untitled #26 [royal botanic gardens, melbourne, victoria, australia, 2007]
So, I've known this was coming since December last year, but it took longer than expected.
Subsequently, it's landed at arguably the worst possible moment for me: my flatmate has given notice tonight that he's moving out at the end of next month.
a gentle reminder
A second long, emotionally exhausting call today. The final clarification. Confirmation of the closing of a chapter.
I got some answers. I got an answer I expected, but that still stung and disappointed me.
At the end of it all, I still feel there are puzzle pieces forever lost down the back of the couch. But the jigsaw was thrown out months ago, so does it really matter anymore?
After the call and freshening up, I ventured outside into an overcast day.
And there, in our garden, just by the path across the front of the building, I saw a poppy.
I've never seen them in our garden in all of the five years I've lived here. But there are also some - yet to flower - along the main path. I noticed them on my return from the supermarket.
I took some photos with my phone on the way out but took my D700 down to take some more once I had returned and put away my purchases.
Seeing this delicate beauty in my yard - seemingly having appeared out of nowhere - was a gentle reminder to me on a day like today. When everything feels like it's gone to shite, that even in darkness, there is beauty.
There are new beginnings to be discovered and embraced. Unexpected but treasured.
The past two years have been difficult and stressful for me for so many reasons, and the past six months feels like it has reached a fever pitch.
Maybe this final gut-punch is what I need to move forward and find my focus again. Focus that's been gone for too long. But particularly so in the past year.
I value genuine lovers, close relationships, loyalty, honesty and openness. But I've never defined myself by my romantic relationships.
I've never needed a relationship to prove my self-worth, and sometimes they actually serve to make me lose sight of my own self-worth and direction.
To lose focus by creating a distraction and additional problems to solve, instead of solving the most important things I should be focussing on.
And, at times like these, I'm reminded that I crave new beginnings. New seasons of self. And the blossoming of new ideas and opportunities.
Here's to new beginnings.
untitled [tacheles, berlin, germany, 2001]
So, a mere ten days ago, I wrote about feeling like my heart had been torn out of my chest. It turns out he didn't get it all the first time, and today I learned that the hard way.
Yesterday was hard. I was tender and tired and anxious but simultaneously hopeful and cautiously optimistic.
Clearly, I had no idea what today would bring.
I thought the worst would be less time between drinks. I didn't know last drinks had already been called while I was away powdering my nose.
And today, all the fight has gone out of me.
untitled [tacheles, berlin, germany, 2001]
I didn't get to post a photograph from my travels before I had to take some time out last night, so I'm sharing these 35mm film photos of Tacheles in Berlin that I took in 2000 tonight.
Memories from 20 years ago that might have been revisited with another. But apparently, that's not to be.
Tacheles, as it was in 2000, feels like such an appropriate metaphor for how I feel right now: half-demolished, half-derelict, yet full of art and creativity, and somehow still standing despite everything. Somehow. It also had a beer garden.
I scanned these today from glossy black and white prints with the Photomyne app on my iPhone. For me, it's no substitute for scanning negatives with a proper flatbed scanner. While it may be worthwhile for some, I think I'll save my money to put toward an actual negative and photo scanner so I can share my older work with you from time to time.
Also, after a long week or so of sunshine and warm weather, today is closing with rain as it was ten days ago. I believe a thunderstorm is coming our way.
The rain and The Cure are intermingling to alternately calm me and punctuate my sorrow.
untitled #54 [trinity buoy wharf, london, england, 2019]
'Early birds' often swear by the hours of the morning before everyone else wakes as their most productive. Or maybe their self-improvement hours. Hours when they go for a run or participate in other forms of exercise. Or get in some quiet reading or meditation before the hustle and bustle of the day begins.
There's a false belief that night owls are somehow inferior. That we "waste" our day in bed.
Instead, many of us enjoy those same quiet, calm hours of productivity. We just prefer to experience them between 23:00 and 05:00, and they probably don't include physical exercise.
Yesterday I allowed myself a lie-in because I'd participated in two intensive two-day courses from Monday to Thursday and needed some recovery time.
Despite going to bed after 02:00, and initially waking before 09:00, I possibly allowed myself to linger longer in bed, dozing on and off, because of the vivid, emotional dreams I'd had before waking.
I was exploring a seaside town I've never been to. Wandering backstreets and footpaths and pubs and - as often happens for me in dreams - grappling with paths both inside and out that suddenly require me to wrestle with my fears of heights and falling.
Later, in one of the dreams, I found myself, barely clothed, in a customs office in Australia with Simon. I was begging for permission to enter the country despite all my identification and belongings having been stolen. I remember thinking of myself as an illegal alien.
In the afternoon, back in reality, I washed my mammoth pile of dishes. I won't tell you how long they'd been accumulating. You will judge me. However, they were all thoroughly rinsed, so there was nothing offensive about them beyond the quantity. While I washed them, I listened to a podcast about forensic science and then another about Einstein's theory of general relativity.
After a call with Simon, a shower, a supermarket run and dinner, I felt unsettled.
Nevertheless, at about 23:30, I settled in to edit photos for my long-overdue next instalment of my Love Letters to London series.
For the first time in what feels like months and probably is, I managed to edit photos without distraction for about 2.5 hours. It was bliss.
This photograph was taken at the location of some photos that may make it into my next 'Love Letter'. It fit my mood in these quiet hours, so I edited it to share with you this morning.
I paused at 02:00 mainly because I found myself thinking of a friend in Victoria who I knew was going under the knife this month. I wanted to check in on him while he was on my mind. In the calm, mellow hours of the morning, I got a positive update on his recovery, and we had a brief catch-up via Facebook Messenger.
While I was editing, I had the chance to catch up on new releases from St. Vincent, Juliana Hatfield, Paul Weller, and now Nicholas Britell. As well as singles from other artists.
The Underground Railroad soundtrack is particularly perfect for the frame of mind I'm currently in and seems a positive way to gradually wind myself down before heading to bed.
Many night owls don't sleep our lives away. We sleep about the same number - often less! - than early birds.
We just find our productive hours in a different part of the morning. Or in the afternoon or evening.
Are you an early bird or a night owl? When do you find are the most productive hours of your day?
Are you a vivid dreamer? Do you believe you don't dream? Or do you know you dream but never remember them upon waking?
Do you love hearing about others' dreams and sharing yours, or do you find it tedious to hear about others' dreams?
untitled #92 [melbourne general cemetery, parkville, victoria, australia, 2005]
Here's a lesson for all of you: don't go wandering around taking photos in a cemetery on a Saturday afternoon when you're still vague and vacant from your various indulgences of the night before. That's just what I did one afternoon in November 2005.
It didn't occur to me the security guard driving around Melbourne General Cemetery blipping his horn was alerting visitors to it being closing time. I thought he was just ensuring he didn't run over any old biddies who might not notice him coming. Amused at the potential irony of being run down in a cemetery, I continued on my wanderings, photographing angels.
My Nikon D50 battery had run out, and I'd used up the remaining shots on the black and white roll in my FM3A. So I headed back toward the Lygon Street gates via a friend's father's grave.
On reaching the gate, it came to my attention that it was locked. About that time, I also realised it was actually about 18:00. Daylight savings had only recently started, and my internal clock was out of whack from the previous night's antics. So I hadn't noticed how long I'd been there or how far along the day had progressed.
This was the point at which the proverbial penny dropped. I made my way to the main gates hoping they still had something as old-fashioned as a caretaker. Unfortunately, not after hours...
At this point, amusing as it was, it was also a little disarming. I nosed around the office entrance hoping to find a number to no avail. I then spied the phone number on the information board and rang that.
Strangely enough, it was the number for The Necropolis in Springvale. The recorded message told me all about reflection walls, informed me that my call was valuable and that an operator would be with me shortly. I found it equally strange that there would be a queue of calls for The Necropolis at this time of night. I also wondered if the times read out just after the number connected referred to their office hours, which I was currently calling outside of?
After a couple of minutes, I hung up and tried calling my friend Alie. She wasn't answering her mobile, so I called her home number. She had just gone out, so I explained the situation to her brother, Bill, who had answered my call. We both laughed heartily at my plight. I asked if he could find out the number for the Carlton Police Station and call them to let them know to come down and bail me out. He very kindly did so, and I sat down to wait.
After a little while of quietly laughing to myself and glancing about, I noticed a small sign just in the bottom corner of one of the office windows near the fence. On closer inspection, I saw the 'after-hours gate' number was on it. I quickly called the number. Thankfully, the security guard who had been driving around earlier answered. He seemed a bit annoyed but said he would come back to let me out.
