They found her by mistake… a life sealed away in cardboard and dust, as though she’d slipped herself into the margins of the world and trusted time itself to stumble upon her one day. Inside that storage locker were hundreds of rolls of film, some never touched by light, as if she believed certain truths… Continue reading Vivian Maier and the Art of Being Seen
There are times when I think of Monet, not the artist immortalised on posters and tote bags, but the man standing knee deep in mud beside the Seine, brush trembling in cold fingers, on an autumn morning much like this one. The sting of rejections whirling through his mind, and the quiet ache of believing… Continue reading Monet and the Cost of Creation
There are nights when the rain sounds like it’s trying to speak to me. It taps on the window in hesitant rhythms, as if unsure whether I’m listening. I slip into my darkroom with a roll of film in my pocket, nothing remarkable, just small moments I wasn’t sure were worth remembering, and close the… Continue reading Hopper and the art of being alone
