Please, if you can spare anything...... please help. These people have lost everything... 21,000 dead, 41,000 missing ...... and the British newspapers published the story on page five, I'm ashamed.
http://www.christianaid.org.uk/?gclid=CIvBgJ-MkpMCFQpHQwodG0o1gw
It was just one of those times when my camera saved me...... I felt how he looked....... I stood on London bridge, tired, sad.....wishing I was somewhere else, when the sun broke through the clouds and lit the metal seal straight across the road.
A blazing trail that ran from the horizon to the tip of my shoes. I pulled my camera from my bag and took 3 shots... all I could see was the sun and blurred silhouettes, as I felt the warmth spread across my face like a kiss from a dear friend.
I turned my back, looked at the screen, and there he was........... a perfect living metaphor for the moment.
Sometimes I don't know how I would get through these recent days without something beautiful to discover and share......
It was once said somewhere how every picture taken is a self portrait of the person behind the camera..... in the last few weeks I have found that disturbingly true.... throwing myself into this is my way of dealing with things.
Not so many words this week, and music still doesn't feel right to add to these last two entries - but here is what I have been doing anyhow.
She has a brain tumour, this is where I will begin.... it's the only way I know how to start.
Starring at this page there are so many things I need to write, and yet my mind is blank. My head is full of pictures, music, moments I have shared all because of her, and yet I still can't find the words...........
She is my beginning....... the first page of my book, my guidance, my best friend, my inspiration.
The most courageous woman I have ever met, the gentlest soul I have ever known......
She is my mother.
I sat on her bed, and we talked for 8 hours of everyday I was there.
She looked so small, her skin softened by the hospital lights....... her hair loose like a child's. I couldn't remember her looking so young. She was beautiful, even now at her most fragile, and it was ripping me apart.
They say the cancer came from her breast - a nine year battle she had fought and won. We never expected this, we thought she was clear...........
The drugs slow her down, and the tumour affects her sight.
We laughed about sharing her pills. I needed something to take this reality away, to make this bad dream blur.....to hold myself together, so she wouldn't see my fear.
I washed her on the Wednesday, as gently as I could.
The body that bore me.
The hands that held me
The arms that carried me as a child.
My clothes were soaked, we used six towels ........ we laughed again.
I dried her hair and put her earrings in, its funny...she looked so well.
I need to take this from her,
I need to make it stop.
If I could take the force of the blow I would.
Let me protect her.
Let me hold her hands, and take it on.
But I can't.....I can't...... I can only sit, wait, and hope.
These pictures are for her, they have kept me sane.
Maybe its my way of running away, maybe I felt it was the only way I could express how I feel....... I don't know anymore.
When we were in the hospital I told her about my photos, and how it moves me to take them, - so I decided to take some for her.............
So she can escape those hospital walls.................
And walk with me in the sunlight, in my favourite forest...... and together we can forget all that is happening around us.
'And I've leaned on you for years,
Now you can lean on me.
An that's more than love, thats the way it should be.
Now I can't change the way you think,
But I can put my arms around you
That's just part of the deal,
That's the way I feel,
I put my arms around you.
I stand in front of you
Take the force of the blow
Protection...'
(Massive Attack / Protection.)
I said a prayer for you, the only way I know how.
To do something that would make you smile, and see that this is about hope.
I walked barefoot through a stream,
12 wishes in my hand.
In afternoon sunlight, I held my breath and let them fly..................
Each one a promise, a fragment of my heart.
Make her well..........
Make her new........
Make it stop...........
Make it stop.........
Make it stop.
Your blood runs through my veins,
Your imagination rooted in my heart.
A believer in beauty,
A conjurer of stories,
A creative soul incarnate in this flesh,
Who taught my thoughts fly.....
I dream in colour because of you,
Because of you, my spirit is free.
**** 1/5/08.............. I wanted to add a special note for the people who have sent me private messages because of this Post. 'Don't stop song writing', 'Literaturicide' - You are so kind, your words meant a great deal, thank you It meant so much to have your offers of help. 'Jeeps' - Nothing I can write here can possibily even compare to what you wrote, you broke my heart... You are a very brave person.... bless you, my love and prayers to you.... and thank you, I cant say enough......
*** 4/5/08 ...... Some more thank yous to 'threehourtour' and Gavin............. once again i'm speechless at the deeply personal and touching emails you have sent me.... thank you so much i'm truely moved.