He seemed less peeved when he found me there. He obviously recognised me as the girl who had been photographing an imposing statue earlier. We laughed at my foolishness, and he released me from the cemetery.
As I was walking back towards Lygon Street, Tracey from the police station called. She had been about to drive over with the key they keep in the station, but I informed her I was safe and sound and outside now, and we again laughed at it all.
What a day!
Despite the situation at the end, I'd had a pleasant afternoon just wandering and pausing at one point to relax and talk to Alie when she called me on my mobile.
There's a small church in one part of the cemetery that I circled at one point. Nearby, many varicoloured birds were flitting about. It was a pleasant area. I still don't know if I'm the marrying kind, and I'm definitely not the religious kind. But I remember thinking to myself, "Would it be inappropriate to celebrate the start of a new life with someone in a place devoted to death?"
untitled #17 [tower bridge, city of london, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]
“London is a bad habit one hates to lose.”
An anonymous saying, as quoted by William Sansom in Blue Skies, Brown Studies (1961)
I first visited London as 1991 became 1992. My family took a "'round the world" trip through Europe, the UK and the US, with time spent in London and towns in Wales during the UK leg.
untitled #14 [houses of parliament, westminster, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]
As a child and teenager growing up in Australia in the late 70s to the early 90s, my humour and cultural tastes were heavily shaped by British television, especially British comedy. From the various series created by The Two Ronnies to The Young Ones. From The Goodies to Yes Minister and Rumpole of the Bailey. Monty Python, Blackadder, Absolutely Fabulous, Robin's Nest and Are You Being Served? I could go on, but I won't. I'm sure you get the picture.
untitled #20 [albert memorial, kensington gardens, kensington, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]
But my music and some of my television tastes were more focussed on America. At the time, I was a subscriber to Bop and The Big Bopper: magazines focussed on teen stars of US television and film, many of whom were named Corey. (Though I'm sure that had nothing to do with my first serious boyfriend being called Corey...) I was 13, going on 14. You have to forgive me the foibles of youth.
I'd been a fan of Bon Jovi, Poison and other American hair bands along with the 'teen dreams' of New Kids on the Block for a long time. Around the time of our trip, with the influence from my older brother, Rob, I'd started to get into the Violent Femmes, but more importantly, UK bands like The Cure and The Jesus and Mary Chain.
I had inspiring experiences in the US and in Europe while on our family trip. New Orleans, San Francisco and Los Angeles stand out in the US. And pretty much everything in Europe we saw was inspiring. But I was surprised that I found myself turning away from a (by then) more US-centric focus to a UK-centric one by the time I returned to Australia.
the old curiosity shop [holborn, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]
Over the following years, my music tastes continued to span the UK/US borders. But I found myself more and more drawn toward the UK with the advent of Britpop.
By the time I finished my Diploma of Illustrative Photography in 1997, I knew I wanted to live in the UK for a time and have the opportunity to travel within Europe. What can I say? I guess I'm a product of my parents with their itchy feet for travel and their own overseas lives in their younger days.
By 1998 I had realised the benefits of my family history. I had started saving to move to the UK in 1999. My Grandpa on my Dad's side was born in Stoke Newington in London, so I could live in the UK on an Ancestry visa with fewer restrictions than many of my friends.
horse guard [10 downing street, whitehall, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]
About that time, I ended up becoming entwined in a relationship. Thankfully, my then-partner was a fellow Anglophile (though I'm not sure I'd describe myself that way now). And he was also eligible for an Ancestry visa through his grandmother born in Wolverhampton. Consequently, we bought one-way tickets to London in May 1999 and arrived on 1 December the same year.
We were not at all unique in our intentions in those days. Australians in their early 20s were flocking to the UK in droves in the late 90s. While the 'working holiday visa' was reasonably restrictive, it served its purpose for adventurous Aussies (and Kiwis and South Africans) that longed to experience the other hemisphere up close.
elizabeth tower [houses of parliament, westminster, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]
For (what we originally believed to be) financial reasons, we initially settled outside London, in Bracknell. We then 'graduated' to Reading, where we met many friends I still hold dear now. Eventually, with the impetus of one of my then partner's friends and myself, we moved to London.
When we were eventually looking to move to London, those I worked with suggested we move to suburbs full to bursting with other Australians. Areas like Earl's Court. I couldn't think of anything worse. Though I continued to live with fellow Aussies (through my relationship and friendships), I didn't come to another country to spend all my time with my fellow countrymen! What was the point of coming all this way, if not to meet and mingle with locals?!
untitled #48 [ferndale road, clapham north, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]
Despite my concerns, we did end up in an area that was apparently heavily populated by Aussies. We lived near Clapham North Station, on a road that ran between Clapham High Street and Brixton Hill. I didn't realise at that time, but the area was apparently full of Aussies. Maybe it was camouflaged by the pizza place across the road that we sunk our (small) fortune into being run by a lovely gay French couple. Or maybe it was hidden by the friendly Urdu-speaking family running the off-license we lived above. I don't know. But it never ever felt like an Aussie enclave.
While I loved so much of my time in London during that period, I worked long hours in an office in Canal Reach, near Camden Town. Initially clearing a backlog of invoices, and then eventually, with my manager's permission, scanning my own photos and uploading them to my fledgeling website outside of hours. At that point, we didn't have a computer or the internet at home.
untitled #46 [clapham north, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]
When I was at home in the evenings and on the weekends, my time was mostly spent in relaxation. At home, in pubs or clubs, attending raves or travelling. Enjoying the company of my friends and housemates and the interiors of local boozers. And trying (unsuccessfully) to pretend the Champions League and EUFA Cup wasn't a thing.
near by lie the remains [bunhill fields, st luke’s, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]
I took surprisingly few photos of London during my time living here in 2001-2002. Most photos were taken in Bunhill Fields Cemetery, or in and from our flat in Clapham North. The majority were taken during travels with my parents during their 2001 visit. And during trips to Europe with David and our friends.
sweets & tobacco [clapham north, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]
But I developed a love for the city that didn't die when I decided I was ready to go "home". I remember looking at flight prices in November 2001 for a trip home for my birthday in April 2002 and suddenly, out of curiosity, looking at one-way flight prices. That night I went home and asked David if he was ready to go "home". He said he was and we booked our flights without telling our employers.
What I didn't know then was that about three months after my return to Australia, I would realise I had just needed a break. That a month away with family and friends in Australia, and maybe reconsidering my relationship, and finding a new job on my return, was what I really needed.
Within those three months, I knew Melbourne wasn't home. I should have stayed in London. But it took me about nine years to get back here.
john bunyan’s grave [bunhill fields, st luke’s, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]
I've been back in London for over ten years now, and I don't see myself leaving anytime soon. I've visited Australia twice in the past three years and both times been reminded that I love the people - my friends, my family - and aspects of the country. But it's not my home anymore.
London is my home.
untitled #35 [bunhill fields, st luke’s, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]
From foreign correspondent, a piece I wrote while living in Melbourne in 2006:
some days my heart is in london though, or somewhere not here.
i dream of returning to londinium. two year and some months spent in the kingdom; less than half of that lived in the grand city, but daily commute from reading to camden for months before i moved. its grey, wintry, polluted streets are like a lover you know is no good for you, but you want to be held by nevertheless. it's a city to love/hate and not be able to differentiate the taste of either. moreso, i have unfinished business with her; a wish to return on my own terms with a confidence i had not before.
promise made to self that my return would be on the understanding of permanence, not fleeting. and for now, that is a commitment i am unable and unready to make. for now i love being in my rainy city, and the freedoms that affords me, that the lady would deny: such as a dwelling larger than a box of cardboard, with no need of company.
i visited blake; or rather the stone that marks an empty grave. i found him at the tate and felt myself overwhelmed by such a fantastic volume of work. dante's inferno in illustration, amongst other works.
kinfolk bred me with feet hungry for the touch of new lands. eyes wide at the unknown, thirsting for new targets for my memory-catcher.
for now i enjoy being in the present, potentially visiting the isle of the dead in summer and satisfying my taste for one destination...
untitled #73 [grand union canal — paddington arm, kensal green, london, england, 2020]
Usually, I edit photos and write my end of year wrap-up blog on New Year’s Eve.
2020 was no different. Except I found myself a bit overwhelmed as I tried to string together my thoughts about the past year and edit photos to post in time for the midnight cut-off.
I actually posted what I wrote just before midnight that night, and it was live on here for about five hours. But after a very brief phone call with Simon, then about five hours of celebrating the coming of the new year virtually with my friend, Sophie, I decided to unpublish it and revisit it with fresh eyes.
