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  • Homogenous Life

    I have strong feeling about a lot of things and the feelings are getting stronger.

    It would be easy and snappy for you to judge this as me being menopausal and in doing so the lid of the box would be closed and I would be disposed of by that sweeping statement. In a flash all my individual relevance, experience, history, wit, sexuality and strength would be dismissed and I could be quietly relegated to a shelf in an endless storage facility in a long dark basement… I can see it, like a scene from a Terry Gilliam movie…. With either a really dumpy, ugly, sweaty man having the authority to put me away or a young woman, a perfect size ten, texting whilst nonchalantly chewing gum, whilst listening to headphones, whilst pushing the trolly with my box on it, along a dimly lit corridor……

    Insane thinking? Surely not….. It is rife, it’s rampant, sexism and ageism, everywhere. Even the “oh, so PC” Guardian does it….. It is everywhere and we are inured to it…

    Sadly not me. I am not in any way menopausal. Regular as clockwork, to the day, I still could go on to procreate again. Trust me, it is on the end of a long list of experiences I have had enough of. I love my children, I do, but to look back at the pit of hell that is early motherhood combined with a lonely marriage, and no thank you.

    Women over 45 are completely invisible in the media. How did that happen? Why did it happen? I use my own image to sell my clothes. I get a really good response, and armies of women then go on to talk to me about how invisible they are in the media. The most fascinating,witty, elegant, intelligent women lost in the maze of corridors that we started with:  inch your way past 45 and bang, box closed….. None of us see ourselves reflected back to us. We just get to look at miserable anorexic models portraying some bizarre image of femininity that owes it’s roots to the swaths of vampire movies and shows that we are all drowning under. Why? I don’t want to look or dress like a vampire…. I want to be me with the smile lines, the grey hair, the body that bore children… All my experience written all over me.

    I am now 52 and have changed more in the past two years than I managed to change in the last 20. I tore a staggering sweep through dogma, assumption, expectations and pointless commitments leaving me clear, calmer, more empowered, but damme and blast, the lenses are off, my view is clear, and at some ungodly hour in the morning I am sitting in Heathrow’s Terminal 4, looking around me at the sparkling shops selling the illusion of luxury, watching the mass of life trying to find its way forward to the next adventure and I am not enjoying what I see. 

    Apparently it is relaxing to have really loud, really awful music playing all the time. Men straining their vocal chords to tell me how much they want to love me in the most awful rhymes.

    And then there is the notion that because I have paid a fortune for a ticket, and then a fortune for the journey here, that I want to buy generic crap… Why? It is plastered everywhere, the mad illusion of wealth, luxury and difference, and you get it by paying over the odds for something that was made in a sweatshop in china, by underpaid humans in appalling conditions, in the millions… Not just the number of underpaid minions but the number of luxury items, too. Somehow the keyring, the scarf, wallet or pair of shoes will magically elevate the wearer out of the dross of their daily routine and transform them into someone with taste and style. Pray tell, how will this magically happen? Ah, by the Emperor’s New Clothes Syndrome which is now at epidemic proportions.

    I can go on like this around all sort of things: the lack of Internet connection I am promised by some dork with Richard Branson’s beard stuck on his face and so locked into a two year contract which the engaging and kind seller of said contract failed to mention. Or the voice of the woman who welcomes me to Orange…. If I used that voice to speak to them, and I kid you not, I can do an excellent mimic, they would think I was insane, yet that is the voice that drove me so crazy I had to turn off the answer machine on my phone: I still have to hear her if I call orange but I have created a damage limitation zone. And the voice of the woman who comperes Masterchef…

    Facebook! What is this? I have 1300 friends. Fantastic, all delightful, but do we really want to look at endless posters commenting on how positive we should all be. A friend, James Delingpole, write recently that the way to get rid of swathes of friends on Facebook is to post something negative…. Suddenly it is the new PC to be stupidly positive or post endless YouTube clips…. Why?

    Or Hipstamatic. Arghhhhhh! A loud scream of boredom. Look any of the millions of pictures, and think oh, Hipstamatic. Not, what a great picture, just oh, another iPhone turning life as we know it into a very tiresome photo opportunity and the pictures are all rendered homogenous. 

