Hi.

i am a film photographer, writer, artist, calligrapher and baker. through my experiences i define that which makes us human: the raw hungry desire to live and love… and its satiation

thank you for visiting my blog, i hope you enjoy your stay!

unicorn rainbows

unicorn rainbows

 a few weeks ago, i saw a rainbow

ive seen rainbows before of course and i love them dearly. the last most beautiful rainbow i saw was in Tasmania roughly ten years ago. there is a very thin strip of land that connects North and South Bruny Island and when the tide comes in, it disappears under water. when the tide is out, the sea pulls really far back. as i stood at the top of the lookout point i realised how quiet it was; the wind rustling the long grass, the soft tip-tip-tip of misty rain and an occasional tweeting bird. i crave moments like these. i was deeply absorbed in this tranquility and thinking about all the other tiny hidden parts of the world where such unusual places exist, and that in my lifetime i would never be able to visit them all. 

i blinked and suddenly far away in the distance, one minute there was a blue sky, the next, there was a rainbow. i had never seen a complete rainbow before. end to end, it rose majestically out of the earth, arched up impossibly into the sky and then gently curved back down the other side. i wanted to run towards it and find myself under it. imagine that: 

lying on your back looking up at a rainbow over your head

ten years later, i was in Germany, driving down a nondescript road after having been surprise-treated to scrumptious pastries at my most favourite of places, Rebert in Wissembourg. it was a beautiful day, spring merging into summer with a cool breeze, a bright sun and light rain

come on! i said, come on! there has to be a rainbow! theres sun and rain. where is it? come on, come on i beseeched, whipping my head around wishing i was an owl. come on, there has to be one somewhere! theres sun and rain! this endless litany must have equally fascinated and tortured the Big Man upstairs. as the car turned a corner, i turned my head and there it was. it was utterly glorious. every single colour was clearly visible, yet the edges melded into one another like a

Mark Rothko painting

remember i said i wanted to be under a rainbow looking up at it? this was almost there. it was so close, so low in the sky, so incredibly breathtaking my heart felt like it would burst. i had never seen a rainbow so intimately. wow seven colours i thought, you don’t need more than seven colours in your paintbox! i didn't want to blink lest i missed anything which was a good thing because as the car moved forward...

ever seen the end of a rainbow?

i did. for the first time in my life. it dissolved into the babbling brook invisibly - you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. i realised why they say there is a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow: where the rainbow and the water met, the minuscule water droplets floating in the air, refracted and reflected the light so many times over that it just shimmered and sparkled and danced, looking like

flecks of gold  

i reckon the Big Man figured, He would just go ahead and make my day, because as the car turned another corner, i looked back to see a sight almost as rare as a unicorn: arching over the first rainbow, was a second one. it is so difficult to describe something which touches you so joyfully, that you can feel to your very bones, a divine presence everywhere. i could fill up this blog with a thesaurus of words trying to describe what i saw and felt that day, but i think the only word to describe it is: 

elysian

 

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this post is dedicated to our loved ones who have gone before us. i believe every time we see a rainbow that it is a sign that they are always watching over us

note on pictures: on both occasions my phone had died and i had no way to take a picture. perhaps those moments are best left uncaptured because ultimately, you will only ever remember the things that really touched you. the thumbnail is the Black Square by Kazimir Malevich (1913). i selected this picture in remembrance and also because, without light there are no rainbows

 

madeleine-ing at midnight

madeleine-ing at midnight