When thinking through this project, which artists to invite, and my hopes for a real-world window into an ongoing online project, I spent time sitting looking at the lightbox on the side of Thistle Hall as well as looking through the Women in Photography NZ & AU feed based on Instagram. 

For those of you who know the building and the wall, the Lightbox sits on there is, a quote taken from a letter from hall management to City Engineer dated 2nd August 1927 where they state  ‘We are looking to the future with progressive ideals’. 94 years later this gave me the words that weave through many of the themes of the 88 artists who have shared their work to date. Of these 88 I have chosen 8 artists from Aotearoa, 1 now resident in England, whose work resonates with a future I want to be a part of founded on more progressive ideals. Ideals and ideas of connection and reconnection to Whenua and self, acceptance, decolonisation, acknowledging the layers of history, our present and how everything we do now informs our future. 

Over the next 6 months, you will have the opportunity to experience the work of 8 artists - a singular image from each, present and visible day and night - here in Te Whanganui a Tara Wellington. Each image is a glimpse into the artist's practice and the wider community of WIP NZ & AU - a platform highlighting female/identifying and non-binary creators working in photo-based arts in NZ & AU. Engage. Connect and Debate. An invitation for you to explore further. Please do join us online for further discussions and at the conclusion of each artists work we will be hosting an Insta Live between the curator Virginia Woods-Jack  @virginiawoodsjack and the artist.

I am excited to announce that our first artist is Poppy Lekner @poppylekner based right here in Te Whanganui a Tara.

Poppy is an experimental process artist - after art school she started working with her grandmother’s books making these into biographical sun-based photograms on silver gelatin paper, since then her work has evolved to use light and object in many different ways - mostly cameraless. Her recent work has focussed on colour fields and synthesised landscape. In 2020 she was part of the Struck By Light exhibition as part of the Royal Photographic Society 100 Heroines Project in the UK, The International Alternative Processes Exhibition in New York and the winner of The Parkin Drawing Prize, later this year her work will feature in the Struck By Light show in Barcelona. She lives with her husband and their three kids in Te Whanganui-a-Tara Wellington. Stay tuned for a post later today when we will reveal Poppy’s contribution to this project.

Poppy writes of her piece.
My work "Bring Everything Today’, 2021 from The Glow Series is an imagined landscape made of pieces flipped and upright but without up and down, constructed in complete darkness using light and film. This work is about sense making and moving forward with a deeper sense of place through making creative connections through experimentation and reflection, in my own way “looking to the future with progressive ideals”.

Maggie Smith’s poem relates to this possibility “How Dark the Beginning”…

All we ever talk of is light…
…let me speak on behalf
Of the good dark. Let us
Talk more of how dark
The beginning of the day is.

This lightbox project is a collaboration between artist and writer, lover and lover, boyfriend and girlfriend. It’s like raising a sapling from seed. Like observing new life, stem and leaf: adapt and interact with its environment. Like the careful pruning of a tree. Then plucking at the plant for its fruit and gnawing at its seeds. So with the seeds, the cycle of creation and collaboration can begin anew.

Lightbox is pleased to present '26th June 2019 - Badlands National Park, South Dakota' by Anna Persson, on until the 23rd of December and curated by Melina Payne.

Artist Anna Persson explains:

"I've always held a deep love and admiration for landscapes - both internal and external. This year, I embarked on a life-changing journey across the United States with my pal, Alissa. We hitchhiked over 5000km from Wisconsin to Oregon with journals, instruments, and a camera. Four days into our adventure, we found ourselves in the surreal Badlands National Park - our lives forever changed by hiking through the desert and later surviving a lightning storm in a $20 tent! These photographs and reflections are from that day - 26th June 2019 on the Castle Trail in the Badlands National Park, South Dakota." Anna Persson is an all-round creative bean hailing from the most isolated city in the world (Perth, Australia). When not chasing Summers in the Northern Hemisphere, she can be found embracing Summers in her adopted home of Wellington, New Zealand. Anna's work marries her vagabond lifestyle and passion for travel with her sense of whimsical joie de vivre.

Lightbox is pleased to present 'Bach No. 7' by Nadine Meyer with accompanying text by Sophie MacDonald, showing until the 6th of December and curated by Melina Payne.

