Everyone has a story to tell...

I am a fan of music that encompasses different styles, genre's, and regions. But the common thread between all of my favorite pieces, is their ability to convey a story. Whether it calls forth feelings of fear, anger, love, resentment, nostalgia, or merely provides a narrative that I can relate to,  these are the pieces that touch me.

This song is a great example of what I have been trying to explain, and why I tend to gravitate towards the music produced by singer/songwriters. This is not to say that music can only tell a story using lyrics; feelings can be evoked with equal ( if not more) effectiveness through melody alone. The stories told without lyrics are often more meaningful for you, because it's essentially your own story, directed by shifts in the composition of the melody. Can you recollect a film score that elicits a feeling from you--changes your mood, or directs your thoughts in some way, whenever you hear it? I can think of quite a few.

But i digress... the reason I began on this tangent has to do with my new direction. I think my hiatus began when I ran out of ideas. I was tired, overworked and, unfortunately, uninspired; frustrated and without a direction on which I wanted to focus. The story. I am going to attempt a period in which everything I create tells a story, which is how I think photographs are going to be very effective (especially given that I am inept at rendering images by hand). I am excited to see where this might lead...

A New Direction

In the past, all  of the cards I have made containing images, have been stamped images using various types of ink and embossing powders. Today I have been playing with different ways of incorporating photographs onto different types of paper, and applying a waterproofing/texturing layer using a liquid paper-sealant.

Photography is something that I love, and on my last trip to Ireland I was gifted a trip to one of the three Aran Islands-- Inis Mór. It is the largest of the islands in the chain, owing to the translation of it's name- the big island. But don't let the name mislead you; only about 900 people live on the island. To get there, I got on a very, very, small six-seater plane (where I was seated shotgun), and proceeded to fly across the Galway Bay. Being inside the cockpit (minus the visual stimulus) is how I imagine it would feel to be trapped inside of a "jumping bean." Despite the feeling of being that last un-popped kernel, bouncing around the popcorn machine, the view made the whole experience well worth the ever-so-slight fear of crashing to my death. The pathway in the photo printed on the card shown above leads to the Dún Aonghasa fort. 


This fort, situated at the highest elevation on the island, is thought to have been built during the Iron Age. It is amazing to me, to see something built so long ago, still standing in a form that, in some way, resembles the original structure. There aren't many examples of such structures still intact today. I am skeptical to believe that any building constructed today will sustain the test of elements and time, that this one has already endured. 


On the other side of this structure is a scenic cliff edge, that overlooks the sea crashing on the rocks more than 300 feet below. Between the deafening silence, the crisp fresh air, the strong breeze, and the breathtaking view, being near the edge was one of the most uniquely dizzying experiences I have ever felt. 

Being there had a way of making you feel very small, in a comforting, and strangely reassuring way. This is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been, and I dream of one day having the means to take a sabbatical to live here and spend my days writing. In this unrealistic dream, I am comfortably settled in the stone white house, down the long winding path, just inside the peninsula. My father tells me that the harsh winter and solitude precludes it from being a desirable place to live. But everything I have described, in conjunction with the fact that, while there, I sat in a bar and had what I can only describe as the best fish and chips I have ever had (with a lovely pint of Guinness), makes me think that I could survive the stint quite well. In the meantime, I will enjoy the memories and images that I have, and incorporate them into my projects.