‘The Storyteller’‘A Forgotten Tale’‘The Blue Saint’‘The Suicide of Spring’‘The Beautiful Blindness of Devotion’‘The Pink Saint’‘The Lullaby of May’
This entry has been a long time coming; it’s been two months since the day of the shoot, and a whole month before that when I began working on the costumes and props. For me there is a strong mix of feelings about these pictures. They represent an entire emotional scale that I have never experienced until now, some good and some bad – and that feels a little strange. Whenever I can, I try to make Wonderland about the real world that we live in, the true natural wonders that occur and disappear in the blink of an eye, and so often pass by unnoticed. Moving to the countryside and working on this project has taught me so much, and my knowledge of wild flowers and the seasons is something I am slowly grasping with each new month. As a child growing up, the sudden appearance of bluebells remained one of my most mesmerising memories of nature. I cannot think of another natural sight I have seen since that has struck me in the same way, so it felt incredibly important to capture this very special phenomenon for the series.
I first discovered our location in the spring of 2009; it was unlike any bluebell wood I had encountered before. The flowers were so dense that the ground seemed to vibrate with the intensity of their colour. I can still remember my frustration as I stood in all that beauty, utterly helpless without any costumes or props, exasperated by the fact it would be gone within a matter of days. So I photographed the area for my records, and reluctantly trudged away promising myself I would return prepared the following year. It was now March 2010 and a matter of weeks before the location was due to bloom. I had been dreaming of a pale woman in a huge headdress cascading with bluebells, its shape was very definite and reminded me of old Dutch Master’s paintings and nun’s wimples. Sometimes I can’t quite explain where the ideas filter from – the bluebells were undoubtedly a link to my childhood in Kent, and their colour constantly reminded me of the midnight blues of my favourite storybook Moonlight and Fairyland. Its illustrations always had a strange melancholy feel to them; the characters were often austere with pale faces and cold eyes and maybe it was these two elements that subconsciously became the basis of my ‘Storyteller’. It was during this time on one of my regular trips to scout the progress of the location that I accidentally took a wrong turn and found myself entering a towering Rhododendron forest I had never seen before. It was incredible, some of the trees were as tall as a house, and although nothing had flowered yet, it was possible to imagine how it would look when they finally did. I left the car behind and continued on foot, walking down the winding paths and staring up, mouth open. The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. I had goose bumps and knew we absolutely had to shoot there, too. After an hour of excitedly taking notes and pictures, just as I was leaving, I found a bud at the foot of one of the tallest trees and inside discovered the damp curl of it’s fuchsia pink petals. Now I knew their colour, a plan began to form: two locations, two powerful contrasting hues, and in my head that meant I needed two models – something I have never done on a shoot before.
In the weeks that followed, the endless wait for the bluebells had triggered thoughts about the life span of seasons and how nature’s cycles bring us constant change; their surrender to each other as plants flower and die in the wake of the next. This led me to working on the concept of creating giant floral eggs as a symbol of new life, while the religious undertones developed further in my dreams. Over time these visions became so ingrained that they dictated the poses and costumes for the pink and blue saints. It was also the inspiration for the final scene, ‘The Suicide of Spring’, which was intended as spring’s self sacrifice to the arrival of summer. It was now April and I had around four weeks to make everything for the shoot. Elbie had to go back to South Africa, and most of the jobs were very delicate and time-consuming. Unlike building big wooden cakes and chicken wire candy canes, this wasn’t a task I could give to anyone other than myself. The eggs had to be made from endless layers of papier-mâché and then covered in hand painted silk flowers. I knew this was going to take a long time, so I started straight away.
After two weeks both eggs were nearly finished. I had two models booked, but no costumes, no headdress, and still no bluebells in sight. I was visiting the location every few days on constant alert but everything was flowering late due to the snow in January. To be honest, the delay was a relief as I was beginning to worry over the amount there was left to do. As usual, I had taken on too much. My ‘Storyteller’ character had evolved into to a grandiose scene involving a giant throne made of books and an enormous dramatic dress made of hundreds of ripped pages. It was beyond my sole capabilities, so my lovely assistant Charlotte came to the rescue, patiently spending endless days sitting on my kitchen floor, sewing and stapling pages into the dress.
Once the costume was underway I began the headdress. I started by moulding a wire scull cap that I embedded into a papier-mâché and plaster of Paris shell. It was incredibly difficult and unlike anything I had attempted before. It took a solid week of working late into the night to decide how I would create the shape, but finally after a lot of attempts, cut fingers and bad soldering the frame was complete. The days continued to fly by and there was still so much to do. I honestly don’t remember having such an intense run up to a shoot.
