They Live on in Light

During the first few weeks of January I spent a great many evenings and nights continually photographing my family slides. It was actually one of the more harder photographic exercises I had involved myself within, simply to due the nature of how I was capturing these slides.  It may sound funny (and perhaps even slightly weak), but holding a camera in one hand at eye height towards a light, with the other holding a slide for hours on end really does take its toll on you; aches and pains as if I had spent countless sessions lifting weights at the gym, as well as Space Invader blotches plaguing my vision from constantly looking at the lamp.  It wasn't easy, put it that way.

Despite these issues, the results were immensely rewarding to begin with, yet there was a part of me that did feel somewhat disappointed.  I always thought that the image of my father (below) taken during my final year at Plymouth College of Art was simply perfect - the lighting, the silhouette of my hand, the crispness of the slide - yet recreating this same atheistic seemed almost impossible a few years on. Perhaps I was trying too hard with this project to replicate the result in the same way; when results didn't quite work out, rather than attempt to understand the problem, I pushed these alternate versions quickly aside and continued repeating the same process, making little or no progress evening after evening.

My father, taken during my final degree project, 'i am Alive'

After a few days of zero progress, I was almost ready to pack this project in.  I became increasingly annoyed with the end result; what I had in my head compared to what was looking back at me from my Mac screen was vastly different.  I took an evening off to clear my thoughts, completely forget about what I was doing or why I was doing this and hope that the following day I would have a better understanding of the direction for this project.  Knowing what I know now, this did seem to work a treat.

The problem I began to note with replication was this was simply down to human error, as opposed to something technical. We can not and will never have the ability of replication that a computer so easily seems to produce, despite the fact that we initially created the machine to begin with; tiny imperfections quickly become giant sized hinderances and no matter how much you strived to recreate, it will never be seen in the same way as it truly began.

With this in mind, I soon realised where I was going wrong and how to direct the project in the right direction.  Looking at the series of images produced so far, much of the problem lay with the idea of far too much empty or unnecessary space. I had already noted this in a previous post, my assumption of cropping the final image in a 1x1 ratio, an improvement would immediately be found. Yet with dozens of images lying side by side, each housed in a black background with a silhouetted hand, the contents with the slide became lost and the full emphasis of this project quickly disappeared.

I called Luke Broadway at Plymouth College of Art the following morning and kindly asked if I could borrow a Macro lens for a limited time and he thankfully obliged.  Using this lens, I was able to completely remove myself from the image and focus solely on the contents of the slide. I didn't need my hand to represent the idea that I was holding onto a memory of someone lost, the Macro, along with how the slide was photographed in front of the lamp affected the picture turned the end result into a true memory within the mind. The produced photos took on a more dream-like state as subtle differences in light and shadow created a wonderful vignette around the subject matter.  What had slowly become a chore over the week, soon became a joyous exercise in bringing the past to an artistic present.

I continued to use the same Instagram styled presets in Instagram I had used during 'i am Alive', while tweaking the exposure and temperature, along with dark and light elements to achieve a look I was ultimately happy with. I decided to capture a few images direct from the camera and showcase the huge difference following various post processing alterations. 
   

The images below represent just a small selection of this final body of work. We often forget just how beautiful our family really is, that our parents and their parents actually did live their own wonderful lives before we came into this world. I still have much to find out and understand about the people in these pictures, where they were and why and what they were doing or feeling at the time. This project has been an immensely cathartic and very rewarding and these photographs go a long way in continuing to connect the dots as to why I am here and who I really am.

I rarely produce work that is on a personal level, yet the way I have conducted myself throughout this project has been very encouraging to see. At some point during the year I will add 'They Live on in Light' to my website, though for the moment this is more for family and friends to embrace in their own time. 

Admittedly this blog post did take a little longer to produce than I had hoped, though I do have a pretty good excuse.  Round two onboard the Brixham trawler Emily Rose happened last week and it has only been just a few days since I have returned back to dry (with exception of the current crazy winds and lashing rain) land.  My next post will be a wonderful insight into the lives and labours of three fishermen during January's cold winter fishing season 30 miles off the south west coast of England. And for the record, I did throw up. Considerably.

