Saturday, February 25, 2017

Otto's kitchen window

                                   Bratislava        Feb        2017
























We talked about history, and life. He told me how he first met Miro. We drank filter coffee and laughed at the taste. We swapped recipes for the best way to prepare garlic, wether to crush or chop. He said how at his age, everyday is a gift, and that his brother and sister died much younger many years ago. He pointed to his little finger and said that life is this short. The sun came in through his kitchen windows and lit up the room, and both of us smiled.

Friday, February 24, 2017

Krzysztof Gieraltowski



Krzysztof Gieraltowski
































Today I saw an amazing exhibition of portraits by the Polish photographer Krzysztof Gieraltowski. There were almost 100 portraits, all shot on 35 film, and no two faces or expressions looked the same. He managed to capture the often hidden intensity of a persons interior world in moments that appeared candid and honest.

are they hearts or only shadows?





Thursday, February 23, 2017

collapsed habitats in a permeating darkness

                                             broken light                 Bratislava                 2017

















I want to know how things work, how to fix them when they are broken and when to leave them alone if they can't be fixed.

The Fall









Wednesday, February 22, 2017

nočná mora























goodbye Miro

                                                                                                  February        2015

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

6x6x2

                                                                                         Bratislava         2015

Monday, February 20, 2017

"I want to paint the way a bird sings"

                                                                                Sunset    Pourville   1882
                                                                                Marine   Pourville     1881


































Monet was so driven to paint that it consumed him, he often begged his relatives, friends and even strangers for money to support his obsession, he was homeless, sick, disillusioned and often misunderstood, but constantly driven to represent the beauty of nature.  When you read his letters you can see that he was never quite satisfied with his ability and was always struggling to do better, and that this struggle is what motivated him. He had such dedication in the pursuit of making art that even as the first world war raged and he could hear the noise of artillery firing he said: "They are going to have to slaughter me here as I paint" He started to go blind, and after operations to remove cataracts from both eyes he continued to paint up until his death in 1926.


Sunday, February 12, 2017

shadows

























When I was a small boy I ran everywhere, even to school. We lived on a hill and I used to run up and down that hill every morning and evening. I wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere, I just loved to run and chase my own shadow, especially when it was late afternoon and my shadow stretched out all the way up the hill. The faster I ran, the further it got away from me. If the light was just right my shadow would flicker and dance then disappear into the other shadows that were cast by the tall trees that lined either side of the lane leading to my house. Often I was so captivated by my own shadow that I didn’t look up or around until I’d reached the top or bottom of the hill, nothing else existed. Depending on the season the shadow could be as dark as the night sky, with an outline so sharp that I could count all the fingers on my outstretched hand, other times it would be soft and grey like the big rain clouds that so often punctuated the changeable spring days in the Yorkshire countryside. 


Just like then, when I see my shadow now, for a brief moment I have the feeling of being here and not being here, my shadow can reach and touch things, that I can still only grasp at. It’s not the same as with a reflection, which holds too much detail, and can lead to a kind of self absorption, accidentally seeing ourselves randomly projected into the flow of life. Another thing about shadows, although they were once used to quite accurately show us the time, they don’t really age, they still only get longer or shorter depending on the time of day. 

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

vending machine coffee

























I took this a few years ago with my phone. It was at the Slovak state TV station, a big institutionalised place with many unmarked doors. I was alone, without a book and with a few hours to wait. I found a small cafeteria that sold vending machine coffee and snacks, through another door that lead outside was a smoking section. I went out with my coffee and noticed this heart, that someone had made from twisted wire and connected it to a section of steel fence. I smiled and my mood lifted at the thought that someone had felt inspired, even the coffee tasted better.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Alone but not alone

