Dreaming

I designed this poster last year for my NCFE Level 2 qualification in Digital Photography. The module required me to use as many skills as possible that I had learned during the term. I have the good fortune to have a daughter who is not only photogenic but also willing to be photographed whenever her mother gets a new idea. After a long day at school, Safia was hanging about waiting for me whilst I finished up in my studio. As I was putting equipment away I noticed her daydreaming in the moon chair and couldn’t resist sneaking a few shots of her. She was so serene and clearly a million miles away, and when I asked what she was thinking about she revealed that she was dreaming of our forthcoming holiday to Scotland. When I uploaded the images to my computer I knew immediately that they would be the basis of a poster, although I wasn’t sure what design I was going to use.

I like this poster for its simplicity and also the sense of innocence that it conveys. A young girl lost in a dream world where the simple act of beach combing brings a sense of happiness and serenity. I know it is dangerous to idealise childhood, but I can’t help thinking there is no harm in taking pleasure from seeing a child dreaming of nothing more than a simple walk along the beach. 

The Hero Monomyth - Puss in Boots By Charles Perault

Puss in Boots Silhouette Postcard

Any parent will tell you that stories which seemed innocuous as a child can take on a very different bent once you start relaying them to your own children. One such example is the story of ‘Puss in Boots’ by Charles Perault. As a child I thought of this work of fiction as a ripping yarn with all the requisite factors in place: a handsome prince (or in this case, a marquis), a princess, a loyal companion (the real hero), and a monster (or ogre). Good triumphed over evil and the loving couple lived happily ever after.

It even followed the convention of the Hero Monomyth as illustrated above. An unwilling protagonist who must follow an uncertain path, complete challenges and return home triumphant with the spoils of those challenges. To cap it all, it had a moral: There is great advantage in receiving a large inheritance, but diligence and ingenuity are worth more than wealth acquired from others. Who could argue with that? And yet, no matter how many times I read the story and try to rationalize its intentions, it always leaves me feeling uneasy. Do I really want my children growing up thinking it is all right to prosper from the hard work and ingenuity of others rather than make the effort themselves?

 

Poster Research

In my research for my media product I came across this poster, which appealed to my sense of humour as well as my sense of aesthetics. The wording seemed particularly apt for this module and I really like the design of the poster. I quite like the retro feel and the swirls and teardrop shapes are sensual, pleasing to the eye. It reminds me of an album cover from the seventies but I don’t remember which one. It also made me think about the phrase, ‘visual communication’, and all that means. Isn’t all communication visual on some level, particularly in this day and age, what with videophones and ‘Skype’? Having gone through the dyslexia screening at the beginning of the academic year and finding out that I am dyslexic, it makes sense that I am drawn to photography where I can communicate on a visual level, rather than with words which always take a long time to formulate in my mind and consequently on to the page.

I have been looking at graphic design for my poster, even though I have not had any formal training in that area. I like the idea that the words are the image and not just part of it. I have been playing with phrases and quotes and seeing how I can make them communicate on a visual level as well as a literary one.

The Leisure Society 'This Phantom Life'

The moment you have in your heart this extraordinary thing called love and feel the depth, the delight, the ecstasy of it, you’ll discover that, for you, the world is transformed. – Jiddu Krishnamurti

This song resonates with me because for many years I have sought the answers that a Roman Catholic upbringing did not provide. Who am I? What am I doing here? What’s it all for? Why should I be bothered about anything? Who is writing the script for my life story? I have looked externally and always asked others these questions; I never once thought to ask myself. And yet I now realize that all the answers are within my own being, I just need to look a little more closely. Also, I may not have all the answers and the answer to that dilemma is to accept that all the questions cannot be answered; I should have the grace to accept that too. We should all stop running around trying to get someone else to explain what we cannot, and instead be at peace with ourselves.

The Art of Life

 

Life is the game that must be played.  ~Edwin Arlington Robinson

  

Somebody, somewhere, in the mists of time said, ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’. This is probably very true but I just wish I could stop being tested. In my forty-three years on this Earth I have been pushed to my limits countless times, and though I am still here to tell the tales, I am getting a little bit weary. How many times must I prove myself? Although I’m an atheist I do sometimes catch myself wondering if there is someone out there having a good old laugh at my expense. And herein lies my dilemma: if there is a puppet master calling all the shots, what do I have to do to convince him that enough is enough and can he/she please turn his/her attention to someone who has managed to get through life relatively unscathed thus far?

