Ever since I shot Man/Woman/Chainsaw for the first time, things have seem serendipitous, magical even.

That first time I had a call from Paul apologising for the last minute gig, but they were doing an interview with this new band, and they had an open slot for photos. Late. Dark. In a location I won’t even see before arriving. “Do you want to shoot them?”

But I said yes. 

The plans had changed so drastically that day that anything coming my way felt like it had to be accepted with open arms—almost with blind faith. (Is this why?)

When I arrived at the meeting point, the city was already dark, cold and I had no plan. Only a few reference images saved on my phone for the only idea I had for the shoot. 

This was no special place at a glance. A huge victorian house standing on a residential street that had no appeal whatsoever. 

When I came in the band had just finished the interview with the writer and were ready to start shooting. I noticed immediately that they were all wearing exactly the same colour palette I was wearing. Each in their own style, but somehow matching. Red, blue, white and black. 

I remember getting dressed before leaving home that day. After choosing black jeans and a blue lace top to go under my white & blue knitted vest, I came back towards the mirror and added a red leather belt. I told my self out loud “I’m feeling like a pop of red today”

And left the flat towards Camden. 

One of the members of the band showed me around the house so that we could pick a room for the photos. Empty bedrooms that smelled like dust, a rehearsal room full of instruments, even a hunted attic with it’s ceiling covered in white spider webs that made us all say “no” after slightly opening the door and immediately closing it again. The last possible room was empty of furniture, the floor covered in protective paper with brush strokes in red, black and blue, forgotten buckets of paint everywhere, masking tape, broken wooden frames, and canvases. 

The room seemed to have been prepped deliberately following the colour palette we were all wearing, and it seemed like out of one of the refence images I had saved for inspiration. 

Did I imagine all this and materialise it?

I don’t know. But in a second, the band got together in the centre of the room, grabbed one of the frames and organised themselves playfully arround it, pulled silly faces at each other, followed my prompts organically and effortlessly and we did exactly the photos I had pictured in my head. The photos I didn’t prepare for. The photos I wanted but I had almost surrendered to the idea we would never make, only that I still had total faith. 

The universe providing it all. 

A hunted chair, a broken frame, a colour palette, an artist’s room. 

When I left the house, it was a warm October night. A completely clear sky and the full moon illuminating all. I decided to walk instead of taking a bus to the train station as it was too nice to be missed. I walked by the river and sent hyper happy messages to my sister and my crush. I found a collection of crystal vases and a triangle silver dish at the side of the road. 

When I got home I lit candles and placed them in the new found vases, and edited the photos until way past midnight.