    Somewhere it has all gone awry, very quickly, and no one seems to have noticed

    Wake up! Live! Get real…… Please…… 

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  • Coming Home

    I am coming back into working as a photographer again and I love it. I cannot describe how much I love to take photographs…. There is a line in the film Billy Elliot, where he is auditioning for the Royal Ballet School. It is all going really badly, and just as he leaves, despondent and rejected, a woman examiner asks him what it feels like when he dances. His reply brings him to life and is word-perfect for my experience of taking photographs.

    I have been privileged by some extraordinary sitters recently: I have been doing a series on Make Up, and another on Scars, plus other personal portraits, and each one, each portrait, each Divine Human that sat in front of my beautiful Hasselblad, was an utter delight, a treat, an extraordinarily personal moment and I feel so happy to be back behind the camera again. 

    I have made a new photography website, www.carolyncowanphotography.com, and although I have an excellent past history, my vision, my view has changed profoundly and it is great to be gently and with great commitment, building to the portfolio again.

    So apropos of all of this, if you would like to be part of any of the current projects listed on my site - do please be in touch, but I am also very excited by having just entered the first photography competition for years! I won one ten or so years ago, the prize was an unusable weekend for two in Libya or somewhere equally sprung loaded…. Let’s hope this one is more fruitful…

    I have put three images into the Memory category of the Renaissance Photography Prize. All recent images, all of them I am very pleased with.

     

    http://renaissancephotography.org/launch/index.php 

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  • Out of the Woods

    Out of the WoodsWhen I decided that divorce was the way forward I really had no concept of what I was actually taking on. 

    Almost two years later I almost am at the end of the process and can say that I feel as though I have been rendered, pulverised and then scattered in the wind. I have hit stress levels that I never knew were possible, met financial insecurity on a grand scale and discovered aspects of myself that I did not know I possessed. 

    The process was not simple. We have property, there was a marriage contract, a business and a long time together, so lots to be unravelled. 

    I think that going into detail is spurious, so suffice to say that living, for the entire process, with the man I was divorcing made it extra unpleasant could be read as an understatement. We still live together now, but having taken the whole to court finally has meant that there is an end in sight, I am out of the woods but still sometimes caught in the undergrowth,  I can feel the sun on my face, I can breathe more deeply,  I can think about my future and it is bright, very bright. 

    Who am I, 19 years later? What do I want, like, need? Every decision has been a joint one for all that time, an endless compromise, trying to make a commitment work, hoping to do it right, well, properly, hoping to avoid the mistakes I consider my parents to have made. 

    Did I succeed? Well obviously not, I am now divorced and feel so relieved, but my children are calm and happy, understand that it was nothing to do with them and we, my ex-husband and I, have never argued about them. So perhaps I have, we have made it work.

    So, yes, damage limitation is in place, my decision to be open about all of it has been a good one and I feel happy with my recent choices. 

    The court ruled that he has to leave the house by the end of January, and all possessions to be out by the end of March, so I can begin to look around me and consider what I want my house to look like, how I want to live, eat, work etc. 

    I still have to compromise, I still have a life that involves a lot of sacrifice as I am a mother…. Endlessly giving over the the needs of the children, but I can also set the look, the space, the hours and the pace of my life apart from the maternal aspect and that, I am really looking forward to. 

    I have periodically written about my experiences over the last two years and have had amazing responses from those of you who have had similar experiences. I have been helped immeasurably by many of you and I cannot fully express my gratitude here,  it is heartfelt, and the process was made so much easier, clearer and positive by the love and support I did get. Huge, huge thanks. 

    For anyone considering a similar step do feel free, as I did, to ask for help and advice and I will happily pass you onto those that were such rocks of strength for me, including my lawyer for whom I really have huge respect. 

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  • The Benefits of Running

    The Benefits of RunningThis piece is inspired by an article in Runners World, November 2011. 

    Running protects your heart, slows down the ageing process, and generally improves your health in many ways, some unexpected….

    Running gives you a mental buzz that makes you believe you can achieve your goals. Running raises self-esteem, your expectations of yourself and of life. This in turn lowers physique anxiety. 

    Running lowers your risk of diabetes type 2. 

    A 30 minute run sharpens your mind, improves reaction times and reasoning ability. This benefit shows a marked effect in older runners. 