***......... an extremely big mention to Uchujin (from flickr)........ You are not alone, my thoughts are with you, please be brave and contact me when ever you need to. Thinking of you and your mum.xxxxxxx
I've had some very bad news...... and i'm trying to deal with it. I won't be able to write for a while.
I went to a forest at dawn, and this is what happened. All the pictures were taken with just me a tripod and a remote. It rained, I was freezing and exhausted...... I slipped over in the mud and was stung by nettles.... but, I felt wonderful. I laughed out loud running and jumping up and down like a lunatic, I let go, I felt free..... I did something for the sheer hell of it. I felt connected to this abandoned place, I found a dark beauty in it ........... I left breathless and so alive.
And the very next day, it snowed........................................................
Sometimes I take pictures and never really appreciate what I saw until I look back at them the next day. I've taken a few that have made me think about this recently, which have left me all the more grateful for having found this new passion in my life. We spend our days constantly surrounded by the most private yet public moments, forced into the personal spaces of strangers.... crammed against each other in train carriages and on bus seats - breathing the faint traces of last nights alcohol or morning smoke from other peoples clothes. Our privacy is laid bare for the rest to observe... where moments of solitude, or weakness are almost impossible to hide - often only amplified by the irony of being surrounded by so many others. I suppose I never used to realise any of this..... I would travel to work looking at the floor of the train, starring at nothing, often squashed between overweight business men, praying the next stop was mine.
Now things are different, photography has changed how I see my day to day life. I use two cameras, have two lenses..... and make no pretences about being very technical with either. One is an SLR, the other a little compact I was given as a birthday present 2 years ago. I keep the compact in my bag and travel with it everyday, and it has probably helped me capture some of the best, and most unexpected moments in the blur of my daily commute - all the pictures in this entry were taken with it.
Today I watch people's faces..... I love to study the creases in their skin while they sleep. I'm fascinated how the light though the windows constantly changes the colour of their hair.....whilst the shadows of the outside world throw pattens of trees and roof tops across their clothes. I photograph people because its these details that have made me fall in love with the human form in all its guises. Its the imperfections I find the most precious, uncombed hair, a badly buttoned cardigan.... these things make us fragile, they are the details a lover would gently correct. I see my journey as a chance to study us, as an opportunity to sit in the company of strangers and understand them a little more. That's why I take these pictures.. I'll never know who they are, but something about them made me stop... I saw something vulnerable and beautiful in them... something they will probably never see in themselves.................
He held my hand, because I couldn't balance...... the wind was too strong.
My shoes were wrong as always, the heels disappearing into the pebbles.... but that made me smile, its who I am.
I could barely see through my hair as it lashed at my face, my hands were numb, my eyes wet.
He walked ahead, a silhouette, ....... shoulders dropped as if taking the weight of the horizon.
I closed my eyes, and raised my face to the sky..... waiting for this landscape to crack. The clouds had gathered, the sea was swollen..........and then ... just as I pressed the viewfinder to my skin, the sun broke through the darkness, and set the sea on fire for a few brief moments.................
And it truly looked like that....... an ocean of light, shattered by the pull of the waves...... a positive/negative of nature, captured in my camera..... just before the rain returned, and the snow began to fall.
Brighton beach, an English spring.
So I went to Paris....... I ruined my brand new shoes running over cobbled streets laughing. I walked in the rain, I danced on tables, I ate everything I don't usually allow myself to. I got drunk and cried, I watched live jazz till 2am, I ate cheese at 5am with a dog called Muffin..
I slept when I never thought I could, I couldn't sleep when I should. I took my self portrait, deleted it, took it again, deleted it, took it again and decided to try and except who I am, and promise myself I would do something with it... here it is.....
I ate a crepe bigger than my head full of cheese and potatoes, laughed some more, got soaked in the rain and blown by the wind......
I saw a man walking a cat on a lead, spent hours walking around galleries in a dream .... Took my friend Victoria's portrait, lost my gloves, tried to photograph my friend Vincent, and it didn't work because he's much better than me... and I always get nervous........!
So here are my friends....... This is Vincent, he is why I took up photography. He looks different all the time because he has magic hair that grows very quickly.... Sometimes he has a furry face and no hair, some times he has lots of hair and no face fur.