Artist Nadine Meyer explains:

"'Bach No.7' is one of the found object assemblages from my 'Baches series'. These works represent the New Zealand phenomenon -- the bach -- a small, often very modest holiday home or beach house. I made 'Bach No. 7' wanting to preserve the beauty of old baches with their eroded, faded, broken, chipped, fringed, rusted materials by incorporating them in my work. Each of my pieces are assembled similarly to the way the original baches were/are constructed -- they are small in size, adopt a square-like form and are largely made from found objects and cheap or recycled materials; most of which were collected either from site of the property where I live or the beach nearby."

In their response named 'Fantastic Voyage', Sophie MacDonald writes:

On the fringes
eroded and distorted, she will stay;
chipped teeth, chewing on sand
and a gritty tongue, licking, lapping,
Pawing, at the porch.
Though, her fixtures – askew,
she will not weep.

Floorboards bowed and bowing
to the weight – of the air,
saturated, with salt – or perhaps –
the echoes, the chatter
of children, or ribs, cracking;

Does she tow her own ghost?

We, paralian children, are clever; we know
that though the wind may buckle her bough,
it will not break her.
Resilience, rust,
with a head upon her breast,
we will fall;

asleep.

Though nobody is home
she will reserve the right

to take a new name.

Sophie MacDonald is a student that grew up in a small rural town in the King Country, before moving to Wellington to pursue studies at Victoria University. She has been interested in writing since a young girl but didn’t start writing poetry until her time at university. While she loves writing, Sophie also explores other mediums of art, such as painting, ceramics, and drawing, when time allows it.

Lightbox is pleased to present the work of Alice Fennessy, showing until November 22nd and curated by Melina Payne.

Artist Alice Fennessy explains:

"My work aims to use the cyanotype medium to mark the passing of time, and to explore the uncertain nature of memories; the ways in which dreams, reflections and experiences collide and conflate when recalling moments in time. In it,  several drawings are compressed onto the surface of the single work, referencing dream images, fragments of memory and late night thoughts."

Lightbox is pleased to present "Possum Hunting" by Nicholas Burry with accompanying text by Anique Jayasinghe, showing until November 7th and curated by Melina Payne.

Artist Nicholas Burry explains:

"Possum Hunting" is an ‘imagined’ self portrait which attempts to capture a feeling of my own childhood memories and perhaps a misplaced nostalgia. Memories of forming precocious militias with friends and family. Setting out to hunt and kill possums, which in the narrative became this vague existential threat, only ever glimpsed. Equipped with homemade bows of green wood that would bend and never return to their original shape or snap outright.

But it seems in hindsight, the objective was only the fantasy (and I'm thankful we never actually caught anything). To me there's a tension in the scene, the character, too old for the game, the mood, a little too serious. Aspects of this work were painted using a photographic reference from a camping trip I went on when I was about 18. While other components were painted from imagination. I think on that level the work is accurate, in the way that as we repeat memories to ourselves, they begin to distort. Borders and space begin to dissolve until it is only an unspecific setting which the principal actors/events inhabit. These memories seem to   Myths."

In response, Anique Jayasinghe writes:

How do you remember your younger self? 

Is that how you saw yourself then?

Burry’s reflective portrait of his eighteen-year-old-self prods at these questions of self-perception and memory with a hint of humour and nostalgia. Pictured centrally, the heroic figure looks back at us, bow hoisted upon shoulder and coat collar flared in the wind, as if beckoning us to join the hunt. 

We know this game of make-believe. The scenery of our adventures may have been different to these hazy Canterbury plains, but the rules of conjuring are universal. Perhaps even primal. 

Possum Hunting recalls childhood fantasies through Burry’s early experiences of faux hunts with siblings clutching makeshift bows. Viewers are lured into recollecting our forays into imagining more of our physical boundedness - where the stairs were once a treacherous climb through a mountainous valley and that cardboard box was a portal through time.

Our missions into the wild unknown were as romantic and earnest as this figure’s expression, and yet simultaneously, the artwork belies this with tongue-in-cheek hindsight. As Burry reflects, “…the objective was only the fantasy (and I'm thankful we never actually caught anything).” The work further interrogates whether all such supposed ‘childish’ fantasy is behind us. We are reminded of how we all, to varying degrees and outcomes, mythologise about who we were, are and will be. 

