Nobody that I know really understood what I meant when I said that I was going on a course to learn abstract calligraphy. It is very hard to describe.

Even I was unsure what I was letting myself in for when I booked to go to Tuscany for a week's workshop on the meeting of eastern and western calligraphic styles with Monica Dengo and Satsuki Hatsushima, from Italy and Japan respectively.

Ten days before I was due to set off I got a severe case of cold feet. I was worried by the programme notes that described a visit to view handwriting styles in medieval manuscripts at the local Sansepolcro archive. It sounded deadly serious, and far removed from what I had in mind from my knowledge of Monica's work.

I almost cancelled, but fortunately had my mind put at ease by a fellow photographer who happened to be doing the workshop 2 weeks ahead of me.

In order to get there I passed through Florence. I have never been to Florence, so decided to to take two days to explore the city before catching my train eastwards to Arezzo, and then Sansepolcro.

I knew Florence has a reputation for being busy. I had not realised how busy. I found myself heading away from the city centre, across the river, to the Boboli Gardens for a bit of peace and quiet. I found the strangest of lemons in the lemon garden.

I also found some beautiful roses with a perfect backdrop of washed blue paint. I was happy.

Obviously, there is a lot of very important art to see in Florence. On day two, having walked my legs off, I summoned the energy to face the Uffizi Gallery. I know practically nothing about Renaissance art. Michelangelo and  Botticelli were the only names that I really knew; two spectacularly famous artists, that I had never really appreciated other than when reading, many years ago, 'The Agony and the Ecstasy', the 1961 biographical novel about Michelangelo, written by Irving Stone.

I still remember vividly the story describing Michelangelo, as a boy, being given a large block of marble and chipping away at it from the outside in to create a figure.  I find this extraordinary; to have a vision of the outcome and be able to gradually work to achieve it by a process of removal rather than by addition as in so many other forms of art.

I found the art works in the Uffizi Gallery vibrant and beautiful, and was glad that I went as I can't see myself returning to a city where it is difficult to negotiate the streets due to the crowds.

Onwards then, to the real reason for my trip.

To Sansepolcro, a peaceful, walled, 11th century commune, with cobbled streets and some more famous art. This time by Pierro della Francesca. Another famous artist that I had never heard of, who lived and died in Sansepolcro.

To the arts centre where I found a room beautifully laid out ready for 16 participants, with walls to die for in pastel shades of plaster and paint.

And so began seven days of joy.

Exhausting and intense, but filled with laughter , experimentation and production.

We made marks in the traditional Japanese way, in a traditional western italic style, and then blended the two in many different ways.

Between lessons I feasted on peaches, tomatoes, mozarella and meatballs. Mascarpone and cantucci. Japanese snacks and plenty of herbal tea.

We made marks to different soundtracks.

I looked at the outcomes and knew that my family would think I was mad.

They were expecting traditional calligraphy.

The medieval manuscripts were old and fancy, and unlike those in the UK, I was surprised  that we were allowed to touch them. This was said to be because the content of these ancient ledgers was of no great historic significance.

I  looked at them for a while, and then wandered off to look at the walls downstairs.

What I hadn't realised from reading my daily programme was how exciting the next visit would be. A visit to the Burri museum a few miles away in Cita di Castello.

Well, not really a museum. More of an extraordinary modern art collection housed in an old tobacco drying warehouse. The work of just one local artist; Alberto Burri. I had never heard of him. Ignorance is my specialty.

Correctly named as the  Fondazione Palazzo Albizzini Collezione Burri » Ex Seccatoi del Tabacco, the building was vast. The art was dramatic and themed by colour.

I soaked it all up. Black, black and gold, multicoloured ; each in vast rooms that eventually became overwhelming, but which definitely impacted my work later in the week. The simplicity appealed immensely.

As the week progressed our tables became stacked with a multitude of papers covered in ink. Different papers, different tools. Many different styles and looks.

I was happiest with my marks made with a feather.

I also spent a long time experimenting with ways to write the word mountain as an ideogram, using western letters but in a Japanese style.

Meanwhile, Satsuki wrote the word 'mountain' with a very large brush in Japanese style onto brown paper, working on the floor.

I think my family would understand this a bit better.

By the end of the week we had turned some of our many papers and writings into hand made books. This was a challenge in such a short space of time.

Normally my books are the product of many hours thinking and experimenting. Some take months to make. The books I made in Sansepolcro were different, in that they were not created with any important message to convey. What they did do was to convey my own personal take on the ideas that we had assimilated during the week.

And what does all this have to do with being an 'outdoor' photographer? Obviously not much...... but......

It is a fine example of the pleasure to be had by jumping out of a particular creative 'box' into a new one; of the joy of trying new things, and of learning new techniques that feed new ideas. It is also a way to meet a wonderful bunch of people from all around the world.

The adventure was also a reminder that cold feet are normal when stepping out of one's comfort zone, and to just 'do it' anyway. Son would have told me that if I had asked.....

And when son asks me whether I have become less fit for our upcoming alpine adventure during my week of messing around with ink on paper, I can tell him that whilst having so much fun I also found time to do a little workout every day in my rooftop apartment. Just don't tell the landlady that I used the bedspread as my yoga mat.

Despite not being 'up' a mountain I felt on top of the world.

And finally, don't tell ANYONE that I never made it to see the artworks by Piero della Francesca in the Civic Museum. They would be truly shocked......

I did find a wonderful vegetable garden on the city wall though. The artichokes were spectacular!

​ 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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