Photoshoot - thoughts and ideas…

“I like the morning. There’s so much hope in the morning. There’s so much potential, which is never realised by 8:30pm in the evening.”   

- Chris Lowe

I had told myself I’d try to get to bed by 11. It’s 23:21. And I haven’t managed to do any Gujarati homework even though my lesson is at 11am tomorrow. Sundays tend to play out like this. The freedom of a whole day off. Followed by the pressure to move things forward with my creative life, both in being inspired by others and generating the ideas and inspiration for my own work. I did at least finally get some much longed for reading done (some articles in the New York Times, a few pages of a memoir and a smattering of poetry) and then planned out my upcoming photoshoot a bit more - mainly by choosing outfits and shoes. But also by dusting off my typewriter and seeing if it still works. (It does.)

I’m going to work with a new photographer for the shoot on Wednesday and I’m playing around with the look and purpose of the pictures I want to get. I want to indulge in my love for colour as well as have some B&W photos, and I’d like to represent my writing and my slightly Luddite inclinations. I made some notes on my phone a couple of weeks ago to try to clarify what I’m going after:

PHOTOSHOOT IDEAS - the desolation of society as it stands at the moment is the backdrop - it’s either chaotic, desolate/barren or soulless in some way and then, there in the frame somewhere is the artist. Contemplating how to fight back or posing with a freedom stretch that feels like a means of bringing strength and creativity to this bleak world. We see the alternative in her: flowing fabric and/or bright colours, beautiful shoes against concrete steps, this is her rebellion: creativity, fashion/dressing up and/or staring straight down the lens as if to say, ‘Record me. Take note. I am here and I will not let you break me.’ 

All in all, I think I’m trying to represent a kind of protest - putting colour and the careful consideration of a ‘look’ before being pulled down by the bland, neglected or inept surroundings. Keeping creative expression first and foremost before consuming someone else’s brand visuals and ethos, or attending to their business’s needs. A kind of visual statement of the struggle of time being taken up with work and travel even for mundane errands, all while trying to stay fit, healthy and strong in the midst of all of the implications of being a woman in your late 40s.

The Dying of the Light

My natural response to the end of summer is to lament the loss of daylight as the nights slowly start drawing in earlier and earlier. This year feels different. After the gnawing anxiety of relentless heat with an unusual humidity and stickiness, the earlier descent of nighttime feels like being rescued. There’s something reassuring about life returning to a normal (habitable?) temperature, even though the grass has been turned to a brittle straw flattened onto a dusty ground.

There’s an old song by a folksy band that my Dad used to love, called ‘Red Rubber Ball’, which goes, “and I think it’s gonna be alright, yeah, the worst is over now. The morning sun is shining like a red rubber ball”.  I kept humming it to myself the day after the eclipse and all the sunset photos of it, but the line seemed to contradict itself. If the sun is shining that intensely, maybe it’s not going to be alright at all?

However…

With the hunkering down of autumn and winter, the ‘batten down the hatches’ approach when wind and rain howl and bucket down outside there’s a chance to re-group. It’s an opportunity to seek out hope and examine it, make friends with it, hang out and discuss old times until there’s a glimmer of something valuable to hold and protect. That’s where the building from a strong foundation begins for me. I have to gather my things, sit at my desk in shoes I can’t walk in but that make me feel more alive and write lists.

Kerri ní Dochartaigh* put it as: 

“THINGS TO CARRY INTO THE DARKER PART OF THE YEAR:

feathers

Connemara

the moon,

the words

first light of morning

moths at sunset

rest

planets and stars

silence (nearly)

pink dreams,

the sea the sea the sea

flowers gathered from a small stretch of land

books

hope”

*in ‘Cacophony of bone’ 

A fresh start

This is just a little hello to get started again. I’ve been reviewing my writing work since setting up my site many years ago to include the details of my acting, music and writing work and there’s a lot that needs to change about how I’ve been going about it all.

2026 is the perfect year to readjust, realign and report back on how it’s going …

More soon. And to quote Yes, Minister, “in due course, in the fullness of time”.