mystery photo no. 1

nest-egg

stop, breathe and look ...

Just a short walk through Birmingham city centre on the way to meet a friend for lunch. So much beauty to be seen, but so many people blind to it. I find it sad the mobile phone dominates modern life. Constant bleeps and flashes and distractions.

I was speaking to a middle-aged man the other day who confessed he was scared to go out without his phone. Why?!!!

Stop, breathe, take a look around - there's a beautiful real world to be explored each and ever day.

dreams and nightmares - no. 109

remembering hilary

The homework for my Photo Group this week is still life. I've been thinking about this particular photo for some time and I should explain a little about it.

My sister Hilary died when she was eight. She was knocked down on her bicycle. Our family Doctor (and Hilary's Godfather) was on the opposite side of the road and he waved to her. Hilary peddled out behind a bus and that was it. The end of a short but beautiful life.

I first became aware of Hilary as a very small boy, I think about three. I went into my parent's bedroom and tugged at the door of a tall walnut wardrobe. It opened and two things fell out, a doll and a bath-toy. I took them down to show my mother. Another door opened in my life that day.

My mother threw out most of our family memories seven years later when my father died of a heart attack in a Hertfordshire lay-by. However, a few precious black and white photos survived the cull. One of the them shows a cute, curly-haired blond girl clutching a crop of rhubarb. In the few remaining photos of her life Hilary always seems to be dancing in a rich summer light.

I never wanted to let go of Hilary after I opened the cupboard. She, and my late father, often visited me in my dreams. Two silhouettes in the sunlight looking down on me. And then, slowly, our hands parted and they drifted away.

What if? It's a question that has no answer. In the photo above a doll holds Hilary's picture, a small bunch of dead roses partially obscuring her from sight. At Hilary's feet lie the remains of two dragonflies, insects that have a rich mythological history. Dragonflies are associated with change and the passing of life.

I took some other still life studies for my homework, this time adding in a collection of dead flies. In the ying and yang of photographic symbolism they represent the black side of the mountain, redolent of death and decay. Both have a place in remembering Hilary.