Fairy stories

I loved fairy stories when I was a child: Enchanted worlds filled with magic; the battle between good and evil; places where anything was possible and my imagination could run free.

I read every fairy story ever written – quite a claim I know – but I’m sure I did.

I went through phase of being obsessed with actual fairies. I loved their miniature worlds, where ordinary objects and places became things of awe and wonder. A walk in the woods or the bottom of my garden became filled with fairy possibilities of how they lived, what they did, who they spent their time with.

When lockdown began, I was seriously ill and just out of hospital. It took a month to be strong enough to venture out for a walk in local woodland. And when I did I was greeted with a sea of bluebells. It was beautiful and enchanting. I was transported back to my childhood, back to fairy stories and fairy gardens, to a place where magical things happened.

These woods inspired me. I was giddy with excitement as I waded through bluebells and foliage, looking for tiny places where fairies might be. There, I was transported back to my childhood, creating miniature worlds with my imagination, surrounded by nature, which was so soothing during such a difficult time.

Being unable to go anywhere beside the woods over the past few months, I have focused on creating these fairy pictures. From capturing the pictures to editing the details, the creative process is always cathartic.

I’ve also learnt new editing skills along the way. Trying a different type of image requires a different creative process and I love learning new tricks.

More to come on editing soon.

The Art of Story Telling

I love books: old ones; new ones; fact; fiction. I love the smell of books and the way they feel. My shelves are full of books. Some I’ve read many times, some I’m waiting to read, some books I may never read, but I want to have them anyway.

We are surrounded by narratives. Stories from our past, unfolding in our present and projected into our futures. Stories of people we know. Stories of people we follow. Stories on TV. Stories seen from our windows.

As Humans, we have been telling stories for millennia. They exist in our DNA, past down from our ancestors.

The Art of Storytelling is the images created by the narratives we hold. Narratives buried deep and often long forgotten, but for an image, or a feeling, which remains.

The stories that touch my soul are the stories of my childhood. Children’s stories. They are pure escapism. A place of solace where my shy, socially anxious inner child can be whoever, and do whatever, she can imagine.

What are the stories that touch your soul and why?