A welcome shade in a hot July, Kent...

I imagined my death this morning: In a car crash or by a bullet. I felt sorry for myself. I cried over my corpse for a while. Soon after I started talking of cows, of the government, of how expensive life is nowadays, And I felt better, a little bit good. I meant to tell you that I am really ill. As if without skin, hurt by the air around, wounded by the sun, by words, by dreams. An annoying devil has climbed on the back of my head and doesn't leve me alone. Ulcerous, rotten, I have to live crawling, on all fours, slowly, any way I can. [Jaime Sabines (1926-1999)]

A recent visit to the chapel of St Peter and St Paul in the Greenwich university campus, the old Naval College.

Although there are now many other cemeteries around the city of La Paz, Cementerio Central is the iconic place open to all and there seems to be a space for everyone in spite of the passage of time.

The White Cliffs of Dover before the storm...

Somewhere in Italy... I have been checking past images that were not considered good enough; I am giving them a facelift...

This self portrait should in fact have a subtitle "After Ricardo Perez Alcalá", a Bolivian artist considered to be one of the best aquarellist of Latin America, born in 1939 and died 2013, born in Potosí, Bolivia. In his later years he stated: 'I used to paint what I saw, I now paint what I imagine', very close to my own perception of 'not WHAT I see but HOW I see it'

Inspired by Philippe Otto Runge.

What with the quarantines, winter and continuous rain, I am outputting more still life, as a wait for the ingredients needed to start a cyanotype project. This image will be a possible one.

Four sunsets from the attic window...