I hope that these 12 months taken from the core of my experience might lead you to new paths and new discoveries. I encourage you to go and visit these places and share how they impact your own story because, ultimately, we’re all in this together.
a year in the life
A Year in the life of an architectural photographer in his time-travelling camper van. Start reading from the bottom of this page.
Travelling along the lane to St. Melangells is an act of filtration, a redaction of modernity. The pressing matters of the day are pared down with each passing turn.
I get a bit obsessed with the textures and patterns - the way that the personality of a place can change in an instant with the light.
I have a visual in my mind: a soul house is being made by Ancient Egyptian fingers, caked in clay, pinching out a stairway, thumbing in a colonnade, pricking out a window. The loved one is within the cross-hairs of the maker’s mind
I notice another map - this time it holds a different set of boundaries. There’s one that encompasses large scathes of England like a blood red stain. This is a map of Anglo-Saxon Britain and the blood red stain is that of Danelaw.
There comes to certain artists a time in their lives where the culmination of their life's work is caught up in a single piece.
The timing feels right. It’s a singular day with a singular sunrise that’s reflected and repeated innumerably in a host of dew drops in the field before me.
David was a close friend and mentor from very early on in my career. As I struggled through the vagaries of a breakdown (without his knowing) he provided me with the philosophy and outlook to get a tentative grip on what I wanted to become.
Emerging from beyond the lime wash is a ghost angel. The faint outline of a face and wings. I’m told that the eye emerged first and then the face and that, as the wash wears away, more might be revealed.