archives of unedited self-portraits to find something from ten years ago that I may like to edit and share to celebrate my birthday.

In doing so, I found quite a number from a shoot I did in my bedroom in June 2014 that caught my eye after all this time.

I had previously edited a handful of photographs from the shoot, but ten years later, I'm drawn to other images.

As I don't share NSFW content at my lowest tier and can't share NSFW images on most social platforms, I decided to edit a photograph I could share publicly and one I could share early access to my patrons at 'the perfect 10' tier and above.

It's been a while since I added work to my interior/exterior series (coming up to three years), but I feel the image I shared on my Patreon in the wee hours of the morning, i fall in love too easily, fits into that series.

Maybe this one does, too.

I edited another NSFW image from this shoot that I'll share with my patrons at 'the perfect 10' tier and above in future.

I also shared a new self-portrait from my wallflowers series, let me hold your heart like a flower, with my patrons early access this morning. That will become public in a month.

a whole lottie love

I had hoped to share photos of Lottie I took with my "proper" camera back in late October. After returning home from being her companion, nursemaid and room attendant and having her as my therapist for almost two weeks.

Unfortunately, life has been (even more) exhausting on several fronts since early October.

Until now, I haven't had a chance to do more than import and edit the photos I took with my D700. Though I shared plenty of my iPhone photos to social media during my time in her home.

One of Lottie's adoring humans, Sarah - a talented wedding photographer and a fellow cat-sitter - became a virtual friend back in the mid-2000s on Flickr as part of the (now-defunct) Female Self-Portrait Artists Support Group (FSPASG).

We finally met in person in 2011 when we attended a workshop run by Miss Aniela and Brooke Shaden in Eastbourne.

It turned out we lived in adjacent suburbs here in London, but I think we'll take equal blame for how irregularly we've met up since then. Though we now live 30 minutes walk apart, and lived closer for a period when I was in Wood Green and then Bounds Green.

I think the last time we'd met up before October was for drinks at one of our joint local pubs for my birthday, along with at least one other FSPASG member, Sevgi. I don't remember the year.

When I posted to my social media accounts that I'd fallen into cat-sitting, Sarah mentioned the Cat In A Flat site. I stumbled upon it while researching what I should charge for my services. Once I established that cat-sitting was something I could not only do but enjoy.

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untitled #73

So, when she and Pete decided Lottie needed a sleepover buddy, not just a once or twice-a-day visitor, she messaged me to ask if I was free.

Lottie had been unwell for some time, but the vets couldn't figure out why.

I had scooped up dead mice and cleaned up poop from a kitteh going through some behavioural issues. So, the concept of cleaning up kitteh puke at least once a day for almost two weeks didn't put me off hanging with Lottie.

We met a couple of times before the sitting started, and she was such a sweet, placid kitteh.

Lottie proved even more affectionate and approachable when I arrived a few hours after Sarah and Pete left.

She spent a lot of time napping on the pillows on the bed. But when she felt up to it, she would come to listen to my Teams calls while I worked. I would clear a spot for her by my keyboard, or she would sit on my lap if there wasn't space to park her butt on the desk.

I checked on her regularly when she wasn't nudging my hands as I typed or draping her tail across my keyboard.

I brought her breakfast (lunch, dinner and in-between meals) in bed as she had lost interest in going downstairs for anything except using her litter.

The first two nights I stayed, she woke me at 03:00 and 06:00 with her loud eating by the bed. Thank goodness I don't have misophonia...

She quickly fell into sharing her night-time ritual with me. She waited until I was settled and lying down, then walked on my belly and chest. Sometimes she would settle down and curl up on me. Sometimes she just stared me down from her higher vantage point.

On one of the days when I could have a lie-in, we started our day this way, and then she curled up against my body on the bed.

The first couple of nights, she had her pillow chosen. I slept on the other side (which suited me as it was the opposite side, away from her food). But we fast fell into a pattern of her curling up on the pillow above my head, purring away. The proximity provided great comfort to both of us though sometimes her long whiskers made me giggle when they tickled my face.