    If you regularly run for 45 minutes your metabolism is boosted for 14 hours subsequently. So you continue to burn fat over and above the excess removed during the run. 

    Running is a great way to deal with negative feelings and especially to fight depression. 30 minutes, 3 – 5 times a week helps people to stay calm. Clinically depressed people who exercise are less likely to relapse than those who rely on pills alone. 

    Contrary to current thoughts and general comments made about running, the impact of regular runs builds bone density. 15-20 miles a week has a major impact on long-term bone health, protecting the body from stress fractures and the negative effects on bone density from the menopause. 

    Short sprints can drastically reduce the frequency of asthma attacks. Lung function is boosted by fartleks. 

    Both distance runners and sprinters who do 30 second bursts of speed have a lower risk of heart disease. Also pregnant exercisers give birth to babies with better cardiovascular profiles. 

    Another myth is that running is bad for your knees. A long-term study from Stanford University has concluded that runners who regularly clocked 5 runs of 60 minutes each week suffered drastically fewer joint problems in later life. The process of tightening and strengthening the joints starts in the first week of running, so no need to wait for these benefits. 

    6 hours of running a week will burn a pound of fat! 

    40 minutes of running a week for 12 weeks will get rid of long term constipation issues. 

    Running lowers your blood pressure. 

    3 runs of 45 minutes per week for 4 months will boost your muscle mass. 

    Running reduces cholesterol. It is the most effective exercise for this issue. 

    Runners have better sex lives according to fetcheveryone.com. Inactive males have a higher incidence of erectile dysfunction, 71%, and an hour of aerobic exercise 4 times per week improves quality and quantity of sexual encounters. I feel a lot could be inferred here and I leave it to you to interpret this one as it works best for you. 

    Running slashes your risk of silent strokes by almost 50%. A silent stroke is caused by tiny blockages in the blood vessels in the brain which damage the brain tissue but do not leave the same devastating outward signs of a stroke. 

    And back to Stanford’s research which is a wild read, and proves that runners do live longer……. 

     

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  • Squaring Up To Reality

    Tis a full moon in the next few hours and apparently I have to make serious, conscious decisions which will profoundly affect the next 28.5 years of my life.

    Added to this potential reality there is a Chinese curse which says: may you live in interesting times.

    So I feel pressure.

    There are lots of varying reasons for the pressure: the economics created by rafts of Hedge Fund Managers run wild, unchecked bankers, laws which allow those with money to divest the rest of us with impunity, I am a parent of two kids, I run a small business under the abstracted eye of Mr Cameron, plus I am going through divorce.

    When I instigated the process I was met with no resistance to the petition by my ex-husband and have had the decree nisi for over a year one. The decree absolute is another experience entirely.

    After a year of fruitless attempts at settlement met with ridiculous demands by the ex-husband I now find myself turned to the charms of the Court.

    It feels potent and the right choice of routes forward but the process is wild, unknown and impossible to explain by anyone other than those who have trodden the path before me, stressful and very expensive.

    I stand on the threshold of changing case law which adds an interesting flavour to the process, (but in reality is not as exciting as it sounds), and bids me to tread with firm feet and steadfast resolve.

    So I have a massive learning curve going on 24/7.

    I thought I knew a lot about stress management and have a lot of tools. But my body reacts to the current reality in ways that astound me. Ulcers, back aches, dislocation of joints, trapped nerves, styes…. The list is long and unattractive.

    If I had not been teaching spiritual practice on a regular basis for the past 18 months and been forced to walk the walk and talk the talk I would have been in serious trouble. But I have been held high and strong by my practice, the teachings, great friends, new friends, an emerging relationship, my creativity and a rock steady belief that I deserve to have all that I am fighting for.

    So this full moon I have been advised to be utterly present and now in my desires for the future. To be completely clear about how the future is, not how I want it to be. To make certain in my mind, that all my desires and longings are already manifested in how I move forward over this huge full moon. This means that I affirm my life, as I desire it in the future, to be my reality now.

    Hey, the world is an insane and crazy place right now. Why would this not work? Why would I not leap on an opportunity for personal and world peace? The only person I can change is me, no one else, just my reality, my attachments, my reactions, beliefs, my attachment to suffering and drama. Go Ghandi,

    I think it is a great idea and I am going for it, now, sitting on an aeroplane, 35,000 feet above the Alps. Please may the concepts and determination come with lots of glue to make it stick into the future as my resolve can sometimes lack fervour.

