Christmas 2025. 

A special treat; spending time with my children, their family and all of us living together in one house for two whole days. 

A Vancouver Christmas.
Via New York.

For what better way to get into the Christmas spirit than to walk the streets of that spectacular city, all decked out for Christmas. The last time we visited New York was at Christmas 30 years ago. So many changes; tall thin, unbelievably high sky scrapers dwarfing the Empire State Building. The museum at Ground Zero; a very moving tribute to the many who lost their lives in 9/11. The leafy highline walk giving vistas from a raised viewpoint. 

All of these we visited. After breakfast we set ourselves up for the day with a game of table tennis and table football in the lobby of our hotel . OH ( my other half) won every time. I didn't mind. I was just glad to play the games of my youth before stepping out into the bracing cold of the city. Full thermals required, 

I carried a tiny Olympus camera in my pocket. This was not a photography trip. But if I had stayed longer, and been alone, I would have focused on the justaposition of trees and high rise buildings. Nature in the city. 

Black and white or colour?

A difficult choice. 

I enjoy both.

Last time we visited with children in tow. This time we were free to wander and walk, eat bagels and visit art galleries. 

I really wanted to see the Guggenheim, having been blown away by the Guggenheim in Bilbao in 2023. 

Suffice to say that I didn't take any photos of the New York Guggenheim. It was so much smaller and less spectacular than its Spanish contemporary. The art on show was political and didn't resonate with my festive mood. 

It was completed in 1959, 38 years before the Spanish version, so it seems unfair to compare the two. But I have. I can only say that I was not uplifted in the way I anticipated.

I had no expectations for MOMA, the museum of Modern Art in New York, and it far exceeded my expectations. OH was also greatly impressed, a rare happening in an art gallery. So many famous artists and a spacious, attractive layout. We spent a whole afternoon there soaking in the wonders.

I enjoyed exploring how other photographers had captured the city. Going in close to create abstracts with windows, or using intentional camera movement to accentuate the lights at night.

I fell in love with Matthew Wong's oil painting 'Unknown pleasures" 2019. It reminds me of everything that I hold dear. Nature, mountains and flowing water, or is it an undulating road? 

I was highly amused to find an exhibit of the very same brown paper bags that I used to make cyanotypes on during my residency at Vashon Island. My cyanotypes were rejected for the Vashon alumni exhibition this year, and not surprising, as they were rough and ready, made as an experiment.

If only I had left them unaldulterated as simple functional bags I might have made it into MOMA!

And yes, there were works by Monet, VanGogh and Rothko. Ansel Adams and Irving Penn. But I was also really taken with an image of olive trees in African heat by JoAnn Verburg. It has the feel of pages in a book, with the trees framed and hung as a quadriptych, set in soft African light. Expansive and calming. 

And having seen some art we returned to Central Park, to enjoy the festive atmosphere. An endless stream of horse and carriages and bicycle rickshaws decked for the holiday streamed past us. Santa hats and cheesy music blaring out. 

I rode on the carousel with parents and children. I will never be too old to enjoy a carousel ride. 

I was happy as Larry.

And then we flew to Vancouver for the real purpose of our journey. To see our children and to play games. To walk in the forest and shout at the pantomime villain. 

Family traditions are made of moments like these. 
I felt very lucky.

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.
​

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.
​

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.