Hiatus and Hinterland

December and January...bleak and beautiful.  I'm limiting my screen time right now, so sharing some photos which give an essence of life in recent days.  

Hinterland: the area around or beyond a major town or port.

Here's our very own Hinterland...just beyond the garden gate, some 12 miles away from the UK's second city, looking magical in the fog which ascended late Christmas Eve and stayed with us almost to New Year's Eve.

I'm not taking these beautiful trees for granted.  The recent storms have claimed a number of them.

The ridge you can see in the photo above is the more challenging route home...

...but as I made my way across the top, I was soon forced to take an alternative route home after encountering this fallen giant.

The other paths were littered with casualties.

So sad to see.

The dying days of December also marked a new chapter for my last clients of 2024, Clare and Tony, who tied the knot at Hogarth's Stone Manor, a Worcestershire manor house formerly owned by the Palethorpe family (renowned Birmingham sausage producers, who started operations in 1852). 

If ever a dress screamed mid winter magic, it's this one.  More coming soon.

As for my own photo journey, I've added another camera to my armoury; a new generation Polaroid.  I love everything about Polaroids.  They are the antithesis of digital photos.  There's a mysterious alchemy about them; light and temperature being major players in the process.  You never quite know what you're going to get and there's a soft, fuzzy quality that is impossible to replicate. I'm in love.

I've had a few mishaps so far, but for the first one off the camera, I'm pretty pleased with this one. 

I've already moved on to my beloved black and white (which Polaroid introduced in 1950).  I'm just waiting for the weather to settle down (we've had snow, ice and heavy rain in the last 24 hours) before venturing out.  I've also discovered a way of upcycling the spent cartridges, so watch this space!

I'll be back and catching up with other blogs as soon as possible. x

A Month In Pictures

December will be magic again.  I'm only just starting to believe Kate's festive lyrics after a couple of weeks of neck/shoulder pain (finally resolved by a pummelling from the chiropractor), swiftly followed by one of the worst colds I've had.  Here in the UK, we're dropping like flies with a perfect storm of Covid, flu and various other seasonal viruses circulating and spreading their own individual Christmas messages.

Should anyone fall foul of one of these viruses, I've done thorough market research on the over the counter remedies available.  The upshot is, most of them do absolutely nothing, so keep your hard earned cash in your pockets.  However, for persistent coughs, the only throat sweets I have found to be remotely effective are Lockets.  The only cough medicine that packs a punch is the Lemsip one.  But for evenings in, I recommend ye olde hot toddy, comprising the juice of half a lemon, a good teaspoon of honey, hot water and don't spare the brandy.

Anyway,let's move on.  The only good thing I can say about the last week is that I've stayed close to home, not wanting to spread my germs with the rest of the family by driving anywhere and consequently, I've managed to get some moody shots of the Black Country, by venturing out on foot.  The seasons definitely dictate how I see the world and I'm currently finding it impossible to extricate myself from my love affair with black and white.  This one was taken a couple of streets away.  I love this tree lined street and the way the sun bounces off its rain slicked surface.

Here's a suburban snapshot in a puddle...I was drawn to the lines.

Here's a typical Black Country boozer.

Venturing on to the neighbouring village, Wordsley, here we glimpse the old house at the entrance to King George V Park, flanked by some impressive monkey puzzle trees.

Another day, another detour through the side streets of Wordsley.  Can you spot the famous Red House Glass Cone?

Some old factory units, still in use and housing a small car repair service.  I wonder how many more years these buildings will exist?

Onto the canal...a sure sign you're in the Black Country.  The network was used to move coal, limestone and iron around the country and whole communities sprung up around them.  Life on the canal is much more sedate these days.

Onwards we go, past my first primary school, The Brook, first established in 1872 and attended by my Mom when it was a secondary school.  Some time in the 70s, the secondary school relocated and this building reverted to being a primary school.

The only pupils in attendance on the day of my visit were of the feathered variety and had flown in from Canada.  

This was my regular route to school as a small child.  For the longest time, there was some graffiti dedicated to the Irish band Thin Lizzy on the white expanse of wall.  I felt a little sad when suddenly one day, it had vanished.

