Living Differently - Shallow Focus

I have taken a lot of portraits but very little of myself, until now. Of course there is the odd picture taken on my antiquated mobile phone and sent to a friend but nothing of substance. It all felt a little too exposing and required too much technical expertise (or so I thought). There was another reason. I look quite ragged a lot of the time and make-up and haircuts feel superfluous when your most constant companion is a cat. My vanity was preventing me from exploring that time-honoured medium of artistic expression - the self portrait. I'm not one of those photographers who really plans a shoot. I tend to work with available light and the choice of location is much more about the subject feeling comfortable than it is about a creative concept. I'm not a big fan of gloss. I don't use a tripod. In short I like to get close and see the light in someone's eyes, or how the subtle change of facial musculature speaks of a whole different emotion. The face is a language we all understand.

Recently the M.E related insomnia was getting to me as was the disability benefits process. In addition to this, having only been unwell a year (although it can feel a lot longer at times) I was in the thick of grieving my past life. The tears came and did not stop. I was crushed by my own sadness and could not see an end to my crying. It also meant that connecting to people, especially my good and valued friends who also live with chronic illness, became almost impossible.

I was at a loss. Then I remembered the advice of a good friend who had told me, much earlier in the year when I was again feeling overwhelmed, to just go outside and take photographs which resulted in an entire project 'Still Life'. This time as my anguish increased I picked up my camera, kept the focus shallow and aimed the lens at myself. I could not plan or design the shoot. All I had to do was turn up and reveal myself, in all my desperation, to the camera.

Then something happened. I was both totally in the moment and observing it at the same time. I was able to experience the extent of my terror and not be afraid of it. This photographic process had enabled me to enter in to these feelings without being consumed by them. As a result a friend who also lives with chronic illness posted these brave and unflinching images on her blog. We discussed how self-documentation can lead to self-acceptance.

Then something else happened. The oil-slick mood that had taken over the past few months of my life began to disperse. M.E symptoms are constantly in flux, it's an illness marked by mystery and unanswered questions. Having a good day, week or month and thinking that this may signal the return to physical health is as foolhardy as planning a wedding on a first date. Instead I now have a living archive of this changing state - a brand new photographic project called 'Pretty' and a reminder that the creative process, unlit and unknown as it seems at times, can really save our lives.

Picture This - Ingrid Andrew 'Cusp'

Many exceptional writers have responded to a portfolio of my recent photography for a project called Picture This. I am overwhelmed by the beautiful work I've received. I have also worked with photographer and film-maker Craig Thomas, on a short film entitled Still Life, containing a selection of these images. Ingrid Andrew is a multi-talented artist. Her poem below is a delicate and beautifully observed narrative of seasonal change.

Ingrid is an artist, poet and singer songwriter living in London.

Cusp

Yesterday; morning.

From leaden skies; a flurry of snow flakes that do not settle.

The cold creeps up our sleeves.

By afternoon; a blue and silver sky, with ice white clouds.

That evening, walking home, the snow is sprouting crystalline from the pavements, thickening on car bonnets and windows.

The little, beloved tree at the rise of our road, is frosted coral.

This morning back garden fences alight with lichen green; February trees conduct sunshine along their still branches.

A blackbird and a jay sit companionably together;

survey the scene.

Picture This - Pauline Sewards 'Hinge'

Many superlative writers have responded to a portfolio of my recent photography for a project called Picture This. I am overwhelmed by the beautiful work I've received. I have also worked with photographer and film-maker Craig Thomas, on a short film entitled Still Life, containing a selection of these images. The original premise of this project was to look at both intimate detail and repetition. I must admit to being a little excited that today's photograph also inspired a poem earlier in the project. Pauline Sewards' piece marries with the image perfectly, even its structure mirrors the simple geometry of door, hinge, wood and brick.

Pauline lives and works in London.

hinge

eyes closed finger tips listen smooth caramel of old wood fine smoke splinter free a made world, measured lick of a sharp pencil tools fitted to curved palms ruminations of bees and thunder sharp light whistle of silence opening

Picture This - Donall Dempsey 'Ivy'

Many magnificent writers have responded to a portfolio of my recent photography for a project called Picture This. I am overwhelmed by the beautiful work I've received. I have also worked with photographer and film-maker Craig Thomas, on a short film entitled Still Life, containing a selection of these images. Dónall Dempsey is a marvellous writer and performer. He has that rare skill of summoning up deep feelings in his audience as well as injecting his work with much needed humour. His haiku below is a perfect match for the photo, I will never look at the ivy in my garden the same way again !

Ivy

Jailbreak! Ivy caught in the spotlight attempts to scale the wall.

Picture This - Dorothy Fryd 'Pots'

Many talented writers have responded to a portfolio of my recent photography for a project called Picture This. I am overwhelmed by the beautiful work I've received. I have also worked with photographer and film-maker Craig Thomas, on a short film entitled Still Life, containing a selection of these images. Dorothy Fryd's poetry is spectacular and original. She's the sort of writer that introduces me to seeing the world in a whole new way with every word she writes. Not least in the poem below which is rich with an alerting juxtaposition of images.

Dorothy works for the School of English at Kent University as a Creative Writing Lecturer. Her poetry and fiction has been published in Magazines, Anthologies and Competitions such as The Rialto, BRAND Literary Magazine, Forward Press, Momaya Press, Educating Kenyan Orphans, WordAid (Children in Need Anthology) and Spilling Ink Review.

