Sunday, 27 May 2012

367-50 Week 28

Week 28 has arrived. It's funny to think that there are over 700 views each months on this blog and no-one bothers to leave a comment. This is, after all, the internet where opinions are like assholes - everybody has one. I thank you.

Things continue to be fraught and I continue to be a mess. I start back to work on Wednesday and am not sure if I'm ready for it or fit for it. Hopefully I'll get at least a day of mooching around the office answering e-mails and catching up on 'phone messages before I have to go near other human beings. I'm going to concentrate on portraits this week, and specifically family portraits. For reasons that I'm sure I don't need to explain.

21/05/12

Monday morning - I had suggested to my sister that she might like to get some shots of her on her big flash 500cc motorbike. We tried some panning shots on a country road and some posed shots in a car park.  I liked this one - it's less about the motorbike and more about my sister. It was hell getting her look at or near the camera and stop blinking.
Since the shit hit the fan (so to speak) Sharon has amazed me - she stopped talking long enough to listen, understood why I was so worked up (today particularly), sympathised and generally stepped up to the plate for me. Given that we generally can't stand to be around each other for too long, that was pretty amazing. She's not a bad spud, once she stops talking.

22/05/12

I loved this shot of Conor the moment I saw it on my computer screen. He's a talented young man, a wonderful artist, smart, funny as hell and great fun to have around. He's also miserable and spends a lot of time feeling down, unhappy and anxious. Today it was anger and anxiety, the splint being a result of the former. I've always felt that I've failed Conor in so many respects, and never felt like he got enough of my time. Now when he needs someone to lean on, I'm so messed up with my own problems I feel like I can't give him the time and attention he needs. He's a sensitive lad and I think he's soaking up my low mood like a son-shaped sponge. He's trying to talk and I need to try to listen. I wonder how much of Conor's unhappiness is a result of things I have done or failed to do?

23/05/12

My eldest, Siobhan, who is now 23. I was married and had Siobhan by the time I was 26. That's scary. Siobhan has been a rock for me lately, always there to listen to my shite, prop me up when I needed it and tell me the hard truth when it was required. She's made sure I'm not on my own too much but gives me space. I've missed seeing as much of Siobhan as I have recently. She's always been special - some of my fondest memories are of looking after her when she was tiny and her mum was back at work. God but I loved that time when it was just her and me and there wasn't a problem in the world couldn't be solved by a story or a song - usually about dinosaurs. She's now in the position of trying to look after her father. She doesn't like photos of herself, by and large. I hope she likes that one.

24/05/12

One of the strangest requests when taking a shot of someone has to be "don't make me look like a chipmunk." This is daughter the second, Katie. Katie and I lived together through thin and thinner for just over four years. We haven't been talking too much (or maybe at all) for a while but this evening we made a start on at least flagging up the sore points. And smoking rollies in the back garden. Katie has a sharp tongue but a good heart. Katie is also a stunningly beautiful girl who does not look like a chipmunk. She's smart and studies stuff at QUB that I can't even spell. Internal parasites anyone? Of all my children she's the one who looks most like her mother and least like me, but hey, you can't have everything.

25/05/12

My youngest child, and a little ray of sunshine in my life. Sarah is possibly the most resilient child in the world. Alway cheerful (although that worries me at times) and always wanting to talk and do stuff. She keeps me busy, keeps me on my toes and is always ready with a hug.

26/05/12

This is a slightly off-centre portrait of s slightly off-centre lady. My auntie Carole is a bone fide one-of-a-kind. One of the most generous people you'll ever meet, always looks out for those close to her and always tries to do the right thing. Carole is my late mum's younger sister - she left the little town we all grew up in to join the RAF and saw the world at least three times. Failed relationshops, divorces, deaths - she took it all as life threw it at her. As Uncle Colin would put it, she is a "card carrying alcoholic" who represents the drinking gene in our family as passed down by my grandfather, through Carole, to me. Shapeless and very bad drunks all of us.
Carole cares, and her flamboyance can put people off at times, but she was one of the few people who understand what I was saying to her and could actually empathise with what I was saying without taking sides or making judgements. All before the sun had gotten above the yard arm. Who else would hand you an envelope containing 100 brand new and sequential £5 notes on a whim?

27/05/12

Last shot of the week meant a trip to visit my dad. When the sun comes out, my father wastes no time and strips off, sits in the sun and burns himself until he is the colour of a lobster. Since the football season has ended, we were actually able to talk about stuff. He liked the copy of Sarah's school photo I'd sent him and was keen to hear about our stall at the car boor sale this morning. I joke about my dad because he doesn't like to talk about sensitive or difficult things that involve feelings. Partly that's down to his personality (quiet, taciturn and solitary) and partly due to him being a product of his generation. Born in the 1940's he (I think) is one of a genration of men who simply don't talk about they feel or like to listen to someone else talk about they'e feeling. However, he's always constant and you always know what to expect. There have been times in my adult life where he was quick to offer a bed when it was needed, and he adores all his grandchildren, even if he does have a tendency to sign birthday and xmas cards "W Barbour." He also was wonderful when my mum was terminally ill, looking after her right to the end. And he still wears the wedding ring round his neck on a chain.

So - there you have it. seven family portraits. I've missed Ellen (due to a combination of her still being angry with me and revising for exams) and Rory (due to him living in England. I'll get Ellen next week by hook or by crook and Conor and I will be visiting Rory at the end of June for a weekend in Nottingham.

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