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☀️ Eustace Collection: Pie and Pudding People
We must cherish and protect these places as if our lives were etched upon it.
Architecture, photography and its relationship to mental health and wellbeing from my own perspective.
We must cherish and protect these places as if our lives were etched upon it.
What buildings like St. Mary represent is a vast cognitive reserve, a wondrous and sophisticated cosmos of quivering emotional intelligence. This building is full of tiny signatures, a lexicon that betrays the aggregate human attempt at survival in the desperation of a crisis.
From the ground zero of my breakdown there came about a remarkable journey of enlightenment, of change, of fresh perspectives. Out of the flux of the horror of finding myself cocooned on my bedroom floor, there emerged a new person.
Churches remind us of how normal people like us relentlessly hacked, carved, forged, daubed, etched and wove our way out of the unremitting labyrinth of threats to the human condition.
There is a face peeping out from behind the flaking limewash.
The photographs act like wormholes into the time they were taken, and are often the instigators of the stories that I tell within this digest; but more than that, amidst bouts of punishing low self-esteem, they remind me that I’m not an imposter, that I’m worthy of the places I photograph.
I get a bit obsessed with the textures and patterns - the way that the personality of a place can change in an instant with the light.
As I cycle along the wall, I take in each stone as ballast.
My recovery had something to do with light and something to do with its interaction with buildings.