The opening of my original post felt like too much of a political rant. And whilst I can often be heard ranting about politics, I decided that’s not what I want this post to be.
Since my wrap-up didn’t make it online in time for the end of the year in the form I’d intended, I ended up taking a little longer to put the post together. I wasn’t planning it to take this long, but I guess that’s what happens when life is a little stressful.
So here it is. I hope you enjoy it :)
By the beginning of 2020, my fractured ankle was gradually improving, and I could get out and about more.
teleporter [winter lights, cabot square, canary wharf, london, england, 2020]
In January, my friend, Khanisa, and I ventured out into the night to see the Winter Lights at Canary Wharf.
In February and March, Simon introduced me to more English towns and villages.
riverside drive [rickmansworth, hertfordshire, england, 2020]
We visited Rickmansworth.
untitled #41 [holy trinity church, wareside, hertfordshire, england, 2020]
Ware and Wareside.
I also managed to visit Tate Modern for the Dora Maar exhibition with friends from Australia. With heightened caution and hand sanitiser, of course.
Unfortunately, after eight years as a member, I recently had to cancel my membership until I have a steady income again.
angels watch over them [parish church of st john-at-hampstead, hampstead, london, england, 2020]
Simon and I took a wander around Hampstead on 8 March.
As we ate dinner at the King William IV pub after our explorations, we had no idea it would be our last pub meal for precisely four months.
untitled #7323 [camden town, london, england, 2020]
A couple of weeks later, Simon and I took advantage of the London lockdown to experience a drive through an eerily empty City of London and Camden.
Redundant?
In late March, I was made redundant.
I’ll say no more than it was one of the best things to happen to me in 2020, a year that was mostly okay for me, despite the pandemic.
Hardly!
While I may not have brought in a wage during much of 2020, I found other ways to keep myself occupied.
after the deluge
The 100 Day Project started on 7 April and seemed a perfect opportunity to explore something new.
Namely, cut out and keep. 100 digital collages created using a mix of illustrations and paintings in the public domain, in many instances combined with my own photos.
The project provided a welcome distraction for me from everything else going on at the time. And — based on the results of my Instagram Top Nine for 2020 — chimed with many of my followers. It also earned me likes from one of my most admired filmmakers, Guy Maddin, which was a bit of a highlight for the year.
The natural world
Along with toilet paper and pasta shortages, and the joys of queuing, 2020 brought me an increased appreciation of nature.
I learned a lot last year by slowing down and observing the world around me.
untitled #133 [monken hadley common, barnet, london, england, 2020]
Wandering through the woods with Simon and my camera.
Redesigning our shared garden with Simon and my neighbour.
Learning about and growing plants in my flat.
I talked a lot to plants. I got excited about new leaves, flowers, growth of any kind. And I squeed when I saw my babies flourishing in new ways. It was kind of embarrassing…
Not pictured: our sunflowers, Anya potatoes, ruby red Swiss chard, leeks, coriander, parsley and thyme, all of which came and went in 2020, and our hyacinths, spider plant, flaming Katy, ivy and avocado, which are all gradually coming along.
Parklife
Though our wanders in 2020 rarely terminated at a pub — as they would have done in previous years — we visited and revisited many parks for our daily permitted exercise.
on the precipice [monken hadley common, barnet, london, england, 2020]
We visited Monken Hadley Common and Hadley Wood multiple times.
untitled #399 [hampstead heath, hampstead, london, england, 2020]
I finally made it Hampstead Heath. Not once, but twice!
The second visit was part of a socially-distanced meander with Julie and her Simon from my place via Alexandra Park and Palace, part of the Parkland Walk, Hampstead, Highgate Wood and Kentish Town.
untitled #878 [pondwicks meadow, amersham, buckinghamshire, england, 2020]
We popped over to Amersham for a day out on our anniversary, discovering Pondwicks Meadow.
rising to the occasion
And we made a new friend in The Stumpery at Golders Hill Park.
Not pictured: Finsbury Park, Gillespie Park Ecology Centre, Theydon Bois, Walthamstow Marshes, Walters Close Open Space in Cheshunt, Hampstead Heath Extension and Minchenden Oak Garden.
The Magnificent Seven
When restrictions allowed, Simon and I continued our visits to London’s Magnificent Seven cemeteries.
resting [tower hamlets cemetery park, mile end, london, england, 2020]
We belatedly celebrated my birthday with a visit to Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park in April after finding Kensal Green Cemetery was closed to all but those attending funerals.
untitled #629 [highgate cemetery west, highgate, london, england, 2020]
As I’m a Friend of Highgate Cemetery Trust, we had the chance to be guinea pigs for the new self-guided tours of the west cemetery in July.
While I will always recommend the guided tours there, it was lovely to wander (mostly) at will through the overgrown hillside cemetery.
untitled #252 [kensal green cemetery, kensal green, london, england, 2020]
Fortuitously, in December I happened to see Gasometer Gal’s tweet that Kensal Green Gasworks had been reduced to one gasholder. The penny finally dropped: Kensal Green Cemetery was the one we’d seen set against gasometers featured in episodes of the Channel 4 TV series, Misfits!
So we celebrated an early Christmas Day our way visiting the Kensal Green Cemetery and gasworks. My early Christmas present was two of my obsessions — cemeteries and gasometers — colliding.
Hopefully, this year we'll visit the two I haven't been to before: Brompton Cemetery and West Norwood Cemetery. And maybe we'll revisit some of the others.
Last gas-p
Which brings me to the loss of more London gasometers in 2020, and the ones I managed to capture last year.
The New Southgate Gasworks disappeared by about mid-2020. I had photographed them previously but missed documenting their dismantling.
The remaining gasholders at Bethnal Green/Haggerston will be incorporated into a new residential development similar to those at Kings Cross. I recently signed a petition to influence how it will be done.
untitled #141 [kensal green gasworks, kensal green, london, england, 2020]
As for Kensal Green Gasworks, one gasometer was removed in 2020. It's unclear if the remaining one will disappear from the skyline or if it will be incorporated into the new development. It seems developers behind Gas Holder Park in Kings Cross may be involved.
Here's hoping the canals in Kensal Green and Haggerston can preserve a little of their iconic appearance.
Long-distance dedications
I hadn't expected to see my parents again in the flesh this year. So, despite the travel restrictions caused by the pandemic, not much changed in that respect.
However, the extended Victorian lockdown meant Mum and Dad were cut off from the rest of our family for most of the year. And due to temporary restrictions at my Mum's nursing home, Dad was unable to visit her at one stage.
Mum likely didn't notice and has been, thankfully, otherwise unaffected so far. But all of us being so distant from Dad was hard. I'm hoping Australia can continue to maintain tight control on the coronavirus and avoid that happening again.
On the upside, it meant Dad and I had long meandering conversations on both serious and frivolous subjects once or twice a week on Skype most of the year.
smilers
The wonderful nursing home staff made it possible to Skype with Mum on her occasional good days.
Instant group messaging has also been a saviour, especially in times of family medical emergencies.
New discoveries I made in 2020:
Being an introvert has its advantages during a pandemic, going in and out of lockdown.
I have some lovely neighbours, and we're actually a pretty strong community in my street and others nearby.
Watching friends and acquaintances get caught up in conspiracy theories is not helpful for my mental health.
There are some tasty no and low alcohol ciders out there. (Though why are they often as or more expensive than full strength ones? And when will cider makers start selling 10 can cases of them rather than individual bottles?)
While I'm definitely still a dog person, maybe cats have a certain charm.
lifeguard
Looking forward to it (whatever it is)
Though there’s a great deal of uncertainty ahead, I’m still optimistic for 2021. Not like “this will be my best year ever”, just a cautious optimism for now.
I’m not overly hopeful for much travel this year. I’ll settle for a weekend away somewhere within the UK at some stage. We’ll have to see what the latter half of the year brings.
Maybe vaccinations will open the country up faster than we expect. I’m not counting chickens yet though…
simon
I’m hoping Simon and I can make a home together.
And I’m also hoping I can build on the work I’ve done over the past nine months to head closer to self-employment through my photography, writing and other endeavours. Not least due to the ongoing pandemic, I’m keen to be more self-sufficient in terms of my income.
Patronise me
If you'd like to help me with that there's a smorgasbord of ways:
Buy my work! Contact me directly for print purchases. I hope to get my store online soon.
Buy my products through RedBubble.
Commission some work: photographs, collages, writing. Let’s chat!
Hire me for some photography (not weddings, sorry!), writing, design and/or digital marketing.
Got something else you think I'd be perfect for? Hit me up!
