The Old Shop

The rafters bare the roof is gone
Starlings roost where bacon hung
And nails grow thin and rust away
Where boots were often on display

The smells have vanished in the breeze
Of paraffin and ropes and cheese,
Of salted fish, Milanda bread,
The smell of rotting pine instead.

The counter where he nudged the scales
Is bleached by sun and winter rains,
A spider makes a web in vain
Around the dusty window pane.

And where the flour was kept in sack
Where hungry mice might find a snack,
The concrete floor is bare and stark,
And all around is bleak and dark.

Rev Dr John Ferguson

My dear Uncle John passed away 06/01/09, life ticks by in a comfy routine but then in a space of a few months it changes and the friends and securities that you took for granted have gone, and life has lost it's colour, and the brighter the day the sadder you feel.

drawings at the water's edge, the end of our summer

Life will never be the same again

for Anne, Mairi, Deborah, Amanda & Marnie

Wash-day Blues In Black & White

A constant battle with the elements

pinholga

Ikebana workshop

Double exposed pinhole about 30 mins

Bha ochd againn anns a rum.
(There was eight of us in the room)

Looking at solidity and the traces left behind

Linn

Photogram, discription of gererational influence

photograms from the darkroom scanned and layered in gimp,

Linn, leen, n. f. a generation, age, ministration, incumbency or time in office, race, offspring; family; ri linn do sheanmhair, i.e. during the time of your grandmother, ie long, long ago; is iomadh linn a chuir thu romhad, you sent many a generation before you; deireadh linn, youngest, last of a family; anns na linntean deireanach, in the latter days; o linn gu linn, from generation to generation

Ikebana

Uist is a mostly treeless landscape with only small plantations, a single tree here and there that has set seed against the odds, battered by the Atlantic winds and bleached by the sun they can produce the most wonderful shapes sometimes only a few branches bloom, coming back year after year, the rest has succumbed, the dead wood plays host to moses and lichens, they remind me so much of my culture and language.

Aisling - dream - Sounds of the City ~ Scent of the Sea

I want to capture an image of a place I go, a space with no time and multiple planes of existence coincide at once, what hasn't been said can be said and what hasn't been done can be done.

Representative of the conflicts that go on inside my head, spirituality versus science.

People that are no longer here, imprinted on the land, their energy is eternal.

My image is a pinhole image the negative has been exposed three times, a collage of images though not in the conventional sense