Family Life the slowed-down way
I’ve kept my camera by my side like another set of eyes, just wanting to hold onto every surreal-yet-normal moment
My first thought, when writing this piece for JUNO Magazine, was to talk about my approach to the family photography I do, and the buzz I get when I know I’m going to peek into a new home and get to connect, observe and tell an honest story for that family on that given day. But it’s evolved, straight into a circle back to my own family.
Family photojournalism or family storytelling (to give it a genre) is thankfully treading the boards of
its own stage in the photography world, alongside stunningly crafted portraits and outdoor
beautifully golden-hour lit lifestyle photo-shoots, and I couldn’t be happier. To be given the
opportunity to engage and record a time in a family’s history that is incredibly real and feeling for
decades to come, quite seriously is the only way for me. Whether it’s photographing the flung
pieces of mashed avocado at meal times, or a heartfelt sorry-cuddle after a sibling stand-off. It’s
these genuine connections and those quiet in-between moments that you rarely get to see unless
you really look, or more importantly we will all need reminding of in time to come. The honestly
told day-in-the-life family album.
I was blessed to spend two different days with two different families earlier this year. They each
epitomised every reason why I approach this type of storytelling. However, both came with a
personal challenge to me. Neither wanted photographs to be shared online in my portfolio for a
variety of valid reasons which I completely respect. Nonetheless, as I sat quietly in a corner of their
rooms watching and photographing them, I couldn’t help but feel my heart sink a little as I clicked
away at some beautifully real moments I knew I would never share with the world. Having said this,
the trust and connections I form with my families mean the most and it’s this that grounds me, I’m
photographing for their family’s future generations, not mine.
Then came a pandemic to slow down life, and enable me to fully turn the camera onto my own
family. It’s no lie that the past few months were hectic leading up to it and
I realised in a heartbeat that I needed to learn to stand still with them all over again.
It honestly felt that our home transformed overnight into a dance studio, classroom, canteen and
cinema. The existing daily vision of a vintage motorbike being built in our family room over winter
and spring, suddenly erupted into a more permanent and expanding longer-term project. We found
our rhythm and it was in our own chaotically effortless way.
Aided by the steady flow of goodness and innovation that began to flow from so many
communities, offering creative and physical support both locally and online. So we flowed ourselves, into our own version of classroom learning. Using our newly plastered stair wall as a timeline for daily questions such as, ‘who was Emmeline Pankhurst?’ and ‘what’s the difference between an asteroid and a comet?’
The usual smartphone and laptop time limit dissipated as
maintaining lost play dates and sleepovers, along with having birthday celebrations through these
devices became a truly lovely and crucial alternative to stay connected with others.
We took to the streets with chalk messages… well wishes to neighbours, love and thanks to
healthcare and key workers. We have felt the sweet moments of giving virtual hugs to friends from
across the road as they scootered by. We drop food bags at grandparents’ doors while waving all
the love we can to them at two metres apart. These are times mixed with some laughter, mindful of
our own needed space and the odd sneaky tear or two. I’ve kept my camera by my side like
another set of eyes, just wanting to hold onto every surreal-yet-normal moment.
Then comes that personal challenge again, this time from my 13-year-old. As I rightly need to get
permission from her for every photograph I want to use. Déjà Vu. Investing in lengthy verbal battles
to explain this is all for family album, particularly in these exceptional times. I won’t continue with
how some days it works, how other days there’s an outright “no” to taking her photograph… these
are the days are resigned to still life and self-portraiture! So it’s that fine balance of respecting her
wishes, without question, to me pleading with her for the sake of her very own family album to look
at in decades to come.
There has definitely been a strong yearning to record the gentle and honest moments of my own family during this compulsory downshift to family life. Which I find incredibly poignant as it is exactly what I strive to do with other families when I’m invited into their homes.
But right now, aside from keeping my family loved, fed and safe, I know I will look back with some gratitude on the days I got to stand still and explore my own home.
Artifact Motherhood | Chasing New Adventures
It took us all day to pack up our campervan and leave the home we’ve not left in over four months. The range of emotions around taking to the road for the first time since March was quite intense. The anticipation of journeying anywhere and everywhere to be among new shorelines and landscapes was stronger.
The four walls of our home has been our safe world. Finding adventures in the immediate surroundings, wiping away plenty of tears as well as laughing so hard at times our bellies ached. Looking over at our beloved van, our travelling holiday home, lying neglected on the driveway, I wondered whether we’d ever wander again this year.
So yes, it took longer than ever to load up all the stuff we never need for these trips, put a pin in the map of three hours away and then arrive far later than planned on the south west coast. That last light walk up the hill to the coastal path beckoned and I could feel every tension melt as we got closer to the top. They ran on ahead, she’s very much her father’s girl …though I love how she still checks where I am.
This family. From lock-down to adventuring once again.
