Abbey Road, Studio 3
It’s been months since my post. I didn’t even mention the two exhibitions I contributed to before lockdown occurred. They’re a hazy memory now. They were Postcards from Great Britain at Hotel Lion d’Or, Haarlem, Netherlands and the International Winter Exhibition at The Glasgow Gallery of Photography. I had other plans too but, ah, nevermind those.
I started drafting this post at the beginning of May (it’s now almost mid-June). I don’t know what I was going to write about then. The subsequent days all merge into one. Fuzzy, sun and rain soaked, slow, repetitive days. With any spare moment I’ve been growing things with success (plant and seed swapping too) and fixing up gaping wounds that some lowlife scaffolder and builder left behind in the winter. Ever since the season popped into life, I’ve been reminded of what a much wiser woman told me recently; May always feels busy because nature goes wild.
I immersed myself in it when having to quarantine for a couple of weeks. I worked on lumens, cyanotypes and installed solargraphs all with a focus on the natural world. As soon as I could go on daily sanctioned walks I took my camera out and about, aimlessly looking for nothing. The deeper joy came in listening to birds and the silence. When it reopened I started walking around my local cemetery again, marvelling at the cow parsley overgrowth. The world has changed. Even on the darkest days, there is a hint of promise for what might happen.
Here’s a few pictures from the last 80 days.
Thanks to the magnificant Lomography for this lovely piece.
‘Inspired by the freedom of larges places in London, Laura Ward seeks for peace and serenity in small things. For her, photographing in film has the power of slowing people down and make them consider wisely each frame to be portrayed.’
The scaling back that I’d intended for 2018 finally took place in 2019. It’s by far the most important and polarising year for me personally.
I gained a couple of interesting clients that I’m really pleased to be working with. I spent more of my free time up north in Scotland and Yorkshire photographing glass houses and coast lines. For the first time in what feels like a decade I’ve been able to stop the ‘monkey brain’ noise in my head and live at a different pace, allowing me to look more objectively at what I want to do with my creative output.
I’ve been looking back at my favourite pictures since 2009. 10 years ago I was fully immersed in Flickr, but this year I’ve surrended by Pro account. It’s sad to think the site may not survive.
These photographs are some of my favourites taken with Olympus Trip 35, Canon AE-1, Konica C35 and a Canon 6D.
I feel open to new projects, but I just don’t know what all of them are yet.
Go here for 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009.
For two months I’ve been spending hours pushing my daughter around West Norwood Cemetery as she sleeps. Wintery walks in every weather are the best.
One week can change your life, your outlook, the way that you feel and the way that you look. I’ll be feeling this moment for years to come. For now I’ll call it Roof in the Rosemary.
My wise friend Sally told me that once you put something out into the world, you can’t really take it back. The internet is such a weird place now. More than 10 years ago I was naively publishing just about any crappy picture, wearing my heart on my sleeve and not caring who read it. These days barely anyone reads blogs and I put very little out into this space. Recently Nick Cave said ‘as artists, you have a duty to put art out there’. He said this in response to a question about writer’s block. He’s an exquisite, rare human with a smart in-built editor and intuition for moving, poetic truth. Currently all I want to do is delete things. I wish it wasn’t this way. I am trying to be more like you, Nick.
I took today off work and promised myself not to look at emails. I didn’t want to think about anything other than the scraggy feral cat in my garden and whether my frogs would make it through the summer. I went to visit a stump of this local(ish), much loved tree which was felled last week. And then I had pangs of nostalgia for the days I’d visit the park and just sit on the grass, looking at it. The tree had run its beautiful course in life and it felt macabre to admire its broken, majestic trunk.
Things are still and purposeful today. I can smell jasmine as I watch a (rescued) climbing rose spring out bright pink immature buds. My beans are growing and there’s tomatoes on the way. I’ve ordered some rolls of film, wondering when I’ll get back into the swing of making pictures. Since my last (unplanned) stint of waiting rooms earlier this year I’ve lost some of that urge to shoot. It hit me hard and I needed time to stop and watch tadpoles every day, to pick raspberries and to be present.
Having said that, last month I received an exciting commission to take pictures at Abbey Road studios for the arm of Universal Music producing soundtracks for TV and film. That was pretty special.
Here’s a few snapshots.
Every year I shoot one or two BW rolls. Here’s a few old BW motion picture 35mm photographs.
