Monday, 29 May 2023

Today, I fancied retracing my steps to Atelier Cézanne in Aix-en-Provence.


Friday, 19 May 2023


.... & returning to some deliciously spent roses.


Wednesday, 17 May 2023

(this song makes me cry – every single time...)


Thursday, 4 May 2023

in a dreamy, creamy Paris mood.

(shot at Musée Rodin, Paris.)



Wednesday, 26 April 2023


"Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling."

– Walt Whitman


Tuesday, 25 April 2023


Guess you can say I’ve felt stuck lately, creatively speaking. Overthinking, doubting, worrying. Instagram as a platform hasn’t helped. I often have a nagging feeling there of not fitting in, not wanting to show up as a talking head in stories, create a curated feed, do the tricks that should in theory make your work seen. I feel it all alienates from the heart that’s beating inside, the unique voice that each of us has. But I continue to show up because of the beautiful people around, and a childlike desire to say, hi, look what I made. 

One of those gems I’ve connected with on IG is the incredible photographer and creator of soulful images, Kelle Sauer. Last night I found myself over on her site It's All a Love Story, reading through every post she had written from the heart so far. And something seemed to lift in me, a yearning to get in touch with the core again, become lost in the light, simply play without a single thought in the back of the mind about where whatever it is I am creating will be of use or fit in nicely. Simply to focus on whatever I find of beauty in the moment and let it open windows into new ways of seeing. 

 So, today I found myself doing just that, a bunch of soon-to-be fading ranunculus serving as my muse. In the midst of the flow, continuing despite the odd thought of “am I over-romanticising here” trying to interfere, and with it all a sense of oh how I’ve missed this, how I’ve needed this without quite realizing how much. 

The window open to the backyard, birdsong providing the soundtrack, spring light flickering through the curtains, lost in its own play too. Almost like touching something eternal for a fleeting moment.