Thank you to my wonderful patrons, my print customers and those who used my marketing and website expertise in 2020.
I hope this year turns out better for all of us than we might expect and I send you love. x
untitled #12 [river chess, rickmansworth, hertfordshire, england, 2020]
Reality reared its ugly head again on Thursday afternoon this week after a reverie of about seven months.
Was it reverie or just denial?
Either way, I've had to focus more on things other than my photography, art and writing over the past few days.
On the positive side: I've imported all my photos and videos to near the end of April. I hope to get up to date in the next week, around things that need to be done in 'the real world'.
I fell ridiculously behind with importing after my trip to Australia with Simon. Far worse than I've ever managed before.
I also started work on a new collage recently - which may or may not work out, so it may or may not appear here soon - which is part of a new series.
At the tail-end of the night (what's now last night), I had a chance to look through some of my photos from earlier this year that I'd barely seen since I took them.
Doing so gave me ideas for two new series of photos using images I've already taken but, in many cases, not yet edited. One is Christmas-themed, so I'll start posting that series from 1 December. Spoiler alert: it's not full of your usual Christmas cheer. Sorry.
However, I chose this photo to edit and share with you for now.
It caught my eye earlier this week as I was importing photos from my DSLR from that day. 2 February 2020, specifically. A nice palindromic date: 02/02/2020. The serenity of the scene felt like that particular soothing thing I needed right now.
Listening to Grandaddy's The Sophtware Slump... on a wooden piano as I edited also helped to slow my racing mind.
At least for a while... until my computer crashed and I lost this post and had to start again. Thankfully I managed to get the bulk of what I'd written captured with the camera on my phone before it disappeared into the ether.
I hope this image helps to calm you if that's what you need right now.
Let me know what you're listening to lately to help you deal with whatever stresses you're going through. Music recommendations spin me right round, baby, right round.
untitled #2 [cradle mountain road, lower beulah, tasmania, australia, 2018]
Though I haven't posted many of the photos I took during my time in New Zealand and Australia in February/March 2018, I've managed to edit the majority of them.
However, there are quite a few from the Tasmanian leg of my trip still to work through. This was one I recently edited for submission to Issue #149 of Shots Magazine.
Taken on Cradle Mountain Road, en route to Dove Lake and Cradle Mountain with my parents, my uncle and his partner, we experienced lovely, but cold, weather. Arriving at the information centre to take the shuttle bus to Dove Lake, it became much more foggy and overcast.
While Dad and I took the shuttle bus to Dove Lake and back, Mum waited impatiently with my uncle and his partner in the information centre. She became increasingly impatient and irritable when Uncle John and I went on the rainforest walk. Mum's impatience and irritability is an unfortunate byproduct of dementia.
John and I were able to see native birds, wildlife and plants on the walk and I took quite a lot of photos.
Despite Mum's mood that day, the weather and circumstances were better than when Simon and I attempted to visit Cradle Mountain with my parents almost a year and a half later. This time around it was even colder, blowing a gale and raining, and I was on crutches.
As a consequence, we used the facilities and moved on to the next stop of the tour. The only positive of our attempted visit was the sighting of wombats and wallabies by the roadside as we navigated our way back.
Almost a year on, I still haven't had the chance to import and review photos from our trip taken with my D700. I'm finally close to being caught up on other things so I can do so though.
And I'm looking forward to sharing the best of mine here when I do.
time for reflection [st peter and st paul church, appledore, kent, england, 2016]
Last week I submitted some of my photographs to issue #149 of Shots Magazine. The theme for the issue is open, so work on any subject can be considered.
This was one of the images I submitted, though the version I sent through was black and white as the magazine is printed that way.
I took this photo of the Church of St Peter and St Paul, the Appledore Parish Church, in Kent on 20 June 2016. It was taken mere days before the referendum on Britain leaving the European Union.
A short walk around the town revealed posters, placards and flyers proclaiming many of the town's residents as proud Leave supporters. Conversations overheard while we ate at The Black Lion confirmed we were in prime Leave territory.
Fast forward four years and the UK has left the EU, but we're still figuring out what that means.
About five months after the UK referendum, Donald Trump was elected.
The passing of time since then has revealed the world to me as seemingly the inverse of what I had believed and hoped it to be.
I felt we were moving forward as a global population. But since 2016, I feel like we've gone backwards in every way except time. Honesty, compassion, empathy, rationality, sanity and logic all seem at an all-time low around the world right now. At least compared to what I've seen in my lifetime.
Though gender and racial equality has made leaps and bounds over time, it feels like notions of equality are bending back into shapes of the past.
Two steps forward. One step back.
Or, more accurately, two steps forward, three steps backwards, another two, another two, another one for good measure...
I often feel like I'm staring at a weirdly inverted, sideshow-mirror-reflection of the world I thought I knew.
Though I've (perhaps foolishly) not 100% discounted the thought of having children, I've seen so much in the past four years to make me thankful for not having children up to this point. And fearful of what they might face if I were to have any.
On a day when everything feels alternately raw and jagged or dull and numb, this photo feels like a metaphor for the disorientation I've been feeling more and more lately. But perhaps it appears calmer than my feelings.
graeme and margaret hyde (photographer unknown)
It’s still an hour or so away from 15 August in London, but it’s already my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary in Australia.
Unfortunately, my brothers and I can’t celebrate the day with my parents in person. My parents are in Tasmania, my brothers are in stage 4 lockdown in Melbourne, and I’m on the other side of the world.
They may not even be able to celebrate the day together after all. Though it would be hit and miss as to whether my mum would know my dad today if he can visit her in her nursing home.
So today is bittersweet. But still cause for celebration of the half-century of love, laughter, family, travel and more that my parents have shared and that I’ve been a witness to for 43 years.
Unfortunately, I don’t have access to any of their wedding photos here in London. My brother, Peter, snapped a pic of this photo from their albums a couple of years ago.
If I recall correctly, it was taken at a dinner party while they were dating or around the time they got engaged.
My dad appears to be in mid-blink, but it captures their happiness for all that.
Happy 50th anniversary Mum and Dad
I love you both xxx
untitled #4
As I'm sure is the case with many during the current pandemic, my unemployment has meant that this time has been one of personal projects.
Obviously, my 100 Day Project was one of them though I would have tried to undertake it even when employed full-time. And very little of my project directly referenced the current global crisis.
My situation wasn't directly caused by the pandemic. My redundancy was due to a restructure already in the planning before coronavirus reared its ugly head.
The pandemic has had relatively little impact on my life in that I'm an introvert who spends a lot of time at home, indoors, working on my own projects when not in my day job.
In all honesty, had I been made redundant at any other time, life would have been much the same for the past four to five months.
untitled #16
The greatest exceptions:
I wouldn't have washed my hands so often and obsessively.
I would have been able to take at least one city break with Simon.
I would have spent more time in pubs.
I would have spent more time in galleries.
I would have spent more time face-to-face with friends.
I would have spent less time on videoconference platforms.
I would probably not have been able to spend quite so much time on my 100 Day Project. It may have been incomplete or not completed within 100 consecutive days.
I would have spent a lot of downtime in the gym losing weight and enjoying BodyPump and yoga classes to regain flexibility, balance and strengthening my ankle.
I might have seen more films at the cinema.
I probably wouldn't have cooked as much.
I probably wouldn't have grown or resurrected as many plants as I have. And I definitely wouldn't have been able to start to develop our front garden with the aid of Simon and my downstairs neighbour (whose garden it, in fact, is).
untitled #13
And this last project is one that has, surprisingly, taken up a large part of the past week (and before that, many conversations and time spent researching, contemplating and planning).
Surprising mainly because I've never really been a green thumb at all. Mostly my thumbs (and the rest of my digits and palms and half my forearms) were purple or red from picking mulberries and strawberries in my parents' garden. That's as close to gardening as I ever used to get.
Although our front garden is a work in progress, it's taking shape well so far. Hopefully, most of it will be completed within the next few days, slightly behind schedule.
Our front garden is not nearly ready enough to unveil. But thinking about it this evening reminded me of my visit to Helmingham Hall with my parents in June 2017.
Despite the gardens being a little knocked around from a storm the day before, they were quite impressive and gave me plenty of opportunities to focus my lens on the colours and shapes around me.
So I thought I'd share some photos I took in the gardens at Helmingham Hall. And hopefully, I can share some from my own garden soon.
What projects have you been focussing on during the pandemic, whether in lockdown or not?
untitled #172
2019 was a mixed bag for me. It held some of the highest highs, and some of the lowest lows.
At its best, it was a year of exploring, discovery and love. At its worst, it was a year of heartbreak.