This mutability of identity and memory is rendered aptly with Burry’s use of medium. The combination of gestural oil stick and paint with utilitarian builder’s paper reacts to desaturate colours and steep the overall composition in a foggy flux. Our piecing together of amorphous memories long past, parallels the disjointed borders and roughly torn edges framing the moment in question.

And with all this in mind, I wonder;

How do we reconcile memories of younger selves with who we are now?

This fortnight, Lightbox is pleased to present the work of Christina Little and the writing of Talia Merrin. Both running until October 25th and curated by Melina Payne, Talia writes in response to Christina's work creating a dialogue between image and text. 

Artist Christina Little explains:

"This is a photograph taken at Rocky Bay, Porirua. The image is both familiar, yet ambiguous. I liked the idea of isolating a specific fragment of the shoreline and removing the context from the viewer."

Christina Little is a New Zealand born artist photographer based in Wellington. Christina creates contemporary photographic works through the isolation of nature’s movement, light, shadows and textures. Her work usually includes both creative investigation and learning about the topography and natural history of the location, this has included Marlborough Sounds, and the Greater Wellington region. Christina’s images are both familiar, yet ambiguous. They play with our perception of scale and reality; and could be perceived as microscopic studies or macroscopic bodies. Christina’s prefers to use the camera hand-held rather than on a tripod, giving her greater control when capturing where the natural movements are in the subjects producing painterly and lyrical abstractions.

In response, Talia Merrin writes:

There is a world before me now

So viscerally I see

Shimmering

Each colour a kingdom below the sea

Reflecting an inbetween

Where two lights meet.

I look from above

But imagine my feet

ankles deep

As they dip and sink

Into the salt

Into the sand

Into a pool

Shallow

But life how it seems

The colours steep

The colours flow

The colours create

Pockets

Pockets, that mirror everything

White also hiding

There is so much more to see

These waters

Cool and crisp

Not warm and sweet

My breath leaves

Picked up by the wind

Rippling the surface

Together they snicker

Whispering something other

Something wild

To those by the shoreline

They want to claw the rocks underneath

Shape underwater pottery

Stealing the colours

For selfish artistry.

Lightbox is pleased to present 'Eye of the Bovine', a growing collaborative show by Sabina Rizos-Shaw and Siân Stephens, on until the 11th of October and curated by Melina Payne. 

'Eye of the Bovine' is an exploration of a satirical approach to activism through multi-media art about the ethical conundrum of animal agriculture, drawing from Rhydian Thomas's not-so-fictitious universe of Milk Island.

Beginning with Siân's milk carton, Siân and Sabina will take turns producing an artwork for Lightbox. This will see Lightbox slowly fill with more work as time progresses, creating a dialogue between the two artist's practices.

About the artists:

Siân Stephens is a painter and video artist whose practice explores the unseen and disturbing realities of animal agriculture. The underlying tone of the work is activism based, and the subject matter is an honest display of the unnatural experiences of cattle in the process leading up to beef and milk appearing on the supermarket shelves. All the work is made in the hope that, if discovered through a visual art platform, the viewer is inspired to re-evaluate their relationship with the animals that are so lavishly used as resources; a truthful and confronting appeal for compassion, through large scale oil paintings and graphic video art. A desire to open critical discussion on how the consumption of animal bi-products became normalised, is the artist’s foremost intention.   

Sabina Rizos-Shaw is a Wellington based artist who recently finished a Fine Arts Honours degree at Massey University. Her practice is focused around textiles, painting and sculpture. She uses the process of creating to work through personal feelings, employing humour and a certain mediation to obscure sincere undertones, aided by her use of a bright, naïve aesthetic. Often the work is somewhat a pastiche. She enjoys exploring themes of construction and articulation of the self, construction and articulation of artworks, overcoming trauma, as well as performance and viewer participation.  

In response, Sarah Robinson writes:

Me: “What do you think about the dairy industry in New Zealand?”
Most people: “I don’t know… I’ve never really thought about it before, I guess.”

A fairly innocuous question, but perhaps it’s a little more than that. For most people, we know the dairy industry exists and we know it’s a huge part of Aotearoa’s economy and livelihood, but I’d hazard a guess that not a lot of us think about it beyond this. I know I don’t. 

