It's OK not to feel OK : 10. 9. 15

Blue is never more blue than it is when paired with orange. And the orange is never bluer than when eaten on a cloud in the sky.  

Jarod Kintz

It started from the first view of the Montbretia filled hedgerows along the Dingle Peninsula, now orange is everywhere.....

Opposite colours on the colour wheel, orange and blue will always zing zestily together. Colour theory says that combining these complimentary colours creates maximum vibrance and impact. Think yellow and purple or red and green too.

Orange glows with warmth and fire. It's the colour of summer, sunsets, hope. The Cycle against Suicide Campaign have adopted orange as their colour for World Suicide Prevention Day. Their slogan "It's OK not to feel OK" is simple and brilliant.

Look out for their #LetsGoOrange projects this week, and embrace the orange and the blue......

And just before you go, I have been shortlisted for the Best Photography in the Blog Awards and I would love your vote in order to get to the final stage. You can vote here and THANK YOU dear friends!

She is honey coloured like Swedish architecture

My sister is honey coloured so she tones in beautifully with traditional Swedish architecture. From the old town of Gamla Stan to the hilly cobbled streets of Sodermalm, the Swedes seem to favour warm Italian tones. That's the first surprise I wanted to share with you. Maybe this is why Stockholm is called the Venice of the North? 

It's also because Stockholm is built on a series of islands, thousands of them spread out between the city and the Baltic Sea. There is a distinct culture, a wonderful language, some western influence, but the northern ambiance is much more prominent.

Did you know for example that Swedes never ever wear their shoes inside their homes? That they eat dozens of variations on salted herring? That they swim in the pristine waters in the middle of their cities, so clean and pollution free are their harbours? 

Swedes don't use curtains on their windows at night. As one said to me, once you've seen everything your naked old man neighbour has to show you get over it! They are practical, humane and clever. They have to be to deal with severe dark winters and still find joy in skiing and hunting in the snow.

There is everything to admire here from their design sensibilities to their white blonde heads. It looks like they share more than a love of raw fish with the Japanese; minimalism, love of rural life, art and interior simplicity. Their social systems, now under threat from right wing tendencies, are the envy of the world. 

Is there a down side? As most Irish people would have it they could do with having a bit more craic, but we say that about everyone.....

The sister has lived and worked here for many years and even forgets English vocabulary now and then. She will soon be a Swedish Farmor (Grandma!) so I suppose after 30 years it's safe to say she has settled here. 

Himself and myself came here first though; way back in 1975. We were enchanted by it and vowed to come back. Little did we know we would be returning so often or that we would have extended family living here. 

Why did we come here in the first place? Why didn't we stay after all? We were busking and making art on the streets of Stockholm. We were hanging out in cool communes during that sunny summer, but of course when it started to get cold we vamoosed. 

Next time I will share photos of a precious Swedish World Heritage Site designed for the living as well as the dead.......one of my sister's favourite places in Stockholm.

The Italian paintbox

When I was in Rome earlier this year as part of this Pilgrimage year,  I remembered those tiny paint boxes that we used to get for Christmas when I was a kid. Each little square or tube of colour had an unfathomable name; Yellow Ochre, Warm Sienna, Burnt Umber, Terracotta, Vermillion. I had no idea what they were or how they should be used. Not for the green fields and purple hills of Ireland anyway....

Later when I studied art in college I began quite literally to get the picture. These were the paint colours of the Italian Masters because they were the authentic colours of their daily lives!

In Italy everything depends on this golden palette of colours. The washy watery tints that cover the buildings, the interiors, even the food seems to based on that little paintbox of warm hues. From the courgette flowers in the market to the majestic painted domes of the churches, colours are warm and deep.

As the Ireland begins to turn to away from the sun, I am travelling again to another majestic city, Stockholm in Sweden. I've enjoyed feeling at home in some beautiful places and if you are wondering what the colour palette in Stockholm might be, next week all will be revealed. Expect to be surprised!


For more of the Rome photos checkout the Gallery here

Paint yourself beautiful

I know! I'm gadding about a lot recently. It's a long story. This week I'm in Vienna. Strikes me as a conservative and wealthy city. It's only my initial impression and I've never been here before. Right?

Wrong. Turns out today is the Gay Pride March. It's my first proper Gay Pride. It's got bells and whistles. It's got knobs on. It's the whole shebang.