Revisiting the Light

During the final term of my degree, as I was building 'i am Alive', my interest quickly grew to one day return to the work produced during the 'Found Photography' module and give it the attention and production values it truly deserved.  It was all due to this photo, a single square format image of a slide of my father, taken of him during his time in the military and held intently by my hand; I realised I had something quite magical of someone very special to me, and someone lost a long time ago.  At the time this was taken, my tutors acknowledged this as a defining moment of my 'i am Alive' project.  Despite the hospital #selfie being the original starting point, the image of my father neatly became the key and central focus of my final print.

'i am Alive'

The difference in terms of the quality and detail captured was always going to be an obvious jump; from an entry level D60 used on 'Found Photography' to a full frame D700 on 'i am Alive', the contrast in terms of ISO control and in particular how the camera behaved in front of a light source was vastly superior.  While the originals were either too dark in many places or simply overcome and washed out from overblown highlights, the D700 allowed the bright glow of light to be far less harsh on the eyes and more accommodating and gentle towards the contents included within the slide.  Perhaps this was also to do with the change in light sources used; the above image did seem to possess a wonderfully subtle outlined finish that resonated an almost angelic appearance around my hand.  It may have be a little strange to consider but sometimes even the littlest of things really do have a huge impact.  The photos taken during 'Found Photography were held in front of my ceiling light, while the image taken for 'i am Alive' used my bedside lamp.  It wasn't just the strength of the source that made such a striking difference, I could also hold the slide much closer to the light.

The way this image had been edited in post was something I wanted to explore further as I delved deeper into this project.  Even though I didn't have the original RAW files, I still managed to achieve a certain level of control.  Using the various saved presets from my 'i am Alive' project, I imported the 'Found Photography' images into Lightroom and began editing the photos as a potential indication of what to expect with the revised, reshot and remastered editions.  I found the Radial tool to be a very important instrument during the edit, allowing me to focus on the most notable aspect in each photo - in this case, my father - as drawing a circle around him allowed me to affect either what was outside or inside without altering its opposite.  It wasn't long before I was bringing him out of those D60 shadowy darks and into a more visible light.

Lightroom - Before & After

I absolutely adored this photo of my father and immediately knew that this would be one of the first slides to be replicated when I came to begin shooting 'They Live on in Light'.  The fact that the contents of the slide were not lying exactly in place added even more to the finished article, like some individual reel from a film.  It was something I simply didn't wish to correct; my father looked every bit the Hollywood film star, a towering presence and power frozen forever within a perfect light.

I decided to crop the images in a 1x1 ratio, just as I did with the entire series of 'i am Alive'.  As with Instagram and my final degree piece, there was something similar here with the look and feel of these slides; the square format and nod towards the long lost Kodak era seemed to beg for the presented shape to be that of equal sides.  The image also seemed far more intimate this way.  I felt that with the initial 2x3 ratio, there was far too much unnecessary information in the picture; condensing the crop bought me closer to the subject as if I was once again holding the slide.

The removal of the text was pretty much a given from the start.  It just seemed, well, tacky, for want of a better word.  The font I had chosen back then was also extremely childish - though at least it was a step up from Comic Sans - and while the chosen words were sweet and thoughtful, they did seem more the unsure me back then than the confident graduate and practising photographer I am today. Sometimes you don't need words to convey a message.  Sometimes an image will speak for you, from within, to each and everyone wishing to listen.  I felt 'They Live on in Light' would do exactly that.

The final stage of this project is now very much underway and I expect to have this fully concluded before my next outing at sea in a few weeks time.  Going back over 'Found Photography' in a more structured way has been immensely helpful in how I will present and publish my new set of images; eighteen months following graduation and it has been encouraging to see that I am still using the same planning and preparation methods to formulate an outcome.  Elements that worked and those that did not may have not been quite so noticeable had it not been for my time spent revisiting and revising the original project, as well as re-editing those initial photos; the Instagram styled presets, the 1x1 ratio, the removal of text, the change in light source, each component added further layers to a perfect foundation.  Along with the vastly superior difference in equipment, I felt that the end results for 'They Live on in Light' were not only going to be very exciting, but immensely beautiful indeed.  

