So it's ten years since I posted my very first blog. Over the years the writing part has increased but the photography has always been the starting point. Each blog, and there have been hundreds, began with a walk or maybe a trip somewhere, and the images from my camera for . . .
Only two weeks more of this, our second lockdown. First time around, Spring was in the air and there was some novelty to it. This time, winter creeps in and with Christmas on the horizon it's hard to even imagine how we will celebrate. The exciting news about . . .
I'm suffering from a kind of lockdown brain fog. I think it's curable, but I'm not altogether sure. One of the bright spots of my pandemic days has been making these watercolour sketches that I have been doodling away on through out the last few weeks. They are mostly very small, very . . .
Christmas in Ireland this year was a grey and murky affair, with Atlantic soft weather pouring in from the west. As I write this we are in the twilight zone between years, so after the festivities were over it was time for reflecting on 2018 and thinking about what word to choose for . . .
Time is growing short. There are unexplored adventures ahead of you. You can’t live the rest of your life worried about what other people think. You were born worthy of love and belonging. Courage and daring are coursing through your veins. You were made to . . .
It's all still sinking in. The hard work, the experience of exhibiting, the aftermath. Because I work in an alone space it shocked me on the night of the opening that people would actually arrive. When they came I was somehow still in the middle of the making. I had fallen out of bed . . .
My friends! This is a repost from one year ago. It's always relevant! I am still a bit overwhelmed from the exhibition and the work coming out of it. Normal service will resume soon! "I’ve done records where it seemed like no one listened to them. . . .
It's been a while, my friends. To be honest I have been quite overwhelmed by the preparation, building and opening of the exhibition. When people ask me if I'm delighted by how successful it has been? Honest to my dying breath, I have to partially disappoint by whinging about how damn hard . . .
"Firstly to cook for the Baba Yaga, (the forest witch) one lays a fire- a woman must be willing to burn hot, burn with passion, burn with words, with ideas, with desire for whatever it is she truly loves. It is actually this passion that causes the cooking, and a woman's original ideas of . . .
The summer light has it's moments. This year summer in Ireland has been a beauty. Sometimes later in the evening there are long shadows of delightful darkness. Darkness and light. As my year's leave moves into the final quarter I need to decide whether to return to my busy day . . .