    But then this is important stuff, this is the rest of my life, this is me, my kids, my future, and the validation of 18 years of excessively hard work emotionally, physically and financially. I will not walk away, I will not give in, I will stand and fight.

    Bless me please whoever you are that bestows beneficience. I need it now.

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  • Swagger & Dash Collection, Autumn & Winter

    Silk Swagger CoatI am thrilled with the collection. It is richly coloured and textured, the fabrics are sumptuous and voluptuous, it has been great fun putting it all together and the results are stunning.

    It is a rich tapestry of colour, texture, form and history. I have made a film that gives an overview of the main pieces in the collection. It is the first clip on the page.

    I have new dresses in the Victorian and Opera lines. Glorious silks, checks, slubbed duppions, colours that shine and shimmer and a new, shorter length. For these dresses there are also films to show how to wear them. There are so many different options when it comes to styling the cuts.

    The Caro Dress and the Flared Shirt now both come in the heavy cord and in divinely luscious cashmere.

    I have a new section called The Mother of the Bride with a film to accompany the information. I have put together a collection of clothes that work well for ceremonies, weddings, parties and those times when nothing but stylish drama will do…..

    There are also Devotion Suits! This is a whole new area for me, but as so many of you are business women, doctors, lawyers, therapists etc and need to look smart, it seems the way to move forward. But there are also moments when sensible is not enough, so for these times….. the Swagger Suit is a mad homage to the 60′s, Carnaby Street, the Beat Generation…… so many influences.

    The collection of jackets has been expanded to include a beautiful collection of hand embroidered pieces from LET it FRAY by Carey Marvin. Carey is a wonderfully creative embroiderer and her designs for Devotion are beautiful.

    I have expanded my range to include new lines in skirts: The Penn Skirt is sexy and flattering and a homage to the work of Irving Penn in the 50s, the Full Circle skirts are exactly that, full, heavy, evocative and filled with character, and in the felted wool, so warm.

    In trousers there are stunning Narrow Trousers in rich silk colours. As of today, these are still patiently waiting to go up onto the store. By Friday they will be in place.

    The lovely Caroline Townsend of Mandarina Shoes lent me a huge collection to match mine. Oh how wild it was….. I lust after so many pairs it is outrageous! And I cannot choose which I prefer the most. I already have 4 pairs of her shoes anyway, and wear them all the time. I think it will have to be the Leopard Print ankle boots…. She goes up to a comfortable size 42

    Do take a look at the films, I have added lots of new ones and by Thursday I will have expanded the original clips to include the new pieces so you will be able to see the new trousers, too.

    Also remember that I can make any of my cuts in any fabric and size, my shop is in my house in Camberwell and is by appointment. Please do call 00442077019269 or email to make an appointment.

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  • It is so easy…..

    Brighton Pier.001To judge and pass comment on all that transpired in London over the past week is so easy, everyone is doing it.

    I am nothing more than a middle aged, middle class mother and business woman living in South London, on the edges of Peckham, employing local people, using local shops and living on the edge of bankruptcy on a month by month basis. I used to live on credit, money against my mortgage but that ran out and since then I have been completely self employed and lived only from what I earn. I am fully paid up tax-wise and have never been on benefits apart from receiving  Child Allowance as do all the bankers, politicians and mothers of the rioters under 16.

    What is only now being brought into the light is the real link, as far as anyone living in the real world is concerned: The awful disparity between the lives of those who did take an opportunity to thoughtlessly and indiscriminately raid the High Street and those who live in an altered reality where a £60,000 car is an every day experience, their wages and expense accounts are all paid for, they earn thousands in bonuses for playing with money etherically and have no sense of responsibility at all towards society and move most of their money abroad through tax evasion incentives set up by the government to stop the money market moving elsewhere.