Found Photography

In May 2012, during the final term of my second year of the Foundation Degree at Plymouth College of Art, I began work on my very first personal project.  As anyone who knows anything about me, then you know I do not do these often, preferring to hide behind the camera than put myself out there for others to point at and dissect.  Yet what I had seemed to perfect not to pursue.  Neatly hidden away, having been unknown to me for so many years was a wonderful box of slides, featuring a series of negatives showcasing various family members; from my mum in her early years to when she first met my father, his time in the military, their first home together, the car they took on holiday, a little Jack Russell dog that passed away when I was only a baby, to many more incredible images of their beautiful lives together, along with dozens of photographs of other people I had no clue about.

While work continued on my final major project of the Foundation year, all students were given a choice of various topics to apply for that would essentially make up around eight weeks of this last term and labelled Complimentary Studies.  It was designed as a way of breaking up the general pattern and flow of your particular major and allow an individual to work on something entirely different for a limited time only; for instance, a fashion student may decide to take up an opportunity and study underwater photography for a few months.  Stubborn as I am, I preferred to continue my photographic journey of discovery and opted for Found Photography, considering I had only recently found this box of slides.  At the time it seemed like a very good idea, except much to my dismay after signing on to the module, I found out that Found Photography was more about defacing photographs and various imagery than actually finding photos; the purpose being to create interesting collages and unique ways in presenting an end result.  Well, you can imagine my reaction to the idea of cutting up these slides.  Not a blooming chance dear!

Thankfully the lecturer was quite accommodating to my concerns and I think she quickly realised that I had something special in front of me with this sentimental collection of family history and I was allowed to take my work along a different path; one less print-barbaric compared to the rest of the class, though I was still asked to present my final body of work in some kind of unique fashion.

Over the following weeks I quickly fell in love with my box of slides, yet I wondered how to go about creating and presenting a project out of my found photographs.  My early attempt seemed to follow a typical route in projecting the slides onto a wall and photographing the image thereafter.  Yet despite looking quite beautiful in large format, I didn't quite feel any sort of connection or closeness with the result.  Different textures and materials projected as a backdrop didn't seem to change my thoughts and feelings on the matter and whilst this module was more about fun and expressing oneself than something that would actually affect grades, I still wanted to do my level best and produce a project as fitting and important as the subject matter itself.  Late one evening, whilst holding up a slide to my bedroom ceiling light, I suddenly realised I had exactly what I wanted; my eyes had become the camera and the photo in front of me was picture perfect.

Moments later and I was holding a slide in one hand with my Nikon D60 in the other.  It was incredibly difficult at times achieving a crisp focus but after a few hours of work, I had nine images which quickly became the main body for this mini project.  I decided to represent each image with a caption as a way of narrative, though I admit looking back on this now, my choice of font was a little off.

At the time though, I truly loved what I had created and I felt this mini project was a huge success, not only in terms of the response I received from lecturers, but more so in how it made me feel inside.  There was a definite sense of cathartic pleasure resonating through my work; simply put, it was actually nice to hold my father close once again.  

Having lost such a prominent figure in my life at such a young age certainly didn't help the many years that soon followed, yet despite the negativity I contained for so long, as you get older, you realise time does heal and I try and imagine that there are positives in loss.  After all, I did get fifteen wonderful years with the greatest man I will ever know and it is him, along with the gift of photography that has shaped who I am today.  I suppose you could say this is all somewhat of a blessing, if not wrapped in the strangest of bitter disguise.

With my next venture out at sea being early January, December gave me an ideal chance to revisit this mini project.  During this festive season I have been laying the various groundwork and take the initial idea and develop this to a far great level, with additional years of photographic experience, along with superior equipment and a greater sense of purpose.  

In my next post, I will cover the changes made to the images above and how my final major study, 'i am Alive' shaped the eventual look of this new personal project of mine.  For now, I do hope you all have a lovely Christmas and a fantastic New Year and I will see you all very soon, with work from my new and revised project, 'They Live on in Light'.  

Poseidon by Graphique

I do find it strange how things tend to work out in the end.  Many times we can be faced with such a problem or dilemma that it almost seems futile and a complete an utter a waste of time and energy to continue forth; maybe it would be better just to take the fall and move onto the next trial and tribulation with a clearer mind.  Yet often, through some strange turn of events, things can and do work out for the better; the end result being something you could never have imagined at that one moment, particularly when those circumstances stop everything in their tracks.  If I ever need further proof or a gentle reminder that I'm on the right path with my photography and that there is a certain someone up there watching over me, I think this blog post goes a long way towards highlight this.

