Delicate Light /
Delicate light. I spend my days searching for it. I will stop everything I am doing when I notice pockets of light touching the walls and pull together whatever I can to create some sort of portrait out of them before they disappear five minutes later. In this case, that meant kidnapping my sister, throwing a sheet over a ladder, and shooting through the bathroom mirror to not get the periodic table of emoluments shower curtain in the frame.
*Honourable mention to Uncle David’s shit.
Some of my favourite portraits happen in under five minutes: the unplanned and unforced.
Abigail Joan is leaving for New Zealand in a couple of weeks - a place so close to my heart.
And she is closer to my heart.
You’re in for a grand adventure, sister.