Over winter, I have tried to discover and define a visual style to my work, bound to the nature of loss and that which is lost. A meandering discourse of grief, happening upon the transitory, malleable nature of meaning. I have captured moments of recollection and mundane epiphany in photographic syllables that form the beginnings of words, but do not quite describe for me the isolation of being in this state, like the babbling of a child who has not yet formed the skeleton which underpins language. Mark-making with light and lens is intrinsically linguistic and descriptive and I am finding that photography has a broad vocabulary which I was previously unaware of. I am inclined to steer away from the more obvious visual symbolism related to the subject matter of liminal space and grief, as this experience is personal and I do not want to tarnish the work with these sort of visual tropes, nothing during this time has appeared to be obvious to me, so why should the viewer hold all the clues? It seems counter to my objective to resolve these themes in my final images.