No artist is pleased… There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive....... Martha Graham Photoblogging has brought me deep into the world of light and mystery, ordinary everyday beauty, friendship across the world and back on a path to writing. It's been every week now for . . .
Inklings
What if you followed every inkling, hunch or hint at a possible good idea? If you stretched your legs out beyond your comfort zone? If you trusted that these inklings would become their own story? On the misty drive through South Kilkenny, nothing to see, hidden landscapes. Favourite fields and places blanketed in fog. In the distance the . . .
On having an inkling about 2015
The haze was low this morning, wafting across the fields like an amber blanket. The combination of dawn and lingering mist is one to savour for any photographer. So even though it's still a bit foggy, my word for 2015 is "inkling" Inkling - a vague idea or notion, a slight understanding, hint, hunch, . . .
In the foggy dew……..#Pilgrimage ~ February
My Pilgrimage into 2014 goes deeper and the question has become how to visualise this path through photography? How to observe the world through a mist, keep all the options open and embrace the greyness. There's a promise now of rebirth and spring after the long winter. Walking in the steamy wet fields, in the muck underfoot, there's an . . .
Where there’s muck there’s money
There's an Irish expression that where there's muck there's money. The last week has seen the return of muck to these parts but we are still waiting to see the money. Crops have been harvested, grass growth is slowing, the clocks went back last night, rain is falling heavily and the local pot holes are filling up to the brim with water. . . .
Guzzling Bees and Woundwort flowers
So the rain continued to bucket down all through July and alongside the accompanying sea mist, a kind of fog settled on my brain. The days melt into one and soon . . .
Out of an Irish mist
The mist has been down for a few days now. It pours in from the sea when summer conditions dis-improve. It gets into your brain, slows down your thinking and creates a cotton wool world . . .