I was so excited when Norman at Kaya Gallery asked me if I wanted to exhibit at the National Marine Aquarium in Plymouth alongside a fantastic selection of Ocean City Artists this year, and it felt like such a great opportunity to test the water with my new project, particularly as 'Emily Rose' was still in the early stages of development.  The potential feedback that I hoped to receive could go a long way towards shaping the rest of my first major study post graduation.

Having taken onboard the many positives and negatives from the various exhibitions I have been involved with over this last year or so, I quickly decided to do away with the additional cost of framing and instead simply go with a series of prints pinned to a wall.  I didn't think any more about this till perhaps a month prior to the opening night, when during one of my bi-weekly chats with Norman I found out that I couldn't hang my work from the walls.  Panic set in immediately and that feeling of I can't wait to exhibit was quickly replaced with the notion that I couldn't and wouldn't be able to exhibit.  Before I made any kind of hasty decision though, I arranged to see Mark Du'chesne, the Front of House Operations manager at the National Marine Aquarium, in hope that we could find an accommodating workaround for both parties involved.

I met with Mark the following week and he took me around to view the exhibition space.  With much of the upper floor newly refurbished, I could understand why he didn't want anything hung from the walls with either nails and pins.  I suggested Command Strips, those used quite successfully during my Devonport Guildhall exhibition, though we agreed that the potential for paint being stripped during pack down was quite likely.  I wasn't sure what to do.  I honestly did think this was the end of a great opportunity to exhibit.  Yet before my head drop, I noticed along the middle of the walls and around the room was a lengthy PVC trunking wide enough to rest boards upon at a slight angle and we decided this would easily be the best route to take.  I had a good idea as to where to get a series of images produced to and from utter despair, there was definite relief replacing this emotion upon my face.  When I returned home, I called Graphique in St. Austell, the company that produced my final major project of my degree and crossed my fingers.

Within minutes of speaking to Robin Hubbard, everything was sorted and all I needed to do next was send across the images ready for print.  It seemed like only days later that everything was ready for pick up.  I couldn't wait to see the work Graphique had done.  Later in the evening I received an email asking if I could call them with regards to one of my prints.  My heart sank as my first thought was something had gone very wrong.  I had a habit during my degree of occasionally sending images to print, only to find I had supplied them with the wrong resolution or colour profile and my first thought was that I had done something similar here.  How wrong I was.

The following morning I spoke to Robin and he told me that the team was so impressed with Poseidon, my storm at sea image, that they wanted to produce a limited edition run of this print on high end aluminium.  My jaw literally hit the floor.  Not only did they want to take on the production duties of this print, it wasn't going to cost me a thing.  I could not believe the opportunity I had in front of me, particularly when weeks before I was almost about to pull out of the NMA exhibition.  Like I said, its funny how things work out.

In the past, I have had to take on all costs when it came to selling work and generally my profit margins were quite low.  Graphique were willing to take on everything from the materials and production time needed to create the piece, along with the marketing needs to display and sell this image.  In return I would receive a percentage of each sale, along with my very own framed prints; the icing on the cake was that I still retained full copyright over the image.

Poseidon by Graphique was produced on high end lacquered aluminium as a limited edition 60 image run and looked absolutely fantastic.  After getting home with my framed present, I took a snap on Instagram, yet looking at it compared to actually looking at it, this photo really doesn't do it any justice.  It is simply one of those striking images that you literally have to see in person; the way light catches the print as you side step slowly from left to right is simply exquisite, giving off an almost haunting and life-like 3D effect.  I have never been so utterly blown away by a piece of art and I can not believe that this is mine.  And not mine in the sense that I now own this print on the wall, I actually took this.  This is what I do.  The work done by Robin and the team at Graphique has shown that my photography continues to be a wonderfully fine mix of documentary and commerciality and gives me a good and positive indication that my Emily Rose series will be a huge success next year.

Poseidon by Graphique, on display in the living room

To accompany the print, I was asked to produce a write up that would be added to a plaque and presented with each copy.

Poseidon

by

Tony Fitzsimmons

Shot around 50 miles south south east off the coast of Land's End

and captured during an intense gale force 8 storm.

