Took a Mini-retirement/Spiritual Retreat…

Hey folks

Just realised it’s been another month since I wrote on here. Time flies

I shot my last wedding job of the year at the weekend, a wee beauty at one of my favourite spots, Netherbyres House in Eyemouth. So there’s no excuse for me not to catch up on some of the personal work I keep threatening to make. I’ve been busy getting stuck in about lots of research and ideas...

I’ve been on a mini-retirement in the big smokes. Kinda, I did end up shooting some soundcheck and gig shots and a couple of portraits for a band my pal’s label are looking after. But mosty I danced at an old school indie disco till 4am, went for a couple of runs and filled up on my favourite things. Dear pals fed me delicious food, which is a treat cos I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me that wasn’t catering at work or the chippy. I also cut about a bunch of exhibitions at Tate Modern, Tate Britain, The Barbican and The Royal Academy of Arts.

I loved Re/Sisters at The Barbican, a very beautiful exhibition about some really depressing things. The exhibition explores environmental and gender justice as indivisible parts of a global struggle. It starkly shows in many ways how the patriarchy and capitalism are murdering our increasingly precarious ecosystem. Mostly photography and film, the work explores how women’s understanding of our environment has often resisted capitalism through various forms of protest.

Also loved A World in Common: Contemporary African Photography at Tate Modern. Khadija SayeI, who died in Grenfell, made the most beautiful wet plate collodion tintype self portraits using symbolic items to represent traditional Gambian spiritual practices, exploring the ideas of surrendering to a higher power for solace, of human soul and of virtue. They’re very delicate and powerful.

I also had my usual wee daunder around their collection mostly to stare at the Yves Klein blue and surrealist stuff. They’ve changed it up a bit since I was last there so good to take in some new beauty.

We also visited the Sarah Lucas exhibition at Tate Britain. There were several of her works in the Michael Clark exhibition a while back at the Dundee V&A which I felt showed off her work better. This felt like it was just loads of boob chairs. I reckon it must have been fun sitting in some cold studio in the 90s hot glue gunning fags to toilet plungers from the pound store and proclaiming they’d be at the Tate one day. Was good to see her massive tabloid pieces and wanking chairs in the flesh though. And we had a laugh at how the boob chairs have gone from being made out of cheap tights like characters try to sell you in the pub next to the Barrowland to being cast in Bronze (probs for Elton).

And I’ve always loved Marina Abramovic, particularly her performance work with Ulay. So I had stiff nips at Royal Academy wandering through the huge screens of them and thinking she’s hard as fuck for the endurances she’s put herself through physically and mentally.

The piece, Rhythm 0, is brutal. She laid out 72 objects representing pleasure and pain, from a gun to feathers, for the audience to use on her as they wished over a 6 hour performance. The photos of the audience slowly becoming more and more violent - they wrote on her skin, stripped her clothing, held a loaded gun to her neck…at the end of the 6 hours as she began to move the audience all left in a hurry.

“The experience I drew from this work was that in your own performances you can go very far, but if you leave decisions to the public, you can be killed”

— Marina Abramovic

Marina and Ulay also famously walked from opposite ends of the Great Wall of China as a performance piece that was meant to end with them marrying in the middle. Instead their relationship fell apart in the years it took to arrange, as China wasn’t open to foreigners at the time, so they did it to say goodbye to each other and didn’t speak again for 20 years. They walked 2500 km each. From the walk there were rubbings of stones and cystrals from the path, which then inspired the next period of work Marina made which focussed on the healing power of crystals and creating transitory objects. I hadn’t seen any of that type of her work before, mostly just video of performance pieces and some stills.

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Not to self aggrandise but to segue into enjoying when the universe is having a right fucking laugh, it was wild to then receive a message right after seeing all of these, from a friend to say her abusive ex had once again contacted her. The police had already spoken to this guy about relentless stalking and harassment for months, but he sent her another message anyways. This time he was laying in to me for posting self portraits on the internet and hating me for basically existing. I spoke to this guy once ever, a year ago at a gig. I’d blocked several of his instagram accounts after I found out he was harassing my pal and he sent me a creepy message saying he was ‘a sensitive soul’ Aye, nice. He’s in court soon so I can’t show you just now but some of the tirade deserves it’s own t-shirt. Synchronicities and burn the witches vibes all over the gaff.

