Here I am again. Artist in residence on Vashon Island, near Seattle.

Back after 2 years for another dose of sea, sun, artistic freedom and uninterrupted time to make and think. Time to get bored enough to have new ideas, and time enough to experiment without anyone but myself to criticise my efforts.

Last time I was here we were 4 mature adults. I had a wonderful time, and many happy memories. This time I had some reservations about trying to repeat the experience.

Part of me felt I should be going somewhere more adventurous, seeing new places. The other part of me was happy to combine the trip with a visit to my family in Vancouver, a mere train ride away. To return to a place that I knew to be comfortable, calm and on the water.

​What could possibly go wrong?

I arrived to meet my fellow artists and writers during a heatwave. They were all very young. In their twenties and thirties. I felt old amongst them. A very different feeling to previously. I am not hunting for a partner, thinking about my career, or struggling to make ends meet. I speak differently and we often misunderstood each other. This felt strange, given that we were speaking the same language. 

I came with the intention to work on learning the art of Japanese wood cut printing
( Mokuhanga). I carried chisels and wood carving knives in my hold luggage, and wondered if it would get safely through customs. I had ordered paper and wood to be delivered to the residency so that I could get started as soon as I arrived. 

The paper for my alternative activities such as making cyanotypes and a hand made book. didn't arrive. It was delayed. Days went by,  and each day I hoped it would turn up, which it eventually did just 5 days before I was due to fly home. Too late for anything worthwhile to be done.

So how did I cope? At first everything felt wrong. I considered flying home..... but knew that that was ridiculous. I was in a lovely place and needed to get to know my fellow artists. It takes time to get to know strangers; a poet, a novelist and a visual artist. We had lots of lovely conversations about books. The writers wrote or read all day long, sitting outside on the deck beside stacks of books and their laptops.

Some were very untidy in the kitchen, leaving pots and pans for days. I decided to ignore all of this, and started a little list of things that I couldn't or didn't feel it would be helpful to say aloud. After all, we were going to be together for three and a half weeks. 

The list includes 

• why do you say F**** so often?
• why don't you do your F****ing washing up?

I felt better for writing it down.
The swearing declined and the washing up improved with time. 

We got to know each other better as the days progressed, and true bonding occurred over the four player 'mid -west' card game called Euchre. It has to be said that my skills in this game are completely lacking, and I was definitely the weakest link as partners went. Remembering cards is not my strong point. But we laughed, played, changed partners and laughed some more. The effect on our little group was astonishing. I felt much more at ease as the days progressed.

While the writers were reading and writing, I meanwhile, needed to get into the forest, and went for regular walks to relax and take photos.
​I worked with a mirror, and continued my project of rephotographing landscapes that I had started in Santa Fe. The forest was dry after weeks without rain. I started to crave some wide landscapes or trees dripping with rain and lichens.

I swam in Puget Sound every day, surrounded by moon jelly jellyfish, kayaked and paddle boarded. I tried to capture the moonjellies with my camera, with great difficulty as they were on the move all the time, as was the kayak. I settled for drifting over them as they swam like stars in a deep night sky. 

But mostly I was learning how to carve and print very simple designs whilst learning the key principles of wood cut printing. I enjoyed the process, and made a lot of very unremarkable prints. I have a lot to learn about layers, colour combinations and  print design. 

 After two weeks had passed I knew that I needed to escape for a couple of days. Like one of my fellow residents I was getting 'cabin fever'. Mount Rainier, the glacier topped volcano was within reach, and was calling loudly to me. I couldn't come all this way and not pay it a visit.

So on my last weekend I made a journey by ferry off the island, and drove south to Mt Rainier National Park. All alone, I felt like an escapee on a mini road trip. As I drove through the gates of the National Park I felt like I was coming home to where I belong. In the mountains, surrounded by unspoilt land, trees and rivers with the familiar brown buildings of national park inn, admin buildings and visitor centre.

I didn't mind that the views were hidden by the cloud. It was just great to be there.
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I hiked on the Wonderland trail beside the Nisqually river. 

I walked alone despite warnings to only hike in groups. I was not heading out into the wilderness so I ignored the signs. I had a torch and a small first aid kit, and plenty of spare clothes. That's at least half of an essential kit for going into the wild....

​I paid attention to the lush details of this rain drenched forest. I was more than happy just walking and looking at the old trees and lichens.
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I spent the night just outside the park and wondered if I would be any luckier with the weather the next morning. I only had one more shot at seeing the mountain, and I knew that there were no guarantees.

Next morning I woke really early and checked the Paradise webcam at the top of the mountain road. It appeared to show clear skies in the pre-dawn darkness. I dived out of bed, packed, had a cup of tea and drove the 30 minutes up the mountain road to Paradise. And there it was!