From the series, 'Emily Rose'

After five days at sea onboard the Brixham trawler, the 'Emily Rose', a message sounded across on the radio from the coast guard, warning of an incoming 5 to 7 gale force storm, projected to hit during the early hours of the following morning.  My initial thought was that my first week out at sea with the crew was coming to an end.  I turned to Arthur, the skipper of the vessel and asked if we were heading back to port.  He glanced back at me with an almost bemused look on his face.  "No, we're going fishing".

For the rest of the night I kept tabs on the radar as I watched various trawlers return back to the ports of Newlyn, Plymouth and Brixham, while we continued to remain out, riding the high waves against all odds.  Within hours the radar was completely devoid of any other vessel; the Emily Rose the only trawler still working the sea. 

By morning the gale was upgraded to an 8 and I was treated to some of the most powerful and incredible waves I had ever seen.

"The fisherman know that the sea is dangerous and the storm is terrible,

but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore"

Vincent Van Gogh

While my 'Emily Rose' project is still in its early stages, it really has had such a stunning beginning and there are still a few exciting developments still to mention since my NMA exhibition.  I honestly can not wait to get back out to sea in early January and capture more of the crew and vessel, along with the ever changing and powerful landscape that is the sea.  For now, if I ever need a gentle reminder as to how far I've come since graduation, I just need to walk into the living room and let Poseidon completely wash over me.   

Poseidon

Simply Cute

'Simply Cute' was taken during April 2010 as I continued to build a portfolio of work with the purpose of studying a photography degree at Plymouth College of Art.  Like many of my photographs back then, it was unfortunately shot in JPEG format, using a Nikon D60 and a 70-300mm Tamron lens.  While it can not be printed in the sizeable realms that 'Posiedon' is currently being produced though Graphique in St. Austell and Kaya Gallery in Plymouth, it has found a nice little place along side some of my other work in a different context altogether.

Simply Cute

Over the next month, I will be applying the finishing touches to my Etsy store with a variety of products, ready to go live for the start of the new year.  I've been in the planning stage for a while now and as a way of testing the water in what may or may not sell, I recently produced a series of products, one of which being a batch of fridge magnets for a local cafe. Within weeks, the majority had surprisingly sold and this image in particular quickly became one of the most popular.  They weren't short on quality either, using the same paper as I always do for my actual prints through Kaya Gallery, along with a good weighty plastic and strong magnetic strip from an online company I eventually settled with. With key rings and even Snow Globes planned (though I am hoping to find a company that also does Sand Globes to suit some of my Kenya images), the sky is the limit to the potential of my store. If only I knew this during my time at university.

At the moment I am toying around with the possibility of text across the top of some of the fridge magnet images, though more so as a limited run for particular calendar events.  The theme of love is wonderfully represented with 'Simply Cute' and with a little further editing, I believe this will work out great for Valentines.  I am also producing a run of 'Deirdre' Chicken fridge magnets with possible text of "Love My Girls" and links to BHWT, with the potential to donate a percentage of the profits to this wonderful organisation, though more on this and my Etsy store as I get closer to launch.  I really do miss her.

This last year and a half since graduation has been a real eye opener (and struggle at times) in the ways and means of being a practising documentary photography while generating an income.  I continue to persevere onwards; that is all you can do really, though these last few months have been fantastic with further business ventures and sales due to my 'Emily Rose' project.  I can't wait to get back out to sea (she is currently under maintenance for the next few weeks and with a Christmas job lined up, my next trip has been postponed now till the second week of January) and I firmly believe next year will be a stunning, rewarding and very hard working year for me.  After updating my LinkedIn profile recently, it is comforting to note how far I've come and how much I've been involved with since graduation; I expect to add a great many more opportunities to the already growing list during 2016.  

I will also make some time free during April of next year and head back to the same spot I took 'Simply Cute', situated in a lovely little place called Mount Edgecombe, only this time with my Nikon D700 and a 500mm lens.  Hopefully there will be more wonderful new borns on display, loving their introduction to life and as always, loving one another.  If there is anything this world needs right now, it is a whole lot of love.  After the awful events that have transpired recently, particularly that of Paris, I think it is important to remind ourselves that there is still a great beauty and warmth to be found in this world, despite the various evils that often overshadow the thought.  You just have to look for it, however hidden away it may seem.

