Sometimes it is good to try new things. It helps to shake up the senses and break one out of creative dead ends.

I have lost my enthusiasm for making work about litter, thinking about litter, and picking up litter. My book 'What If ?' was not very well received when I showed a draft to an assessor at the Royal Photographic Society with a view to submitting it for the FRPS . The assessor preferred my previous books such as 'findings', Land of my Father', and 'forest'. All black and white. No wacky colours or manipulation. 

I was disappointed with the response.  Disheartened even.

​I later shared the same draft book with my artist colleagues at Rye Creative Centre. Unlike the assessor they were incredibly positive. They encouraged me to get it finished.

Who to believe? What to do?

I thought about this for a while, and then decided that the book should go ahead regardless of the assessment process. I need to get it out of my system, once and for all. 

I asked myself why achieving the FRPS matters. I think it boils down to a sense of pride.
It shouldn't matter. Either people like my work or they don't. Their feelings about it should not be affected by the letters after my name.

​For most of my life I have been gathering letters after my name. At some point I should realise that they don't make my life richer. I should stop competing with the world, and just be myself..........sometimes colourful. and sometimes dark and moody.

It is the learning and the richness that studying brings that matters, not the letters that follow.

So for now, I will get the book finished, and stop thinking about making work about litter. I will, of course, continue to pick litter up as I go on my daily travels, as I always do. 

I wish to get back to beauty and the landscape.

​Which brings me on to women photographers and camaraderie.

Two weekends ago, in a bid to break out of my rut, I signed up to a photo walk with the RPS Women in Photography group. A London photowalk, starting at the National Portrait Gallery. I didn't know any of the participants, but what a really warm and welcoming group they turned out to be. We spent most of the day together, stopping for foody treats along the way. The pastel del nata ( Portugese custard tarts) were particularly special. I had two.

​We walked together initially, looking for images as we strolled. Slow was the order. Relaxed was the pace. We chatted and explored Covent Garden and Somerset House.

I found myself drawn to a topic that has been in the back of my mind for a long time, ever since I took a selfie in a field of sunflowers some years ago in Trelex, Switzerland.

​Hair. 

The image above was an accidental capture whilst bending low in a field of sunflowers. To my eye it represents a freedom of spirit, and a lightness of being. I keep a copy of this photograph pinned up on the wall of my studio.

As a landscape photographer the topic of hair felt like a big side step. I rarely take portraits of strangers as I never feel that I will use them in any constructive way. 
But this was a day to be different, and the urge that I was barely aware of surfaced as we walked through the crowds.
 
So many beautiful women. So much well tended hair.

​In the low March sunshine it glowed and shone. I started following people from behind, capturing them when they stopped for a moment. Almost no faces, so no loss of privacy on their part.

I saw the hair as a landscape. Rivers and gardens. Colours and shapes. No litter. A therapeutic refresh.

I remembered capturing Japanese girls dressed in traditional costume for the autumn leaf celebrations.

Such attention to detail. My hair never gets that much attention.

The more I walked, the more I enjoyed the moments of capture.

I might even go back for some more.

I don't care that this isn't abstract landscape photography, or what poeple think about these images.

What I care about is the fact that I enjoyed making the images, and what they might mean going forward.

I would like to give a massive thanks to Gabrielle Motola for leading us so gently into the street, and to all the women from the RPS Women in Photography group for their company and camaraderie.

​ Christmas has taken most of my energy for the last three weeks. For the first time in a number of years, both my children and my daughter's family were staying for Christmas. One from Vancouver, and one from the French alps.

Recent Christmas's have involved long journeys to the mountains of Canada, and epic organisation by my daughter. This year she did the travelling, and I did the epic organisation using a large spreadsheet of days, activities, meals, ingredients and a shopping list.

It worked. We were ten for lunch on Christmas day,  preceded by a pantomime trip on Christmas Eve, and a visit to more family on Boxing Day. Two cars, three trips around the M25, 16 people for Boxing Day lunch, and a lot of lego. No snow, no skiing, but some good muddy walks and lots of meals.

