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 . . .
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 . . .
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 . . .
"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 . . .
I don't necessarily think of myself as an older person. But there you are, I am an older person. So when I was asked by Garter Lane Arts Centre to facilitate a photography . . .
Early morning light at it's best with sprinklings of frosty dew drops. From my window I won't miss a thing that moves or changes. Small birds hang around on the willows, waiting for the . . .
There's something about photographing evening skies that never fails to raise my spirits. Tonight, driving home into the western sunset, I had to stop to capture the ever . . .
Six weeks have passed and I am still fairly house bound. At this stage I am crawling the four walls, that common form of cabin fever, but I think I am finally on the . . .
Remember to look the other way; sense what is lurking behind your back, what is over your head and what is under your feet. For a moment out on the island, up close with the grasses I heard . . .