Archives for category: Education

I was asked to present a workshop for young children, older children and their parents and grandparents, inspired by Geraldine McCaughrean’s upcoming novel, Peter Pan in Scarlet, which is set in Margate.  Once again I travelled back to Planet Thanet, with my suitcase of objects to facilitate a writing workshop with the Margate Theatre Royal youth group.  Armed with Margatian postcards, letters, envelopes and small writing journals I asked those taking part to be inspired by the contents of the suitcases, and write their own fictional tale or correspondence.



From the 16th-20th of June the old Truman Brewery on Brick Lane housed the photography degree shows of 2011. The space T1 was dominated by Ba(Hons)Photographic Art students  from the University of Westminster where my project The Interference of Mr A. Ferguson and other performances was exhibited alongside artists, Sam Nightingale and Craig Barker. The show was well received and attended with many of my fellows having good reviews. I was fortunate to have my work discussed for the free-range round up by Coggles blog, please click here for more information.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wonder for a long while, contemplating who the woman is, what is her name? I turn over the photograph and find written, squiggled in pencil, Josephine. A few weeks later whilst in a junk shop I find a letter written to Alice. I decide to make them friends. They shall be terribly good friends.

Mr. A Ferguson owns a post office savings book, his name is written ever so neatly in blue ink on the first page. I decide that somebody so neat should own some correcting fluid, for the mistakes made in the future. He should keep all of these important necessities in a brown suitcase, to match his brown shoes.

Discovering and making connections, I now see things that are not really there and take great satisfaction in doing so. I have arranged the items, grouped them together to uncover a history that I know does not exist. So intriguing is the trace of people, that they perform for me the stories of the past.


To Be Continued…

I wonder for a long while, contemplating who the woman is, what is her name? I turn over the photograph and find written, squiggled in pencil, Josephine. A few weeks later whilst in a junk shop I find a letter written to Alice. I decide to make them friends. They shall be terribly good friends. 

 Mr. A Ferguson owns a post office savings book, his name is written ever so neatly in blue ink on the first page. I decide that somebody so neat should own some correcting fluid, for the mistakes made in the future. He should keep all of these important necessities in a brown suitcase, to match his brown shoes.

 Discovering and making connections, I now see things that are not really there and take great satisfaction in doing so. I have arranged the items, grouped them together to uncover a history that I know does not exist. So intriguing is the trace of people, that they perform for me the stories of the past.

To Be Continued…

I wonder for a long while, contemplating who the woman is, what is her name? I turn over the photograph and find written, squiggled in pencil, Josephine. A few weeks later whilst in a junk shop I find a letter written to Alice. I decide to make them friends. They shall be terribly good friends. 

 Mr. A Ferguson owns a post office savings book, his name is written ever so neatly in blue ink on the first page. I decide that somebody so neat should own some correcting fluid, for the mistakes made in the future. He should keep all of these important necessities in a brown suitcase, to match his brown shoes.

 Discovering and making connections, I now see things that are not really there and take great satisfaction in doing so. I have arranged the items, grouped them together to uncover a history that I know does not exist. So intriguing is the trace of people, that they perform for me the stories of the past.

I wonder for a long while, contemplating who the woman is, what is her name? I turn over the photograph and find written, squiggled in pencil, Josephine. A few weeks later whilst in a junk shop I find a letter written to Alice. I decide to make them friends. They shall be terribly good friends. 

 Mr. A Ferguson owns a post office savings book, his name is written ever so neatly in blue ink on the first page. I decide that somebody so neat should own some correcting fluid, for the mistakes made in the future. He should keep all of these important necessities in a brown suitcase, to match his brown shoes.

Discovering and making connections, I now see things that are not really there and take great satisfaction in doing so. I have arranged the items, grouped them together to uncover a history that I know does not exist. So intriguing is the trace of people, that they perform for me the stories of the past.



Concerned with the notions of loss and communication I have brought the correspondence of my past to the shores of where England and France once met. The journey and act of photographing demonstrate a ritualistic performance similar to the weekly letters one writes to those living distantly.

Becoming almost like a performance and an obsession I visited Seaford once a week for 8 weeks. With each visit I brought a different letter and photographed it amongst the rocks of Seaford’s coastline. When I was satisfied, I began to stitch the images together.