I came across Al Brydon’s fabulous photography a few years ago while preparing an Etsy treasury. The treasury is long gone, but the photos stayed in my soul. I love the moods and stories he creates with his images.
This image in particular is one that has stuck with me. I find myself wondering about the road and the landscape: where does the road lead? Where did it come from? What might we find in those hills if we head off-road?
Al Brydon can also be found on Twitter
This is nowhere in particular – from memory it grew from some random squiggles (which may explain the slightly odd details in the sky). I think my wildflowers are getting better, but rocks and ships may take some more practice… It still amazes me how a flat piece of paper with black lines on it can have a sense of depth and distance…
I’ve always enjoyed learning my landscape by walking. In this re-blogged post, Nimue Brown explains more about how that can work (once again, I find it fascinating to see how my natural impulses are so Druidic in nature…)
This year, I spent Christmas morning walking the hills. It was a truly amazing day – dry air and no cloud made the sunlight sharp and intense. We watched the first light flood the Severn plain with colour and paint the beech trees in startling reds. There were ravens. What had, recently, been a washed out wintery landscape of faded greens, muddy browns and greys suddenly acquired brilliant, jewel-like colour. The Severn River herself was the kind of blue children imagine the sea as being.
On Boxing Day (that’s the 26th for you international folk who do not participate in strange English customs) we did nothing involving either boxes or hitting people. (Theories vary as to why this day has this name and what it is therefore supposed to be about). We walked back the long way, which took most of the day, but enabled me to fill in…
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