There were highs such as seeing one of my self-portraits, ‘where the light plays’, as a main spread in Shots Magazine.
There were lows such as saying goodbye to what remains of my mother for what was likely the last time.
There were myriad outings in and around London with my camera and my intrepid tour guide, Simon, discovering more and more of my beloved city and adopted country.
There was a whole month of me returning the favour for him in Australia, though a tour guide with a fractured ankle is not quite what either of us had banked on. We will have to have a rerun sometime. (And you’ll have to wait for the photos from this visit until the new year).
I finally made my Patreon profile live and added five instalments to my series ‘postcards from another’s life’ (many more personal than I had originally intended), along with publishing other previously unpublished work there early or exclusively for patrons. Thank you to those who have become patrons so far. I promise 2020 will see more activity over there now that I’ve been able to upgrade some of my equipment!
I laughed a lot. I cried even more. I shared moments with my Dad which were heartrending but which have brought us closer together.
I discovered the alien beauty that is Turkish hazelnuts.
I’m sure I could say so much more about 2019, but the past few months have been a bit like wading through molasses, physically and emotionally, and I’m just now surfacing, a little.
So I will leave you with a selection of the many photographs I took this year, and wish you and those you love a brilliant 2020 and a wonderful new decade xx
It was a year of previously unvisited gasometers:
untitled #75 [bromley-by-bow gas holders, bromley-by-bow, london, england, 2019]
untitled #54 [rotherhithe, london, england, 2019]
Of mills and domes:
untitled #80 [three mills island, bromley-by-bow, london, england, 2019]
untitled #14 [the o2, greenwich, london, england, 2019]
Of barriers and of dams:
untitled #33 [wapping, london, england, 2019]
untitled #73 [thames barrier, royal docks, london, england, 2019]
Of plants, animals and organic matter:
untitled #99 [coalhouse fort, east tilbury, essex, england, 2019]
untitled #132 [shoeburyness, essex, england, 2019]
untitled #47 [mersea island, essex, england, 2019]
Of manmade items marooned on the littoral:
untitled #125 [shoeburyness, essex, england, 2019]
untitled #70 [mersea island, essex, england, 2019]
untitled #69 [mersea island, essex, england, 2019]
Of darkness and of light:
untitled #40 [tilbury fort, tilbury, essex, england, 2019]
untitled #70 [tilbury fort, tilbury, essex, england, 2019]
Of filming locations, old and new (relatively speaking):
untitled #106 [binsey walk, thamesmead south, london, england, 2019]
untitled #55 [southmere lake, thamesmead, london, england, 2019]
of death and of resurrection:
untitled #49 [nunhead cemetery, nunhead, london, england, 2019]
untitled #49 [the cathedral and abbey church of saint alban, st albans, hertfordshire, england, 2019]
Of love:
birthday selfie taken by simon
And sometimes, just a waste of time:
untitled #33 [crossness pumping station, abbey wood, london, england, 2019]
untitled #216 [highgate cemetery - west side, highgate, london, england, united kingdom]
Here we go again… It’s the time of year, in these last remaining hours of the current one before we turn over into the new one, where I take my annual look back on how quickly yet how slowly this year passed; what I did and didn’t get done; and how many steps forward and/or backward I took.
All in all, 2018 was the best year I’ve had for a while, though it inevitably had its ups and downs, like any other year.
I did manage to improve two things this year: regaining a better work-life balance and posting more to my blog thanks to my 100 Days Project (which is still in progress, so not quite following the 100 consecutive days element).
so when the glitt'ring queen of night
And I even managed to take some ‘proper’ self-portraits like the ones I described in last year’s wrap-up blog.
Inevitably the most consuming part of my year, though according to my Sleep Cycle stats, the most stress-free and relaxing part of my year (my sleep quality during that period increased to 80% from an average of 59%, and my time in bed increased to almost 7 hours from an average of 5 hours 48 minutes) was visiting the South Island of New Zealand for the first time to be a bridesmaid for my friends Erin and Nick; and returning to visit friends and family in the North Island of New Zealand, as well as Melbourne and Tasmania.
erin & nick’s wedding, photo by grace bolton photography
Apprehensive but excited about being a bridesmaid for the first time, I was lucky Erin and Nick were so organised and managed the whole intercity coordination of the bridal party so well. Apart from looking hilariously wobbly walking down the grass aisle in heels first ahead of the bride, I think I managed to carry out my duties fine and it was wonderful to see two of my friends tie the knot after so many years. It was also a chance to make good friends with the other two lovely bridesmaids, Liz and Kirsty, and get to know Erin and Nick’s families a little.
untitled #26 [rakaia gorge, new zealand, 2018]
Though the schedule and long distances of travel required for the wedding (zipping between Christchurch, Timaru, Hanmer Springs and Windwhistle) didn’t allow for too much sightseeing in some respects, I did see quite a bit of countryside along the way. Enough to know I need to pop back to the South Island sometime for more exploration!
untitled #49 [wellington, new zealand, 2018]
The few days I was able to stop over in Wellington were also a lovely chance to catch up with new and old friends and catch Wellington at its signature blustery best. It was wonderful to fleetingly catch up with Hugh and meet Kenno and Janno over a delicious dinner discussing robots and filling in blanks between cryptic Facebook updates.
monty birch
Similarly, catching up with Debbie and her family was a nice relaxing interlude after the wedding, full of wine and late night nattering over old times. Waking up to my new, inquisitive friend Monty was also a joyful way to start the day. I seriously considered popping him in my suitcase…
nighthawks [collingwood, victoria, australia, 2018]
Despite moving around so extensively during my life, the place I’ve lived longest so far has been Melbourne at a cumulative count of about 18 years. I’d not been back even for a visit since June 2010 but, suffice to say, if I were to feel homesick for Australia I figured Melbourne would be the place I would feel it.
But sorry, Melbourne, I didn’t. It was lovely to visit old haunts, discover new haunts, and more importantly, reconnect with many friends I hadn’t seen face-to-face in too many years, but I only felt a fond affection, no longing, for the city I spent so many years in. Once more my affection for London as ‘home’ was reinforced.
‘mass’ by ron mueck [ngv triennial, national gallery of victoria, melbourne, victoria, australia, 2018]
Having said that, Melbourne was, unsurprisingly, wall-to-wall with catch-ups, which was wonderful. I squeezed as many people into my time there as I could (and squeezed them, when I could), and managed to fit in a dance at an indie night; a couple of exhibitions including the NGV Triennial; a friend’s gig; and visits to old and new haunts.
untitled #147 [redwood forest, east warburton, victoria, australia, 2018]
Thanks to fellow photographer, Anthony Schroeder, I also managed a day trip out to the redwood forest in East Warburton with two lovely ladies (one heavily pregnant at the time), Jess and Preethi, and a stop-off for a pub lunch with Chris and his now-fiancée, Helen. The day out provided just the right level of calm amidst a frantic sea of brunches, lunches, cheeky pints, dinners and nightcaps.
untitled #212 [burgess cove, tasmania, australia, 2018]
After only a week in Melbourne I popped down to Tasmania to visit with my parents and catch up with my Uncle John and his partner, Verna, who timed their visit to coincide with mine.
My parents had sold their home in Redland Bay, on the outskirts of Brisbane, just as I was finishing my last visit to Australia in mid-January 2013, so it was my first time in their new home and only my second time in Tasmania, in a different part of the island to where I had visited in 2002, shortly after my return to Australia.
untitled #73 [rainforest walk, cradle mountain, tasmania, australia, 2018]
Though lengthy wandering was not on the cards with my Mum’s reduced mobility, my Dad and Uncle ensured I saw quite a lot of the countryside while I was there, and we were lucky to see quite a lot of wildlife.
My camera got quite an extensive workout while I was in New Zealand and Australia and I’m still working through the photos from my trip.
Thank you to everyone who managed to make time to meet up with me in both New Zealand and Australia, whether the odd one-to-one or the cluster of friends descending on a bar, pub or cafe in various parts of Melbourne. Thank you to Erin and Nick for inviting me to be part of their big day, and thank you most of all to my Uncle John for making my visit possible. I may no longer call Australia home, but it and my friends there still hold a special place in my heart.
As if a one-month trip to New Zealand and Australia weren’t enough for one year, I managed to sneak in day trips and weekend trips with friends and/or to visit friends in:
untitled #2 [southend-on-sea, essex, england, united kingdom]
Southend-on-Sea,
untitled #23 [wilverley plain, new forest, england, united kingdom]
the New Forest,
untitled #73 [durdle door, dorset, england, united kingdom]
Durdle Door,
untitled #9935 [west pier, brighton, england, united kingdom]
Brighton (times two),
untitled #13 [cambridge, cambridgeshire, england, united kingdom]
Cambridge,
burgers & dogs [dreamland, margate, kent, england, united kingdom]
Margate for ‘Screamland’ at Dreamland,
untitled #8 [river great ouse, bedford, bedfordshire, england, united kingdom]
and Bedford.
