Ellen Rogers

Is there a word for when the weather changes?

Is there a word for when the weather changes?

It’s hot (for me…), which comes as a relief despite my love of winter, or at least the clothing of winter.

Things have been sinking back into my bones and I’ve been enjoying the frisson my job teaching at the university brings me. Deadlines, a reason for being a mentor and watching the students flourish and grow under the same scrutiny and pressure I did as the academic year closes.

I’ve also met a girl who will pose for me in a way that I hope will be fruitful, I’ve needed someone who understands empathy yet understands the scratching monster inside us both, clawing, wild. I think there is a potential chance she is the mirror I’ve needed of late. We could be an island.

Today as I write I’ve been missing my love, Kaveh, who is writing on a retreat with cows and bucolic such and such. I know when its love, the itching fades to a lull-an ache that says, I leave you now in this momnet… just so I can come back to you again.

I’ve felt more than anything a deep neglect of my work, so many ideas pile a-top one another and compost under, fossilising even. They say all that I’ve been wanting to say.

People say it’s hard to balance work and art, it is, and there is no two ways about that, but I’m really nothing without it. I cause trouble when I can’t make art, I act up; take it out unduly on loved ones. Yet the moment I’m back in my studio or darkroom the high tinnitus need of making art softens and I’m human again. Home, in equanimity.

These images are of Savannah at Profile models, make up by Rosita D, Styling by Emilia Pelech and clothing by my beloved Ovate.

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