The Course:
About Photography
With my passion for photography, it was inevitable that the camera would play a significant part for me during (and since) the course – even though I’ve subsequently found that it’s not an essential walking-companion.
Firstly, photography was the hook which encouraged me to enrol on the course and filled me with the expectation I’d enjoy it. Then the camera acted as a prompt reminding me to take Ruth-walks – it behaves like a forlorn puppy deprived of the sights (and smells) of the great outdoors. And, I’ll admit, I’m less self-conscious if I have a camera with me when I’m out walking. If a passer-by looks at me quizzically because I’m peering into a garden or crouching over an ‘interesting’ weed, I just brandish my camera and breezily explain, “I’m on a photography course – I’m doing an assignment”.
That explains everything – obviously.

Beauty on My Doorstep (III)
I started creating composite images – like those on this page – as a celebration of my mini-outings and mini-adventures. They provide a simple, visual-record of a well-taken walk, reinforce its effectiveness and act as an aide memoire, enabling me to re-imagine the walk from the warmth and comfort of the settee.
Later I discovered I could use the same multi-image format to tell a story or battle mental demons or retrieve light-filled (but faded) memories. And, instead of counting sheep on a sleepless night, I could create virtual collections in my mind. But, at first, I just revelled in their spontaneity and childlike simplicity.

Beauty on My Doorstep (IV)
As I’ve mentioned, I didn’t really understand what Ruth’s course would be about – certainly not the phrase ‘reframe your now’ – but I had confidence that somehow, in some magical, mystical way, it would prove valuable. And in practice, photography and the composite images have helped me reach an understanding and implement my own version of reframing – even though I didn’t initially recognise it as such.
The image alongside shows the first of the demons I was able to battle through photography.
Despite resurgent memories of past medical trauma and sometimes crippling anxiety about Covid (represented by the mask) this image reminds me there is still beauty and tranquillity in the world around us.
More importantly, the image ‘Light over Dark’ (below) provides me with a visual reminder of good relationships, good(ish) health and the goodness and ubiquity of nature – and thereby, I've regained a more balanced perspective on the reality of my life.
And that’s how I understand ‘reframing’ – stopping the ‘wolf from looking bigger than it is’ (as the German proverb says).
Photography and composite images are not a magic wand which erase difficult times. But I do now have a means of addressing anxieties and distorted ideas; recognising different perspectives and choices; separating the mental wheat from the chaff and creating better balance.
‘Reframing my now’ in fact.

Light Over Dark (II)
Arguably the most surprising outcome of this not-a-photography course is that it’s changed the way I think about photography!
Too often in the past I had a notion of ‘proper’ photography, of perfection – perfect subject, perfect composition, perfect tonal range, perfect editing which inevitably needed the perfect (i.e. my most expensive) camera to start the process. And, too often, that perfect-ness got in the way of the sincerity of the image; too much head, not enough heart. But now I’ve a better appreciation for the direct honesty of this recent work – it’s ‘perfect’ in that it perfectly tells my story, carried straight from my heart. And in this way, it’s giving me belief in my creativity and self-acceptance – somehow it carries more self-kindness, less self-criticism too.
Slowly it’s dawned on me that a lot about photography isn’t about the photographs at all or about the equipment I use to take them – it’s about my mood and emotions; whether I want to feel like a child chasing after rainbows, running after butterflies; or I want to open my arms wide and embrace the sky; or whether I’m writing visual poetry, or soothing my anxious mind, or holding out a hand to help a friend; or whether I’m just taking a moment to breathe deeply and richly.
The camera and the photos are just there to keep me company.
