Andy Marshall's Genius Loci Digest: 24 Jan 2025
Walking through it is a wonderfully absorbing experience, akin to wandering through Pompeii or Herculaneum.
This digest revels in the in-between, the transitional, the presence of absence. My camera with its dials and knobs and sharp focus has taken me into the blur of things. It has taught me that because things can't be measured it doesn't mean that it isn't there. The spirit of things, the essence of our places is as real as my shutter button.
Walking through it is a wonderfully absorbing experience, akin to wandering through Pompeii or Herculaneum.
Their survival would articulate a faith in the long view; it would signal that we still have the capacity to consider future generations, even when we are not here to witness the fruits of our labour.
After we discovered the WWI graffiti we headed back down to the nave in a kind of torch driven half-light. When we reached the bottom of the stairs in the nave, John tapped me on the shoulder and told me a secret.
My photography helped me become a sculptor of light after being plunged into darkness by depression and my camera taught me how to see.
The church lies deep within the bucolic landscape of a glacial valley, rising from the flat valley floor like an erratic, shaped by history, circumstance, and time.
The genius of this place is revealed in how its inhabitants shaped the land to serve their needs, while letting the land shape them in return..
As I trace the route of the B6318, one of Britain’s most beautiful roads, I come upon the remains of the Roman Temple of Mithras at Brocolitia.
Despite our darkest selves, through the time-sieved collective, we can’t help but express the essence of what it means to be human.
As I stand but a few inches away from the recumbent knight, I can’t help but reflect on the vast distance of time that separates us.
✨ Wondering why I ask for support?
An Anxiety of Memberships