I would wake at about 06:00 to her watching me. The sort of gaze that, if it came from a lover, might be disturbing or sweet, depending on your temperament (and maybe their intent and expression).

I'd rouse myself to fetch her fresh wet food for breakfast, and then we'd settle for a few more hours of sleep until I had to work.

Though there were a couple of days where the combined stresses of news from Australia about my Mum's health, the project in my day job causing me to work long hours and worrying about Lottie's health overwhelmed me. More often than not, spending time with Lottie and worrying about her distracted me from the other stresses.

And she was always an absolute pleasure to be around, even with her illness.

Sarah, Pete and I obviously all hoped that, once they returned, the vets would be able to finally figure out what was wrong with Lottie.

I looked forward to staying with Lottie in future when she wasn't feeling so poorly.

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untitled #41

So, I was heartbroken to hear that, a little over a week after Sarah and Pete returned, Lottie's health had deteriorated to the point that she had to be put to sleep. The vets finally worked out what was wrong, but too late to save her.

Sarah let me know while I was with Sammy, Lily and Poppy in Bromley, so I treasured my time with them even more than usual, having heard that news.

I wanted to edit photos of Lottie that evening. Especially knowing I'd planned to do so eight to nine days earlier. But I decided I'd prefer to write something and edit and share photos of her without rushing.

So here we are.

Such a beautiful, gentle kitteh. I feel privileged to have spent that time with Lottie. And to have (hopefully) been a comfort to her during her illness. The comfort definitely went both ways.

RIP Lottie (aka Peanut Butter Cup, as I was wont to call her).

I hope there are suitcases for you to claw and laze in where you are. That there are supine humans just waiting to be walked upon by you. That the humans there hold out the brush for you to brush your own chin. And the humans where you are will be more generous in sharing their Brie with you than I was. (Yes, I would have given you the same look if you'd put a chicken meal in front of me instead of Brie. Maybe I'd have been less cautious and more generous if I'd known how little time you'd had left).

daysleeper

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 4 September 2021].}

untitled #5

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 29 July 2021].}

069 knees up

Day sixty-nine of The 100 Day Project for 2021.

As unflattering as this sketch may be, it's not the worst one I've done for the project.

My right leg is a bit on the chunky side versus the source image, as is the slipper sock encasing it (the first slipper socks I ever owned. They were so soft and lovely!)

The angle on the front pillow is a bit too pronounced. And I didn't worry about the polka dots being true to life in terms of placement and focus, but I think it works for the most part.

I sketched with a 4H pencil, then overdrew and shaded with a 6B on the slipper socks. The outline of the skirt was with a 4B. Other elements were drawn over with a 2B and an HB pencil.

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shedding light upon the matter

Day ninety-four of The 100 Day Project.

Illustrations:

Man on bed by Arturo Michelena

so when the glitt'ring queen of night

"So when the glitt'ring Queen of Night,
with black Eclipse is shadow'd o'er,
the Globe that Swells with Sullen Pride,
her Dazzling Beams to hide;
does but a little time abide,
and then each Ray is brighter than before."

'so when the glitt'ring queen of night' from
'the yorkshire-feast song' - henry purcell

in dreams

Another restless night. She doesn't know any other sort of sleep. She doesn't always wake from sleep during the night, but often the act of sleeping is more tiring than not sleeping.

Her dreams are, by turns: disturbing, hilarious, heartbreaking, nostalgic, violent, melancholy, full of love, full of anger and frustration, sad, arousing. Sometimes they are all that at once. They are always vivid and full of passion, whatever the overarching sense is.

Sometimes she wishes she didn’t feel things so intensely, even in sleep. But when friends or family tell her they don't dream — or at least they don't remember their dreams — it makes her feel sad for them. She would never want to stop dreaming, or to stop remembering most of her dreams. Despite all the ways her body physically ties in knots during the night. Despite all the ways her mind mangles itself as her eyes flicker under their lids in the dark. She would never will that other world away; want it gone.

