I miss the sound of swan wings beating against the cold grey sky, long necks out-stretched and the rhythmic whoop-whoop-whoop as they each pass by, each following the one that flies before it, each one heading out into the mystery – beak-first. As I knit the sleeves of this large jumper with the slightly scratchy wool, I’ve been thinking a lot about swan wings. Most specifically about the 12th brother from the Wild Swans who drew the short straw and donned the unfinished nettle jacket with the one sleeve, his misfortune worn ever after as a solitary swan wing hinged at the shoulder. Part human, domestic, tame, civilised, socially-aware, and…

One of the things that most fascinates me about both photography and writing is that in choosing what to include and what to ignore, what to turn your camera towards and away from, what story to tell and what to keep untold, we create a frame for seeing the world that is both honest and false at the same time. And this is because we communicate our perspective subjectively – we see what is true for us, and then we share that “truth” in our art the way we best know how – through the creation of story, of image, of movement, of structure and form. Being able to appreciate…