Eye of the Bovine encourages us to think a little more closely about this all-important, true-blue, hard-yakka Kiwi industry, the choices we make that relate to it and the assumptions we hold about it. It’s not an attempt at sermon, lecture, criticism or guilt-trip; it’s an invitation to a conversation about the ethical conundrum of animal agriculture. The works’ satirical and extreme nature is intended to draw attention to issues that should be more widely talked about and acknowledged: the animal ‘other’ and the female body, exploitation, trauma, consent, national identity and the importance we place on this industry, nationalism and capitalism, the normalization of certain practices in Aotearoa, and the perceived ‘need’ for dairy products and the lengths we go to to have them.

Sian and Sabina’s styles are very different, Sabina uses textiles, sculpture and painting to bring her ideas to life, while Sian employs painting and video to express hers. Sian’s works are often beautifully crafted but fundamentally difficult to look at. Sabina’s are subversive and ironic, pulling viewers in to a new state of mind, an alternative way of looking at things. The juxtaposition and accumulation of the works is itself a conversation; the artists speak to each other and respond to each subsequent work with another of their own, thereby continuing the conversation beyond the different media they use. The artworks themselves are also a point of conversation; you may love or hate them, or you may remain indifferent, who knows.They are designed to be humorous and satirical in a way that makes art and activism simultaneously accessible and profound, and we hope that, at the very least, they incite something in you - maybe just an internal dialogue or maybe one that you share with others, that’s up to you.

Sian and Sabina’s collaboration is born out of a desire to address the above issues, as well as a mutual understanding and wariness of the industry and what it means for the animals at the center of it. Working together previously on several projects, this topic arose naturally for the pair. Sian’s interest in the rights of cows spans three years and extends to of her wider practice, while Sabina’s interest in satirical art brought her onto the scene just a few months ago; the works are inspired by Rhydian Thomas’s Milk Island and their own personal perspectives on cows, art and activism. 

After working together on a group show, Atom Heart Mother, these ideas became a conversation and have further developed into Eye of the Bovine. The works are a nod to both Thomas’s intriguing and illuminating collection of stories, and an exploration of their own agri-sentiments. It is now our turn to take part in this conversation, thinking perhaps a little more critically about how we engage with dairy in New Zealand. At the same time, though, maybe you don’t want to think more critically, maybe you already are or maybe you’re happier not thinking about it at all. Either way, you’ll hopefully think about your response to my opening question and to these artworks, and maybe that’s enough. The point is: this exhibition doesn’t seek to shock or disgust people into agreeing with the artists, it seeks to draw out your own personal and organic reactions and leave you to fill in the blanks. Or to talk about it with others, and spread that seed far and wide.

As the conversation progresses, and as each new work is added, I’ll write a little something here in response. Please feel free to do the same by submitting feedback in whatever way you see fit, by using the hashtag #ilovemilkymoo. Remember that the cows won’t ever get this opportunity, so it could be up to you to speak for them.

Curated by Melina Payne.

Artist Robert Laking explains:

"I found this drawing on Manners Street. It was mid afternoon, and I was on my way to my studio.

I find it amusing that the worksheet was imagining the year 2010. Other than this annum, there are few clues offered as to the time this drawing was created. The 2,222,222 emblazoned on the port side of the plane could hint at this being a prediction for 2222222AD, at least 2,220,210 years beyond the suggested timeframe. Similarly, it is an anonymous creation.

I appreciate the minimal yet realistic colouring of the designated drawing space, with the artist instead opting to freestyle on the other side of the page. 

The company name ’AIR CHOCOLate’ isn’t far off from the absurdity of Flamingo scooters and Onzo bikes which populate Wellington’s streets in 2019. Nor is it far off from Air New Zealand’s recent promotional ‘rebranding’ as Air All Blacks. I wonder whether the fictitious company may be embracing its reputation for delays by branding itself as Choco-Late. Alternatively, ’ate’ can also be interpreted as synonymous with eaten.

The green and brown colour pairing hint at Aero Mint Chocolate. Aerated chocolate would make for an adequately lightweight material for an aeroplane, while maintaining its structural integrity. Which raises the question: would a Cadbury Chocolate Aeroplane be fuelled by palm oil?

The chocolate coloured slide, acting as a chute for what appears to be the Sun, is a nice detail. One would hope that the artist was inspired by a local playground on a sunny day, as opposed to an aeronautical catastrophe. By extension, one would hope that the Sun isn’t in fact a lone survivor engulfed in flames. Of course this is unlikely to be the case, but it cannot be ruled out entirely. Kids these days…"

Robert Laking is an artist, writer and curator based in Te-Whanganui-a-Tara. His art practice is mostly text-based, but he has also amassed a large collection of found objects which he exhibits from time to time. One day this collection will be shown in full.