He's a street photographer, and his pictures are incredibly beautiful......
have a look.......... www.laritournelle.com
We sat on the metro and took pictures of a giant rat, whilst a man played a clarinet, it was weird, silly and very funny all at once :)
This is Victoria, she's beautiful and always worries about how she looks, which I will never understand...... in fact I think she is the most beautiful girl I know................
We always laugh when we aren't meant to, and never know when to stop dancing and go home... oh and Victoria always loses her car - I need to buy her a map!!
So we did a deal..... I would take some 'proper' pictures of her, and in return she would model for some 'arty' ones for me.... and we did..........
Its not fair these people live in Paris, I find it very difficult sometimes..... but its always so wonderful to go back. So my plan went wrong, I didn't write a huge blog entry or spend hours taking pictures,......... instead I lived every minute to the full.........
..... and went home happy :)
I'm not sure where this has come from, or why I chose to write it all down, but lately I have spent a lot of time walking instead of taking buses or the tube. I've had things on my mind, and I suppose its my way of facing all the emotions in my head. There are some days when I walk home through the streets feeling so detached from all that surrounds me I sometimes wonder if I could just dissolve. Like standing in borrowed shoes, I no longer seem to touch the sides of my shell. My soul is loose in its skin, something has shifted and suddenly so much of what was normal, now feels alien and unnecessary. Each night I follow the same familiar path across the city to the station. It's when I try to pull myself together, when my mind wanders back through all I have felt - my demons, my dreams, my innermost thoughts. Like walking backwards light and colour slip behind me, whilst I can only push forward through the grey crowds of commuters. I'm numbed by the music deep in my ears.....It separates me further, leaving only my collisions with others to remind me I am truly here.
My heart beat thuds in my chest as my body is swallowed by shadow and dragged back by lamplight. This sudden strange solitude, an absence of self…envelopes me, it follows my footsteps and clings to my side. Neon reflects in my eyes as I watch people's expressions, their second glances, hand gestures and touch;... these fine threads of interaction spun from one person to the next.
I make my way towards London Bridge avoiding beggars and the smack of free papers thrust into my side. I pass tourists, bankers, bus stops and bars; count steps, skip cracks, jump drains and always cross the road in the same place. I've come to realise I love this city - I suppose I never gave it a chance, never took the time to stop and breathe it in. I was always looking at my feet, rushing to get home, pushing it away instead of embracing its chaotic energy. Now things feel different and I'm not sure why, but I'm glad it’s happening to me.
As the buildings slowly begin to fall away and the river breaks the horizon; the sky is blown open violent and vast when I finally reach the bridge. I like to pause and watch the hairstyles and coats explode with the sudden gusts that greet each new group that crosses, a smile creeps over my lips.....
This is my favourite place; I love the rush of air against my skin..... to hold onto the stone and let my body be blown left and right like a paper bag, whilst the wind dances in my hair. I am electrified by this cityscape,…… it leaves me breathless. There's a sense of possibility I can't explain, like my spirits are swept up with the wind and suddenly, somehow I am renewed, my feelings are heightened. At times this drama makes my heart heavier, on other days I feel a release, like cutting the string to a kite. Either way It reminds me of the blood rushing through my veins, that sense of unease and anticipation that keeps me alive.
From where I stand you can see the train carriages on Waterloo Bridge, the light from their windows streams past in a distant blur of fluorescent white ..... every now and then sparks fly from the tracks and fall down into the dark ink of the river below. Ahead, a half moon hangs low in the new March sky, illuminating the skeletons of cranes against the dark dome of St Paul’s, whilst police boats and barges silently slice the reflections of Tower Bridge. Sometimes it feels like it is all too much, to absorb all of this...... the music, my thoughts, the lights,….. the missed portraits that constantly pass me by. My fingers tighten around the little compact camera I keep in my pocket - what if I have missed that perfect moment I am always looking for?
I don't know why this place is so emotional, I used to belong to the surge of blank bodies that surround me, I never stopped, I never looked up - how could anyone have missed this, in all its brutal beauty? Why is this happening now? Sometimes I think too much, I know this, and I can't always explain why it takes me over in such a way.......but then I stop worrying and let go.... ...........................
I close my eyes, face the wind, and let it all in at once......and it flows,.... it flows,......and it flows through me, like rain....................
The light was that of dreams,
an uncertain penumbra..... neither day nor night.
The lonely energy of the woman,
The wild strangeness and concentration of her gestures.
Time dissolved, sensations expanded.......
As she returned to the melancholy to which she had been banished.
She was lost in his memory...... and he would never know........
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