travelling light

This is, so far, a very strange summer. For me, a little bit, but more so, it seems, for just about everyone I know.

And that's not counting the heat waves in some places, the flooding in others. And watching Wimbledon yesterday, at home, inside, with darkening skies - feeling glad for the rain, actually, so I could justify wearing soft warm clothes and drinking P.G. Tips on a July Sunday afternoon (and so glad that Roger Federer won - I love his style, his humility, although I must say, Andy Murray surprised me with his heartfelt response at the end, and he did give Federer a good run for his money).  Either I'm learning to be happy in the face of adversity (and yes, for someone like me, not being able to swim outside in the summer season is akin to tragedy), or else I've been in England too long.

And all the while in the back of my mind, thinking: if I had gone to Italy, I'd just be coming home about now.

It seems that in past years, I'd go blithely away on holiday, and not give it a thought. And this year.. I was going to go so cheaply, too. No frills, and I was even going to save money by not checking any bags. As it is, I wasn't even able to get a refund: the cost of changing the flight was nearly as much as the sum of the flight. But because of this 'baggage restriction' challenge I'd set for myself, I found myself packing in my head for so long, that it's as if I went. I was going to be in Italy for nearly two weeks with just whatever I could carry on board. I was really excited about it, too: planning in my head all the infinite combinations of the various items.. so psyched to be as minimally minimal as I possibly could, and justifying that bikinis and little dresses weigh hardly anything at all. And watching tennis, thinking once again how crisp and clean and neat life is when you stick to basic black and white. It is at once classic, and yet modern. Fresh and new. Like this snippet of Holly Fulton's s/s 2012 show that I snapped last September.

And that's become my mantra these days: keep it simple. Throw away the excess baggage. Live and let live. Let it go.

everything + nothing: the oh my god particle

First: this is a real photo. I know, because I took it.

I haven't doctored anything, apart from making the colour more blue, and you'll see the original, below. But first, a story. (There's always a story).





It was October 2010, and I was still doing street style, and I was doing a shoot with my husband in Hyde Park. We stumbled upon these strange creatures in the park: surreal mirrored surfaces, by one of our favourite artists, Anish Kapoor. And then, lo and behold, there he was! There was a crew filming a documentary, and he was talking, and I was shooting, and then my husband noticed something that no one else did, including the crew.




It had rained, you see, and then the sun came out, and the reflection was creating steam rising, reflecting and hitting the light just so: it almost looked like a fire was starting:




So we told Anish what was happening, and he was so delighted he started explaining it for the cameras. And I snapped away, and later, when I sent it to Sandy, on a producer at Furnace Television, who were making the show, he sent a lovely thank you, except he explained that, uh, that wasn't Anish Kapoor, the artist who had made the giant sculptures, but rather, Professor Jim Al-Khalili. A delightful man, who made the most amazing show ('everything + nothing') for the BBC, and then, who was asked to describe the significance of the recent news, that the Higgs Boson particle - the 'God particle' really does exist.





And actually, because I don't know quite what I'm talking about - but I really want to learn - you're better off clicking here, on the BBC site, to hear him say it better himself.








I remember, several years ago, during one of my many visits for tea with my friend Dennis, a lovely widower in his 80s - a good friend and neighbour of Major Bobby, who we lost last winter - and he was talking about Cern. So when we were watching the news and seeing the Professor Higgs - who reminds me so much of Dennis - I had to call him, and see what he thought.

'Well, it's all very exciting,' he said, 'but it's not really my area. I'm not an electro physicist.'

'But you're the closest to an electro physicist that I know, hence my calling.'

He giggled.

(Actually, Dennis - Dr. Dennis McMullan - only invented the electron microscope. Actually - I discovered that once when, curious what his area was, I googled him. And then the next time I saw him I asked him about it, and he had said, in typical modest fashion, 'Actually, it was my mentor (at Cambridge) who built it, but, ah, you see, he couldn't get it to work.'
So his graduate student figured it out.)

And what fascinates me is - there is no way of measuring how many lives have been saved as a result of a professor and his student creating an electron microscope in Cambridge, all those years ago. In recent years, it might well have been test results using that same microscope that helped care for his wife before she died, or help him with his health now. 