Mount Rainier in glorious early morning sunshine. I was elated.

​Feeling extraordinarily lucky.

I set off at 7.00am for the Skyline trail hike. A four hour circuit around the foot of the mountain. I had not had breakfast due to my early departure, so I survived on a large bag of trail mix, my water and an apple. It was exhilarating and varied, through meadows, rock, bogs and streams, with spectacular views in all directions. I saw marmots and pika, birds of prey and wild goat. No bears made an appearance, but there were plenty of other hikers to chat to along the way.

When I completed the hike I had fully decided that hiking was more important to me right now than making art. 
And so that is what I aim to do for the foreseeable future; explore new places and go hiking.

With a bit of art thrown in for good measure.

And what of my fellow artists?

I have come to know them and appreciate them for their very individual qualities. I have learnt important things and much trivia about modern life by listening to them talking. I have learnt what 'colour' I read, from the 'Read your Color' website, and which movie character I am most like from the 'Which Character Personality Quiz'. 

So you see, I have been educated and challenged. Taken out of my comfort zone, and made to think about my choices in life. All of which are good things.

​And when I got back from my two days away the draining board was just as I left it...........and I was not in the least surprised. 

 
Santa Fe,  New Mexico, in the United States of America.

A trip that I had been looking forward to for many months; to Santa Fe Workshops, a photography centre with high calibre tutoring. The home of Georgia O'Keefe.

Part of me felt ambivalent about travelling to the US given recent worldwide events, but the other part of me really wanted to go; I was excited by the course aims and the work of its tutor Anna Rotty. The course was entitled 'Landscape as Collaborator'. 

A bit of a pretentious title perhaps? Not, it became clear, for those who truly respect the land and also the people who have inhabited it for hundreds of years before white settlers arrived. I had a lot to learn. 

So what is a collaboration? I was happiest with a definition that involved participants working together to achieve something greater that that which any individual participant could achieve if working alone. Without the effect that the landscape has on my psyche my photography would not exist.

I didn't want to get too heavy and philosophical about the title, being more interested to experiment with new techniques. Often my 'why' of making images comes much later. It  becomes clearer with time whether a deeper meaning is emerging. I am happy to let weeks pass and see what transpires. I was there to have fun.  And I did.

​

Our group arrived with a few images from home already printed out, but quickly started making new images in the bright, almost desert, high altitude landscape.

It was refreshing to trek out into the garden with minimal equipment and to start photographing just a few yards from the centre. I have long given up photo workshops where you travel many miles in a bus to a chosen location, all jump out of the bus, line up your tripods and take the 'classic shot'. Not for me. Especially not waterfalls in Iceland or red boats sailing in front of icebergs in Greenland! I prefer the closer details and the colours of the terrain. I don't like having my photographic subject matter chosen for me.

​

We started off making viewfinders for looking at the landscape. This rapidly moved to taking pictures through the viewfinder. Fragments of sky, bush, tree, soil. Isolating objects. I have done something similar before with litter, but enjoyed the blue sky and the cotton wood trees.

We printed images in the digital lab and went outside again to try new juxtapositions. Finding shadows and creating shadows became a happy game.

It was Anna Rotty's waterfall of light on water 'Paradise Waterfall'  that drew me in to applying for this course.

I  was excited at the idea of creating sculptures with photographs, and the idea that I don't have to frame my work in order to display it. This is good for both my pocket and the environment, and fits with my recent sculptural book making experiments, 

We found a beautiful sun lit stream to work with.

​A happy place......

​The bright sunlight created wonderful ripples on the water. 

As the days progressed I became more interested in repeated rephotographing of images in different locations. Lush vegetation on dry soil. Water on parched soil. I started thinking about location, transportation and the presence or absence of water. 

The rain drenched lupins below are rephotographed in Abiquiu, Santa Fe and Vancouver. A record of my recent trip and also a previous trip to Alaska where the lupins resided. 

I worked with shadows and my own body. Placing myself into the landscape without showing my face. Immersing photos in the stream and watching them gain strength as they dried. 

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As a newcomer to Santa Fe I didn't have an obvious way to connect with the landscape, except as a stranger.  But by demonstrating my presence there I began to feel connected in the way that I usually do when walking and exploring natural spaces. 

I don't really know yet what I am trying to say other than;

'I am in this place. I give you the the evidence. This is landscape.'

See; I can be really pretentious if I try.......

Also emerging are themes  about changes with passing time, travel/transportation and  different climates.

Now that I am back home on the beach at Camber Sands I will continue exploring possibilities and playing with ideas until I really know what I wish to say.

I have all summer to think about it. 

​Thank you Anna!