At long last, the bluebells arrived in early May. The shoot date was set for Sunday the ninth and once again my house was thrown into utter chaos. I had taken the Friday off work to try and finish everything early. Though it was actually my birthday, there was no time to celebrate. During the week, Charlotte had called to say she had found us the most incredible collection of old books that had belonged to the great-grandmother of a friend of hers. Almost all of them were over 100 years old, collected throughout her life, and were full of hand written messages, dates and tiny pieces of newspaper cuttings. Years of birthday and Christmas gifts; they were all there. I was completely unprepared for the emotional impact it had on me when they arrived. I shuddered as I opened each one, sometimes with delight, and other times almost in tears.. Among the collection I found a small number of beautiful little prayer books given in condolence after the grandmother’s husband had passed. I sat on the kitchen floor surrounded by these fragments of another life, reading the hand written inscriptions, slowly turning the thin yellow pages. In one I found a newspaper clipping in the crease of the spine – it had been the announcement of her husband’s death in the local paper. It made me stop, and look far beyond these being just props, I thought about mum and how I was unable to keep many of her things. Yet here in my hands were somebody else’s precious little possessions – and that was when I decided to make a necklace from the books. I can’t really explain it, but the idea of turning them into something special, and being worn across the heart of the model, was my way of showing respect for this woman I had never met.
The next day felt like one of the longest days of my life. We were up with the dawn, stealing cherry blossom from the roadside, and then back to more sewing and dying of the costumes. Adam arrived mid-morning and within a few hours he and Charlotte managed to drill and nail the book throne together. As the day stretched on the weather became increasingly worse, the skies faded from grey to black, and the rain fell in broken sheets. At four in the afternoon, Matt and I made the final journey to the location to collect the enormous amount of bluebells we needed to cover the headdress. We parked the car and skidded down the slippery path to the wood. It was ridiculous really: it was the night before the shoot and we still hadn’t actually seen the location in full bloom. However, when we arrived it was a breathtaking sight. The carpet of blue radiated out through the gloom, no one was around and it was silent – there wasn’t even the distant rumble of a car. We stood in the drizzle in our wellington boots, raincoat hoods up, scissors in hand and couldn’t help but laugh at each other. We were soaked; what a sight! Thank god Matt understands me. I don’t know another man on the planet who would suffer stealing bluebells in the dark with his mad girlfriend! We began cutting; it took almost an hour to collect enough, as we needed hundreds of them. The rain finally stopped, and we squelched our way back to the car and then home to Elbie and the others. For the rest of the night we worked to cover the headdress. Elbie and I spread all the flowers out, and then threaded each one onto long strings, which we then attached to the headdress base. Meanwhile Adam prepared the last of the poisoned dream potion bottles. We eventually finished everything at one in the morning. I was at my wits end, I had tried so hard to be ready at least a day before the shoot, but once again here we were: Elbie and I, glassy-eyed in my kitchen mumbling words of encouragement to each other about how the shoot was going to be OK.
The following morning we were up at six; preparing the models took almost three hours. Elbie did the make-up while I made small crowns from painted ivy, which we then sewed to the coloured stockings that covered the models’ hair. We left for the location by eleven, though the weather was dismal and I felt unwell at the prospect of the long day ahead.
The first picture was ‘The Blue Saint’ staged in the Rhododendron forest. We positioned our model Francesca high into the flowers, and wrapped spray-painted ivy around the skirts of her costume, attaching it with wire to the surrounding branches. In the end, the dull light actually created a beautiful softness and allowed the rest of the details to melt away into the darkness under the tree.
I pinned the extra frills and silk pieces to the costume, layering all the textures until it was truly a beautiful sight to see. I was thrilled!
From there we moved on to ‘The Pink Saint’ picture, which was set at the foot of the tallest tree. It was absolutely mind blowing: I have never seen a Rhododendron of that size in my life. Each picture took well over an hour to set up and I could already sense things were getting a little strained. Considering it was cold and drizzling the models were extremely patient, but it is just the nature of how my shoots are – there are no toilets, lots of insects, and long delays between scenes. It is never glamorous and so with a growing sense of unease, I decided to abandon a picture I had planned in order for us to move to the next location.
We arrived at the bluebell wood within minutes and parked the van and two cars that were bursting with props, flowers, generators and endless other equipment. I remember opening the rear double doors and staring at the contents of the van for what felt like the first time, unable to piece together how all these things had come to be. I was feeling quite dizzy by now: I hadn’t eaten all morning and was about to take the most important picture of the shoot – ‘The Storyteller’. In the distance I could hear the whoops of Elbie getting out of the car behind, I forgot that as a South African, she may have never actually seen a bluebell wood before. It was an extraordinary sight: the flowers were a shimmering haze of blue against the phosphorus green of the trees. It was truly an enchanted place, that was for sure. It soothed me for a moment, before I turned and we began unloading the enormous throne and the endless boxes of heavy books. Everything had to be carried uphill and it was slow, exhausting work. We set up the scene at the peak, and eased Francesca into her dress.
