The Christmas Open Houses are a familiar part of Brighton life and this year i am lucky enough to be showing some work at the Bungaroosh Gallery. As well as some large framed photographs i have been experimenting with applying digital ground to reclaimed antique papers and making inkjet prints. What i love about this process is the introduction of brush marks to my images, which give a sense of gesture. The mottled, aged patina of the papers i print on (usually the endpapers of old books sourced from charity shops) also add random marks to each image which not only makes each unique but also give a lovely aged feel to the image. It's as if my modern images are having a conversation with the history of the paper they are printed. A favourite example is a flyleaf that said "Wishing you a Happy Christmas' in beautiful old fashioned handwriting which looks great under an image of a snowy tree. As a photographer the aim when reproducing work is usually for every print to be identical, so it is lovely to be working with a process which is more experimental, and one which rejoices in the imperfect and the random.
Thursday, 25 November 2010
Tuesday, 9 November 2010
illustration by Miranda Vincent
There is a new man in my life. He is a Wolf, he is mean, hurtful and dominant. He has been here for over a year, his name is Lupus. At first no-one recognised him, so it was worth getting that second opinion at the hospital, the one where the consultant said the 'L' word and told me his name. I think i already knew, i'd felt his claws gripping my limbs and felt his breath on the back of my neck whenever i tried to do something and found myself too tired or in too much pain. But now i know. Sort of... it may take a couple of years to get a firm clinical diagnosis, but it's highly likely Lupus is the name of my new companion.
The thing is i am very lucky. Some people with this disease are so ill, i have only a mild form. Yet still the Wolf tries to make me change my life. I have to miss parties and events i am too ill for, at times it takes all my effort just to get up. My trainers gather dust as i cannot run. Sometimes it hurts to hold my camera. I'm a photographer but i can no longer do weddings as i can't work more than half a day. At my lowest point it took all my concentration to remember how to swallow. What should have become an automatic response became an effort of will. It was terrifying and I lost my appetite for a while. It's fine, i can still manage about 60% of my life ok. Some days i feel ok. So i am grateful for that. I am not dying, i am not disabled.
It's the little things that get me sometimes. Who would have thought you'd miss painting ceilings, nit-combing your daughter's hair (a vile job but i get tearful when my fingers ache too much to hold the comb) emptying the bin and lifting heavy things like the recycling? Yet i do... the frustration at not being able to do those things is huge. I feel so pathetic. In those moments the Wolf has won and i loathe him.
So i am refusing to dance to his tune. His teeth may be sinking into my joints 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and he may make me poorly at times, but i shall not let him force me to give up. There is a whole new me he doesn't know about. I am finding new ways to live that he cannot prevent me from enjoying. Sometimes i find myself filled with a new intense joy springing from a heightened appreciation of all that i can still do. Now i am living a different life but i take delight in planning it. Do we not all moan we are too busy with no time for quiet reflection, for rest, never enough time? Not my problem any more. I have time enough now that the Wolf drags me to my bed in the afternoons. I am redesigning my life and it will be better than before. I have time to write, think, read, draw, rest, i can even watch a film in the middle of that day if i want to! Such decadence!
I wrote to a friend of mine that i was thinking of buying a chaise longue and some seriously glamourous lounge wear so i can recline decoratively and receive visitors, or maybe dictate a novel to a handsome young literature student (if you know one please send him to me). Perhaps i can even start other decadent horizontal pursuits like smoking opium or embroidery, really the world is my oyster. Wolfie cannot stop any of that. I shall take rest to new and glamourous heights.
When i wake up in the morning, often tired from a painful night, i stretch and feel the Wolf's teeth sink into my elbows, wrists, knees and ankles. Every little joint in my hands complains as i walk slowly and painfully to the bathroom flexing them. But i am smiling. He thinks he will make me dance a sad little dance of defeat but i am not this body. My breath, mind, heart, joy, love, family, friends, photographs, words and memories are all beyond his reach. The birdsong in the garden calls me to the day, my day. Behind me lurks the Wolf, but i shall surprise him by turning to him and reaching out to welcome him. Then he will have very little power at all.
Monday, 8 November 2010
I was amused to read a message on Facebook recently in which someone had appealed for help starting a blog and a friend had replied saying 'Write often' repeatedly throughout his other suggestions. Every second sentence was 'Update regularly' or 'Write often'. The phrases were repeated like a mantra throughout. I thought with some regret and even a touch of guilt about my little blog and how very long it is since i have written anything. It barely started before it just dwindled away. Writing regularly is a thing i must do i told myself (i have been experimenting with some fiction writing and thought the discipline of a regular blog would be a good way to encourage the writing habit). Then in one of those lovely little coincidences that life sometimes gives us as an unexpected gift, i received an e-mail about a "Bloggers Bootcamp'. Too good to miss i decided. So i have enrolled. It hasn't started yet... but i have.
Winter Tree from a series i will be showing at the Bungaroosh Gallery this Christmas: