It's almost impossible to stop yourself snapping everything that moves when you arrive in a new place. I am trying to be more disciplined but still when I got to upload my first batch of images, there were over 500! So today let me begin with a taster of the colour and textures of Northern . . .
I couldn't help myself! I was dipping into some old travel stories when I got lost in dreams and memories. One of the joys of photography, is that when you study a place through your own lens, you remember details, feelings, smells, weather. I never seem to forget where I was and what . . .
The light was returning. I had even opened my big mouth to utter the words- At last Spring is here! That was when the storms and the winter gales hit us with a vengeance. I was taking part in a #100DaysofWalking challenge, eating for the good of my bones and cutting out all things . . .
She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails. Elizabeth Edwards It was my son who called me to the window as this deep pink sunset filled the sky. It never ceases to draw us there to stand and stare. You can keep your golden yellow . . .
This is from my journal, NYC, 2016..... "Everyday I meet the same people as I walk from the subway to my room on Second Avenue. I'm shy with the camera because I'm really only relaxed with Mother Nature as my collaborator. She's a little bit scarce around the streets of NYC so I have to . . .
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 . . .
Suddenly it's winter. A time I savour. The inclination is to hibernate, pause, mull over stuff. It's a time for saying no. A time to rest. A time to enjoy early frosty mornings. Although in truth we get very few of them here in the South East of Ireland. The changing seasons are a . . .
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 . . .
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 . . .