So, University is is on the horizon and I have been issued with my summer brief:
‘ Imagine the person closest to you. Imagine that this morning they woke up. Got out of bed, with out making it. Then walked out of the room and out of your life, never to come back…’
This image was directly influenced by Annelies Strba’s ‘ In the Mirror ‘ (1997) The subject, in this case my husband , is completely unaware of my presence, which gives the images an almost voyeuristic feel.
Waking after sleep to fine mist on the window, a memento of your sleeping breath.
Where your lips have been. I like the simplicity of this image. The crumpled pillow in the background suggests that the bed has only recently been unoccupied and if you look closely you can see the stray hair that has been captured by the glass, physical evidence of the person who consumed the water.
Again I like the simplicity of this image. Grooming is a deeply intimate part of our everyday lives and is an integral part of the daily routine. The razor blade surrounded by specks of stubble.
Our lives seem to be filled with a constant round of charging devices and flat batteries!
Working with a cup of coffee.
There is nothing like your comfy chair, well loved, and well used. A reminder of home.
This image captured just how beaten up and well loved Simons chair is. He uses it everyday and despite its weathered appearance he loves it!
The above shot is of Simon’s scent, JOOP pour Homme. Every time I smell it, it reminds me of him. He used to wear it when we first met and still wears it today. The smell evokes so many happy memories and it is most definitely his signature scent.
He left the room, leaving the door ajar. Brings to mid the following by W.B.Yeats
“Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
― W.B. Yeats, The Wind Among the Reeds 1899