I feel like a lot of the weight of what’s happening across the world boils down to the systems we live under promoting and rewarding narcissism and entitlement, mostly in white men. Most of the art I saw came with the same messages - that there is hope for other ways of life but the patriarchy and capitalism are killing us and our planet, that peaceful protest can make a difference, that we need to build on community and spirituality which respects that we are of the earth over control, destruction and extraction for profit and political individualism. Right up my street stuff. On the train home I listened to The Other Side: A Journey Into Women, Art and the Spirit World by Jennifer Higgie, which I recommend too.

All feels like it’s leading nicely to Samhain or Noz an Anaon as my Breton ancestors would call it, when the veil between the two worlds is thinnest. A time to guard ourselves from harm and to show our respects to and learn from the dead, to celebrate the passing from harvest to winter. Light a fire and candles, let go of all the things that no longer serve us and vocalise hope for the coming year. Place gifts at the altar and let go of those who wish for us to sacrifice our true selves to feed their anger and hate.

Maybe that all reads a bit serious but then the world is burning to fuck so what you gonna do? I had a great mini retirement. There was red velvet everywhere but that’s another story. I’ve got another one coming soon.

** these are all phone snaps so don’t judge me.

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I should probably also talk about some upcoming work, eh?

I’ll be joining Rowanjoy at her sample sale in Good Vibes, Leith on Saturday 25 November. Hit her up for a spot. I’ll have the last bits and bobs from our old Elopement Society online store, which is mostly candles and candlestick holders (ideal for wedding day decor or as xmas gifts). And you can ask me anything about my wedding and elopement photography work, local elopement design too.

And I might be joining my neighbours at The Drill Hall for a studio open day (but I’m in a tricky part of the building so we’ll see). Either way, I’m hoping to get my act together to have a series of prints for sale over the website soon. More about that once I’ve finished my last couple of wedding edits and got the cameras out again…

In the meantime, peace and love

x

Crack yourself wide open like a nut and butter the world with yer alchemy.

How’s it going?

Did everyone go through the good news portal with me on Friday 9 June? Obviously out there is abject misery mostly but I’ve had the fucking best time since I managed to rob those test results and stop fretting.

Last week was really incredible for conversations with amazing folks, very inspirational chat, my brain’s been whirring away with ideas. I really enjoyed working on a brand commission and some portrait sessions. Best of all, I gave myself a proper treat of a road trip. Mostly thanks to an offer from some clients to guinea pig their new holiday home. I spent a few nights away from home and just indulged myself in all the good stuff and some summer cliches. I’m a not nonchalant as fuck wee thing, I feel everything deeply, including all the good stuff when it invariably comes back around. I feel so very lucky. I had a few days were I felt like I wasn’t in a constant state of fight or flight, that I could just be. I’m very much trying to keep it that way.

Anyways, I swam (peed) in 2 seas, a pool and for the first time, in a loch. In the loch, it was just me and a beautiful little blue dragonfly dancing around my face. It was shallow so the water was warm, the colour of a fine malt but very much did not taste like one. Well slidy rocks though, no sultry way in or out of that bad boy. Geologied out ma nut in there till the thunder came.

I spent a whole day in my pants on a remote beach, making cyanotype sun prints, shooting some film, swimming and writing. For me, I struggle to get into a flow with making things, my time is all as scattered as my thoughts and I’m shit with routine even thought I need discipline, so little rituals help a lot. They help me to ground myself, to self regulate when the nasty stuff surfaces from nowhere and to focus. I was having such an idyllic time I had a ‘fucking rob and sell everything that’s not tied down, get a fancy winnebago and fuck off into the sunset’ kind of vibe going. Then I got stuck behind one for like 8 hours on the road home and ugh.

I stayed at a hotel one night last week which was overrun with grumpy old couples sitting eating in silence. It was amazing. You could hear a pin drop in the restaurant. Well, except for this one old boy who was British but speaking in French and only really at the other guy’s wife who I’m 100% sure he was trying to seduce. His wife was livid. The other guy silent. It was delicious to watch. The wife eyed me up and down later on and I just beamed at her. I fucking love that type of people watching. That’s not even the observation. The point being literally all the men in a small town like that will look at you with the hungry eyes as they usually only get to chat to grumpy pensioners.

