Lyd's room

We made a photograph of Lydia, her room, and her drawings for the most recent issue of Novalee magazine.  It's great to see them finding their proverbial feet with issue #2. Here are a few more photos--the room is not as a general rule this clean, and the girl doesn't usually look quite this fierce.

Excited to be shooting an editorial for Novalee's August issue this summer.  It's great to work with a new project that is striking out in a bit of a different direction.  I'm happiest when I don't have to reign in my melancholy.  

Can't touch this.

Thanks so much to Junior magazine for crowning Hugo the 'Junior Street Style Kid 2012' and for the lovely wee write-up about his love of rice pudding, toy soldiers, and M C Hammer. When I showed him the magazine with the 9 runners-up, he looked at Odin of Mini-Magpie and said 'He's really cute, he's the cutest.  He should have won.'  Bless.  Although his Grandma is swooning over her 'celebrity grandson,' Hugo's still a nice caring boy and that's what makes him beautiful (and that amazing coat from The Robot Parade for kids really helps as well).

The July 2012 issue of Junior magazine is now in shops.

Lydia the Horrible.

This is the day we walked in the heat through the Glasgow streets wishing there was an outdoor swimming pool in our city--if only for one day.

(There were a few other photos, but they look like a catalogue shoot for cruise wear or something...so they're not included--Sorry Lyd.)

testing 1........2........3.......

A few technical issues today...Just posting this fur photo I took for Camilla to test my links...

I thank you in advance for your cooperation.

p.s. facebook is just being a rabble rouser.  I'll never ask for your password or ask you to download things...grrrrr.

number 15.

Summer evening shinty match...Otto's team sort of got their collective butt kicked by the boys from Oban, but they played well.  (notice him running for the ball in the penultimate photo) I love the last shot of him post-game.  It's strange when your son looks more man than boy.

I also love that I was able to use penultimate in a sentence.  Score one for mum.

This is not normal.

It's warm in Glasgow and we've seen a lot of Olive's toes today.

Commisioned suburban street art.

I really like this but I reckon it confuses most folks here as we have the highest percentage of elderly people in the whole of Scotland.  The placement along the walls of a dimly-lit underpass seems oddly sinister and when it first went up you could hear murmurs of 'graffiti?' and 'used our council tax for that...'  All in all, I enjoy it.  If you look for long enough, you can see our water tower and the Campsies (the sketchy hills).  Council tax well spent.

confessions of a dangerous mind.

The truth is, up until now I've approached my camera as a magical box.  I see something, I point the magic box in its general direction, move the focus-things around and push the magic button.  Sometimes I tell the box what to do and it complies.  More often than not, happy accidents abound.

The truth is, self-taught is one thing, and not knowing how to work the buttons on your camera is quite another...so I enrolled in a weekend course to remind myself what an f-stop is.  All thanks to Street Level Photoworks for being super welcoming and to Alicia Bruce for being really encouraging and teaching me about the aforementioned f-stop (and many other things I really needed to know).  I look forward to the penny dropping.

The truth is, I am also a chancer.  If you've hired me to do something/given me an opportunity, I've made it clear that I have no idea what I'm doing, but also that I'm confident that I can make amazing photos for you.  I have a magic box, after all.  Thanks for believing me.  I'm crazy thankful for the past year and for all the opportunities that have been knocking on my proverbial door--especially to Cully for being my personal cheerleader and making a 35 year old untrained mum-of-five feel like a valid artist.

The final confession is melodramatic.  It's that I love photography.  Not like I love Twin Peaks or wearing scarves... I love it like I love my children.  I can't really talk about it without sounding mentally unbalanced.  I can only relate it to that feeling of seeing a fat baby and wanting to squeeze it or 'eat it up.'  It's too amazing to distance myself from.  I want to consume it.  I want to cry when I take a photograph I love and I've spent many sleepless nights wrapped up in the agony of it all.