The tension in her muscles. The ache in her bones. The tangle of nerves under her pale skin as her body physically responds to what is happening in her dream (or is the storyline in her dream dictated by the sensations in her resting body as it recovers from the previous day, week, months?)

She feels the emotional and mental sensations of her dreams through her body as she sleeps and wonders that it remains mostly prone while she’s unconscious. She wonders that she doesn't wake up physically entangled by her bedsheets, imprisoned in them, given the way her mind and heart often feel when she wakes from dreams in tears or in anger, her throat dry and hoarse as though she’s been screaming or yelling in reality as well her imagination.

From time to time she’s awoken by her own voice, albeit trapped in the back of her throat. She wakes to uncontrollable tears. To shaking; to breathlessness or ragged breathing; to unutterable fear and a racing heart. That one time she woke to laughter, her own, opening her eyes to find her partner staring at her through the morning light, incredulous at the sight of someone laughing in her sleep.

She dreams of sleepy, but impassioned, entanglements as her body lies beside another. So vivid that when she wakes to find them breathing deeply, sleeping soundly, she’s startled it was just a dream. The pleasurable ache between her legs lingers for long moments after waking, making her question everything around her.

Most nights her body temperature rises. She sleeps lightly clothed, aware that too much material close to her skin will cause her to overheat. Will cause her to wake in the night, her hair a damp mass encircling her neck, strangling her.

Other nights she shivers, feverishly, though the night be mild. Conscious of the need to add layers, she nevertheless dreads uncurling herself and unwrapping herself from her bedclothes to venture into the fresh night air to find more clothing. She curls into herself, knees drawn up to belly, elbows and wrists aligned, cupped hands clasped together and nestled between neck and pillow.

She dreams of houses she's lived in and those she can only dream of living in. She revisits houses she's never physically stepped foot in, but that she remembers from other dreams. Houses of many rooms, and many corridors twisting and turning. Lavish in parts; derelict in others. She makes her home in them or moves from them. Oftentimes they unexpectedly fall apart, become derelict, or she simply finds herself evicted.

For months before and after travel she dreams of planes and missed flights; of being far from home; of uprooting her life yet again to other shores.

She dreams of family long gone as though they weren't. Those dreams are often the hardest, as it's like saying goodbye all over again as she wakes.

She learned years ago that if you force yourself to wake from a bad dream to escape it, you need to fully wake, rouse yourself completely from the dream, or you will fall back into the same dream. But if you are woken prematurely from a beautiful, pleasurable dream, you can never just fall back into it, no matter how you let your mind run over the memory of the dream as you fall back into slumber.

Her mind is a tapestry to be woven then picked apart. An embroidery to be carefully created with fine needlework only to be tattered with sharp blades. It creates its own reality, then breaks it up into a million pieces. All within a matter of hours. Every night.

blue and green should never be seen...

...without another colour in between.

^{...what a load of bollocks...}

^{now playing: david bowie - fashion}

weaving words into light

I've been collaborating with Brisbane writer, Simon Groth, on i see a pattern forming since May 2011. Though our posts have been minimal lately, this is still a work in progress, and the concentration of late has been more about how to make this collaboration come to life in a place other than the internet.

A recent collaboration with McKenzie Johnson, an American photographer currently based in China, is much less formal, and taking place as a sort of dialogue, loosely titled 'Alone Together'. We are currently posting the first tentative responses to each other via Flickr, but may take the conversation to a place more consolidated in the future. I will keep you updated on that.

Slightly more recently, myself and Canadian photographer, Sarah Mercer, have taken to collaborating one on one after being involved in the Divine Diptych Project. We both enjoyed that experience, which often took a second place to life for many members of the Divine Sisterhood, so we thought we'd branch out on our own.

The work we are producing for this project is based on themes coming from song or movie titles and quotes, weaving words into light. Some images, like the first, will be diptychs, but that is not a requirement of the project. We're both excited about where this might lead.

^{now playing: pj harvey - you come through}