And as I saw a scientist explain on TV that night - it might have even been Professor Al-Khalili - look at how we can watch television now, how we can use satellites and the internet, and all because of the discovery of the particle known as the electron - something that they weren't quite sure what use there was for.

So this Higgs Boson particle: we have no idea how this will change the future. All I know is, Federer just won at Wimbledon, and the sun's come out, and how can any of this be a bad thing.

My dad - an avid tennis player, and professor of early childhood science education, author of books like Teaching Science Through Discovery -  would love this. Whenever something wonderful happened, as a girl, I'd say it was like magic, but he'd smile and say, 'no, it's science'. So when the news was announced, I just looked at his photo and we smiled. Bit of both.

three cheers for the red, white and blue

Please click below for the soundtrack to this post:



All set? Good.

So I woke up this morning - another cold, grey, wintry July day in London - and realised it's the Fourth of July. In America. Not here. Not a sign of a bar-b-que, or fireworks displays, or hot dogs or, for that matter, sunshine and swimming and celebration. And when I told my husband what day it was, and he said 'You should go out and celebrate'. I laughed, thinking he was kidding. But he was serious. 'Go see a film, or something.'




The irony is, I was meant to be in Italy, still. Where it is hot, and sunny, and in a parallel universe, that's where I am, with my friend Valeria and no doubt, members of this extended family, this tribe, that I've known since their time in NY, when many of them were young diplomats at the UN. Memories of an open air cafe on an Italian lake, watching Italy beat France in the World Cup, on a sheet hung up with the television projected on it. Valeria and I didn't have a clue what was going on, and no one had the time to tell us, but when we saw the French guy head butt the Italian guy, we figured, that had to be good for Italy. The crowd, as they say, went wild with National Pride: people cheering, fireworks going off, horns honking in the little town, the restaurant owner's wife, a little woman, lifting me up and swinging me like a pendulum, in jubilation. I felt like I had gone into an alternate reality, and was inside one of those charming foreign films.




But instead of swimming on a tropical Italian island with Valeria, she is at her friend Anna's funeral. Mourning the loss of someone she loved, and - knowing Valeria - celebrating her life. And I feel that I owe it to a woman I've never met, will never know, to treat each day that I am here as if I am a visitor. Pinching myself that my holiday to the UK has lasted over fifteen years, so far. Relishing walking in Regent's Park, in the Queen's Rose Garden, in the misty rain - the roses are incredible, thanks to this freak weather - huge ripe overblown giant things, heady, gorgeous scents - and I'm doing things, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone, sometimes with my husband - tourist things, like I did with recent family and friends visiting. And going to the Globe, seeing Henry V, made me think even more about the idea of Nationalism. Because this was all about history, about a war between England and France. Of a battle at a place called Agincourt, that resulted in terrible loss on the French side, and a marriage that united the two nations.





So I went back to my photos from the Jubilee, the flotilla on the Thames, and all the many creative ways that people wore the flag. Variations of red, white, and blue - which I always felt was uniquely American - but is not only the British flag, but also France, and then, just for fun, I looked up 'what countries have red, white and blue flags' and discovered, there at at least 28. And that includes Thailand, Samoa, Cuba, Iceland, Russia, and the Czech Republic. In fact, the only place I can find that uses MY favourite colour - aqua - is, ironically, the Bahamas. Where my family have land. Where I wish I were right now, with my father alive, swimming in warm turquoise water, with the fishes.














The truth is: I'm not especially nationalistic. I can just as easily cry watching the footballers from any country sing their national anthem before a game. There is something so deeply primitive about song, any song, but especially when people sing their country's anthem, like a prayer, it carries such emotional resonance.

So, as an ex-pat living in London, every time they sing God save the Queen, I put my hand on my heart, and sing the words I sang as a child every morning in school. I sing it loud, and I sing it proud.

And they say the Americans don't do irony.



Happy Fourth of July, to my American friends. And to my British ones, thank you, for letting us go, and moving on, and remaining our friends. For to forgive is divine.

To my friends from every other nation, let's celebrate the concept of Freedom, for which our flags stand, and think of the people in Syria, and North Korea, and anywhere in the world where the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness, are concepts that they can only cling to, with hope.