Category: Journal

It is about six inches high, it sits on a desk in a manor house in England, and I have no idea what it meant to anyone. A bronze man, seated, legs crossed, reading. Whoever made him took it seriously — you can see the bow tie, the buttons on the waistcoat, the way the… Continue reading the old man

The first thing was the smell. Cold has one — anyone who has walked into a house that has not been heated for years knows it. Cold, and must, and old paper, and the particular flatness of a chimney that has not drawn in decades. Then you look up, and everything is still there. The… Continue reading The Room Full of Echoes

The room was small, and the silence in it was not restful. I have stood in a great many abandoned rooms. Most of them are peaceful. Most of them have finished with whoever used them and are getting on quietly with falling apart. This one had not finished, and I knew it within about ten… Continue reading The Last Letter

The only sound in that field was the wind moving through the grass. Which is a strange thing to notice, until you understand what you are standing in front of. Threshing was never quiet work. A machine like this one announced itself — you could hear it across fields, through closed windows, from the far… Continue reading Corn and Threshing, has long since passed

The church was empty. I know that because I could hear myself breathing. You don’t notice your own breath in a room that has other people in it. It takes a particular kind of emptiness — an ancient building in Malvern, a late afternoon, the door shut behind you and no footsteps but your own… Continue reading she turns toward the light

A glimmer of shimmering light, caught in an abandoned watermill. Everything here had settled into stillness long ago — and then this, briefly, passing through. The Dragonfly in ShimmerReference TH-307Single edition — one print only36 × 24 inches, Hahnemühle Photo Rag 308gsm£950, with certificate of authenticity Enquire about this print

Dark, hushed, and one barn owl held in a single fallen blade of light. Limited edition fine art, 1 of 5. The quiet you won’t want to leave.

Weathered coastal photography where a name outlives the boat it belonged to — a limited edition fine art print, and the only way to keep her afloat

Dust over the piano, but two lamps still burn. A limited edition fine art print — the only way this room stays lit

A clock that outlived the family who wound it. A limited edition fine art print — before the gilt-framed eyes look away