One sunday morning.

Landscape symmetry.

There's something very beautiful about pairs. And a certain, bonded fragility that only comes from being one of two. If something's solitary and it dies, there's nothing to miss it. Likewise, if there's three or more then there'll still be at least two left. Oh, this is all getting rather confusing.

Caress. (homoerotic horses)

These horses are both boys, but the lack of girl attention has obviously driven them close.

Light's for playing in.

Halo (chemical ears).

Sometimes old broken cameras are just too kind. They make things happen you could simply never dream of.
Like these chemical ears in the sky...

This was supposed to be about horses.

Old camp.

While walking in old twisted woods, I found the remains of an old camp...

A small fire pit with anonymous tin cans, inch square plastic baggies (presumably containing contraband in their former, useful life), and bottles of cheap vodka were strewn around. Littering normally makes me feel a bit sick and reluctant to play with the rest of the world. But oddly... they seemed to fit here in this forgotten corner.

My peace was disturbed only by a mad old woman - twisted as the trees she was walking beneath - and her dog. Despite the faithful hound never straying more than 20ft from her side she persisted in blowing her dog whistle with great and relentless gusto. Perhaps she couldn't hear it? Perhaps she'd gone so mad she didn't even know she was doing it.

The mad old woman and her piercing whistle left so I sniffed the remains of the vodka and drained it. I didn't sniff the baggies - I thought their particular choice of poison should remain a forgotten secret... and toying with the old charred logs I thought what a blinding place for a camp.

The void in your imagination.

Photography - for me - is rarely about what's in the picture. It's normally about all the things that are not.
The empty spaces, ruined edges, smudges, leaks, and smears.

Poor, Pooh Bear.

Some murderous bastard had strung Pooh Bear up on some barbed wire. For what crime, I do not know. Pilfering honey, no doubt.

Bodmin Moor, February 2010.

An antique future.

Steve and Kirsty came to stay. Kirsty brought film with her.
Amid the desolation, I took this.

Cornwall, April 2010.