The Colour Collaborative: May: Photograph

When we first agreed on this month's theme, I did a little secret cheer inside. Another excuse to raid the archives! I love looking back through my photographs and choosing some of my favourites.

But then I thought, do I choose just the one (impossible) that embodies the whole concept of capturing colour in photography? No. I considered why I choose to photograph certain places and subjects in terms of their colour. And I came up with lots of reasons.

There are many 'pet subjects' which I like to capture whenever I get the chance: carousels, boats, vintage cars. But closer to home, on my walks and around the house, colour speaks to me in different ways and there are several aspects of colour, even particular colours themselves, which inspire me. So without further ado: a photo heavy post with few words. Just the way I like it.

Oh, and you may already have seen one or two of these perennial favourites already.

Colours: Orange
I can never resist. Yet strangely enough it's a colour I don't wear. At all.

Subject: Roses
Particularly pink ones. Even better, those with a bluish or lilac tint.

Colour: Verdigris
That blue-green. I have a real Thing for it and am attracted to even the tiniest flash.

Subject: A splash of colour in unexpected places

I'm a lover of murk. Drizzle, damp, moody light. Sometimes you'll catch a glimpse of brightness and it begs to be photographed.

Colour: Yellow
Mustard or sulphur, I adore yellow.

Subject: Dark skies, bright foreground

Up here in the Pennines we get our fair share of ominous, battleship-grey skies. They provide an incredible foil for whatever stands between you and the clouds.

Colour: Blue
Kingfisher, cobalt, sapphire. The identification spray on the fleece of a sheep, the unexpected blue eye of a skewbald horse.

Subject: Colour in decay

There's something about the colours of flowers as they wither and become fragile; some seem to concentrate all that pigment so it becomes even more vivid, whilst others (hydrangeas being a favourite) fade and take on a sepia-like quality.

So there you have it: a lot of pictures which I hope illustrate my relationship with colour when I'm taking photographs. No one particular image which, to me at least, is colour perfection. But I'm looking forward to seeing how my fellow Collaborators have chosen to interpret the theme...

Don't forget to visit the other Colour Collaborative blogs for more of this month's posts, just click on the links below.

Annie Cholewa

CJ at Above the River

Jennifer at Thistlebear

What is The Colour Collaborative?

All creative bloggers make stuff, gather stuff, shape stuff, and share stuff. Mostly they work on their own, but what happens when a group of them work together? Is a creative collaboration greater than the sum of its parts? We think so and we hope you will too. We'll each be offering our own monthly take on a colour related theme, and hoping that in combination our ideas will encourage us, and perhaps you, to think about colour in new ways.

Anatomy of a hedgerow

Of course, May is a month of cow parsley and fruit blossom, wild garlic and bluebells. But it's also a month where the hedgerows come into their own.

When I told you about Joe and I walking down the lane to preschool: well, there it is (in the top photograph). And today I took my camera so that on the way back up, I could take a closer look at the hedgerow which borders one side of it.

Right now the hedgerows are so dense and green. All those layers, from the moss-covered earth mound and gnarled old hawthorns which are, in a sense, the very backbone...

To the constant renewal of plant life. Leaves unfurling and ferns uncurling. 

The hawthorn blossom is only just opening in this part of the world.

There are tangled networks of brambles and purple tinges on leaves amongst the nettles.

Rosy new shoots appearing... 

A few surprises, such as currants, and rogue saplings. Honeysuckle too. And close to the ground, roots and miniature leaves and flowers. Rosettes and fronds, pebbles and moss.

And the lush verdancy that only May has. 

Yesterday we walked along in the fine drizzle. If anything, the hedgerows seemed even more lush and I think I actually preferred the damp.

Of course, the good thing about hedgerows is they have occasional gaps for you to peep through.

 So what does this particular hedge on this particular lane have to offer?

Hawthorn, nettles, buttercups, dandelions, holly, many varieties of grasses and mosses...

Herb Robert (which I just discovered is a member of the Geranium family), cleavers, brambles, beech, rosebay willow herb, ferns, dock...

And those saplings I mentioned: horse chestnut, ash, sycamore...

Alongside the old hawthorn branches are the odd man-made structure too. Decaying fence posts, rusting barbed wire.

The hedgerows tell a story. Form and function. Native plants and the odd impostor. Layers and layers, a green tapestry.

Often we'll drive past them, a blur on either side of the car which obscures our view of the landscape beyond. But just walk and explore.

I'm sure I must have looked a bit odd to those who passed me as I poked the camera into the twigs and branches. But that's the thing about taking photographs - you have to try and lose that feeling of self-consciousness. You are conducting important business: that of investigating and being curious.

I plan, perhaps when the new site is finished, to write about how I work. The printmaking process, from little field trips to inking and rolling. 

One part of that process is identifying plants. I love to consult books (I have many) which are illustrated with pictures of native plants, trees and flowers. They have to be illustrations, not photographs. And I learn names and habitats and all kinds of interesting facts.

I suppose that it's all about noticing what's around you. Walking past that hedgerow in the mornings is now part of our routine, but if you manage to slow down for ten minutes and look closely, you discover much about the seasons and what grows where.

And for the frazzled mind, a bit of green therapy.

Joe

I've taken so many photos lately, and had intended to do a couple of posts about seasonal flowers. But sometimes I don't stick to my plans. Often I'll just write about what's on my mind, so instead: a post about Joe.

Of course, he's always on my mind. Whether he's with me or not (I went out with friends for a meal on Saturday night and we ended up looking through pictures of our little ones and discussing all the sweet - and not so sweet - things they do). 

