Posted on February 17, 2017
I spent hours photographing these pretty coastal blooms with my macro lens (and no tripod!) on top of a windy Bodega head, captivated by their abundantly gorgeous array of pastel candy shades, like the tangy-sweet salt water taffy we gorged ourselves on. Up close they look like perfect wedding bouquets. Though I have searched I haven’t been able to locate their name, so I would love if someone could tell me what they are called.
© images by Emily Hughes, 2016
Posted on January 21, 2016
© images and words by Emily Hughes, 2016
Posted on October 30, 2015
oh, she dreams in gold, 2015
I’m working on a little series of golden, composite images on the theme of reverie, and I’ve just added this one to my artfinder shop. I’ve posted this one before here, but needed to make a few tweaks before I was entirely happy with it.
© images and words by Emily Hughes, 2015
Posted on October 28, 2015
“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
I love this quote, and try to remember it every year when the leaves tumble into crunchy piles of a thousands shades of amber. Every new season always feels like an opportunity for renewal, but especially autumn, when the cooling, crisp winds which make us reach for our jumpers and hats breathe a haze of rich, gold-infused light over the heavens. And especially this year. Maybe because it came at the end of a wonderfully long, heady summer, or maybe because I have taken on new challenges and my brain is whirring as it learns new things. Or maybe it is because, as I head into my own autumnal years, I feel more of an affinity with this season which I have previously always approached with a sense of loss and longing, and am finding it can energise me as much as the sprightly newness of spring, or the carefree, lazy days of summer.
The children always love this time of year because for them it signals the start of the season of treats, fun and indulgence which starts around Halloween and peaks with Christmas, of course. They find the chilly days and dark nights exciting in a way which I, as one who worships light, have never really understood before. Even bonfire night usually fails to ignite a spark of excitement. However this year, the quiet, mellow joys of this mature season have infused my heart and pooled into its chambers with a surprising, juicy burst of delight – just like that first taste of freshly plucked sweet-sharp blackberries.
© images and words by Emily Hughes, 2015
Posted on March 25, 2015
I love macro photography. It forces you to slow down, and take notice of what is around you. There is something really so wonderfully involved about focussing in on the minutiae of life. It’s a bit like discovering a secret world – the more you delve into it, the more you want to explore.
And suddenly something as small and insignificant as a blade of grass can take centre stage, and become, well, a thing of pure wonder.
© words and images Emily Hughes, 2015
Posted on January 25, 2015
… a little burst of sunshine.
© words and image Emily Hughes, 2015
Posted on January 1, 2015
When I push the shutter release, I close my eyes.
(Annelies Strba, from Shades of Time)
I have done a lot of reflecting during this holiday period. I’ve read a lot of blog posts and facebook updates about fresh starts and being thankful and realising what’s important, and all that. I’m not knocking any of it. It’s all good and true, of course. It’s been refreshing, and liberating, to have some time to just be without the pressures of work and the day-to-day (of course I know this is only a temporary state, so I’m bracing myself for the full onslaught which comes with immersing myself back into the deep end of life). One thing which has struck me head on, though, throughout all the great stuff (and there is lots of great stuff!) is just how busy 2014 has been. And not entirely in a good way. I always like being busy. I need busy. But I have learned it is definitely not good to busy yourself to the point that you find yourself collapsing in a crumpled heap over the finish line on your hands and knees with a white flag between your teeth. It ends, usually, in tears, frustration and wounds, the kind of which you can’t slap a plaster on; the kind which take much time and effort to heal. It benefits no-one in the end, least of all you.
So at the start of this year. This shiny, brand spanking new clean sheet of a year, I am going to gift myself some much needed advice.
Just give yourself a moment.
Close your eyes
Happy New Year to all, and I wish you a peaceful, fulfilling and inspiring year ahead.
© images and words Emily Hughes, 2015