Corrine Day

Corrine Day passed away on August 27th. Although much controversy surrounded her work, you cannot deny the atmosphere of her images draw you in and take you away to the etherial place suggested in their mood. Beautiful. May she forevermore lay in peace. In her own etherial place. 


Open spaces please

Michael Foucault was spot on with his theory of 'the other'...the idea that to know what/ who you are, you must know what/ who you are not. It is through this process of elimination that we are able to work out who we are and what we are made up of. I believe it to be unhealthy to live with regrets, but instead feel that it is more beneficial to acknowledge and observe our conclusions about the effectiveness or the decisions we have made. This summer I have realised a number of things:

I thrive on space and dislike being in restricted environments

A good cup of tea and slice of cake in the afternoon is more enjoyable than pint number 6 at midnight

City centres on a Friday and Saturday night resemble my image of the hellish end of purgatory

The ocean is a decent substitute for the mountains

Waking up in a tent is bliss

Farms and parks in the city comfort me, yet also confuse me

Keeping a blog is self-indulgent and somewhat similar to considering your diary entries in the hope that someone 'accidentally' stumbles across it

Chai tea is on par with earl grey

All of these realisations stand correct for the time being, yet I know that they will shift and alter and dissolve with time. But for now I am planning as many escapes away as possible to places with real roaming trees, rolling hills and crisp, crashing waves.


"Into the Wild" by Jon Krakauer

So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man that a secure future. The very basic core of a man's living  spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day  to have a new and different sun.


The joy of reading

I have just finished reading The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett in which he writes as if he were the Queen who has just discovered the joy of reading. In this short yet thought-provoking novel, the Queen becomes wholly absorbed in the supposedly self-indulgent pleasure of reading and finds herself understanding her surroundings and subjects in a much more sensitive manner than her previously less-literate self. Those working close to her object to her new found pastime, seeing it as selfish and inappropriate due to its idol nature and lack of visible positive change to those in contact with the Queen. After a while her time spent reading evolves into time spent writing as she feels that this is a healthy compromise for all affected by her leisure pursuits. Writing, she considers, is an act of doing as opposed to just being and therefore less selfish as something physically happens out of the action. Fictitious as it is, the notion that reading or allowing yourself to be completely absorbed in an interest is selfish and disconnecting from ones surroundings is a sad one. I have always valued time spent on personal pleasures, such as reading, valuable and rewarding. There is a very fine line between selfish and looking after yourself but understand the line of selfishness to be crossed when other people are negatively affected by the action in question. It is 1.30am on a Saturday night and I have just spent the last two hours reading myself, instead of joining good friends in town. I am sure they have not lost out by my absence and I feel I have not missed out as I have enjoyed my "old-before-my-time" night with book and mug of peppermint tea in hand.



Everyday I think about him, I miss him, I love him. Not just because it is today. Five years doesn't heal. It just quietens. But that dull ringing is always there.


Stratus/ Cumulus/ Cumulonimbus/ Rain

On Monday I started my mini adventure to Herefordshire to help create and make a mess at the Big Chill festival. This excursion was one full of big hills, rich green fields, ducks, biscuits, tea, wet feet, clouds, rain, sunshine and lots of fresh air. I'm not usually one for grand landscape photos but I couldn't help but want to show off the stunning sights of our homeland. Often it is easy to get absorbed by the notion that you have to travel faraway and spend lots of money and time to witness natural sights of wonder that take hold of your attention. But there is so much to be seen and appreciated at home I am beginning to find it hard to want to spend my time away.



So...here is the talented Holly Black who was my inspiration to bruise and batter my limbs through the circus art form of static trapeze. Having taken part in many sports and physical activities throughout my time, the act of movement, stretching and hanging from a suspended piece of apparatus is one which gives a feeling of complete skeletal and muscular freedom and release. It is rare to find yourself static yet suspended, being affected by gravity yet not grounded.