Another glimpse of that cone.

Nature overspill.

Back on the towpath and the Red House Cone in all her glory, newly restored and imposing.

Rewinding a little, we went to see some more live music, courtesy of Black Country band Headshrinkers.  Securing my position at the front because I was relying on my mobile camera (and because I just love feeling the music and leaving with my ears ringing), I took a few shots, composing, framing and checking focus single handedly, as my other hand was rarely without a beer.  We had a blast and were blown away (almost literally) by the band's raucous noisy energy, lyricism and sheer talent, plus a welcome horn section.

They were ably supported by a female fronted band, Bld Sugr! (Blood Sugar).  The vocalist loved her theatrics and had a good set of pipes as our friend Ade pointed out.

After the show, Gareth snaffled a couple of vinyl editions of Headshrinkers' new album Judgment Day.  I had a brief chat with the lead singer, Garran, during which we discovered that we'd been following each other on Instagram for the last two years.  I hadn't made the connection prior to that evening, probably because it's a personal account and he posts less frequently than I do.  I really need to address my spiralling screen time!

I loved that the band are proud of their Black Country roots, Garran's lyrics are poetry and their videos are shot at various locations close to home.  I hope they make it!  Here's a link to Threadbare, which has proved to be an earworm and also features Dudley Priory ruins, which you may recall I also used as a location for my Halloween Steampunk shoot last year.

Headshrinkers - Threadbare (Official Video)

Staying with the black and white imagery, I made a final visit to Archie's Attic in Enville.  That's the beauty of our region, urban sprawl with a gritty industrial heritage, punctuated by pockets of picturesque countryside.  

Archie's is in a hamlet called Enville, seemingly in the middle of nowhere (but a short drive from the town of Stourbridge) with views to die for, an intriguing history and at least two Knights Templar graves.  The owner and great supporter of local crafters and creatives, Clare is moving on to pastures new.  The cafe will continue though, under different management and will be reopening in mid January.

I never tire of this magical place built around the historic Enville Hall.

I want this sign!

Mistletoe.

My one regret - unavoidable as it was - was that I was too unwell to go to see Sharon Shannon's Big Band Tribute to Shane MacGowan in Birmingham's Irish heart, Digbeth, on Friday.  Unsurprisingly, it was by all accounts an incredible evening, featuring the likes of Imelda May and former Pogue Kate O'Riordan.

So, I'll just have to make do with my vinyl copy of my favourite Christmas song, Fairytale of New York.

Oh, and because they look festive, I'm sharing the spools from one of this month's rare charity shop visits, where I managed to bag all the reds; a pair of leather gloves and a cashmere asymmetrical poncho.

Whatever you're doing, have a good one!  

A Balancing Act

 

I always find myself in a reflective, pensive mood at this time of year.  Life moves at pace and I'm finding it increasingly difficult to squeeze in everything I want to do and sadly that includes blogging.  Whilst I very much enjoy many of the blogs I read and value the virtual, 21st century friendships I've made, I'm still very conscious of what I divulge about my own life.  Photography may be my great passion, but I rarely feel comfortable in front of the lens (hence the scarcity of photos of me).  Add into the mix my butterfly mind, a giant whirlpool of 150 things I need to do and consequently, sitting down to diarise my life at the expense of doing something else, is becoming increasingly challenging.  As we all know, life is a tricky balancing act.  I want the balance to tip towards living life as opposed to documenting it.

That said, marketing is the number one priority of any small business and people do occasionally want to see the face behind the blurb.  I've been busy with my homework of late and even though I've filmed (and deleted) more videos than I care to mention, I'm slowly getting there. Blogging is another tool in my armoury. 

The poet and artist Adeboye Oluwajuyitan once said: "Colour details the story.  Black and white make it a myth."  I like that.  It makes perfect sense to me.

If I scroll through my Instagram feed, it always strikes me how much nature informs my work.  The colours flow from black and white through to fresh pastel hues and into vibrant colour, before deepening into rich tones until finally, the colours leach out once again as we return to winter. 

I'm playing catch up a little here, but black and white was firmly in charge in January.

