Memories anchor us to the fabric of our lives like the ivy that holds together the construction of a stone wall. For every abstraction of beauty there is a story, a secret accountable for the histories, loves and losses of countless lives we shall never know. Like Autumn leaves we drift across the geography of our motherland, to seize the currents that lead us forth on our prospective journeys towards discovery, experience and beauty
Stills from the fifth stage (stillness) of the social dance experiment, conducted for the video of our single ‘Harvest’
Some things are as immovable as silence and remain as one
Our new single Harvest is now available for your discovery
Without a trace,
And as pure as a selflessness
Freedom leaves itself in the
Gold of the closing day
And the silver rise of the moon.
Instincts move beyond the wood
Like a hymn;
The old souls that recite the tune
Walk like angels of the undergrowth
We have erected an obelisk in a secret wild location. It is a significant part of a large body of work soon to be revealed. A sculpture that heeds signs as significant as daylight, interweaving the acknowledgment of ancient civilisations with the power of the subconscious, the spiritual and emotion.
All is one, on breath. With the magnitude of what defies time and place. A relationship unscripted, that moves without separation, just as the dark pine leans into the wind, leaning into the voice of centuries. To hand yourself over to the promise of exchange; the act of giving and receiving; a dialogue that became an equilibrium in a time before beginning and end.
A field of flowers, closing. Disappearing into darkness.
The scent of uprooted earth and pine, becoming the horizon.
by the trees
that passes by
the moving window.
The Art Of Letting Go
A white rose - a symbol that beauty resides in the most unexpected abstractions of corners. Sometimes all that is needed is an alteration of perspective, a moments contemplation, to reverse a written viewpoint or to reconsider a societies measure of what is considered the spectrum of ‘tangible’ beauty. A few years back, when we were travelling through the rural depths of Montenegro, we passed a slum. A display of those who survived without, of those who lived side by side with necessity, shoulder to shoulder with hardship. In the middle of this overcrowded, density of chaos, there grew the most perfect specimen of a single white rose I have ever encountered. Its stalk was resilient and unwavering, lifting the star-white plumage of petals high above the fences, above the cattle, above the soft trodden earth. In this space, between bordered land, between hand-constructed tin huts, it had been left alone, untouched, as if an unspoken understanding between all that resided there, that within all chaos there is a secret order, that within all seasons of difficulty, beauty shines regardless; That the measure of strength and of beauty exists in the eye of the beholder. In the knowledge of what is valued and what is respected in an individual life.
This I have never forgotten.
“So the darkness shall be the light and the stillness the dancing”
- T.S Eliot
“What is in motion is neither in the space where it is, nor in the space where it isn’t”
- Zeno of Elea
Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.
Harvesting apples from the last of Autumn’s abundance in the orchard. The season of change, when all does fall to the earth. A scattering of seeds and ripened fruit among a bed of geological golds.
Skies move without influence, without pressure, injustice or a restlessness in wanting.
How one permanent sky can change you; clothe you in a feeling that is absent of an end.
Photographs by Alex Knight
There is a wilderness in each of us
Behind the inscriptions,
The vines cling to the country air,
Beyond the horizon,
Without witness, a birds song
Behind every interpretation to feather the darkness
Remains always, a portrait, longing.
A Symphony of Spring
The Anatomy Of A Secret
“In spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody. The essential substance of every thought and feeling remains incommunicable, locked up in the impenetrable strong-room of the individual soul and body. Our life is a sentence of perpetual solitary confinement."
- Aldous Huxley
The Divers of Dusseldorf Lake
Happy New Year!
Two bodies, two lives sharing the wings of a single bird upon the remains of a Bronze Age settlement
For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love.
- Carl Sagan
Presented to the sky like an atom that simply distributes the weight of a cloud.
To pass through all that comes afterwards
Forget The Past
Two Together Between Two Worlds
“I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other.”
- Rainer Maria Rilke
This series of photographs document our time living in the remoteness of the Brecon Beacons
This series of photographs document our time living and writing on the roads of Europe.