Thursday, 18 August 2011

Letter Writing

I think that the art of writing to a loved one is being lost, we can all text, instant message, tweet, but these by their very nature are short missives. They can be beautiful like the Haiku with its structure of 17 on, in a relationship of 5, 7 and 5 on, most are not though.
I am really interested in the art of letter writing, writing to the ones who you really want to know you better. The confessional that is disguised in a wealth of paragraphs, the letting that one know who you are, or who you want to be or what sort of relationship you would like to form.
The subtle use of words, their inherent meanings, their hidden meanings, your own interpretation of those hidden meanings, the reading between the lines.
The wonderment of unscrewing the pen lid, of smoothing out the sheet of paper, of placing the first mark, the first word, the first line. Thinking about how to end the letter, how you get to complete your letter, how you sign off. Do you say regards, best wishes, all my love, kisses ? The written word is permanent, forever. That is the beauty of it, or the horror of it.

Sunday, 14 August 2011

The smell of water

I think that I am one of those English people who dream of the desert. I lust after the thought of great expanses of dry, seemingly empty but incredibly complex landscapes. I do not lust after "that green and pleasant land", so aptly described by William Blake . It has always felt stifling to me, the determinedly neat hedgerows, the manicured landscapes, the cultivated arenas we inhabit in this, oh so small, island.
I think about the expanses of open desert with the rocky floors that are dusty and appear lifeless, but in reality are crossed by a myriad of creatures and cultures, using pathways both real and imagined. I see the history laid out at my feet, stretching out all around me to the horizon and beyond. I imagine my understanding of these landscapes to be greater.

Above all of this though I love the smell of water. A bath that contains enough water, that through its depth becomes slightly turquoise, is a thing of sheer joy. The calmness that this encapsulates is indescribable.

Thursday, 4 August 2011

mishmosh work

These are part of a series of images I sent to Mish Mosh, they are altered postcards. Images of Queens and John F Kennedy's Funeral, 2 of my favourite subjects. I do have obsessions and at the moment these are some of them.
I am also obsessing about Elvis Presley's golden inscribed Beretta pistol, I have no idea why. I must visit Gracelands soon to see it in al its glory.