Pool, puddles and jumping. Here’s one of my favourite family photos. Looking at it again ten years later, I find myself on a thought journey about photography and creativity.

Memories can be slippery devils. They swim around my brain, waiting for a moment of capture, the moment when I need to reel one into my conscious mind to muse over.

A good few years ago, maybe ten, I made a piece of work for a photography festival in the seaside town where I lived called The Telling of Tall Tales. I have long been interested in stories and pictures, and how the two connect and support each other. No surprises there looking around this website. 

Many years ago, I was studying for a diploma in General Art and Design at an art school on the blustery, freezing-cold coast of North Norfolk. Part of our studies in, the first year, involved a module in photography.

My grandmother gave me this book, a book showing Libya, the country of my birth, before the revolution of 1969.