and a happy new year

I know its cliche on the 31st of December to start thinking about all the things that happened in the last twelve months, but I find that flicking through this blog at year's end really puts the year into perspective for me, so I think I'll do it anyway.

In January, I mostly hid out in icy Mid Wales and discovered the photography of Vivian Maier, which completely amazed me. Even more of her work has been uncovered since I posted on it last, and remains so intriguing.



In the early early spring I had a huge book to work on, so I was either working on it or buying myself secret magazine subscriptions as special treats to keep me going.

The spring turned into summer, and trips to the countryside, a Cornwall holiday, and a trip to London, where I met up with Anabela and Kate, and felt really quite pleased with myself for not being too scared to (a 2011 resolution), as they were both incredibly lovely. Then it was autumn, with many many photographs of the sea, developing my first roll of camera film, and taking a leap and booking a trip to New York.

Posts have slowed down and sped up and been regular and been sparse, but every time I've written one, every comment has been insightful and charming and so very appreciated – so thank you all so much – I hope we all have a wonderful year to come.

Icy Christmas

 

A few years ago, before I started this blog, I went home for Christmas (very much like I am preparing to do right now as a matter of fact) and when I got there, the weather was off the scale. The whole island was covered in ice – even the tide line, salty as it is, was frozen into sharp little shards of ice that crackled and cracked as the waves churned them about. 

As E.B. White, whose 1950s New Yorker Christmas writings I like to read at this time of year, put it: 'Everyone has one Christmas he remembers above all others, one blindingly beautiful occasion.' And I think this one is mine, in terms of on-the-surface beauty at least. 

While I'm half glad that it is not meant to freeze this year, as it makes driving the length of the country a bit of a roulette, the fact that the island won't look like this this Christmas (or perhaps ever again!) is a little sad. So I thought I would post these to remind myself, as E.B White also writes in a different Christmas essay: 'Rememberance is sufficient of the beauty we have seen' which is a thought that I quite like.

A birthday

This weekend I discovered a place that I love nestling merrily in a place that I really don't like. It was a  little cafe, all wood pannelled, with old advertising billboards all over the walls – Cadbury's, Hovis etc – and with smart waiters waiting to bring trays to tables. It was so unexpected, sitting as it does on the periphery of what I consider to be one of the most miserable shopping experiences in England.

But, I think discovering something good about something bad is quite a good way to spend a birthday, if you hope to start as you mean to go on, and it just so happened that I ended up there for some unexpected birthday cake last week.



I've written before about my December habit of buying myself presents – this year, I've had so much else to do that I haven't bought a thing, and as a consequence, all those things I would usually have already bought for myself, instead made lovely birthday presents from Ben and my sister. It's much better this way.

From my sister, this amazing Apres Ski necklace. I like this such a lot because it looks like a little triangular tortoiseshell boat – and the packaging it came in is delicious.







Wolf & Moon are fairly new to me, but Hannah, who runs it and makes everything, sent me an email a while ago, and Ben cottoned on and bought this little necklace for me. She makes beautiful pieces with all sorts of different materials. My little triangle is wooden with a sort of shiny gold inlay and some kind of universe-looking something in the middle. Perfect for last-minute Christmassing, I'd say.

Here is New York

I've been awfully out of the loop these past few weeks, and, in a roundabout way, it's all because of this place – New York. Last week I made my largest-ever purchase to date and bought plane tickets to go for a whole month in May. So I'm working all-hours to try and pay myself back.

I was definitely on the verge of being incredibly excited, but coming across this collection  of vintage images of the city has really tipped the balance. 

I'm a terrible tourist, as I'm sure I've mentioned before, and when I'm away, I do all that I can to avoid the tourist traps and blend in as much as possible. I'm a tourist of atmospheres, I find, and want to experience things just the same way as the locals do. 

Atmospheres, however modern or cutting-edge, are all borne out of the history of a place I think – out of atmospheres that have gone before. These photographs, from the early to the middle of last century, go some way to conveying the evolution of an atmosphere. I can't stop looking through them. The whole collection can be found here.

Sightseeing #4

Just a couple of bits and pieces that have caught my eye lately.

 1. PAN AM/Hair Envy

If you can ignore the awful computer generated airplane shots, PAN AM is pretty easy and fun to watch. It's not Mad Men – it's not as smart – but it is quite compelling, and does touch on some 1960s feminist themes that Mad Men only briefly grazes, which is good. 

Aside from anything else though, my hair is currenly at an unprecedented and ridiculous length right now, and the 'long bobs' that are everywhere in PAN AM all look just about perfect to me at the moment. I'm definitely leaning towards getting one for myself.

2. Fieldguided/Dreamcats 2012 Calendar

Talking of things I am leaning towards getting for myself, Anabela just posted about her and Geoff's 2012 Dreamcats calendar, which I love. I have a secret soft spot for a good calendar (this definitely qualifies), and as I'm still waiting patiently for the right time to kitten up, this calendar seems like the perfect thing to brighten up a predictably miserable January 1st, 2012.

3. Sarah Brown Jewellery

I went to primary school with Sarah, believe it or not, and run into her every so often when we're both back at home at the same time. Her jewellery designs are all inspired by the sea, with golden barnacles and lovely glints of light sparkling from the stones that she chooses. Her work is commission only, I think, but I love it all, and just wanted to share it a little!

In other news, I answered a couple of questions about something I don't know very much about – film photography – on Nancy's blog last week, if you are interested to see. There are some other very  insightful and more interesting answers from more knowledgeable film-using people on there too, luckily.

Disjointed

My days have been entirely consumed by righting other people's grammar wrongs lately, so there has been little time for much else.

Inspired by this post of Kate's though, (which I try and revisit in my head every time I feel like I don't want to get out of bed – it's a good tactic!) I've been getting up as early as I can in order to get as much work done as possible. Although it's harder to do now that it's darker in the mornings, it does feel as though you are utilising a whole new period of time that didn't even exist before, which is very satisfying.

So, as a consequence, this is a slightly disjointed post of photographs that I took a month or so ago with my film camera. Next week I will be more joined up, I'm sure.

Woven

I got another film back this weekend, one that I had in my camera all through last month's 'Indian Summer' (it takes me a while to get through a film), and I just can't stop coming back to this picture of the ropes on the dockside. 

The reason I like it so much I think is because it so directly relates to to what I've been scouring both my wardrobe and the internet for over the past week or so – that is, good, seriously cosy, wintery woven things – so I was really interested to read Suzy Menkes' making a similar connection between the weave of rope and the weave of knitted fishermen's jumpers in the New York Times this morning.  

She writes: 'Thick ropes, naval knots and the diamond weave of fishing nets were absorbed into the psyche of the faithful wives and daughters ... who created the protective wear for their fishermen' 

Image via Muir Blog

It's such a romantic thought that there could be such a perfect synergy to the process: the rough untreated rope leading to the rough, untreated wool that the fisherwives knitted their men's jumpers with – the rope would work the sea, the woven knits would protect against it.

I love the way things like this evolve over time, and that waxy rough rope can be ruminated on enough through the decades to eventually evolve into something like the Missoni FW 2011 show in Milan, with its soft, droopy cables and (my other woven winter darling) tweed.

I also like the synergy of the fact that those basic woven mainstays of practical living – the cable knit sweaters, the rugs, blankets and plaited hairstyles – that were likely in use in the days of those knitting fisherwomen, are just as useful to me, in this twenty-first century winter, as they once were then.

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