After the fun and frivolity of the pin up shoot, I had a wedding booking in Worcester, which happened to fall on one of the coldest days of the year so far and sadly, a beautiful blue winter sky was notably absent.  The trees of Worcester Wood which provided a backdrop were still bare and I just knew that the photos would look infinitely better in black and white when natural colour was so lacking.  

Francine and Gabor's wedding was a memorable one.  Due to a last minute hiccup, the couple asked if I would step in and be a witness.  I was delighted to oblige and touched by their gratitude and insistence on giving me what seemed like a quarter of their wedding cake.

Parts of the register office building were out of bounds due to the discovery of RAAC (reinforced autoclaved aerated concrete), a lightweight material that was used on flat roofs and in walls and floors between the 1950s and 1990s.  It has a lifespan of around 30 years, but can cause structural failure when exposed to moisture, often collapsing with little or no warning.  It's a huge problem in many UK public buildings right now.

The couple had what is now referred to as a micro wedding; a small affair with fewer than 20 guests.  (The couple had already enjoyed some extremely colourful and traditional celebrations in Francine's home country, Rwanda).  This photo of the newlyweds is my favourite.  Despite the cold weather and metal barriers behind, their happiness radiates from this photograph.

The whole micro wedding trend is just my thing.  Admittedly, it's a dull title, but the reality is freedom, no structure, your nearest and dearest (not the great aunt you never see or your parents' friends) in attendance, family favourite dishes on the menu, a country pad or restaurant party location and no formality for the sake of formality.   

I've even forsaken my own Vinted and vintage hunting to inspire brides to be.  Check out these beauties; a mix of second hand, vintage and sustainable dresses for under £150!

Black and white and winter are the perfect partnership.  Naked trees, the high contrast between featureless white skies and landscape and water reflections are black and white's best friends.

Here are a few from a recent stroll around Shropshire's Dudmaston Estate (run by the National Trust).

Black sheep, given the folklore, dark fairy tale treatment.

Winter's prettiest offering...snowdrops.

Ducks coming into land.

No one is spared my portrait practise - or a black and white edit.  Here's the best Valentine's gift I ever received, ear phones firmly in place, and rocking his newly bleached hair, the result of teenage experimentation...

...and cats are always wonderful subjects.  After the death of our beloved Lotte, we're getting our cat fix from no less than 17 feral cats at the local vineyard.  Here are four of them filling their furry faces.

Don't adjust your TV screens.  This is a natural concrete divide and there's no camera shake, just a kitty shaking off the rain.

Don't be fooled by her expression, this one's a little more friendly.

Even the less mobile amongst us are fair game for me and my camera.  Here's a scarecrow operating in the Castle gardens of Bridgnorth.  I've christened him Zapata, after the Mexican revolutionary.

I'm permitting some colour for his companion and have even created her very own backstory.  Here's Linda Burrell.  Linda is a failed actress and British eccentric.  Linda had a flirtation with film director Woody Allen in the early 1970s and contrary to popular belief, Woody wrote Annie Hall for Linda.

However, Linda fell out of favour with Woody after a row over a sourdough starter in New York and he went on to cast Diane Keaton, who has since been credited as the inspiration for the screenplay.  

Linda never got over this rejection and returned to her native Shropshire, where she took up gardening as a form of therapy.  Here she is.  She can't shake off that Annie Hall fashion aesthetic.  She's encouraging me to go and check out her hellebores.

But fear not!  I do mingle with real people too.  I've been busy meeting clients, catching up with friends, taking bracing walks - followed by coffees in cosy cafes, not to mention a fun night out watching a Fleetwood Mac tribute act and investigating the pubs of Dudley.  A tribute act?  I hear you cry.  As fun as it was and as accomplished as the musicians were, there's no possible way of seeing the coolest line up of the Mac.  It no longer exists after the acrimonious exit of Lindsey Buckingham and death of Christine McVie.  Thankfully, I've seen the real band (and separately, their founding member Peter Green).  There really is no comparison.

It's clearly been a while since my last blog and in spite of all the black and white, I have to concede that spring is on the way...and nothing says Spring like cherry blossom. 

In other news, I've bought a drone, which will come in useful.  Watch this space.