Back to Black

My blogs have become more sporadic lately, but blogging should be a pleasure, not a chore, and life has a knack of reminding you to get on with things.  Some of my friends are dealing with loss right now and such events always make me reflective.  My photos are effectively my journal anyway, so I've had to scroll back through October to see which bits to share with cyberspace for the month of October?

Well, it's spooky season, so here goes!  These days we don't make such a big deal of Halloween (although some might think that three carved pumpkins say otherwise).  But, I have been indulging in some seasonally appropriate, mystical and downright spooky activities.  

I've been sticking to a regular exercise regime of nordic walking three times a week.  I usually get a few looks and comments, but the benefits are good enough for me not to care.  Maybe it's the fact that my DNA results show I'm approximately one third Scandinavian!

Determined to capture the recent Hunter's Moon, we headed to Enville Church (home of three and counting Knights Templar graves), believing it to be a good vantage point for the moon rise.  We were not mistaken.  As we walked around the ancient grave yard, the moon emerged without warning, from behind a cloud.  I quickly set up my tripod, a timer on the shutter release and my lens to infinity.  Whilst it might not win any awards, I was pleased to have captured this magical moment.

This one was less successful technically, but I still like the result.

At this time of year, I usually create a concept for a Halloween self portrait.  This year, I've been otherwise engaged.  However, after the disappointment of having to cancel a planned styled shoot using a vintage late 60s wedding dress (thanks Vix), I decided to play dress up.  It was, as is often the case with me, a spur of the moment decision and therefore there's no hair styling or make up.  However, the dress is too beautiful not to be seen and the results are maybe a little spooky.  

My own sartorial choices are undergoing something of a transformation.  My style is still eclectic and my appreciation of vintage and interesting second hand finds remain, but I'm falling back in love with black.  It's just so cool and classic...not to mention gothic.  Plus black pieces are so versatile, slotting easily into any wardrobe.  I've picked up a couple of chunky new-to-me knits, which work beautifully with my vintage skirts and over dresses.  This practical and stylish find is worth a share.  I love it's Victorian inspired ruffle details (the reverse is cable knit).  It makes me feel like I'm wearing a corset.

This lovely dress popped up on Vinted and just screamed Autumn.  My tresses have gone a darker shade of blonde too to match the darker half of the year.

This little fella has been visiting us regularly.  He's such a traitor.  Despite not belonging to us, Noah makes himself feel at home whenever he calls and as such, appears to have claimed ours as his second home; so much so that he now attempts to send off his shy sister on the rare occasion that she ventures across to our side of the street.  He looks like butter wouldn't melt doesn't he?  Look at that wet nose!

He demands our attention whenever he visits, putting up his paw (the haunted, hovering paw as we call it) to request more fuss if we dare to turn away.  He's actually sitting on my lap and nudging my hands as I type.

We visited Shrewsbury's Halloween Steampunk Fair at the weekend and I was able to get in some portrait practice.  The old oak doors and sandstone walls of St Mary's Church provided  perfect backdrops.  Some sitters (standers?) needed little direction.  Others responded to my simple direction to "look hauntingly into the middle distance."

Vive la revolution!

First in the queue when witches' hats were handed out.

Shades of Annie Hall?

Gregory's social media profile reads:  "Failed music hall impresario, barker, fire breather and occasional observer of the occult."  Now what could be better for Halloween?

This man had a particularly characterful face that belongs in an old Ealing comedy and I loved his hat.

Here's West End stage star, Polly Wolf, looking moody as requested.

Unguarded!

Her companion's companion was Eddie, the bearded dragon.

Outside, there was morris dancing...

It had a distinctly pagan flavour, but the 21st century was never too far away...

Still, this man's drinking vessel was on point.

Here come the girls!

Some intentional motion blur.

Don't they look amazing?

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!

My favourites - representing White Rose Steampunks - the Yorkshire contingent.

We also squeezed in a visit to the Severn Valley Railway on a glorious sunny Autumn day.

There's always a sense of time shifting whenever we visit this heritage railway station.  For example, there was evidence of a bunch of day trippers visiting from decades earlier.

But on the deserted station platform, it was a very different story.  Here's Morti Don tending the station garden.

A super fit cyclist casting a shadow or something more sinister?

To say the inhabitants were gloomy is something of an understatement.

We didn't linger.

I'll be catching up with everyone's blogs over the next couple of days.  For now, I'll leave you with a super short video.  Turn the sound up!

Happy Halloween!

Wishing you a safe Samhain.

Rue Britannia And The Search For Avalon

Before we exit the month of May (where is the time going?), I thought I'd share with you a couple of quintessentially British events we've enjoyed; one an artistic expression of the nation's obsession with class (specifically what it means to be working class) and the other, an event intended to evoke a romanticised vision of England in days gone by.  I may be digressing here, but if pushed to nominate songs for a soundtrack for each event, I would nominate God Save The Queen and Common People for our first event and the latter would feature The Village Green Preservation Society and most definitely Roxy Music's Avalon.  But enough of my feeble, cryptic attempts at suspense building, let's dive in.  