It is strange how we look back at a photo and how is speaks back to us years later.  'Simply Cute' seems to translate a scene of fragility and wonderment of what life is all about.  We often strive for things that matter the least, when all we really should be searching for is the necessity to be comfortably safe.  For this is all anyone on this planet should ever want or deserve. To be forever safe, comfortable, and always loved.  Perhaps one day we all will.  

Chickens

After a few weeks of feeling on top of the world, I suppose it is only typical of life to remind you of who really is in control and land one heck of a sucker punch. As I write this, it looks very likely that the beautiful and very timid Deirdre won't be around by morning. Our little love is one of five ex-battery hens that have lived with us for almost three wonderful years.  A few days ago she was her usual happy garden roaming self. Last week she managed to find her way through a slight opening after the kitchen door was left ajar to halfway up the stairs, a mischievous sense of accomplishment in her clucks and swagger; from digging and playing on grass and soil, hiding under apple trees and raspberry bushes, to an everlasting supply of water and variety of food on tap with not a worry in the world or a need to remember or remind herself of just how bad it was before, she really did have it all. This morning, her body began shutting down.

For the best part of the day, we took turns in nursing her. The other Chickens carried on with their day, though I did feel they knew what was happening. I sometimes don't give them enough credit in their understanding of life events and every day goings on, but when they've seen me clear up a ridiculous amount of poop from the kitchen floor over the past few years, I do have to wonder.  To this day they still continue pooping here and there, laying that a minefield of mess in just the right place to catch you off guard. Yet I can't shout at them or get angry, they are what they are and I love them to pieces for it. Today was absolutely heartbreaking.

After nearly five years of looking after to losing many ex-battery hens, you'd think it would get easier, that over time this would be something you would just get use to, accept even.  Yet you don't, and while you know it will happen eventually, it doesn't help the fact that their short lives have already been made shorter by such a horrid life before. All you can do is the best you can, give them everything they need to be content, safe and happy. It just gets harder with each and every passing.

The state many of them are in when we pick them up from a release centre is utterly disgraceful. For that reason alone, you really wouldn't give them many more than a few weeks and months at best; a severe lack of feathers, many with limps and crooked bodies, tumours, all manner of aches and pains, the list of awful woes literally goes on. Yet weeks and months later, after they settle and find comfort in their new surroundings, it is almost like their new found happiness begins to cure their ills.  

It surprises me just how resilient these little creatures are. To think that before they arrived at a loving home, they had never seen anything of the outside world. From noisy cramped conditions and incessant noise caused forgivingly by every other hundred/thousand or so Chicken that has zero clue of why they are there or what they have done to deserve such a fate, to constant 24/7 artificial light, seed on timers and non stop conveyors, that unnerving battle just to get ounce of feed is not something you would wish on your worst enemy, yet here we are, maybe not wishing but actually making this a full blown reality for pretty much every species on this planet. If its not meat it is Ivory, or fur, or skin for boots, fins for soup, the list goes on.  

I understand very well that I am somewhat of a hypocrite.  For most of my life I have eaten meat, loved KFC's and not really considered the poor quality of thought and life that goes a long way in making the fast food business into more of a pandemic.  My new photography project even looks at the livelihoods of fishermen in their pursuit of source to plate. I am as much part of the problem so for that reason alone, I won't be making this too much of a lecture. Nowadays, if I can find a good medium, I guess I can live with that.  

Throughout 2015 I have not eaten meat and I continue to do so today, preferring a healthy (and surprisingly nice) Quorn/Soya alternative.  I still eat fish though, a pescatarian I believe it is called and while out on the trawler I would be lying if I said I didn't eat meat; 50 miles from the coast, there is little point making a song and dance about such menu matters, you either eat or you don't. I did draw the line one evening when Chicken was about to be served; a potato and veg sandwich seemed a more pleasing choice.

One of the many wonderful rescue centres across the country (instagram)

Dixie.  The condition they can be in after being rescued is simply appalling

Dotty.  We thought we were going to lose her days after being rescued.
Thankfully she is still with us (instagram)

Every day I see it on the news and every day I can't imagine that tomorrow can be any worse than yesterday. I wonder why those that commit the various and disgusting crimes that they do, often get another chance to do it again and again. I honestly can not bring myself to believe that we are living in a century where beheadings actually still do happen, that there are those out there that bring down planes, incite hatred, instil violence to the uneducated streets.  Here I have this beautifully sweet Deirdre, the most perfect and considerate of creatures, finally in her own lovely little utopian dream, loved and cared for, only to have this taken away so suddenly, without even an apology or a warning. But hey, some scumbag be it the lowest of the low can still look forward to a fame filled morning on Jezza or at the other end of the spectrum, spending x amount of time in a prison version of the Ritz or cheered on for killing hundreds in a split second. I just don't get it.

