Sunday 13 January 2013

one from the bucket list.

'If we walk far enough,' says Dorothy, 'we shall sometime come to someplace.'

THIS ...

is a lovely song to listen to when you are standing here.

xXx




this is thanks be to the pen and the pad.


Part 1: commemorating paper movements. Part 2: celebrating a Tempest.

1. On christmas morning I was given the (suprisingly) beautifully wrapped present from my brother. Inside was the hardback copy of the final ever issue of movement magazine. My immediate excitement quickly turned to an odd sense of sadness as I turned over the crisp pages and realised there would be no more.
The whole print industry is struggling and for those of us whose room corners are filled with piles of our favourite magazines, who spend quiet evenings reading and re-reading stories of adventures, who use these pages as a method to reignite sparks of motivation and inspiration, it's a really scary time.

Movement magazine in particular has, along with riptide, shaped my adventures through its stories of distant lands, emptied my bank account via plane tickets after viewing shots of perfect line ups and making my personal need to film reach hysterical levels after landing on a page of insane sequence shots with the best riders boosting and barrelling their way into print history.
In the final introduction Ben Player talks about how these publications have created a community in the sport and it's true. They portrayed the characters of the sport through words and images, gave their readers a wider forum to hear like minded views about the sport, that went further than watching tensions or no friends with just your mates you surfed with, and they gave the companies the platform to reach the customers they needed in order to flourish.
As a reader who manages to increase her baggage weight by several kilos with magazines after every trip to Aus, I want to say thanks to Movement and all the people who made it so incredible, who supported the making of most films that inspired me to pack up my camera at fly to other lands, showed me images of new discoveries which has made my 'to see' list quadruple in size and simply for keeping us so motivated and stoked about the sport.
To everyone else, keep buying all the other magazines...please...things are always better on paper than on a computer screen.


2. Performance poetry has something of the Marmite quality about it. You either love it or hate it, there is no real middle ground.
I've always felt that rap is pretty much performance poetry, well the good stuff, not those that just chat about cars,ladies and how much they love their necklace. The good stuff is easy to find, its emotive, stirring the listener to feel something. Thats the thing with this style- whether negative or positive- to create any response is to succeed.
My christmas money was spent on a book/cd/dvd package produced by a lady called Kate Tempest. Have a listen to her work. It may make you sad, or angry, or inspired. Just listen to her insane use of the English language as she provokes you too feel this emotion, and then question yourself as you introvertly wander about your response.

Below are five of my favourite pieces.  For more please check her website HERE

'what we came after'


'parables'


'my Shakespeare'


'renegade'



'the commandments'

three meat pies, two potato pies and a hedgehog slice.


I walked through a multitude of banana fields, saw the best waves my eyes have ever seen, stood above the clouds (there were no carebears) and had by far the best two weeks of 2012.
Fronton....hermoso.
xXx










a tribute to ryantown.

my first attempts at some papercraft work.
xXx




soups,scarves and bobble hats.


they said that winter was coming. they were right. here's some songs for chilly times, for finding the love of soup, and for the feeling of warm ears under a bobble hat.

James Vincent McMorrow- CLICK

Bat For Lashes- CLICK

Bastille- CLICK

xXx

Saturday 12 January 2013

anecdotes,a written apology and ramblings.


as I was still recovering,not only from the pinches I gave myself to check I was actually shooting a proper, real life competition, but also the slight electrifying incident in Sintra, the lovely people at ThreeSixty Magazine decided to ask me to answer some questions for them. (I know, the only explanation is that they hadn't had much swell to report on during those months!)

HERE is the result of ramblings to those poor people, which was my attempt at thanking all the amazing people I worked with over in Portugal and giving Mr Yelland a written apology for missing his rather long barrel in the depths of Scotland. I hoped that after 3 years this would give him some closure. But like my attempt at trying to write succinctly, it was all wishful thinking.
xXx

like a tea tray in the sky.

salvador dali pictures of alice in wonderland.

maybe I can ask for them as a very happy unbirthday present...

see the full wonderful collection here
xXx







difference in a day

twenty four little hours.
xXx



dads case.

A while back, during a quarterly ruthless clear out session, my dad came across his old navy suitcase and brought it in to show me before it began its inevitable journey to the dump.
Now as a lover of junk and all deserted things, these parental clear out sessions are particularly traumatic. This often leads me to beg and plead with my dad, to become the voice of the silent forgotten, hopefully reminding him of the memories created them. The result will go one of two ways. The first is probably the reason that my room appears to be shrinking, as I find myself inheriting the items. The other grants me a multitude of funny looks from people at the local refuse site, as I whisper 'sorry' to boxes and bags before dropping their resting place...the skip.
Dads suitcase, he explained, had been to faraway lands, travelled the seven seas and had seen more wonders of the world than most people in a lifetime. With every story the fell from his mouth, my dads reluctance to part with the case was blindingly obvious. But, it had passed its usefulness date and the only way to save it was to find it a new purpose and so, on one sunny weekend, we made this...it even has a hidden place for me to keep other members of my forgotten collection.
xXx


justice to the moment.

I blooming love clouds.
Mitch Dobrowner is solely responsible for re awakening my desire to go storm chasing, to see a super cell form and evolve, to see a tornado touch down and to watch a mothership track its course across an open plain...just don't tell my gran.

check out his work on his website here

and a little clip of the man himself underneath.
xXx





dont say nothing.

sintra scenes and living in dreams.


As the dying days of summer scorched the sky a molten gold, I took a trip down the atlantic. To the land of castles in clouds, perfect people and fried feet.Sintra.
Here's some things I saw after I finished with beach cam.
xXx