Lifelines

Paradise in peril

This bench is a familiar scene, found in gardens, tucked beneath trees, perched on the wild edge of nature. A quiet place to pause, to notice, to be. A seat from which birds are often watched, their presence once so ordinary it passed without thought.

This particular bench began its journey on the Isle of Thanet, uncovered while clearing my grandparents’ garden after the last of them passed. In the slow ritual of sifting through memories, I moved between grief and gratitude – remembering how they all nurtured my love of nature, creativity and a way of seeing. Raised on an island, they anchored my sixth sense connection to the wild edges: the wildlife, the weather, the wonder.

This once-familiar setting becomes something else. Here as an island of stillness within this castle on an island. A quiet altar for remembrance. Suspended above are 63 birds, once familiar, much-loved neighbours — many once seen here, from this island and across our island nation.

Now, they are rarely or never seen, their populations in steep decline. They sway overhead, tethered by lifelines of red and yellow thread, caught between presence and disappearance. Each bird was photographed digitally, then translated into Fujifilm’s Retro Prints — a medium chosen for its tactile nostalgia, echoing the photo labs that I spent the earliest days of my photographic journey, when these birds were in abundance.

Each frame becomes a threshold — if we don’t act now, these species too will become snapshots of what once was — vanishing on our watch. From remembrance, lifelines are drawn — threads of grief, devotion and wild belonging. They invite us to untangle our impact, to trace the knots we’ve made in the web of life, and begin to weave something different.