Thursday, 8 June 2017

Pre-Order «Each Edge of the Field»




You can pre-order the new Beresford Hammond CD Each Edge of the Field now...

Tuesday, 6 June 2017

The Age of Innocence

Lilies-of-the-valley symbolize purity, modesty, and return of happiness.

~Edith Wharton,The Age of Innocence


Spring was late this year in the forest. Nature slept late under the white radiance of Winter. There was a slow pace that prevaded through the begining of that year. making the inner journey seem deeper and darker at times. Yesterday, little lilies of the valley  were standing amiably on the side of the road, welcoming light. 


“The Lily of the valley, breathing in the humble grass
Answer'd the lovely maid and said: "I am a watry weed,
And I am very small, and love to dwell in lowly vales;
So weak, the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head;
Yet I am visited from heaven, and he that smiles on all
Walks in the valley and each morn over me spreads his hand,
Saying: 'Rejoice, thou humble grass, thou new-born lily flower,” 
~ William Blake, The Book of Thel, and the Marriage of Heaven and Hell


Monday, 5 June 2017

To be hopeful

"To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. 

If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something, If we remember those times and places -- and there are so many -- where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however a small way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory."

~ Howard Zinn


Saturday, 3 June 2017

Day dream


“The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat...”
~ Edward Lear

Wednesday, 24 May 2017

Half savage and hardy

“Oh, I'm burning! I wish I were out of doors! I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free... and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I so changed?”
~Emily Brontë


Monday, 22 May 2017

And what is done in love is well done


I am working hard on making things happen. The health is not always at it's top and the energy taken is increased. But that creative work is one of the beautiful things that keep me affloat. Working on the flowers book, on sites and projects. Making storms in my brain to reorder the universe. It is necessary to move furniture around from time to time. Every morning I seek for an inspirational sentence, a poem that will instill high spirit for the day to come.

Magical bouquets of little Forget-me-not have appeared in the garden. It is dear to my heart. 



"It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength,
 and whosoever loves much performs much, 
and can accomplish much, 
and what is done in love is well done."

~Vincent Van Gogh

Friday, 19 May 2017

Opus Magnum

Il y a longtemps que sur ce blog, les premières images sont apparues. Plus de onze années sont passées pendant lesquelles la vie a sillonné son grand chemin. Le monde a tellement changé en si peu de temps. Puis pour moi aussi, le temps a déroulé son long fil de jours. Un instant d'arrêt, le temps de quelques mots...

La photographie de rue, les séances photo mariage, les événements et les portraits de diverse nature m'ont amenée à faire une belle tournée d'années où les visages multiples on tapissé ma route. Lors des séances, j'ai reçu le cadeau de la confiance et de confidences intimes. Des coeurs ouverts sur des souffrances parfois intenses, le regard sévères des femmes sur elles-mêmes, la maladie sans retour. Puis la grâce du rayon de soleil qui sublime l'image. La beauté sous toutes ses formes. J'ai été heureuse pendant ces moments; ces grandes joies et la fierté d'accomplir.

J'ai fait de l'art des fleurs dans un herbier d'images, arrimé ma caméra sur la rive du lac et fait des ses mouvements lents et de sa vie intime le miroir de mes bois. Puis j'ai gravé ce temps qui passe par les autoportraits de différentes séries. La photographie, c'est mon «grand oeuvre», mon alchimie par laquelle j'ai réalisé ma pierre philosophale susceptible de transmuter, de guérir et d'apporter l'immortalité.

Ma quête est celle de ce poème de John Keats:

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Les sites ont été redécorés. The 52nd, le mien et celui de Charlie Beresford avec qui cette quête de beauté conserve son sens.  Mille fois merci...

Je continue sur ce sentier de création qui me nourri et m'anime. Ces jours que je dis sans dire vraiment, ont été parsemés de doutes, de craintes, de peines et de deuils. Mais aussi de ces émerveillements quotidiens et des petits miracles qui font que tout espoir reste possible. 

Ma liste est longue, d'accomplissements à réaliser. Je prépare demain. 

Merci d'être là depuis tout ce temps...

New looking site for Spring time

I have been busy making things, living and so on... Here is my updated site...


Saturday, 7 January 2017

The White Radiance of Winter Project


From The White Radiance of Winter Project...

The colour that glanced and glowed in the heart of the hills of dream,
The light that dazzled and drew in the year that is on the wane.
The song with the moan of the wind and the whirr of the moorland steam,
they are still in a realm unreached, so we turn to the quest again.

Bring us new hopes, New Year; kindle fresh pharos-fires,
But whatsoever thou bring this boon of thy grace afford,
That in twelve moons' time we may still be afar from our dream-desires;
For never the thing attained is the thing we have toiled toward.

Not found poet...

Sunday, 1 January 2017

Sunday, 25 December 2016

Monday, 23 May 2016

Or From That Sea Of Time


Samedi à l'Île d'Orléans

OR, from that Sea of Time,
Spray, blown by the wind--a double winrow-drift of weeds and shells;
(O little shells, so curious-convolute! so limpid-cold and voiceless!
Yet will you not, to the tympans of temples held,
Murmurs and echoes still bring up--Eternity's music, faint and far,
Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica's rim--strains for the Soul of the
Prairies,
Whisper'd reverberations--chords for the ear of the West, joyously
sounding
Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable;)
Infinitessimals out of my life, and many a life,
(For not my life and years alone I give--all, all I give;)
These thoughts and Songs--waifs from the deep--here, cast high and
dry,
Wash'd on America's shores.

Currents of starting a Continent new,
Overtures sent to the solid out of the liquid,
Fusion of ocean and land--tender and pensive waves,
(Not safe and peaceful only--waves rous'd and ominous too.
Out of the depths, the storm's abysms--Who knows whence? Death's
waves,
Raging over the vast, with many a broken spar and tatter'd sail.)

Walt Whitman, Or From That Sea Of Time