                                                                  Sounio              Spring            2016

















From beneath the gaps in the cold stones, life reached out for the sky. The strong wind left a salty residue on my lips, its taste a childhood memory. Looking down at the Aegean from high above, I was reminded of how it received its name and of what fate lies in complacency. I didn’t come here to look for answers, but to shout questions into the wind, to hear them echoed out to sea, and for them to be lost somewhere between me and the horizon. Regardless of a change of country, environment, timezone or language, your emotions never really leave you, and your feelings and memories, fears and expectations travel with you. Still if you are going to be alone, then be alone, and if you are going to be lost, then best in a place you have never experienced before.
I sat for a while in the dust near a clump of spiky dried out bushes, their leaves shaking with a brittle percussive rasp. I closed my eyes and drifted as the sun warmed my face, red and amber patterns danced beneath my eyelids, I thought of your smile, so far away, I felt light and warm, as the wind gently rocked me and the sun lulled me away. I awoke several moments later, a little disorientated until I put the pieces together, my mind sharpened and my internal voice reminded me, I am here, on the cliffs in Sounio on the Attica Peninsula, alone. I looked to my right and there less than a metre away, clinging to a dried out branch was a large green dragonfly. Maybe it had been there all along and was difficult to see before as its colouring provided good camouflage for the surrounding shrubbery, but my advantage was that I had fallen asleep, and therefore awoke laying down, and it was clearly revealed as a silhouetted outline against the bright blue sky. 

Friday, February 3, 2017

my favourite T shirt


Tuesday, January 31, 2017

wings

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

so much ephemera






I have a book
filled with drawings
inscribed with love
that I can't bear to look at

Sliced my finger deep
so much blood
it needed 3 clips
have to do things with one hand

I opened a drawer
inside was a heart
and the words I am Charlie
written in French

So much ephemera


Do the emotions we experience mark or change what we see, and how we represent our world?



































I used to think that I was a person that went out with a camera to find things, but maybe those things find me. I struggle daily to try to understand this insane world and what has happened to empathy and honesty. All I can do is hold on to beauty as a memory as its reality passes and fades.

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Forging our own path

                                                         Bratislava            summer                2015

























I mistook recognising myself for knowing myself, and forgot that each new discovery is a piece of self discovery. Yet I felt much wonder at each footstep, and lived so fully with every breath.

Monday, January 9, 2017

                                                             Ruzinov                  winter                  2017

Tuesday, January 3, 2017


Sunday, January 1, 2017

Life

                                                    Prague      summer       2015

























More than words can convey, I feel photographs best represent my relationship with the world around me. The process of looking and reacting by taking a photograph feels like a natural conversation between myself and life. It is often difficult to present oneself fully in the moment as we are so often reflecting on our past or projecting an uncertain future. The combination of looking and feeling and deciding, after some time becomes of more significant importance than that of describing and justifying. The images have not only outlived their original feelings but have taken on a greater role in the understanding of what it is to have a life and how precious and momentary it is.

sometimes


























you see something once and it leaves a lasting impression on you.

man on the moon




































                                                                     Ruzinov                  winter            2017






































After a night filled with explosions
today it is like the surface of the moon;
deserted frozen and silent.
For a brief moment
I felt like the man on the moon.

Saturday, December 31, 2016



































Thursday, December 22, 2016

for my parents and their gift of happiness

                                                                            yorkshire                       1972

























I remember the day, I had just come back from staying with my grandparents. I hated that shirt, but looking at my Dad I can see that those shirts must have been in fashion at the time. I don't remember the chairs but I do remember the carpet and those pink slippers. Looking at this photograph I can see that my parents were very happy. I don't remember who took this photograph.

                                                   yorkshire                      2011

























I remember the day, we went to the seaside town where my parents first went when they were dating and where we would holiday each year when I was growing up. I hadn't been there for twenty years and it had been modernised, but the sea still looked the same, cold, grey and flat. I see my father continued to have an eye for fashion and that my parents were still very happy. I remember taking this photograph as they strolled down the promenade.



Thursday, December 15, 2016

twelve years

                                                        Bratislava                 winter               2016
                                                       Bratislava                winter               2004










































not the same street
not the same birds
not the same camera
just the same person