KATIE

The following awe-inspiring words were written by Katie Scott, who's portraits I captured last summer. 

'Nowadays we are taught that self love and confidence no matter what your insecurities may be is the key to living happily and healthily. Whilst this is something I wholeheartedly agree with, I think sometimes this message can pile on more pressure than intended. It is very difficult to suddenly 'love your body' when you are still facing a world of prejudices and conflicting health messages and pressures. I think what is more important for people who are struggling with self confidence is self acceptance. It is far more important to see your body for how it is, and to allow yourself first to just be. Acknowledge your insecurities but don't let them hold you back. Make sure you still do all the things you want to do. I'm not there yet, but this is probably the first step towards true confidence and comfort within oneself. And acceptance doesn't necessarily mean resignation, change is ok, but you have to make sure you are changing for the right reasons.'

 'As women we are socialised to view our natural bodies as inadequate. The natural state of being for a woman is never enough; beauty is seen as perfection and perfection is unobtainable. No matter how hard you try to conform to culturally imposed beauty standards, your body will never be deemed perfect, and these constructed ideals are changing constantly so that women in some shape or form are always excluded from being 'beautiful', no one can consistently be categorised as perfect. Because of this it is so difficult for women to be able to see themselves as beautiful in their natural state. It is one of the hardest things for women to learn, but also one of the most important.

Dreaming Of Snow

I awake to a blissful winter wonderland. The streets are coated in a blanket of glittering crystals and the busy roads deserted, plunging the neighbourhood into a deep, dreamy cone of delicious silence. I sit, eyes heavy with sleep, and gaze out into the garden as the soft light of dawn seeps through the trees and kisses the shivering ground. 

I grab my camera, hook my beautiful little beagle onto a lead and head out into the glowing white air. The cold wind slices passed us. Snow balances atop tiny leaves that sway in the treetops, and every so often a gentle breeze blows a tiny flurry down onto my shoulders. 

We pause by a frosted lake in the centre of the park. The winter sun sits amongst the white clouds and casts long, lazy shadows across the ice. A single swan with feathers white as snow, wonders calmly across the frozen surface, wings glowing with pale sunlight. It feels as though we've stepped out into a dreamscape. Like an altered, snow laden reality. It's magic.

My dog, spooked by children racing downhill on toboggans, makes a break for the exit. All at once it's time to return home. I kick snow off the tops of my boots and pull my hat, embroidered with little red and yellow flowers, from my wind swept head. The warmth of the house envelops us, and we sink down into the sofa to watch the white landscape begin to melt.

Until next time. 

SUPER BLUE BLOOD MOON

We were gifted a second full moon for January on the 31st, and not only was it a blue moon (a name given to the second full moon within the same month), but it was also a blood and super moon! Sunlight shining through the planet's atmosphere during a lunar eclipse is thrown across the moon's surface, shifting its colour from silver to blood red and coining the name 'blood moon'. It can be difficult to catch the moon at the right time in order to witness this marvel; when I sat peering at the sky around midnight, it remained its usual magic shade of silvery white. I have yet to catch a blood moon during its elusive orange phase!  

Another crisp, clear winter's night. Both of January's supermoons have been beautifully bright and unwaveringly impressive. February will be without a full moon, but we'll see the return of the Worm Moon on March 1st! 

The Sun Meets The Sea

Sunlight streams over the hill top, flooding our eyes with a deep, blinding gold. We drive through the country lanes to Durdle Door, racing the sun before it disappears beyond the blue horizon. 

We park next to a row of white caravans. I grab my camera and skip down the steep, grassy hill as the sun fades from yellow to bright orange. It throws streaks of light up into the sky, and casts a perfect stripe of gold across the ocean. I come to rest by a fence post with a perfect view of the bay. The sun sinks toward the water. Its light glitters through the gap in Durdle Door’s rocky archway as I sit on the grass, the noise of my camera shutter echoing down to the sea.  

A family of three joins me, and we watch the sky in silence. Occasionally they whisper of the sun’s beauty to one another, and the wind carries the soft tones of their voices across the cove. 

Finally, the circle of gold retreats beneath the horizon and the air is pale. I turn on my heel and head up to the car, only to greet the full moon rising in a purple sky. 

Gold turns to silver, and day turns to night.  

Wolf Moon

January 1st, 2018. Our first full moon of the year on none other than New Year's Day. Owing its name to hungry wolves who would howl on the outskirts of Native American villages in the dark depths of midwinter, the Wolf Moon is also a Super Moon, making it the biggest and brightest of the year to come. And all on the very first day!

I sat on my windowsill, half hanging out through the open window to point my camera at the deep black sky. It's one of the brightest moons I've ever seen. A disc of pure, beaming light that bathes the streets in a soft blanket of silver. A few stars are dotted above the rooftops, a rare sight for the light drenched skies of London - but tonight the air is crisp and clear and the sky is dark. 

I plan to capture as many 2018 full moons as I can, and this one was a pretty magic way to begin. Happy Full Wolf Moon, and a Happy 2018 from me! 

Wandering Through Catalonia

It’s 4 o’clock in the afternoon. A hot, lazy, Spanish afternoon. The sun hangs high in a sea of turquoise and my hand shoots up to cover my eyes as I step through the door and into the bright, white light. 

There’s a house for sale at the end of my road, easily missable if not for the faded red sign that juts out from beside the gate. A forest of green foliage has overtaken the entrance, twisting its way around the surrounding fence. I peer through a gap in the trees. A small courtyard scattered with broken plant pots and fallen, yellowing leaves frames the front of the house, and a chequered mosaic of deep olive and orange tiles has been crafted onto the walls. A beautifully, mysterious place to live. 

I carry on up through the streets. Sunlight is bouncing off the white buildings that line the roadside, bathing the town in a blanket of thick heat. There’s a constant murmur of conversation as Catalan families gather around tables set out on balconies whose railings are lined with tiny cacti in ceramic pots, or draped with beach towels and damp clothing. They’ve just finished a late lunch, and now the locals chatter away in the afternoon warmth until it’s time for a siesta. 

I climb higher and higher away from the sea front and up into the hills. Each building I pass is different from the one before; a wonderfully eclectic collection of homes. Green shutters contrasted against stark white paint, abandoned flats with glassless windows, terracotta roofs and terracotta walls and grandiose homes boasting trickling water features and iron gates. No one house is the same as another.

I reach the top of the town, and I stand gazing down the long stretch of tarmac that runs all the way back to the oceanfront. The water is a deep, glittering shade of royal blue. A single white sailboat floats along the surface before passing out of view behind a row of slanted rooftops. Two women sit talking softly to one another in whicker chairs perched outside their front door. If not for them, I would be completely alone. The town is sleeping. 

I make my way slowly back down to my beachside flat, eyes hooded from the lethargy the hot afternoon sun has invoked in me. My camera hangs heavily from my shoulder. It’s filled with images of characterful houses and shadows of treetops cast on white walls and thin, winding Catalan roads. 

A warm, summer’s day adventure.