This fortnight, Lightbox is pleased to present the work of Christian Dimick and the writing of Olivia Deakin and curated by Melina Payne. Both running until September 11th, Olivia writes in response to "Slow Warnings", creating a dialogue between image and text. 

Artist Christian Dimick explains:

"Using imagery inspired by the ever changing forms of the Jakobshavn glacier in Greenland, as well as the Sanchi oil tanker collision that occurred in 2018 "Slow Warnings" is a product of the erratic and unstable nature of the earth currently. This instability is a product of humans ignorant use of the planet's resources and our flaws in the way we use, transport and value them. Using malleable materials such as ink and oil paint, the movement of warmer ocean currents seem to be in motion through the work. Along with this, the heat and toxicity of the industrial world (seen in the bottom right) bleeds into the purity of the sea -- eating into the surface. 

The earth reacts and responds to the ways in which we treat it. By reading the signs and warnings it gives us, we may find ways in which we can develop a positive relationship with our volatile home."

In response to "Slow Warnings", Olivia Deakin writes: 

“You like abstract art! So, you’ll like this!” I was told, and they weren’t wrong. I love it, I'm making my bias aware to you straight away.  But should this be considered abstract? I recently read that abstract art is the portrayal of things in which the visible world plays no part.  The charcoal bleeds down the canvas. Visually reminding us of the aerial perspective of our coastline. The patterns formed by water moving back and forth over sand and soil. That alone is the portrayal of something in our visible world. So, what category can Slow Warnings be placed into? Not abstract under the definition I've given you. The debate on whether I should even try to catalogue and define and place art into a nice neat box is for another very long day. This work stands for something bigger. It fits within Christian’s current inspiration of coastal erosion, continuing on from its initial inspiration of the forever changing Jakobshavn glacier. Simple imagery which embodies larger issues at hand. There is a social phenomenon known as having your head in the sand which we see every day in the discussions and warnings about climate change. People become overwhelmed by what they see, read, hear, and react by rejecting and ignoring the warnings. We must provide an aesthetically pleasing message that can slowly coax their head out and re-inspire them to make an impact.  These slow warnings act as alarm bells for oncoming environmental issues. In an attempt to place Slow Warnings in that nice neat box I mentioned, I think I need to wrap it with a hemp string bow. Placing it within the long and active history of environmental art, or ecological art. Art that highlights our relationship with nature and also highlights the current state of our natural environment. Art that educates, that is socially and politically active, art the challenges big corporations and governments, art that seeks change. Artists such as Betty Beaumont, Agnes Denes, Chris Jordan, the group Ephemeral Coast, and even our own Joyce Campbell. This is just a small handful of artists like Christian Dimick who seek to discuss and educate viewers about the environmental concerns of today. I would say this nice neat box has more at stake than the abstract box. A work like Slow Warnings challenges your understanding of the world but so beautifully pushes you towards making a change. Listen to the slow warnings that our environment gives us and listen to the artists who depict this. 

I’ve included below a short interview with Christian Dimick (Instagram: @christaiirr). To provide an insight into the work of this second-year art student who already seems to be placing himself within a long and important art historical discourse. 

Q: You are in your second year of a BFA at Massey, how are you finding this year? What is your favourite class? 

A: I am enjoying my second year so much more than the first. Having my own studio space is a big luxury and I feel really privileged to have a space to myself where I can really put my head down and get into my work. My favourite class would probably be my studio class. Where we have the freedom to take on making through any medium but are prompted on different topics.

Q: What influences your work?

A: A lot of different places, people, and histories definitely come into play when I’m making. I’m mostly focused on shoreline erosion on the coasts of Aotearoa and more specifically the Kapiti coast. Taking inspiration from places and their textures

Q: Where do you look for new influences?

A: Definitely other artists that work with layering/texture and utilize the natural world in their work. An artist who comes to mind would be Antoni Tàpies. I’m unashamedly obsessed with him at the moment.

Q: You haven't always been working in Wellington, how do other cities influence your work?

A: I was living in Sydney last year where I did the first year of my degree. I’d say my work has become more about the people and places around me rather than myself. I enjoy looking back to my older drawings and paintings because they are kind of naive but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ll probably look back at the work I’ve done this year and think it was naive as well. It’s all part of growing! 