I was prepared. The freezer was stuffed, and I was able to enjoy the few days without having to do endless cooking. I even did some knitting in the midst of serving Christmas lunch, to untangle some dropped stitches for my grandson who was entertaining himself between courses.

And now they are all gone. The house is uncannily quiet. The lego is all cleared away and there is a pile of washing to work through.

It was a very special time. So special that I didn't stop to take a single photo. Not one. I will have to rely on my memories, and the new decorations on the Christmas tree, including a brown bear with a fishing rod, to remind me of my camping trip in Washington state with family last May. I was the only adult present on our pitch who was able to set up a fishing rod. That surprised everyone! A childhood spent casting endlessly on the River Wey was not wasted. I don't remember ever catching a fish, but that's not really the point.

The first thing that I did when the house was officially empty was to go for a walk in the woods. I left OH ( my other half) pondering the puddle that keeps appearing in the middle of our kitchen floor during the night ( AAAARGGGHHHH...........), and escaped.
I tramped through the mud, passing many dogs and bobble-hatted children.

The low winter sun was just breaking through, and it felt good to be out and able to think in peace. I filmed things that caught my eye as I walked; catkins, leaves, birch bark, the stream, the mud, some crows, bobble-hatted children, and more mud.

You can see all of these on my Instagram feed here

I then returned home, ate some more left overs and chucked the remains of the Yule log into the food waste bin, as there was no one left to eat it.

It was time to get back to my normal life.

So what next for my creative endeavours? I have been working hard on a book for my FRPS, and am now awaiting feedback, to see whether it is up to the required standard. Being all about litter on the beach, it is somewhat unusual, and I don't want to say too much at the moment. Every time I look at the layout I seem to change it, so I am leaving it alone for a week or so.

The image below is currently 'IN' the draft book.

None of the images work well as stand alone images, which means that the book structure is vital to bringing them together. It has made me think about how and why I make images. Working in a series is, for me, more satisfying than single stand alone images that might be framed. In the middle of arranging my book I received notice from the Royal Photographic Society that a book for submission should only contain 20 or 21 images. That threw me somewhat, as I have never before had to work to a certain number of images when making a book. I am not sure that I agree with a restriction for this particular submission format, but will keep going for now. One way or another, a book will come out of my months of trawling the beach for litter and items washed up from the sea.

​I need to move on. I don't want to spend the rest of my life photographing litter, even if I do keep picking it up. I am ready for a new chapter.

For 2024 I wish to create a photobook course. I have recently been procrastinating due to my inner demons and lack of confidence. There are some aspects of learning that are well suited to online learning, and others that are much better in real life. My challenge for January is to sit down and work out what is holding me back, so that I can find ways to overcome the obstacles that I have created in my head. Giving myself a time frame is helping. By the end of January I will be ready to launch my prototype course. 

I don't create courses to make money; I make them because I really enjoy teaching, and they allow me to share what I have learned in my photographic journey. One of the top ways to stay healthy as one gets older is having a sense of purpose; what the Japanese call Ikigai ( a life purpose, or a reason to get up in the morning). I enjoy the challenge that creating a course gives. There is lots of research to do, and thinking about how to best explain technical elements to participants. As I work out what to teach I have to keep learning, and this keeps me entertained and contented. Currently I am working on how to use Padlet as a platform for my course. Padlet will allow students to share their ideas, research, and to give me feedback on the lessons.

The most important page that I have created at the moment is the 'stuff I need to learn properly' page. It is one thing to be able to use software to make books, but quite another to be confident to help others use it successfully. I am feeling excited that I have got this far. 

 So, as you can see, my mind is fully occupied for now. I have a lesson plan to work through, with a list of tasks to complete before I go live.

My first cohort of students will be my guinea pigs. If you are interested in being part of my test group; a free course in return for honest and constructive feedback then please contact me
(see below). Participation will involve 5-6 sessions spread over 6-8 weeks on Zoom.



​In the meantime I wish you a happy and creative 2024. 

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