I gladly took my camera along for most of those trips, so have plenty of photos to work through.
This year was not just one of meeting up with old friends, but of making new ones, and I also finally emerged from a bit of a stasis to entertain the idea of ‘a serious relationship’ again.
simon
Enter Simon who has an uncanny sense of the sort of things I love that he can show me in and around London and beyond, including:
‘secret’ nuclear bunker [kelvedon hatch, essex, england, united kingdom]
a ‘secret’ nuclear bunker in Essex;
untitled #20 [parkland walk, london, england, united kingdom]
a parkland walk following an old railway from my neighbourhood to Highgate;
love sweet love [god’s own junkyard, walthamstow village, london, england, united kingdom]
a neon heaven in Walthamstow;
notice [chislehurst caves, chislehurst, london, england, united kingdom]
chalk caves in south London;
untitled #1528 [holly lodge mansions, highgate, london, england, united kingdom]
a 1930s mock Tudor council estate I somehow missed just nearby to Highgate Cemetery (which I became a Friend of earlier in the year); and an endless list of gorgeous pubs.
I’ve also spent far more time in the ‘great outdoors’ this year than previous years.
untitled #3 [trent park, cockfosters, london, england, united kingdom]
Wandering through woods and parks;
untitled #65 [lumiere london, kings cross, london, england, united kingdom]
enjoying the lights at Lumiere London;
untitled #79 [albert road gas works, new barnet, london, england, united kingdom]
and finding or being introduced to new gasometers before they are inevitably removed from the London skyline.
So, here’s to 2018, and here’s hoping 2019 continues the upward trajectory I’ve been on the past couple of years.
Here’s hoping it’s also onward and upward for all of my family, friends and any lovely people reading this. I raise a toast to you all x
untitled #708
Oh, and I also took a load off my shoulders, finally.
untitled #203 [john webb's windmill, thaxted, essex, england, 2017]
So, it's been another year since my last blog post. This seems to be becoming a habit. I'd make a bunch of promises about updating more regularly, but let's just see how things go in 2018. As my sales colleagues would say, 'under-promise and over-deliver'. Maybe if I make no promises I can exceed all expectations?
This year has been another step back up and toward the track, but with far too much emphasis on my day job to the detriment of my photography. With recruitment happening currently to split my role, I'm aiming to take back control of my working hours and work-life balance in 2018 so I can focus more on my photography and my own life, and less on the aims and goals of the company I work for.
With so many hours consumed by my day job, it feels like I didn't achieve much with my photography or do much generally this year, but I did take an awful lot of photos with my iPhone, posting 511 photos to Instagram. And despite feeling like I didn't get much editing done, especially in the last few months of the year, I did manage to work through quite a lot of photos from my travels in 2012.
this is 40
I turned 40 in April, which felt quite surreal. Well... it still feels quite surreal. I'm completely at peace with my age - a stark contrast to 10 years ago when I was on the cusp of 30 and suffering from anxiety and depression, diagnosed with anhedonia - but there's a large part of me that feels about 23, not 40. It's probably not helped by the fact I work in a junior role during the day; I don't own a home, have any kids or a significant other; my finances are a mess; and people regularly mistake me for being late 20s or, at most, 30.
2017 marked the first time in over 12 years that I've not taken any 'proper' self-portraits. You know, the kind that involve my dSLR, potentially a tripod, and more than five minutes of premeditation. While in a way that feels kind of sad and disappointing, in some ways it's been a relief not to be in front of my own lens for a bit. I'm sure 2018 will bring more self-portraiture, but sometimes it's good to look outward, not inward all the time (or maybe it's just another side effect of being a workaholic...)
stills from 'paranoid' [© red productions/itv]
Speaking of self-portraiture, I finally had a chance to catch Paranoid, the television series some of my images were licensed for, thanks to my friend, Aer. The range of images licensed was pretty broad, so I wasn't sure whether I would see my work as wall art in the homes or offices of the characters, or what, if anything, might be used. So I was more than a little amused to find a selection of my self-portraiture appear in the hands of major characters as evidence toward the end of the series!
american gothic in london [royal academy, mayfair, london, england, 2017]
Amongst the many days I spent gallery-hopping with friends this year - seeing more exhibitions than films for once - Phil and I managed to get out and about in May to explore part of London with our pinhole cameras.
killing time creatively
My Flickr friend, kegangd, gifted me with one of his homemade pinhole cameras which arrived just before my birthday. The negative size is 6x9, so the lab I took the films to could process the film but not scan them correctly, so Phil will be scanning them for me in the new year so I can finally share them in the proper format. The above is a quick edit of one of the cropped scans from the lab.
sunset over the south bank [london, england, 2017]
This year brought more changes on a personal and professional level: Kyle moved out in May and my current flatmate moved in at the end of June; and our company moved offices in June from London Bridge to a co-working office right by St Dunstan in the East church garden.
untitled #6266
With Hornsey Gas Holder No. 3 being dismantled in late February and invisible above ground by the end of March, my attention was drawn even closer to home, with my local kit of pigeons drawing my eye and my iPhone lens throughout the year.
untitled #113 [kidstones, leyburn, yorkshire, england, 2017]
This year included a fleeting visit to Manchester for work, but the highlight of my travels was spending a week travelling up and down the country with Mum and Dad during their visit in June and July. We visited some places I'd been to before, and a number of places I hadn't.
I was pleased to have my parents visit me and to spend the time with them during their stay, though it was a stark reminder that while I don't feel 40, time is marching on. It was quickly evident my Dad's itinerary was a little over ambitious for them in the time allotted, but we managed to see quite a lot and cover a lot of ground even then.
spot the tourists
I'm looking forward to being able to spend time with Mum and Dad again in 2018 on their home turf. I'll finally have the chance to visit them at their home in Tasmania in March, where they moved just after my last visit to Australia in December 2012/January 2013.
The visit will also give me the chance to catch up with my Uncle John and his partner for the first time since 2013; and visit friends and family in Melbourne - many I've not seen 'in the flesh' since leaving Melbourne in September 2009.
Conveniently, a number of my friends from Brisbane have moved south, so I feel less guilty restricting my time in Australia to just Melbourne and Tasmania.
untitled #7808
I'm also looking forward to being a bridesmaid for the first time! It's more than a little daunting and a little bit of a logistical nightmare, but I'll be one of three bridesmaids for Erin and Nick's wedding near Christchurch, New Zealand, in March. It will be wonderful to see them both so many years after they left London and to be there for their special day. It'll also give me a chance to pop into Wellington to see some old and new friends.
While this year feels like it passed in a heartbeat, it has mostly been a good one, spent with good friends, and I'm hopeful for 2018. I just need to re-channel the energy and commitment I had this year for my day job toward my photography.
However you're spending the turn of this year into the next, I hope 2018 holds good things for you.
emerging from darkness
Another year has passed. And what have we learned?
2016 was a better year for me personally than 2015 (that wouldn't have been hard), but it didn't always feel like a good year for the world in general.
I wrote in my last post (I know, a year between posts is ridiculous... sorry!) that 2015 was my year of living uncertainly. So many things were hanging in the balance during 2015, and the general feel of the year was quite negative. This year had a more positive feel, though it still felt a little like treading water at times.
Moving forward felt slow last year, as so many moving parts were dependent upon each other. This year brought various chapters to a close.
In May, I moved for the third time in three years. For ten months after our break-up, Kyle and I had remained roommates. When we moved, I finally had my own space again, albeit with Kyle now filling the role of housemate. Many friends expressed concerns about this decision. For now it is working, as we (mostly) know about and can deal with each others’ quirks, and for the most part we live completely separate lives. Sometimes it almost feels like living alone, which is a good thing for me.
In August I was effectively made redundant from my day job, though that specific word was never used. The decision was quite out of the blue but I was happy enough to move on as I felt ready for the next opportunity. During my last week, The Sundays’ lyrics, ‘it’s the little souvenir of a terrible year’, were my recurring earworm. It felt like the last remnants of 2015 falling away. Like shedding the last layers of the chrysalis so I could finally see my way clear. It felt like closure.
