Have a piece of ocean on me

Things will be quiet around here for a week as I'm away from wires and transmitters etc, on holiday in a beautiful place, almost as far as I can go before the land runs out. Drop by next weekend for a catch up.

lotsa love
xxx


{Today's soundtrack: me talking to myself while packing}

;;;;;;;;;

Some advice: while you're busy not being overwhelmed, don't prize off one of the lovely, springy keys from your laptop keyboard in order to remove a massive crumb that dropped in from your lunchtime sandwich. Those keys are springy for good reason, and you require a bachelor's degree in airfix to put it back on again. I'm now qualified and studying for my masters.

Moral of Story: Don't eat your lunch while browsing online! How many times have I been told! ;;;;;;; it was only the semi-colon but it still mattered...


{lads to the rescue Soundtrack: RUBY, RUBY, RUBY, RUBY!!}

Peace With You

Here's to not being overwhelmed:


No complex choices,
A straight path ahead of you,
No unfair demands.

Let go the habit
Of detirmined grappling and
Constant striving.



Still waters ahead,
Even undisturbed by rain,
Balanced and level.

Be brave - there is
Nothing in front of you that
You cannot meet with.

Be strong - you are
In exactly the right place,
In perfect season.

Breathe out and breathe in,
Straighten yourself and look out–
Be still and know...




{Today's soundtrack: Thirteen Senses - The Invitation}

Treetops

This is something else that always reminds me of us - as circles of confusion do (see May's archive). It's in the way the leaves layer up, different shapes, some in shade and some almost transparent in the sunlight, shifting over each other and filtering the light to and from the next - covering, protecting, exposing. In the spread of this delicate canopy, some leaves stand out and some sit back, but this is only so far as the breeze or sunlight moves around them and changes the order of things. Nothing can be taken for granted. So they remind me of us.

And on the business of getting high up, I went climbing with another friend, Christian, right through these treetops and found that settling view referred to in last week's post. I find it almost impossible to interpret photographically what happens in those big view moments, but these few images show a little climb preparation, and Christian doing a comedy 'look no hands' pose half way up the route. ha ha. At the top, I sit on a ledge among the top of the tallest trees and loudest birdsong. It's not unusual for a bird to swoop past at eye level, while the scene stretches away down the valley to my right, out to the sea at Weston Super Mare where the sun is now setting.




High up and high. I didn't want to come down, but the point is surely that even a breath of this fits you for the stretch ahead back down on terre ferme...


{Today's soundtrack: quiet thoughts}

Settle

"If I make my bed in the depths,
If I settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there your hand will guide me..."

Sometimes, the best thing to do is head up to the highest point you can find and breathe so deeply that the air fills your toes. There may be a hundred reasons why this is the best thing to do, happy or sad, but in my experience there are few better ways to settle yourself. Doesn't even have to be that high, just a place where the view extends away from those air-filled toes into a distance that is bigger and more mysterious than you... I think it's something about surrender.

(Having said that, the Gormley statues suggest otherwise don't they? Hmm, the plot thickens.)

With all this in mind, I'm off for a few days with a friend to breathe in the cliff top views of Cornwall. We're hoping to find some surf, and much as I'll try to avoid all the photographic clichés for you when I return I can't promise - some things are appealing for good–if simple–reason. An old post from October comes to mind, so leaving you with all this, have a good few days, I'll be back soon!


{Today's soundtrack: Radio 4}

Am I an Alien?

"Ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space."

Is anyone else feeling like a bit of an alien today? I keep feeling as though I'm in orbit, just watching things from a distance and not sure how what I'm doing fits with the rest of the planet. hmmm...that feeling of wanting to sort everything out and not being able to quite reach.

Anyone?

Having been to see the Gormley show at the Hayward Gallery this weekend I am convinced that we all feel like this quite a lot.

It's the most extraordinary thing - standing on the South Bank looking around London's skyline, seeing Gormley's figures stationed on the top of buildings both right above your head and as far as you can stretch your vision into the distance. They're just quietly looking at us. My friend Harry is overwhelmed with the sense of how these static bodies connect the entire landscape with feeling and belonging. I usually find London such an insensitive, thick skinned and unfriendly place, and then suddenly there's a peaceful army keeping an eye on us, holding us in, and perhaps the city's cold arrogance has not managed to fling us sensitive ones out into distant orbit after all.

Inside the gallery is the amazing 'Blind Light' - a cold, floodlit room with perspex walls, full up with steam. Walk in to the middle of the 'blind' whiteness and you have no sense of space whatsoever, another face only visible when it appears out of the fog just two feet away. Your sense of other humans–either wariness or need of them–is so exaggerated, along with the peace in being completely alone. So, here the separation is delightful.

And those sculptures, such tenderness... they provoke a big wondering about the space between us... go see, I just can't fill the rest in for you!

So yes, aliens we all are. Do you feel like an alien? Maybe that's ok.




{Today's soundtrack: PJ Harvey - We Float}

Pin Up

Osyth–one of our photography students–created this small sculpture yesterday while telling me about how uncomfortable she finds the stressful experience of drawing her end-of-year exhibition together. What more can I say about the affection and respect an artist has for rhythm and structure? (See previous post.)


{Today's soundtrack: Scott Matthews again, still so soothing.}

An Order to Things

Appreciate the order of things - they often happen well arranged.

For a slightly wild and impulsive heart, order and structure sometimes feel boring, restrictive, perhaps frightening - a kind of imprisonment. It can feel as though they will rob you of a precious vision, and the energy behind it will be dispersed across other, less interesting preoccupations. Imposed order and structure can feel like a grill across your heart. They are actually the reverse.

Without order, the monument has no sturdy foundation and will topple in the faintest breeze, and without structure the passionflower has nothing to curl its tendrils around in order to climb.


Order encourages patience, structure brings on self-control – necessary framework – and both are wise parents to the most fantastic of dreams. Therefore, be glad when order is taking its lead and let yourself be exhilarated by its rhythm, which builds so that wild hearts may get on and do their work well.


{Today's soundtrack: Scott Matthews - Passing Stranger}

Lie Down

Today, another image from the South Africa street kids book (which I've been working on this week). I've put together a master layout from the edit of 170 images, and seventy double page spreads later and this is all I can think to offer you.

It's been an eventful couple of weeks and I find myself feeling a bit startled. Words of wisdom? Chocolate and wine, and friendly arms are a bonus.

Have a great weekend.


{Today's soundtrack: Soweto Gospel Choir}