the cold morning light

Bobby and I styled a photo shoot on the weekend, as part of a photography project I am taking part in (we will be styling and photographing his contribution on Sunday) and whilst I was sitting there editing my images I couldn’t help but allow a stream of thoughts flow through my mind ready for their own editing.

I discovered that maybe I need to write in order to create images that recreate an inkling of what is in my head.  One simply cannot exist without the other. The act of breathing life to the thoughts that echo within my head through the medium of the written word in turn sparks the connective labour of my second love, the visual medium.
How one cannot truly exist without the other has become intriguing to me. I wondered how long I could sit and think about this concept and dream up plausible reasons as to why.
During sleepless nights, I've found myself sitting here for hours, searching by a dim light perched in the corner of the room, for the words uttered by great scholars and authors which resonate and bring life to the voice within me. I’ll sit there, running my finger over the words of a cherished quote as though the simple act of touching the paper will infuse my skin and soul to the same identity.
And then I realise:
My writing is my identity.
My photography is a manifestation of those words.
The former cannot exist without the latter.
The atoms within the core of my being bellow this. It's what holds my essence together.
Knowing this and coming to this realisation, I trust in this fuel to keep moving forwards, trying to always be better at what I do, creating visuals from the words that are born within me.