As the chill blows in today, I am concious of the reflections and camera images we have been experimenting with, somehow, sitting here, I am also concious of them reflecting the cold winters of the past upon the house. It is possible, in my minds eye, to see the family within it’s walls, warm by the fires and other parts of the house cold, silence upon its windows and grounds as the frost clears with the rising sun. It is, as I have said before, not a departure into sentimentality, but a journey with the inside and outside of the house that as kept on forever collecting its winters till summer relieves it.
Thinking of Rachael’s camera obscura images, they are like old postcards faded with cold days and winter morning haze. Looking strangely into them is like looking through a tunnel of time to some distant past living here in the present. I can feel the house now, looking out through it’s windows with old eyes. I wonder if Rachael feels it as I feel it, it’s endurance, it’s dimensions?
