Whilst I walk along High Street, the buildings are tinted with a golden hue. As the sky softens, I can sense the day turning in on itself, the light tempered, beaten and bossed into thinness. This golden hour is turning blue.
Across a building extruded from the Triassic and Jurassic this isn't just a parable of faith, but also the story of the cosmos itself and our part in it.
"Like a precious baubled ring, the carving becomes the clawed setting, the movement of light upon it the jewel."
Stopping and taking time to observe is an act of faith in the material truth that surrounds us. It washes away the fake news, discomfort and confusion of present times and helps me feel rooted.
After spending prolonged days wrestling with the light through my viewfinder, I’ve experienced a kind of photo-serotonin effect, as if a transfusion has taken place resulting in an inner glow, unable to stop chattering; a feeling of being baptised with the splendour of it.
I work with patience and knowing. The years of failure have steadied my resolve and, as I weave through the gorse with my camera and tripod, my mind threads between the past and the present.
Every time I visit a building like this I’m gifted with new ways of seeing,