Last Thursday - the fifth consecutive warm and sunny day - we headed into Birmingham to catch local Black Country artist Dion Kitson's first major solo exhibition, Rue Britannia, at the Ikon Gallery, housed in a Grade II listed neo-gothic school building.  The exhibition is summarised as "Incisive, enterprising and laced with sharp wit, Kitson's artistic practice dissects British class and identity, reshaping its visual hallmarks and traditions across sculpture, installation, film and found objects."  

Growing up as I did in a working class family, art wasn't front and centre of my life.  My Dad was a history buff and we would visit castles, old battlegrounds and museums, but I don't ever recall being taken to an art gallery as a child and to this day, I'm painfully aware of gaps in my knowledge.  Dion clearly has a deep understanding of how the art world can be intimidating - even alien - to great swathes of a population still underpinned by our stubbornly entrenched class system.  The environment was warm and welcoming.  Our arrival just so happened to coincide with Dion's and we said a brief hello before he took to the stairs with a gaggle of exhibition visitors trailing behind. 

 

Inside on the top floor, there were four distinct spaces displaying Dion's work.  Playful and provocative, this included a pebble dashed living room inspired by the one in his Dad's council house (and yes, the original living room was pebble dashed), prints created from scratched bus stop windows... 

...and Dorothy's ruby slippers slung from a suspended telegraph wire.

We bumped into Brummy comedian (and now BAFTA winner) Joe Lycett by the bus stop windows.  Joe said of Dion - not to me but to the press (we're not close): "He understands the state of our nation better than anyone and why it is the way it is: funny and beautiful and dumb."

Visitors were encouraged to interact with Dion or each other over a game of pool (using mops, presumably because pool cues are expensive), as a nod to our beloved pub culture.

At times, the installations were so everyday, that you could be forgiven for walking straight past them.

We popped out briefly to grab a drink from the bar and returned to throngs of people...

...and Elvis, who had entered the building.  Befitting of the Rue Britannia exhibition, this Elvis was none other than "Yam Yam Elvis."  The expression "yam yam" might sound like an exotic vegetable, but it's actually used as a reference to someone from the Black Country, deriving from the local dialect for "you are" ("yo am" or "yam").  Incidentally, this wasn't the first time we'd witnessed a Yam Yam Elvis performance.  The last time he was on stage on the back of a lorry at a local VW show.  Such is life.

While I was fixating on Yam Yam Elvis, I suddenly became aware of another solemn figure standing next to me.  I hadn't spotted him initially and so the life size figure of a traumatised 12 year old Prince Harry (taken from the day he walked behind his mother's funeral procession), took me by surprise.  

Apparently, Dion has had a lifelong fascination with the Royal Family.

Here's Dion himself with his muse.

I deliberately didn't photograph every exhibit, because you really should go if you get chance.  It's playful, poignant, bizarre, beautiful and thought provoking.  So, job done!

Incidentally, such is the state of Birmingham City Council's finances, that the Ikon Gallery will have its funding cut by 50% this year and 100% next year.  For its 60th Anniversary, the gallery has launched a fund raising campaign.  You can read all about it here.

Ikon (ikon-gallery.org)

When Elvis had finally left the building, we headed downstairs and I photographed some of Birmingham's more colourful characters, including one Bob Teal, a wizard and Time Lord no less!

I also bumped into this gorgeous and creative woman, Ayesha.  We've followed each other for years on Instagram, but never met, although we immediately recognised each other and chatted like old friends about cats, photography, design and her latest passion, pottery.

 The evening took an even more unusual turn when Dion encouraged anyone willing, to join him at the pub.  Carried away on a tide of positivity, courtesy of good company, amazing weather and a glass of fizz from the free bar, we and around a dozen others, duly obliged.  I was hoarse the next morning from talking to so many different people.  A truly memorable night.

Two days later, we found ourselves in the grounds of Sudeley Castle in the Cotswolds, the burial place of Katherine Parr.  The Cotswolds has long been associated with high property prices and as home to the glitterati and aristo types, counting former PM Lord Cameron, TV presenter Jeremy Clarkson and supermodel Kate Moss amongst its residents.

We were there to see Avalon, the Medieval themed latest production directed by Cal McCrystal.  Considered one of the UK's national treasures, it's a great escape from everyday life for a couple of magical hours of thrills and circus skills.

We were joined by Vix and Jon and after a quick catch up in a sunny field over a beer, we headed into the big top to watch Merlin, King Arthur and co perform their hearts out.

As usual, I took way too many photos.  If you want to see more, click here:- kigswinford wedding photographer | Winter Peach winterpeach photography

We later accosted some of the key performers, cooling down after the show, who were happy to pose for a photo.  Merlin, aka Spanish showman Maximiliano Stia, messaged me on Instagram to ask permission to share this photo.  After all the fire eating, I expressed my concern for his throat.  He reassured me he was fine and attributed it to "the Merlin diet - eat the four elements."

Vix and I were channelling Medieval Chic; Vix in vintage Gunne Sax and a very pasty looking me in vintage Spectrum.

After a pub meal (our second at the 15th century Ye Olde Hobnails Inn), we said our goodbyes and headed home.  Back to reality...but not before passing this timeless scene.  

So there you have it.  Britain's great and good!