In the meantime, my dSLR didn’t get a heavy workout in 2016, but there were ample opportunities for me to point it at myself and at other subjects.
untitled #202 [media city uk, salford quays, greater manchester, england, 2016]
In April I finally had the chance to catch up with Aer after close to ten years, visiting her in Manchester. It didn’t turn out to be the best timing for her due to unexpected work and family complications, but we had a good catch-up.
Aer encouraged me to shoot in her three-storey house while she went off to work. This included the cold, creepy basement where I took the self-portrait above. I think it was the only ‘proper’ self-portrait shoot I did during 2016.
I think it was my first visit to Manchester since 2000. My stay also gave me a chance to revisit the city, wandering its streets and the John Rylands Library with my camera.
untitled #83 [dungeness, kent, england, 2016]
In June I finally made good on a long-postponed trip to Kent and East Sussex with Phil Ivens, with Kyle tagging along. At least once a year Phil stays at a B&B in East Sussex, using that as a base to visit Dungeness and other places in the area. For at least five summers I had been hoping to visit, but timing and money always seemed to be an issue.
untitled #165 [prospect cottage, dungeness, kent, england, 2016]
This year I committed to the break. I enjoyed tramping over the shingle to explore the derelict boats and fishermen’s shacks, despite the horrendous sunburn I got in the process. It was also nice to finally visit Derek Jarman’s Prospect Cottage. The only real dampener to the holiday was finding out the results of the Brexit referendum on our second last day.
untitled #116 [margate beach, margate, kent, england, 2016]
Other travels during the year included:
I posted various iPhone photos from the day trips to Oxford and Kent, and my weeks in Manchester and East Sussex and Kent, to my Instagram account. I hope to post more photos from those travels here later this year. Thank you to all those who made my travels possible and wandered with me this year.
When not traipsing around the country, I made a point of capturing familiar haunts and new locales in this city I love, even if only with my iPhone. You can find many of these images on my Instagram account as well.
This year I continued my collaboration, weaving words into light, with the ever-patient Sarah Mercer. We only managed two pairings in 2016, but hopefully 2017 will bring more.
I also licensed a selection of my images to a television series that ran a couple of months ago on ITV. I'm not sure how many images, if any, actually made it onto the screen as set dressing. I'll let you know if they did once I've had a chance to watch the series!
In October my Mum had a health scare and it was hard to be so far away from family during that time. Thankfully open-heart surgery seems to have resolved the issue. I’m looking forward to catching up with her and Dad in June/July 2017 when they visit the UK and Ireland.
untitled #5 [hornsey gas holders, hornsey, london, england, 2016]
Unfortunately it was curtains for my favourite neighbourhood gasometer, Hornsey Gas Holder No. 1, which was finally dismantled in August. Above-ground work started in earnest as I was finishing up at my job, so I was able to capture workers dismantling it section by section. Hornsey Gas Holder No. 3 appears to have survived 2016, but I don’t believe it will still be in place by this time next year. I’ve since redirected my obsession toward other gasometers around town. Most recently those at Gas Holder Park along the Regent Canal in King’s Cross; and the listed gas holders by The Oval cricket ground in Kennington.
Other lowlights of the year included:
At least I can reverse the first, and improve on the second in 2017. Unfortunately there isn’t much I can do to change the third. I’m more than a little trepidatious about how 2017 will unfold due to the outcome of that election and the Brexit referendum.
But there were quite a few highlights.
For instance, I love my new home. My blue-walled bedroom is my sanctuary. It has a quaint white mantelpiece, space for a king size bed and my workstation, and more than enough room to swing a cat (if you’re into that sort of thing). There's a proper lounge room with comfy couches and Netflix, and my prints hanging on the walls. I’m also more than a little pleased with the blue-tiled bathroom. No doubt others would call it kitsch, but I love it. Here’s hoping this stays my home for a few years.
I wrote more this year. I got into the habit of writing 750 words most days in the latter part of the year, albeit usually journal-type prose as a form of mental clearing. It's a habit I need to get back into from tomorrow. I also managed to write over 12,000 words for NaNoWriMo. Though I didn’t complete the 50,000 word challenge in November, I will come back to my novel soon.
I visited a number of museums and galleries, and went to see quite a few films at the cinema.
Friends have been good to me again this year, even though I’m notorious for hiding away in my ‘bubble’, valuing my alone time.
So, all in all, 2016 didn’t completely suck for me, though it wasn’t my best year on record.
There were plenty of sad things happening in the world around me. This includes the deaths of musicians, writers and actors I’d grown up with and enjoyed the work of. This year felt particularly bad on that score, as many have pointed out. But I guess I have to brace myself for the possibility every coming year will strike a blow as hard as this one. It's just a fact that many of my favourites are getting to that age.
Speaking of age, 2017 marks another milestone birthday for me, which feels more than a little surreal. I had a brief glimmer of hope that I might visit Australia for a few weeks in April to mark the occasion. Unfortunately it’s looking unlikely given my current finances. I’m hoping to apply for British citizenship sometime in the coming year. I will also need to buy a new computer soon as, to quote Apple support, my laptop is ‘vintage’ now. It's definitely showing its age. So it’s looking like Melbourne and Tasmania will have to wait until 2018.
2017 is also a sort of anniversary year for me. It will mark ten years in April since I started my 365 days project. And ten years in August since my debut solo exhibition, alternate worlds.
In some ways I feel I’ve gone backward with my photography since then, but sometimes other things have to come first. My intention for 2017 is to regain the focus and energy I had in 2007 and 2008. To get back to the things I love about photography.
I’m feeling positive about 2017. It feels like a reawakening, and well past time to get back in the saddle. My long-time new year’s resolution comes back around: make this year count.
If you’re reading this, I hope your 2017 is all you hope for, and thanks for stopping by.
untitled #125 [hornsey gas holders, wood green, london, england, 2015]
So, once again, it's that time: the closing of one year, the eve of the beginning of another.
And, to be honest, it couldn't come soon enough. For me, 2015 was most certainly 'the year of living uncertainly'.
Though there were options for me to continue my day job where I was at the end of 2014, I felt it was time for the next adventure, and really needed some time out to not only work out exactly what that would be, but to breathe, as the last year of that job really took its toll on me.
In the end, despite not really being able to afford it, I took about two months out from employment, during which time I tried to give myself space to just be for a bit, as well as looking at jobs, and working on photos.
After probably the longest interview process I'd ever undergone, and ultimately three and a half months of being unemployed, I landed a permanent job. I think only my third ever. So things were looking up...
Then 2015 turned into a bit of a shit storm:
In the midst of all that, Kyle was having his own year of uncertainty, trying to decide whether to try to stay in the UK or go back to Australia. Then once the decision was made, going through his own 'dance' with his employer and the immigration authorities, resulting in him taking a much-needed break in Australia for Christmas and New Year's Eve in order to obtain a visa to return to the UK with sponsorship from his employer.
There were some good things in 2015, I know there were, but it's kind of hard to think of them through all of the other stuff this year. These good things kept me going: good friends, new friends, and my photography (though I didn't take or edit anywhere near enough photos this year for my liking).
And I made it to the end of the year to finish on a high note, being granted indefinite leave to remain in the UK on 29 December. So I can feel, once again, that I'm home.
Hopefully 2016 will prove to be less tumultuous than 2015, and even 2014 (when we moved home twice), though a potential move is still on the horizon for the new year.
Despite all of the above, I'm feeling positive for the new year, just a little exhausted. I promise my next update will be more upbeat and focussed on my photography, not feeling sorry for myself. It will be a new year, after all.
I'm also pleased to finally (officially) unveil the new version of my website. It does look awfully like the old version, but you should find it much easier to navigate, and you'll find my work at lusciously large sizes when you click on images to view them in 'lightbox' mode.
I'm still bringing across older blog posts, as unfortunately I'm unable to do that automagically from my old host (and will also, unfortunately, not be able to bring across your lovely comments), but otherwise the site is ready.
I haven't set up my store yet, so if there's anything particular you'd like to see available, please do let me know.
So, rather than an obligatory self-portrait, I close 2015 with an image of my beloved Hornsey gas holders, the one constant for me in 2015, and something of an obsession (if you follow me on Instagram you'll know what I mean). They have also experienced a year of uncertainty, as they were scheduled to be dismantled in summer, but as with all development plans, things have (thankfully) been running behind, allowing me more time to savour them and photograph them. Unfortunately their time is fast running out though, as 'demolition in progress' signs went up early in December, the land around is being cleared, and I fear it will be less than a month before they disappear from my local skyline.
So long, 2015. Don't let the door hit your arse on the way out...
in my secret life
This update comes a little late, given we posted at the start of December, but the current weaving words into light collaboration between Sarah Mercer and myself, was inspired by Leonard Cohen's song, 'In My Secret Life'.