Confession time is over.
Here's hoping that my camera becomes a bit more biddable in the future whilst retaining its magic tricks.

 

We went on a double date.

...no small feat for two parents of five children.

Tonight we met Gus, ate Mexican food, and watched a vampire Johnny Depp & a drunken psychologist Helena Bonham Carter.

On the drive home we discussed attending Otto's next shinty match, the bolshie-ness of teenagers, and just how much we love our baby girl.  It's nice to have some distance from a toddler now and then.  It's also nice to hang out with my husband as often during the day we're passing ships who happen to fall asleep together.  And you're right, Daniel, sometimes I yell at the big kids too much. I'm just tired.

I publicly apologize.

Being two years old is extremely difficult

 for everyone.

This is Glagow street style: mildly intimidating.

It's like they're challenging you to poke fun at their pattern combinations or call them 'four-eyes' just for the pleasure of giving you a knuckle sandwich.

p.s. These children belong to this woman.  She makes films and fights injustice.

linking to mama loves papa and small style today

The best guinea pig in the whole wide world.

Trying out the new lens on my oldest...when she squints her eyes, she looks like me.
(Thanks Lyd, for kneeling in the gravel in the middle of the road.  I appreciate all you do for me.)

this boy.

Not only is he beautiful, but he's one of the kindest, most caring, and most naive people I've ever met.  A bit like Jane Goodall and Spongebob Squarepants mixed together.  He originally wanted to study animals when he grew up but now he wants to be in a band...well, a dancer for a band.  Practicing nearly nightly to MC Hammer's 'Can't Touch This' and Gloria Estefan's 'The Ryhthm is Gonna Get Ya' is probably a really good place to start...

I used to hate computers, CDs, and digital cameras...

just look at the fun I was missing:

I'm talking baby feeding stuff over at the Babiekins blog today.  I know, I know *yawn*...but if you're a new parent, it's actually interesting.  Finding the perfect bib is like a lifelong quest and this my friends, is the holy grail.

Jolyne, Roddy, Harley Davidson, and the box.

It's nice to meet nice people.  Super excited to have met Jolyne, who looks like she'll be my this-side-of-the-pond source for vintage kids' clothes for photo shoots.  She's started up Rowdy Roddy Vintage and has some crackin' pieces...I was tempted at the kid's market by a vintage mustard cardigan, but considering I'm in the process of designing some knitwear (!), I probably don't need to buy anything for Olive.  

Here's a few snapshots of her and her Scottish-American-Costa Rican baby boy.  And in a departure from my usual, he's smiling.  

this is glasow: frustration & wet cigarettes.

At the hillhead bookclub today for the kid's fair...bad weather outside not only caused very little footfall inside, but also forced me to use my flash...grrrrrrr

I also forgot that there's an e at the end of please.

and outside, I found this.  I've decided that it's the photo that I will always come back to whenever I'm tempted to pick up my high school smoking habit again.  It's been about 18 years since I've had a cigarette and I still dream about them...but seeing a vintage plate with cigarette ends marinating in rain water and tar just might be gross enough to put me off for life.

Bella--king of the world.

Thanks for being awesome.

It's like hearing a recording of your own voice.

Photographs can completely misrepresent the world as we see it.

This  looks like a screen shot from Coronation Street or some equally traumatic/dramatic weekly soap.  Bad news has been delivered, and this is the moment when it sinks in and disbelief and shock give way to acceptance.

 It's actually just a pause in an otherwise nice and funny conversation on a girl's night that included aged cider, a wedding dress, chili jam, and one bacardi breezer.  Not a night of tragedy at all...unless you include my dark inward struggle to resist a shortbread biscuit.

things to come...

One of my favourite projects ever.
Coming to an online art collective near you in late Summer/Autumn 2012.

Breaking all the rules...

running with a stick.

for small style:


dress: handed down
tunic: c/o Le Carrousel
tights & cardigan: Zara kids