We cheer it on, myself and the citizens of Vienna. The trams are rainbowed for the event, smiley police are drafted in, the city thumps to the beat of the drums. I love this world and everyone in it, especially those who celebrate by painting themselves beautiful, and doesn't it just leave everyone else in the shade......

Alas, I was told that some time later the parade was attacked by christian right wing marchers coming from another direction. How dark and sad, in this city of ghostly memories. 


See some more street photography here

Seeking light in Rome #Pilgrimage~ April

I skip the Pope's house this time. I am always cautious not to disrespect another's idea of beauty or religion, all I know is that I would never find light there. In the midst of droves of pilgrims making their way to the Basillica of St. Peter's I am as usual walking in the opposite direction, towards the pagan past.

I diverged from Catholicism when my father sent me to discuss my Easter Duty with the parish priest. Although they exerted great pressure I wouldn't come up with any interesting sins and refuted the idea of a 16 year old girl being forced to confess for some arbitrary feast day. I explained to the priest that people were basically good and anyway I had done nothing wrong...... 

Some how through steadfast argument I got away with it and never looked back. Instead I moved over to mystery as the only possible conclusion about life, death and who made the world. I fell in love with mother earth, constellations of stars, and the beauty of it all. I suppose I'm a kind of aesthetic/humanist if a label is ever needed.

That being said, I still harbour an appreciation of certain rituals and I especially love to indulge in candle lighting. These spaces where ordinary people are drawn to kneel are so full of hope in something magical and grander than ourselves. The congregation's collective adoration is soothing and healing. Throw in a bit of singing, some ethereal shafts of sunlight and I find myself connecting with something deep and unfathomable...... 

And as I say my own prayer wishing for strength and peace, my mantra for this pilgrimage is like a constant flickering flame ......seek light, embrace shade and live in glorious colour......



See the Pilgrimage Gallery here and the Rome Gallery here

Pastel diary

Pink, blue, lavender and softest grey, the pastel diary of early spring days. The promise of a new palette. Until then soak in the light, the heart, the hope. Warmth streaming through the window after our wintery lunch. 

Pull back the curtains, throw open the door and listen to the whisper of the world turning.

Green shoots!!

And just when it seemed like the relentless greyness would never return to light, under the dark compost, luscious rhubarb was being reborn.  It distracted me from the gloom.......

Green shoots, seeking light, embracing shade and living in glorious colour........

Living in muted colour

The Rosebay Willowherb are at the end of this cycle. At their height they are pinker and deeper than a girly pink. In early autumn they go to seed in a fluffy fashion and by December they are gnarled fists of skeletal remains clinging to their stalks.

In clumps along the ditches, they mark time with me, and as I walk I begin counting back months and reliving my own year.

I started out 2013 seeking light. Throughout the year I embraced shade. In spite of everything I am living in colour! Albeit more muted.

A few photographic memories from 2013......

Relentlessly snowy Berlin .....in March

All bets are off the arrival of Spring......in April

A few postcards from Sydney.......in May

Foxgloves on the lane.....in June

Friendship at the edge of time; Kerry.....in August

One of those nights.......in September

Lost in leafy light

Do you share a memory of lying under trees, watching the light flicker through the leaves? Did you throw yourself onto the grass and stare into the sky? Did you roll in leaves and kick them down the path on the way home from school, or half close your eyes to see faeries dancing between the branches and the sunlight?

Although Ireland should be covered in trees, outside urban areas the forests tend to be the monotonous evergreen pines planted all over Northern Europe. Sadly there is a lack of autumn glory in this part of the world, here autumn is over and winter has arrived.

But today under this rare group of copper beeches I revisited dreamy schoolgirl moments. Perhaps the world has enough photos of autumn leaves? What the hell, here are even more!

The cool balm of rain

Needing balm, something to soothe and cool, I turned again to the simple task of looking. Fired up and blasted off like a rocket that morning, by the end of the day I was dragging myself around.

Too many stories had caught my eye. There were so many burrows to explore. Strategies and crucial questions filled my brain. The simple task of looking would freeze the urgency.

The bracken still had tinges of green. The sky filled the frame with navy blue. Droplets held calm worlds within their lens.

Even now the smell of the earth and the undergrowth is a sweet memory that will get me through the busy days ahead.