There is no point being bitter though. If anything, it is just a way of creating further negative energy. I know I can't change a damn thing. No one can, and I think for so long that has always been the problem. While conversation and intent may have always been good, the idea of changing the world will forever be an impossible task. She will gracefully spin on with just as much good and bad as there always has been.  It is a shame it took me half a lifetime and a flock of Chickens to understand and accept this.  In the end, while you will never change the way the world is, you can make a difference, however great, to whatever small, and I hope the next however many years of my life, I will continue to do so.

I had planned to do a Chicken blog for some time now, yet I didn't want it to come across as what it is probably appearing, like some rant and rave about the state and play of our world. I wanted this post to solely reflect on how wonderful these creatures are and concentrate solely on the strength and spirit of these characters.  It may sound strange to some but these little madams have bought so much good into my life and very soon, another will leave me with just as much pain as the last. From the original trio of Dolly, Daisy and Dixie, to the wonderfully inquisitive Delorus, to Doris who only lasted a week, far too traumatised by what came before, to Daenarys, the feistiest and bossiest of them all, fine one day and suddenly gone the next, to Daphne, Deborah, Delia, and Dana, each has left their mark on me and my world.

Daisy

Dana

Daffodil

Deanna (instagram)

Daisy (foreground) & Dolly

Daphne (left) & Delorus

Dana #selfie (instagram)

Deanna enjoying a mud bath (instagram)

Diane, Dotty, Deanna, Deirdre and Daffodil (instagram)

Dotty.  Even a box of straw can keep her happy for hours (instagram)

Diane

Summer time chilling with Diane, Dotty, Deanna, Deirdre and Daffodil (instagram)

Deanna (left) & Deirdre #besties (instagram)

After spending an almost sleepless night with Deirdre in my room, one claw clutched around my finger, her head awkwardly resting on my arm, it was clear nothing could be done.  By morning she became somewhat stressed with what appeared to be a series of panic attacks.  Despite her legs finally giving way, she still had a desire to move around; the amount of power in her wings was incredible given how weak she was. I managed to calm her down each time this happened with a soothing cuddle, but we knew she couldn't keep on going like this. A few hours later, Deirdre was taken to the local vet and put to sleep.

She is at peace now, buried in the garden alongside the rest of the beautiful tribe we have lost over the years. A day later and I still feel so utterly empty; a few more tears trickle down my cheek is testament to that. Yet she did have a lovely time with us and this is what I should and always focus on. I just wish she could had a few more years with us, or at the very least, passed away in her sleep without having to endure whatever suffering she may have experienced on her final day.

The other four women are all just as old and I know soon, each one of them will break my heart all over again. I don't think it matters who or what it may be, attachment to anything in life will hurt a great deal when it is gone. Life is so short and while it may hold so many magical moments, the pain it can also bring at times is simply unbearable. I wonder if this is really what being human is all about?  That the only way we will ever live and learn is through love and loss.

Perhaps one day we will make the world a better place.  A world built on peace and harmony, where religion doesn't preach or dictate that their God or message is the one true whatever but instead underline and explain the principles of what is good or bad through common sense, communication and clarity.  Where politics is actually about forming a better way and means of life instead of simply belittling the opposing party.  Where terrorism or despicable acts are nothing more make-believe than the monsters under your bed.  And where long term goals are not forever battered by a short term way of thinking, of making and destroying millions of lives in an instant through a thoughtless pursuit of the quick buck.

As the most intelligent and dominant species on the planet, we certainly have a huge responsibility; with great power, well you know the rest. Maybe if we saw life through the eyes of those we hold with little or even no regard, things would be different. The very notion that I can love something so vastly different to myself, where language and understanding is literally as alien as our appearance to one another seems as profound as it is beautiful. They have earned the right to be here just as much as we have.  Some even have a stronger case than we do in that right. I really do believe the world has a lot to learn from all creatures, whether great or small.  In these last five years, I know I have.

In memory of Deirdre