Sadly, this is where things became a little difficult. Once she was in position on the throne, we lowered the headdress onto her head, which was very heavy and had to be held by an assistant from behind. The weather had clouded over, and after a couple of minutes she raised her hand and said she wanted to stop. My heart dropped, as she said was too cold. I suppose up until now I have been extremely lucky with the people I have worked with, or maybe they have been too polite to be honest about how cold and wet they felt on my shoots. Suddenly I was faced with a scene that had taken weeks of work and cost over £500 in raw materials, which didn’t even touch on the time and the support of everyone making it all for free. It included the book collection of a dear friend’s dead grandmother, in a field of flowers that would be gone in a matter of days, something that I’d already had to wait an entire year for. I looked at the back of my camera, I’d only taken about twenty frames: What on earth was I going to do? We stopped shooting, covered the model and took away the headdress, it felt like the longest two minutes of my life. Everyone shuffled around awkwardly until we convinced her to carry on for a little longer. The covers came off, and I tried to get as many pictures as I could but the headdress didn’t look as good as it had the first time around and I kept slipping on the wet flowers. Another two minutes passed, and that was it. She wanted to be taken back to the car while I stayed on my own by the throne trying not to cry. I desperately needed her for the double-suicide picture I had planned, but there was absolutely nothing I could do. She asked to be driven home and suddenly everything was falling apart, it was so hard to carry on.
Finally, feeling utterly defeated I took the Madonna and Child picture with Anna, our ‘Pink Saint’. I felt so low, but Anna put on an amazing performance and seeing her swathed in neon, clashing so violently with the bluebells made the whole scene appear utterly surreal. It was thrilling to sit in front of, the picture felt instinctively strong and my confidence crept back a little. We then lay Anna down in the flowers for the final suicide scene, spreading her clothes out and laying the bottles of dream potion on top of her pale body. Next came the book necklace, then more books around her head, and finally I shook the cherry blossom over her from above, creating a gentle snow of petals. I had thrown one of the lengths of silk attached to her arm outwards, and from the top of my step ladder the effect was incredible: it looked as if she was flying. The whole vision was like a Gustav Klimt painting, full of texture and colour. It was one of those moments that I have tried to describe so many times before, when everything stops and suddenly I feel I am there, in the story, experiencing it all for real. I had needed this feeling so badly all day, and now in the last moments it had finally arrived. It was six-thirty and I called it a day, came down from the stepladder, took a couple of close-ups and it was over.
Everyone started packing up the props, while I stood in a daze staring back at the wood. My stomach was pulsing and cramping badly, my head hurt, I hadn’t slept properly for days and I knew I had found my limit with this shoot. Elbie and I gave each other a knowing look, ‘How the hell did we get through this one?’ and quietly began carrying everything back to the van. Usually packing up and going home from the shoots is a loud and funny time. People crack jokes, and give sighs of relief, but I think everyone was exhausted beyond anything we had experienced before. We drove home in silence, down the twisted lanes, and I worried about the blue egg picture I hadn’t been able to take. The bluebells would be gone by next weekend and I no longer had the model I’d intended to stage it with. I had to leave for a business trip to China the next day, and my chance to complete the set of pictures I’d planned was gone.
However, I strongly believe that all things happen for a reason. Two weeks later I was back in the UK and despite the bluebells having disappeared I decided I wanted to return to the Rhododendron forest. I called on dear Katie and asked if she would model for me early the next morning. I wanted to take a picture of her naked, clutching the blue egg high up in one of the trees, wrapped in silk just after the dawn. As always, without hesitation, she agreed and came to my house at five-thirty in the morning. We rushed off to the location where Elbie and I proceeded to rub Katie’s almost naked body with insect repellent and gold body cream, laughing ourselves sick as two very surprised dog walkers accidently stumbled on our little set! It was effortless. She was patient and everything felt ‘right’ as the early morning sun gently framed her face and hair. It was simply beautiful and at last my heart felt light again.
We have all become such special friends since this project started, something I am so deeply grateful for. It had been precious and fun, and at long last I finally got my picture.
Hi Kirsty,
Amazing work! Would be wonderful to see the bluebells and rhododendrons in person! I’m in awe how you came up with these ideas without research and was able to create them.
I love, love, LOVE the book necklace and the dress with pages from books!!!
The colors are wonderful and the models look great! I’m glad that it turned out and I admire all the hard work you and your friends put into this shoot.
Kudos!
Slainte
~M
I know this is a pretty old blog entry; but I’m reading it this morning for the first time… and I wanted to say how much it has inspired me to actually get out this spring/summer/fall and hopefully manifest some of my extremely grand-scale creative photoshoot ideas. The struggle I come across though, is usually a lack of responsible and willing helpers or assistants. But nonetheless, this blog is perfect in length and detail; it is exactly what I needed to read to put a little persuasion into my run-dry photography life.
Keep up the inspiring work.
Your beautiful pictures have brought me to tears with both sadness and joy. Sadness that my beautiful mum is not longer walking this earth. Joy in that I was privileged to have known her and been her daughter for 48 years. Miriam, my dear mum loved flora and fauna…she taught me many things about nature when I was a small child. I remember her getting upset when random people used to raid the bluebell woods near our home…when she saw them walk by the window with arms filled with bluebells with the white below the ground stems showing…”Oh no…they shouldn’t pull bluebells, they should snap them above ground as every white stalk means a bluebell corm will die…” So…every time I saw people walk by with bunches of white stemmed bluebells….I’d run outside and tell them what they had done and how they should pick them! I so love your bluebell image…just wish the model had been my mum as the concept encapsulated her. A beautiful, wise, story telling, nature loving, generous soul.