
It is a calm Saturday, overcast with a little breeze. I googled the sun and is listed to be out above the city of Sheffield later this afternoon. I have wanted to try something for some time, thinking of home. My cyanotypes have mostly utilised pressed flowers and photographic negatives from when I lived in the hutongs of China, all of which rely on the sun to develop the image. I have mostly worked in the studio but have a small amount of papers that I coated last night, and they are under my nose.
Surprisingly, at 8am, a break in the clouds allowed the sun to break through and cast a brief shard of light across the floor of my tiny flat in Sheffield. Alfie watches on as I place the two objects from home, made of etched glass or crystal, into the shard of light. The crystal glass was Susan Halcrow’s. I tear a pre prepared paper in half to experiment with what I have – a brief moment of sunshine, two objects, my floor and a little hope. Here goes.
The sun gives me about 3 minutes, not long enough to develop a clear image. I don’t move, the sun reappears, Alfie lies down and I hope at the wonder of what might emerge – in total I have only about five minutes of sunshine which matches my impatience.

While I wait, I’m thinking of the shadow moving across the paper, even a small amount will blur the image, if the image will take at all and then I am thinking of the movement of time – the Japanese concept of Ma, ( the space and pause between all things) that I am interested in and I watch as the sun hides again, the paper is cast into a shadow and a faint image is exposed upon the paper. I take my chance.
This is one of my processes. Experimentation – either with wool, colour, photography or cyanotype – to take a chance in the moment, with what I have to hand.
And here is the first result.

I love how the bottom of the jug is deepened in colour, I love how the etched glass stretches in pattern and a faint movement of impression.
Tomorrow, the sun is booked for some hours, I will try again. Hopefully, with a time of exposure to show movement. While, Alfie sleeps on.


Dear Tracey,
Once again, I have been captivated by a photo of your gorgeous green sofa. I started following you on a thread about Shetland a few years ago when I saw your green couch in a reply comment you made. I will confess I became curious about Shetland after watching the tv show, mostly because of the beauty of the land and the amazing skies in every shot. I too am an artist ( I paint skies) and decided I had to go there one day. ( I live in Canada). But I also became captivated by your story and started following your journey to Shetland, and back. My daughter ( who works in the theatre industry) lives in Edinburgh, and the two of us just spent 5 days in Shetland this July. I was thrilled that I finally got to visit there. And totally by coincidence, we stayed at an Airbnb at Southpunds, and believe it or not I could see your house, Smola, out the window across the fields! ( We stayed at Niki and Pietâs place âVoortrekkerâ). We had a great time visiting as many places as we could, -driving, hiking, and even swam twice (once in St. Ninianâs and once in Scousburgh Sands). I loved it!!
I have one other small connection with you: my very best friend was from Sheffield. She lived in Canada for many years. She too was an artist; sadly passed away from Ovarian cancer in 2006, and is buried back in Sheffield.
This might seem strange that I am writing all this to you, but I have followed you with great interest: although this is my first time actually connecting with you, (and I am a very basic knitter! Lol.)
I hope life continues to be good to you, and your cats! I will continue to read your stories with great interestâ¦..
Warmest regards, Wendy
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Thanks for your lovely comment 🙂 Shetland seems so far away for me now
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Traci, that is absolutely amazing! Thank you so much for sharing that beautiful piece!❤️🥰❤️
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