‘Ghost Machine’

Today was one of the most enjoyable days I’ve had out with the camera in years.

This beautiful, weird, witchy corner of the West Country is starting to feel like home now.

I’ve noticed a shift takes place when I photograph an area repeatedly over weeks and then months.

I relax a little. I stop seeing ‘things’ everywhere and stop panic snapping (like the excitable puppy version of me taking photos on holiday). I find it easier to pick up moods, scenes and narratives.

There was a heavy mist and frost this morning and it formed a beautiful, ghostly blanket along the side of the hill.

I didn’t notice it at the time but you can make out the shiny edges of a car in the middle left of the photo. This annoyed me when I first spotted it – an ugly modern relic  in an otherwise timeless moment – but I like how strange and alien it looks. A ghost machine.

This is the first year l’ve lived in the countryside. Everyone gave my partner and I a smile and a look that said “this will be a test”. I’m not sure what I was expecting but it’s been magical so far.

Early January, after the happy glow of Christmas and New Year, can be tough. It’s been winter for a while. It’s cold and wet. The day’s are short. You have no money.

But the seasons have been so dramatic and visceral. I feel part of every change. The colours, sometimes the lack of colour – even in the depths of winter – have been jaw dropping and I feel privileged to be lucky enough to be in amongst it.