Artifact Motherhood is a collaboration of artists/mothers from around the world. Sharing stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Our hopes and dreams for our children. With little nuggets of wisdom here and there. These are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifact we are leaving behind for children and the generations to come.
Please visit the next artist in our blog circle, the talented Lauren Webster and continue through all the artists until you get back to me.
Two Languages From The Start | Our Journey into the Welsh Language
Dwy Iaith O’r Dechrau Two Languages From The Start
Tucked away on a residential road in Caldicot, South Wales is a little primary school. It’s what you might call a hidden gem, especially as it lies on a border Wales-England town close to the banks of the River Severn. As it is a place where the children who go there, take part in lessons and playtime through the medium of Welsh.
Ysgol Gymraeg Y Ffin, meaning Welsh School of the Border, was the school we chose to send our daughter to and it will always hold a special place in my heart.
I will admit initially, it was a brave step into an unknown for us, choosing to educate a child in a language neither of us spoke at home. And I won’t deny, it also raised a few eyebrows for some friends and family, asking us why two non-welsh speakers – we’re what you might call life-longer learners – could have made such a choice.
Along the way we’ve faced the questions, such as “how will you help her with homework?” Or statements like “well I think you’re brave, as I’d want to know what my kids are saying about me behind my back!” To answer the first, she’s pretty amazing at translating her school work between two languages when she needs to and to respond to the second, well… don’t they talk about us in any language?
To give some background, we were some part convinced that this was the way to go as she approached pre-school. Mainly due to her father, who was born in Montreal Canada and who went to a French-speaking school for the first few years of his school life. He has maintained his French having not lived there since he was 10 years old. Also I have older nieces, who I’ve watched in amazement as they grew fluent so quickly and are using their Welsh not only across Wales but in other communities across the world. To give the opportunity, a gift of another language for our own child, was an easy decision in the end. She’s now been bilingual since five years old.
However, there is more to the reason than this and this bit is really quite special, as I know that many schools and home-educating communities across the country offer positive learning experiences for children and families alike. So to watch our little girl walk into a school with a deep-routed passion for the Arts and for the Welsh culture certainly helped create the trust and belief we needed. With smaller class numbers and wellbeing right up there with these children’s academic learning experience, it became a journey we embraced rather than the original leap of faith we held. The teachers genuinely know and take pride in all the children and their unique achievements.
This is also a little school where we’ve made the best of friends. Not just people that have grown up living in our community, but people from all over the country and world that have lived elsewhere for years and have now returned to Wales with their own families. Not always Welsh-speaking, there are those who see something familiar and fitting from within their own international culture that links in so well. Quite often Welsh or English aren’t the only languages you’ll hear at the school gate.
The positive effect of seeing these children take care of each other is profound. They are walking, talking voices of reason. I’ve spent time over the years volunteering at this school, enough to see beyond the magic of classroom learning. There’s kindness and respect between these kids which speaks volumes. Whether they openly hug and console on mass, someone who’s fallen on the playground, or the times they’ve spoken up with a zero-tolerate approach to a mean remark to another child they barely know. I also remember with fondness, how she’d come home and talk animately about a tribe of infant kids she’d just become an adopted ‘school mum’ to!
Bore da – good morning
Nos da – good night
Hwyl fawr – goodbye
Diolch yn fawr – thank you
Croeso – welcome
The Welsh word, hiraeth (pronounced hear-rithe) has no direct translation. It’s a bit like the Danish word, hygge, only it’s more a feeling than a way of being. It’s a feeling of nostalgia, a yearning and a sense of longing. Imagine that it’s not necessarily connected to a physical place, but that it can be of a yearning for an era, a person or even somewhere you’ve yet to experience. Your spiritual home.
I’ve experienced the the magic of my daughter becoming bilingual from a young age, I’ve watched her embrace her Welsh culture with friends she’ll have for life wherever she goes in this world. Hiraeth explains the feeling to me well. I have nostalgia for Ysgol Gymraeg Y Ffin and I truly hope that others will get to feel this for years to come.
Featured in the Spring 2020 issue of JUNO Magazine
Artifact Motherhood | Seasons of Motherhood
Seasons of Motherhood
A Spring Lockdown
So much has changed in our relationship during this surreal time in our lives. Even though I’ve had to learn super fast and hard that she’s fiercely independent, growing up in ways that I’m thankful I’ve had the chance to observe far more in these slowed down, stay at home moments. The bedroom door slams shut more than ever before and it feels like she doesn’t want me quite so much. Then I wake up to an extra body pushing me out of bed in the mornings, her arm slumped over me checking that I’m there. I’ve also had to turn into a mind reader, though I still keep getting it wrong, daily. Furiously casting my mind back to being 13 all over again.
This is Artifact Motherhood; a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records, we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come.
This entry is the second in a new series which we’ve just begun doing called “Seasons of Motherhood” and is meant to be one picture and one caption that represents our current journey/season of motherhood.