Pots

For now they stay furled, unfixed. before blossom ready for tricky, unstable youth;

which axil, which bulb, which culture.

This is small reincarnation; young solicitors, young whorling snippings, weathered by recycled motes

flying off / falling in.

They sleep in their elders' beds; so long ago bloomed, like dead saints or dead planets,

whimpered out.

Picture This - Janice Windle 'Nail'

Some stunning writers have responded to a portfolio of my recent photography for a project called Picture This. I am overwhelmed by the beautiful work I've received. I have also worked with photographer and film-maker Craig Thomas, on a short film entitled Still Life, containing a selection of these images. Janice Windle's work as an artist floods through her poetry. Her poem below is a beautiful response to my photograph and captures much of what I was feeling when I took it.

Janice is a poet, painter and art teacher. She lives in Guildford, with her partner Dónall Dempsey. Janice has had poems published in several anthologies, most recently in “Cancan” by Wurm in Apfel and “Census 3” by Seven Towers.

Nail

Free falling caught in the act my sundial shadow at my feet I have suffered blows

my pirouetting days are behind me I bend my head towards earth where I came from

longing to swing up again to gaze at stars.

Picture This - Agnes Meadows 'Thaw'

Some fantastic writers have responded to a portfolio of my recent photography for a project called Picture This. I am overwhelmed by the beautiful work I've received. I have also worked with photographer and film-maker Craig Thomas, on a short film entitled Still Life, containing a selection of these images. Agnes Meadows is a gifted and prolific writer. She also runs a great monthly event for women writers of all genres, Loose Muse. I'm really excited about her heavily gothic contribution to the project.

Agnes has written five books of poetry – You and Me, Quantum Love, Woman, At Damascus Gate on Good Friday and This One Is For You. She is currently writing a novel set in 12th century Constantinople with a woman soldier as the central character. Thaw

In moments of transformation, the process of change brings a burden of misery I cannot control. My shoulder blades are knived by the black burst of feathers, the prickle of subcutaneous wings ready to emerge. And where my mouth was, replete with words half-formed for song or velvet metaphor, now I am beak-pierced, my tongue sharp as thorns or holly spike.

My arms have disappeared entirely, merged in the sleek gloss of raven plumage, legs grown crow-thin, toes a trident of talons shadowing your booted footsteps with avian shrewdness. These petrel eyes gleam in carrion hunger, my gorge rapacious for the weight of gristle and sinew.

It is worse in winter when the ground is white and the days are short and sunless. So little time to feed, I am undone by your warm breath, the smell of you coiling in heavy folds across my breast and shank, your blood a graying broth that boils in your veins, thin filaments of deceit.

You do not see me hidden in the leafless trees, are deaf to my shriek of triumph as I swoop, wings stretched, glide and settle on your shoulders, begin my rapier encroachment of your soft neck to reach the core of living brain within. dawn melts my tracks in the snow, a proof of terror, a thaw of mutating species, bird to man come daylight.

Picture This - Sarah Butler 'January Morning'

Some exceptional writers have responded to a portfolio of my recent photography for a project called Picture This. I am overwhelmed by the beautiful work I've received. I have also worked with photographer and film-maker Craig Thomas, on a short film entitled Still Life, containing a selection of these images. Sarh Butler's writing has an immediacy to it that works perfectly with photography. In the thoughtful piece below she captures the sense of isolation that was my impetus for taking the picture.

Sarah writes novels and short fiction, and has a particular interest in the relationship between writing and place. Her debut novel, Ten Things I’ve Learnt About Love, will be published by Picador in February 2013.

January Morning

He might have opened the French doors for a breath of January air, to clear the room of last night’s red-wine-cigarette-fog, but she knew he’d gone. There was no point in following, but she stepped out, across the moss-stained patio, onto frosted-grass that gave up its sugar-coating to the warmth of her bare feet. The soil beneath though, that stayed hard and unforgiving. There was no point in looking, but she looked anyway, and when her feet were so cold she had to retreat, she sat by the window and watched the garden – splintered into pixels by her tears.

Picture This - Steve Tasane 'The Purring'

Some wonderful poets have responded to a portfolio of my recent photography for a project called Picture This. I am overwhelmed by the beautiful work I've received. I have also worked with photographer and film-maker Craig Thomas, on a short film entitled Still Life, containing a selection of these images. I was very happy when Steve Tasane wanted to take part in the project, especially as his poem is inspired by a picture of our cat, Happy Meal. Living as he does with two photographers our cat knows his best side and is very happy in front of the lens. The poem below really captures something of that 'cat nature' I have only really fully appreciated since becoming ill.

Steve is Writer-in-residence for Dickens 2012, and his young adult novel Blood Donors is to be published by Walker Books in 2013. He is the master of tongue-twisting poetry with a sharp political edge.

The Purring

The Life Shadow crouches at the corner of a blank page.

A white void waits while the blackness watches – twitches, flexes – a stillness keening to spring

into the scent, the cloud-carried rumour, the rustle, a breeze, a cottoning on.

The Black Cat blinks a green eye, swishes her impatience and at once her poetry is.

Contemplation

This is my 83 year old mother. As she says, 'growing old is not for the faint-hearted'. She has managed it with tremendous grace. It is part of a series called Platinum - a photographic celebration of women 60 and over.