With the arrival of the new year, I'm determined to make a stronger effort to post updates to my blog, whether in the form of new work I'm creating, or older images I've managed to now work through and edit.
I managed to edit quite a lot of older work during the past year or so, but very little of it made it onto my blog, or even onto my website, so I hope to rectify that this year. Many of the posts will be image posts, but maybe I'll even manage some words here and there.
2013 was a good year for the most part, though for much of it I felt like I was in a holding pattern:
I made a conscious effort to minimise my shooting and concentrate on the mammoth backlog of images stored on my hard drives that had not been seen by anyone but myself. I managed to complete editing of thousands of photographs taken during a road trip in 2009, another road trip in 2010, and the majority of photographs taken during my residency at Hospitalfield in 2011. The bulk of posts to come will allow you to see that work.
I'm still working through the self-portraits from my residency and working on creating my interior / exterior book, and I'll keep you updated on the progress of that.
I was pleased to have my work exhibited in London for the first time in October, at the Printspace. That was definitely a highlight for me. I hope it will be only the first of many exhibitions here in the UK.
My partner, Kyle, joined me in London in mid-July, which was a pretty momentous and long-anticipated event, after having been in London for 2.5 years already myself at that point. We are quite excited that in the next week or so we will move into a flat of our own, which will no doubt give a greater opportunity for new shoots. Effectively living in one overcrowded bedroom can tend to stifle one's inspiration.
2014 is definitely feeling like a year of promising beginnings and it is upon my shoulders to ensure I maintain momentum. I am optimistic...
the old chapel [east briscoe, baldersdale, county durham, england, 2012]
I'm generally not one for 'Hallmark' holidays. I can often be heard to 'bah humbug' (or the seasonal equivalent) at Christmas, Easter and Valentine's Day.
Being an atheist, Christmas and Easter don't mean much to me except 8 parts family + 2 parts gifts (Christmas), and 8 parts chocolate + 2 parts hot cross buns (Easter). Similarly, the origins of St Valentine's Day, beyond poetic romanticism, don't capture my heart, as it were.
The fact that I don't 'believe' in St Valentine's Day doesn't mean I'm not a hopeless romantic when I want to be.
This time last year, Kyle and I stayed in a gorgeous little cottage: a converted chapel in Baldersdale, County Durham, I found on the cottages.com website. It has everything going for it apart from an internet connection, though that in itself was probably a good thing most of the time.
Located on a country lane, mostly isolated apart from a few nearby farmhouses that have also been converted into holiday accommodation, it was the perfect location from which to explore not only County Durham, but the Yorkshire Dales and Moors, and York itself; the Lake District; and Scarborough and the northeast coast. Arriving when the snow was still on the ground, it was extremely picturesque.
Totally self-contained, it provided us with the perfect place to return to of an evening after full days of sightseeing, picture-taking, pub lunches (and dinners) and, in some instances, pub quizzes. Being that way inclined, we'd often return from the cold outdoors after a long day to indulge in a game of Monopoly (or three) in the warmth with wine or cider and cheeses, and Guinness and baked goods, respectively.
On St Valentine's Day last year, we explored Rievaulx Abbey, Helmsley Castle (I might have photographed a pigeon carcass, which wasn't particularly romantic to most people's perception!), and Egglestone Abbey at sunset. Our days before and after were filled with picturesque and historic villages, snow, grand homes, abbeys, churches, graveyards, beaches, parsonages, and such-like. A veritable feast for our eyes, cameras and imaginations.
This year, unfortunately, we once more spend this time of year apart. Kyle has just moved house to settle in Brisbane until he finishes his degree and readies himself to head over here. Though I spent a month in Australia with him over Christmas and New Year's, I missed sharing the thrill of snow with him again this year, which he experienced for the first time last year.
However, all going to plan, he will be here to enjoy the snow and St Valentine's Day with me next year. If I knew the exact date, you bet I would be counting down the days.
untitled #1 [the old chapel, east briscoe, baldersdale, county durham, england, 2012]
agnes
Sometimes the information superhighway isn't so super, even in this day and age. Firstly, because some people still don't use it, so information doesn't always pass across the world instantaneously; and secondly, because sometimes the information crossing that superhighway is not what you want to hear.
I found out yesterday (Sunday) that my Grandma passed away last Tuesday. Her funeral took place at 2:30pm today AEST.
My parents were just arriving into Bucharest on Sunday, and finally had access to internet after not having reasonably priced access to phone or internet since they heard the news from my Uncle, and my Uncle is a Luddite (this is not a criticism, just a statement of fact), thus the delay. My Uncle had tried to call me a number of times, but he doesn't have to make international calls often, and it turns out he was only pressing '0' once before the UK country code 44, so his calls must have been going to someone else's Australian mobile number.
Either way, despite the fact I knew this was coming, it still felt horrible reading those words in the Gmail email preview as I clicked through to read the full message from my parents. It was like a kick in the guts, and after a relatively positive couple of days previous, was even harder to take.
When I left Australia I told my Grandma to look after herself, and that I'd be back for her 100th birthday. That last day I saw her, I knew I'd be emotional, but was totally unprepared for her crying as I hugged her and kissed her on the cheek and said my goodbyes. I was trying not to cry before I left, but as soon as she started I couldn't hold it in any longer.
I remarked to my parents about it, somewhat in shock, because my Dad's family have never been big on emotion. My Grandma, like all of her immediate family including my Dad, generally held her cards close to her chest. I mentioned it to my Uncle last night when we spoke on the phone finally, and he said that she told him about it when he visited the next day, and even she seemed surprised by her own behaviour.
We both knew that day there was a pretty strong chance this would be the last time we would see each other. Neither of us said that, but our tears were pretty clear indication that we knew, though I'm sure we both hoped otherwise.
As with my Mum's mother, I only really got to know Dad's mum better as I got older, over the past few years. With living in different states most of my life, my interactions with Grandma were intermittent and brief. Probably the longest amount of time I spent with her was staying with her and my Uncle in 2002 because I was then living with my parents but they'd gone away for a couple of weeks. Not being able to drive, their then home in the Gold Coast hinterland wasn't as accessible as needed for getting to work, buying groceries, etc., so I stayed with Grandma and Uncle John.
Visiting Grandma about every second week during the time I lived in Brisbane (September 2009 to January 2011), we built up something of a bond, though generally not through conversation or shared interests. It just happened, maybe because there are so many things I have inherited from her - good and bad: stubborn Aries traits; small (especially facial) features; worrying and over-thinking things; a love of crosswords (shared with both Grandmothers).
I also keenly understood her frustration with and rebellion against being placed in a home. It was a necessity - she was no longer able to look after herself, and it was too much for my family to take on, due to a very bad fall - but to go from being fairly independent and active to being in a hospital and then not being able to go back to your own home was something I understood would be very hard. My Uncle did take her to visit, but it must have been so hard for her.
She did end up enjoying the home, despite her initial feelings. The staff there were absolutely wonderful with her, and she quite clearly touched a nerve with them. Despite being of a generation preceding political correctness (I would often cringe at things she said, but knew it was just a generational thing, that she did not hold prejudices), staff of varying ancestry at the home loved her and joked with her. She often displayed a cheekiness with the staff that we as a family rarely saw, and I finally got to see more of that over the past few years.
Also generational, I know many of the things I do (nude self-portraiture), the way I live my life (living with a partner before wedlock, piercing my nose), were concepts she would not have understood / did not understand (she did stop staring at my nose-ring when talking to me after about a week), because her life was so utterly different to mine, but she rarely judged, to my knowledge. Her comments, when she did make them, seemed more concerned than judgmental.
I do regret never asking her about Grandpa and her relationship with him. I would have liked to hear her talk about him, but I suspect she wouldn't have opened up much about that. Unfortunately she burnt a lot of papers and photos at one point, but letters my Uncle passed to my Dad give an impression of their love for each other, and their affectionate joking, with Grandpa referring to Grandma by her sisters' pet name for her, Scraggie Aggie.
I know my wanting her to reach her 100th birthday was utterly selfish, and even though she didn't reach that milestone, I'm still proud of her. Since soon after I left Brisbane she was on oxygen, so was pretty much bedridden, and her quality of life dropped quite substantially. She would make comments to my parents about 'how much longer', quite clearly tired of life, so it was really just time; I would not have wanted her to hang on for the sake of a number, or for me.
For all that I know that, it was still hard to receive that email yesterday, and still very hard today.
The portrait above was taken on my Dad's birthday in 2007, about a year before she had her fall and was put into the home.