Please visit the next artist in our blog circle, Hollie Stokes, and continue through all the artists until you get back to me.
Photographing Community Stories
Community Connections
There’s a saying that it takes a village to raise a child and I believe that this is the perfect metaphor to link with the communities I’ve been honoured to photograph over the years. Although no two communities are the same there is a common heartbeat, a strong connection that runs across them all. It’s the gathering of people with the purpose of supporting, offering refuge and educating those who want and need them. It is this that continues to draw me in to community storytelling.
It feels right to be seeing out this year’s Natural Connections features in JUNO Magazine with a little more insight and a huge amount of gratitude to some of the amazing groups I’ve been incredibly lucky to observe, connect with and photograph. Gaining deeper understanding of the support they offer and the celebration they give for the many walks of life.
In a time when news stories are mainly negative, often highlighting the vital global issues, disasters arising from climate change and the daily struggles of human plight. These communities really are the unsung heroes. Keeping the hope, opting for action and showing humanity in its best light.
Father-of-four Tariq Khan co-started the group, Help The Homeless Newport & Cardiff around two years ago. Having once been homeless himself, he works with endless energy, thinking up innovative events and ideas, with a group of dedicated volunteers, to continually raise awareness and offer support to Newport’s homeless and vulnerable communities.
A year in the life of vets
Documenting veterinary practices for over a year has helped to build up a visual narrative showing the layers of relationships between people, their pets and the those that care for them.
The Independent Vets Company was looking for natural in-the-moment images for veterinary practices across Wales and the UK for their websites and literature. These images needed to reflect the support and care offered by these practices. Spending time with each practice gave genuine insight to the connections and support taking place across patients, owners and staff within a day in the life of a vet.
Families Resetting
“My great grandmother left her abuser one night. She was told to go back home and make it work… after all she was a married woman with a husband and children. I’m so thankful things are changing for my generation. For me and my own children.”
I have always been drawn to people’s relationships, between each other, and with the spaces that they feel connected to and inspired within. Family life is simple yet complex, usual but unique to each family. What amazes me the most is the resilience of the family unit; how it can change shape and adapt to some monumental life changes.
Families Resetting is personal photographic project I began in January 2019, though the project idea had been growing a little while before this. I’m clear that its heartbeat needs to always focus on the empowerment and adaptation that families can find, once they’ve been thrown a curve ball. At how they’ve had to reshape themselves after going through a life-changing event.
I spent a good deal of time thinking about how I could invite these types of families to get in touch with me. In many respects it is a tall order asking people to share their most personal situations with a documentary photographer. Someone who, from the off, is saying they want to share, exhibit and feature stories that have a huge emotional attachment and, quite likely, has shaken their family’s foundations to provoke permanent change.
However, this project is very much about resilience, empowerment, and hope rather than plight.
The first of my families to feature in the project was Jenny and her two young children. They spent nearly six months in a women’s refuge after she made the brave decision to leave an abusive relationship. For her young years, she has the wisdom and insight of someone much older and has already made links within her own family’s history. As she compares her own plight to that of her great-grandmother who also suffered domestic abuse. It was incredible to hear as, although the project remains mainly subjective, Jenny is offering me an opportunity to explore the social issues and support available (or not) in her great-grandmother’s generation.
I remain grateful and humbled by these amazing people, who’ve invited me into their lives to tell a part of their story as honestly and as sensitively as I can. If you’d like to talk about my Families Resetting project, please get in touch here.
BAA Brewery
Baa Brewing is a micro-brewery based in Chepstow, South Wales. The story began when group of friends with a passion for fine quality beer came together and made a creative idea a reality.
They were looking for product images to go on their website. After working my way through the selection of crafted beers, I asked if we could take the bottles of beer back to the brewing tanks they were created in.
It was not only an opportunity for me to see where the alchemy of brewing takes place, but it was also a great way to connect these bottles with their environment, showing them in a different light.
Angela, Maverick Communication
Angela is a personal coach and writer and the talent behind Maverick Communication. Coming from a world of performance, she is now passionate about helping people step out of the shadows and lead with their own light – a beautiful analogy of her stage-lit family’s history.
She’s the niece of the late great George Formby. “My parents always wanted me to follow in my uncle’s fame, but I discovered my own voice and I lead with my light.”
Alice, The Introvert Library
“It was like my mood board jumped off the page and came to life. Jo spent the time getting to know me, helping to find the right space to create the right vision for what I wanted to say.
We took our time to get it right – that was really important to me.”
Alice is The Introvert Library. We spent the morning at a restored council-owned building, first built as a courthouse during Victorian times. Discovering that a leading suffragette had stood trial there in the early 1900s certainly added to our story that day. It felt like we were being given a historical nod towards brave women such as Alice, sharing her unique voice to help others find their own.