I’ve been hatching plans to bring some of my personal work together into one tangible thing but I’ve not made it yet so sssh. I love how I only ever figure these things out just in time for busy work time and school holidays. The idea involves learning some new processes. I need to give myself a challenge so it’s all good. I want to take my time with it all but I’m also self aware enough to know that if there isn’t a deadline it could take forever.

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I’ve been doing all the growing (mostly my belly thanks to the depression diet of the last wee while). Here’s my random recent anecdotes/observations:

I went for a run one morning last week in the heat. I’m really not very fit at all, exercise always come last in our busy house. Also I prefer dancing and shagging. But there’s nothing like a cancer scare to get you moving. I always have the tunes on loud to drown out the wheezing. I must have been proper puffing and panting cos some grandad stopped gardening to stand and clap me on. Not really the sign of a passing athlete.

The whole time I’m thinking, ‘fucksake, I can’t do this, I’ll never be any good, I’m not good enough, I can’t’ etc etc and then I get to the Mussel sculpture that folks always seem to say is a clam but hiya, it’s Musselburgh. And the penny drops that I’ve done halfway despite telling myself I can’t. I’m already doing it, despite myself. I’m already doing it. And the rest of the way back I realise I do this about most things in life and now I just need to tell the anxious thoughts to shut up and listen and watch cos I’m already fucking doing it. So that’s my new mantra, every time I feel myself start to ruminate or catastophize. Pipe down hen, you’re already doing it.

As high priestess Ru Paul says, “Don’t let your feelings sabotage your experience in this life. Do not.” I think a lot of the anger I was carrying was cos I’ve been so frustrating feeling like past experience being stuck in my nervous system was the same as self sabotage but it’s not, it’s just my body learnt to protect me, which is amazing. It just takes more time than for some to learn when you are safe. So I’m not going to hide away from anything anymore and I’m not going to blame myself for being human.

Why would you not chase after dreams, like why the fuck would you not? We’re here one time. It’s only small minded people who would ever tell you not to go after something that filled you with joy. I had this amazing conversation with a client who I’m delighted to have worked with a couple of times recently and will again soon. Having been in relationships with men who try to keep you small by undermining your creative voice or self expression or personality or confidence… they’re maybe doing that cos they’re intimated. Perhaps they have to be the creative one as a lot of it is just posturing and not from a genuine place. Those types of men are not open to being collaborative as they come from ego and also they just think women have a place, a supporting role, making the tea, being the good little wife or a dirty hoebag, whatever. When I was younger I mistook narcissistic peacocking for real self expression in some.

I think creative people are generally full of wonder at things and want to see others create and express themselves freely as it’s inspiring and magic to witness. But there are just some truly vapid talentless pricks out there, that you maybe meet as a naive teenager, who have always been cringe but have no idea how funny their attempts at songs are. Music really does heal in very wild ways sometimes. Ask me for the link, it’s like a brutal parody, pure car crash and it’s very very cathartic to genuinely laugh in the face of your rapist.

Also stay the fuck away from people who think speaking your truth is being dramatic or openly sharing struggles is being miserable. Nothing and nobody is perfect and it would be dull if it was. We’re all shit at times but to grow and be kind with ourselves and others has to start with us being honest about the depths of who we are, what we feel, think, want. And we have to push past comfort to really thrive and take responsibility for our actions. But also to talk about difficult stuff in any detail you have to have got to a certain point in healing yourself from the hurts of it all. To be in your joyful times you have to face all the crappy ones. I’ve never appreciated good times more than I do now, I’m living a life I always wanted to build and it can be hard but it’s worth it all.

Crack yourself wide open like a nut and butter the world with yer alchemy.

And for anyone who’s been following my recent chat, I still haven’t officially heard from the doctor. Lost count but sure it’s been 3 whole months. I’m so glad for women who break the rules or I’d still be anxiously waiting to see if I then needed to wait on a scan to then find out if etc etc…that’s a whole other rant about protecting the NHS and not treating public services like assets to strip for cronies’ gains.

Some of the stuff I made on the beach and my travels will no doubt show up on here soon enough, I’ve still to develop the film and all that stuff. This week I’m catching up on edits, trying to schedule some posts about all the work I’ve been doing (swearing at fuckin apps), along with a couple of shoots. In the meantime, a very lucky little beach witch is sending you all some good times x