Q: How has your work developed since beginning your BFA?

A: I’m more focused on layering and textures now in my work. Everything is less literal and less figurative.

Q: Describe the process you used in creating this work. What materials did you use?

A: Secrets!!! 

Q: Does the work have a title?

A: The work is called ‘Slow Warnings’

Q: What does your work aim to say?

A: The ideas that the work is projecting are always changing a little bit. I feel like the overarching idea is the imminent. There is pressure all around us on the planet at the moment. And pressure always reaches a breaking point. 

Q: What's next for your artistic practice?

A: I’m not sure yet. I’m in a good place at the moment and I’m still feeling inspired by the themes of erosion and excavation that I’m looking at when I go to paint/draw. I’ve been working with field recording a lot at the moment so that may transform into a new body of work.

Q: Do you find time to make work not intended for your BFA?

A: Yeah for sure. When I am feeling stuck with a painting I always love to go back to figurative painting or drawing. Especially large scale. I can let myself go and it doesn’t seem so serious.

Olivia Deakin, born in Sydney, Australia but grew up on a farm in Nelson, is a current student at Victoria University of Wellington completing her Honours in Art History. Along with a background in Sociology, she is interested in how people view and interact with art in art spaces. She is passionate about ceramics and their treatment within the art world.

This fortnight, Lightbox is pleased to present the work of Aleksandra Glumac and the writing of Amber Clausner and curated by Melina Payne. Both running until August 27th, Amber writes in response to "The Beasts", creating a dialogue between image and text. 

Artist Aleksandra Glumac explains:

""The Beasts" are a series of camera-less photographs I created with plastics I found on beaches of Wellington and around New Zealand. I created these photograms in a dark room at The Learning Connexion of Creativity and Art, where I am a student. Photograms are made by placing an object in contact with a photosensitive surface in the dark, and then exposing both to light. Where the object blocks the light, either partially or fully, its shadow is recorded on the paper. Plastic bags are beasts in the ocean, which harm marine and land environments in catastrophic ways. I created "The Beasts" series to call attention to the environmental impact of plastic bags and disposable plastic and to raise awareness about the global plastic waste crisis."

In response to "The Beasts", artist and writer Amber Clausner writes:

A BOTTLE IN A BAG,

POLYETHYLENE TEREPHTHALATE (PET) AND POLYETHYLENE (HDPE), RESPECTIVELY

(ONE HOLDS WATER FROM A FAR AWAY PLACE, 

THE OTHER HOLDS THE BOTTLE THAT PROVIDES THE WATER TIGHT SPACE)

THEY ARE PURCHASED, USED BRIEFLY, THEN LEFT ON THE LAND,

IN A PARK, ON A HILL, AT THE BEACH, IN THE SAND.

THEY SEARCH FOR THEIR OWNER,

LOOK FAR AND LOOK WIDE.

HDPE FLOATS ON WINDS, CHASING BIRDS THAT CAN FLY

PET FOLLOWS STREAMS, WATCHING FISH SLOWLY DIE.

THEY MEET ON A RIVER BANK, ALL GRIMY AND SLIMY

CLING ON TO EACH OTHER, DIRTY WATER PASSES BY

HERE THEY REST (ROTTING FOSSILS SIGNAL DECAY)

AND HERE THEY STAY (UNTIL A LOCAL INITIATIVE TAKES THEM AWAY)

(AMBER CLAUSNER IS A MULTI MEDIA ARTIST FROM THE UK, CURRENTLY LIVING AND WORKING IN TE WHANGANUI-A-TARA, AOTEAROA. SHE IS AN AVID BELIEVER IN THE POWERFUL LINGUISTIC EFFECT OF CAPS LOCK IN THE ABSENCE OF THE AUDIBLE VOICE.)

Curated by Melina Payne.

I am a professional photographer and musician working in Wellington and further afield, with a large clientele of mostly portraiture clients.  I took this image of Tami Neilson at her home in Auckland as part of an impromptu shoot.  I like this photograph so much because it could be anyone, but it's completely her. It is both perfect and imperfect at the same time. I really love the movement, the colour and the general good feeling vibe, which has the effect of swinging between an old world and a contemporary one, immediate in it's feeling and pertinent to my life.