For one moment I relaxed into the air around me in wonder at the beauty of this planet, at the unmistakable presence of possibility.
One early May morning I found myself standing in a secret bluebell wood, in a dip in a field of a local farm. My feet were wet from the dew, still heavy on the ground even though the sun had climbed high above and was warm on my face. Breathing in the mesmerising scent of wild bluebell, I looked up through the trees and I imagined this picture.
It was beautiful following the branches up as they reached into the noumenal space beyond themselves. All sense of time and place seemed to thin out and melt away, and the moment expanded with the dizzying scale of the universe.
I relaxed into the air around me in wonder at the beauty of this planet, at the unmistakable presence of possibility.
With so much around us to make us despair, with so many things to make us feel angry, helpless, worthless or depressed to the point of losing hope, simple beauty and possibility are so necessary.
Just stopping for a moment to feel connected with the world beyond our daily lives opens up that feeling, and it’s breathtaking.
In that moment you realise you are part of that potential.
Sure, I was standing under nothing more than ordinary trees, but if you hold yourself in their space you can travel from their roots at your feet up beyond their branches, and see where the sky turns blue. You can feel an extraordinary capacity to grow into it.
From a trip with my sons across America a few years ago, I found an Amish horse and buggy trotting over the brow of a back road through Grayling, Michigan. It captured a moment committed to simpler values, a gentle pace of another way. Taking away the road from under that buggy made it fly.
I then scooped the moon from the sky over a desert outside Pushkar, in Rajasthan, India, from a journey with my boys for my 40th birthday. They played in the dirt of the banks of an oasis after a long ride on camels into the empty land, and the same moon that hovers over them far away back in their English homes hung in the horizon above them then, like a connection point.
I added the textures from my garden to ground it and created a small story of beauty and possibility.
Often people pause to look, and as a way of gently answering the question in their eyes, I tell them how it was made. They still turn to me and say: “There’s more to the picture, there’s… ” and then they pause and normally all they can add is, “something.”
Yes, possibility; the moment you believe.
Here is a sample of some of the Walking With Angels Prints collection