This morning I decided to opt out of the chaos that is the preschool car park. Instead we walked down the steep, narrow lane and I realised how lucky we are. Hedgerows and stone walls on either side of us, wildflowers and woodland, the moors rising up ahead. We talked about when leaves change colour, and what buttercups are. We picked dandelions and blew the seeds away. We stuck cleavers ('stickybobs') onto our sleeves.

He starts school in September. It's not very far away now. The thought of it makes me sad.

I know that even though he'll only just have turned four, he'll be fine. I've anxiously sought out advice from the preschool staff, from family members who teach. But still... He'll be so little. He still makes a dreadful mess when he eats. He still has the occasional 'accident' when he's too absorbed in playing to bother going to the loo. He's cuddly and silly and thinks everyone in the world is harmless.

I toyed with the idea of holding him back for another year, but the reality is he's bright and curious and within a few months he'd be climbing the walls with boredom and frustration. His peers would have all gone off to school and he'd be left playing with the toddlers.

And I need to work. A few snatched hours here and there isn't enough. I need time to deal with the technical side of things, to make my work and promote it. I initially thought that once Joe was nine months old, maybe a year, I'd go back out to work. I couldn't see me ever being maternal. In fact, it worried me.

Turns out I was very wrong. I wanted to stay with him and yes, have a frugal couple of years if that was what was needed. It's a very personal decision and one I don't regret for even a moment.

Yes, there are times when I feel exhausted, provoked, angry, exasperated. That's what children do to you. I sometimes look back wistfully at those pre-motherhood days when I could enjoy a lie-in and a quiet weekend with a book. 

But he's my boy and we're part of each other. We go on adventures and make one another laugh. He brings me feathers to put in my workroom and makes me 'dinner' in his toy kitchen. We have fun and learn about things. 

School simply means he's getting bigger. This phase of his life is coming to an end and a new one's beginning. We've got lots of memories and photographs and stories, and I plan to make these last few months of his being properly little count. September will be here before we know it. I read a quote somewhere recently about motherhood: that the days are long but the years are short.

So we'll keep having fun, and buying that new uniform can wait just a little while longer.

Maytime miscellany

Told you I was going for grey, didn't I? Here's how it's looking so far as the dye grows out. I'm torn between worry that it'll make me look ancient and unkempt, and a sense of rebellion now I'm no longer a slave to colouring it. 

Here's a closer look. I have no idea how it's going to end up. Will there be a lot of grey or just some? Whatever. I'm sticking to my guns. 

May's been an incredibly busy month so far. Those of you who follow me on Instagram will have seen my dining table full of drying prints, made in readiness for last weekend's handmade market. Which turned out to be a total waste of time if I'm honest: the glorious weather kept people away, no doubt headed for the coast or the back garden. A lot of work and travelling for  very little return.

I think I'll stick to selling through galleries. And I'd better get everything photographed for my online shop too. This whole working for yourself thing has presented me with an incredibly steep learning curve.

Of course, most of my time's spent with Joe. We head out for a little daily amble to the churchyard across the road. He runs about up and down the paths and presents me with dandelion posies.

I read the inscriptions on the headstones and photograph the flowers which grow there. Right now the magnolia trees are in full bloom; primroses are growing amongst the graves under the trees and in marshy spots there are cuckoo flowers. We also make daisy chains and collect grasses for pressing and printmaking. He's my little assistant.

The garden has recovered after a fast thaw and is no longer waterlogged. We have tulips and rhubarb and bluebells. 

Jay put a shed up on Sunday whilst I was at the handmade market. It meant he had to cut back the beech tree, so I've got armfuls of trimmings in the house. They look quite spectacular actually - a jugful on the table spans a good couple of feet across.

Of course, there are walks near the railway line so Joe gets his locomotive fix.

And he isn't one for staying clean either. 

I have so many photographs of bluebells. And the trip to the West Lancashire plains for the market was beautiful. Spring seems to be a bit further along over there - cow parsley and blossom everywhere. I do love May, even though I'm an autumn girl at heart. It's my birthday next week too so I'm crossing my fingers for nice weather.

On Saturday we took Joe to Helmshore Mills. It's an old textile mill, a museum which is sadly on the brink of closing down due to funding issues. They've been given a reprieve until September.

It's very close to my old primary school and I have fond memories of us walking down there to learn all about our Lancashire textile heritage. I knew Joe would like the waterwheel and the frightening machinery. He did.

No. we don't dress him in a flat cap. He wore it as part of the 'experience'. The outdoor area is where we teenagers used to gather on summer evenings and drink cider and pretend to be drunk. It's now closed at night and they grow flowers and edibles instead.

A much better use of the space.

We heard some great stories about the mills and the working conditions there. I also liked looking around the mill manager's office with its books and old typewriter and general antiquey things.

And after that, a walk to Musbury: scene of many childhood picnics.

Joe managed to get creosote all over his hands after playing on an old telegraph pole. It smelt rather nice but necessitated an early bath.

So, in between printing and selling, playing with Joe and doing housework, it's been a busy time indeed. We've visited friends and half-stained the new shed, dried lots of washing on the line and befriended the lambs (who are actually quite bold and come to the gate looking for treats).

The holiday is approaching and I can't wait. As some of you will know, our family has had a tough couple of years and although I don't really blog about it in detail, it can be very draining. There are ongoing issues and the prospect of escaping to that little crofter's cottage on Skye is so appealing. 

Finally, thank you for your words of encouragement after my last post. I'm hoping to negotiate the technological maze that is putting a new website together, and to do all the other stuff that entails: new social media accounts, archiving old stuff and making sure people can actually find me out there. It's a long, frustrating process but if nothing else I'm a typical stubborn Taurean and will not give up.

I'm hoping to write a post with some lovely floral photographs, perhaps in time for the weekend. In the meantime  - enjoy the gloriousness that is May!