conceived
Wednesday 21 March 2018
Saturday 17 March 2018
Friday 16 March 2018
dreams and nightmares - no. 65
the sudden impact of death
Here's the next of my self-portraits.
I didn't see it happen but I heard it. The murder of crows descending on a pigeon. Did it die here in our garden?
These are the sudden impacts of death that shaped who I am.
A dead sister, aged just eight racing her bicycle behind the bus as she sees her godfather wave from the opposite side of the road. The car hit her.
A dead father, alone in a lay-by aged forty-eight, as a massive coronary engulfed him.
The mourning of a son. Why didn't I see? He's thirty two years old, but still a little child.
The mourning of a grandson. He lives! They gave him a year at best but still his heart beats at the centre of our family. He holds out a hand.
Sometimes it hurts.
dreams and nightmares - no. 64
the reality of aging
I stare into the mirror and this is what I see. The reality of aging. My eyes trapped in a body that sags, expands and wrinkles seemingly at will.
And do you know what? It's great!
And do you know what? It's great!
dreams and nightmares - no. 63
mixed messages
I do so much enjoy the Monday evening sessions of my Photography Group. I've found it absolutely inspirational and the mentoring provided by our course tutor, Kate Green is superb.
I talked to Kate recently about how photography has helped me reconnect with my identity following retirement from a career in law. I really enjoyed my work, not so much the technicalities of the profession, but getting to meet so many amazing people from so many different walks of life. It was a real privilege to serve.
Retirement has, however, opened up new opportunities for me to express a latent creativity in new and fascinating ways. Next week we'll be doing some portraiture work so I thought I would spend a little time reflecting on how I might express different elements of my personality.
I love dreams and this set of photographs combines some earlier work of mine in a series of multi-imposed images. I've kept a 'dream diary' on and off for a number of years and I never cease to be fascinated by fleeting glimpses of the unconscious mind at work parsing sense from the seemingly random events of the day. Often the images I'm left with after a vivid dream seem confused, but dig a little deeper and there's new order to be found.
So this is my attempt to portray what a dream may look like. I especially like the first of these images which combines a photograph entitled, 'Brushed under the carpet' with a photograph taken on a different day of a snow fall. The screen shot on the TV is taken from 'American Gods', a fantastic series based on the book by Neil Gaiman, one of my favourite modern authors.
For me, the snow adds an element of peace after a storm, the white flakes beginning to cover over what has preceded. The flowers in my hand and on the rug are both a peace offering in their own right and a funereal wreath laid on the grave of things in life that have troubled me. They symbolise putting them to rest.
And with that, I shall leave you to figure out what the rest of the images below may mean!
Wednesday 14 March 2018
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