I am a good person on the whole; at least I’m told I am. Sure, I have my moments, don’t we all, but I don’t deserve constant pressure to the point of meltdown. My mother tells me that God (hers, not mine) only gives you what you can cope with, but I have to disagree. I think that if this omnipotent being is only dishing it out to the capable, it must be because he needs to keep us occupied whilst he sorts out some of the crap he has created elsewhere. I think he’s a useless manager and if a big corporation employed him, he’d have been sacked by now. And that’s the problem, you see: he’s employed by a co-operative and nobody wants to take responsibility for firing him; he just keeps being given another chance. So, I ask this: could someone, somewhere grow some balls and get rid of the big twit who seems to be controlling my life and let me fuck it up for myself?

A Solitary Man

Dad                                  West Virginia 1989

Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.  ~Gloria Naylor

I took this photograph on a family holiday to the US in the Autumn of 1989. I had been living in New York for nearly a year and my family came over to visit me and have a holiday. We were staying with friends in Gaithesburg, just outside Washington DC, so we decided to take a trip to West Virginia. It was a strange day. The town was eerily quiet and we saw few people considering the importance of the location in relation to US history. We took a walk down by the river and whilst my sisters, who were still quite young at the time, played on the river bank I took photos.

This particular shot was a total fluke. In those days I was still shooting in film so I had to be sure of what I was doing and Dad was not an easy person to photograph, so I had to snap when I got the opportunity. I love this image as it sums Dad up to a tee. Here he stands on the roots of a tree, perhaps his tree, the tree of all his knowledge (he was an academic), on the banks of a fast flowing river. The river always seems to me to be his life running fast and furiously past him, with never any hope of running the rapids and risking all in his pursuit of fulfillment. The tree blocks his view of the other side of the river; blocks what might have been from his vision. To view the other side of the river, the other side of his potential, might have swept him away downriver, away from the life that he was living, from the family he loved. He is contemplative and yet he seems resigned to his fate. I often wonder what he was thinking; it was a difficult time for him as he was having business problems on a scale to which we were totally oblivious. He was carrying all this worry by himself, partly out of duty, partly out of fear - if my mother had known what was really going on she'd have had a cow. He often kept things from her and over the years he communicated less and less, becoming solitary, distancing himself from the one person who would have helped him, no matter what.

When my father died I printed a copy of this photograph for both of my sisters  and it hangs in each of their respective homes. I don't have a copy on my walls; mine stays on the computer. I will hang one up one day, but not yet. I'm not ready. Not quite.

The Art of Parenthood

Ben & Safia                             April 2002

 

Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories.  ~John Wilmot

Parenthood is a wonderful, strange and awesome journey. When I became a mother I was totally unprepared for what lay ahead, despite having taken part in all the antenatal and parenting classes I could possibly attend. I was no more ready for the task than I had been before I got pregnant. I wasn’t going to be alone of course, my husband was there too, but he was as clueless as me. We both knew what we didn’t want to do, but we didn’t exactly know what we ought to be doing. We didn’t want our children to be coersed or forced into doing anything they weren’t interested in; we were not going to foist our aspirations on them; we wanted to facilitate access to those things they might want to explore; we wanted to support and guide them; we wanted to be good parents. We knew we would have to discipline them at some point but we wanted to be firm and fair. We wanted to have all the boxes ticked before our first child was born so that we could enjoy him and any subsequent children without having to refer to each other every time something cropped up. We wanted to be prepared.

How naïve we were! From the moment of Ben’s birth we haven’t had a clue what we’re doing; we muddle through as best we can just like every other family. We love the children (we now have two), and we know they love us. We are on a magical mystery tour with a ticket for unlimited travel and no refunds. It’s the best journey I personally have ever taken, in spite of the bumps and holes in the road, and if you can get a ticket to ride I would highly recommend it.

Ben & Safia                          December 2010