    Daily life is stressful, and the lack of money makes for huge stresses despite being a functioning creative with a business. Try running a small business….. the incentives are appalling, the costs ridiculous, the rewards puny, the work, phenomenally exhausting and my recent brush with a disgruntled employee and the Industrial Tribunal system showed me very clearly where the governments sympathies lie: Huge multi national industries that all play in this wild and exciting banking and monetary system that the rest of us have nothing to do with. Vast sums of money being made globally by people whose psychological profile is the same as that of a Psychopath. (A recent article about this appeared in the Financial Times. I think it was up for an hour before it was lost in the mists of history, never to be seen again. Far too inflammatory… )

    Watching the two concurrent news stories over the week has been fascinating as a social study. Endless men in suits getting really stressed over computer screens showing a little red worm slowly snaking it’s way down a mountain. Or flaming red and black images of naughty local kids venting rage and fury in the only way they know how: To kick against a system that wants nothing more for them than that they are in thrall to a system that expects them to do nothing but consume with every penny they have, like sheep on a treadmill until they drop dead. There is no thought for the individual any more, fashion, the media, facebook, Apple, Amazon and all the other huge conglomerates have seen to that….. turn all eyes towards mind-numbing, unfulfilling purchasing and chasing of highs that are heavily taxed and you have a workforce that will do as you say. If they do not, they are social misfits who need to be punished. Meanwhile the shiny Range Rovers and smart suited boys can go to their brokers and rake in millions with lots of dodgy tax scams that benefit no one but themselves and their families. And rather like the camaraderie that exists between those in the office doorway, dragging on a quick fag, they are all together in arms against those who dare get angry.

    I come from the Ghandi school of response: Through peaceful protest. I do not have any desire to smash anything up but I do, so strongly, want a future for my Peckham kids that is not one of hopelessness and fury because the men who make the rules are all wildly partying together at their great good fortune to have gone to the right schools, have the best hedge fund manager and know how to spend It…

    How to find a leader out there who can speak for the feeling of betrayal that exists outside of the politicians and bankers cosy worlds seems to be a challenging task, but if the police can individually identify 2200 masked hoodies, mostly I would guess by other’s plea bargaining, then sure we can all keep our eyes peeled for a strong woman who can stand up and say “Enough….. let’s try a different way….”

    Why a woman? Will they be better at it? Who knows, but the last few years has been so profoundly male, what with the Wars, the Bankers, the Politicians and the Footballers…… a different point of view must without.

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  • What Was in My Handbag When I Got Sober….

    I am flirting with 20 years of sobriety. ‘Tis a wild reality. I have been sober for as long as I used. Yes, the maths are sobering in themselves: I started when I was 11 and I am now 51.

    I am thinking about this quite a lot at the moment. Since last year, turning 50 was a leap. I stand on a different page in my life, I am older, am I wiser? I am as yet unconvinced, but I am in the throes of divorce and may say that I had no idea what I was walking into when I decided it was time to end the marriage.

    I have learned a lot, but now know that there is a long way to go on this curve, and finding it fun seems to be the hardest part. If I look at all that is plastered around me on my journey it is a collection of platitudes, so called great writers who cull and tease the words of others so they fit into the empowered new speak of the Me generations. The overall message seems to be that it is all perfect. I am failing if I cannot or do not find it to be so. The fine line between suicidal misery and getting out of a rut is never explained, expanded upon nor open to discussion in this high-speed life where misery is apparently optional.

    I teach in Camden twice a week. I get off the tube and walk through an interesting melee of people and am always caught by the punks who hold up the signs for the tattoo parlours. Why punks holding the signs? I have no idea. Why do I look at the punks? Because I was a punk….. before they were a punk….. and as I hit 20 years sober I have met yet another rock bottom.

    I do not drink, smoke, take drugs, eat any sugar and now, kicking and screaming to the altar of 24/7 consciousness, I cannot take another mouthful of caffeine in either tea or coffee without exploding in fury, irritation, stress and veins filled with sand. I have finally had to admit that I cannot take it any more. I have to be caffeine free. I do not want to be. I do not. Why can there not be just one last piece of comfort: A great cup of builders tea or a strong latte? Why not? It makes me furious.

    But here is the oxymoron: I feel so much better it is just awful!

    And so I look back at the punks and remember. I was up on stage at the Roundhouse when the audience ripped up all the seating at the Clash concert and threw it all on the stage. I had a Saturday job at Scissors in the Kings Road and had bright blue hair standing up on end in 1976. I went out with the man who started BOY in the Kings Road and aged 16 was regularly locked in the shop whilst the punks and the skinheads rioted outside in the street. I was at the Tubes concert when Fee Waybill jumped into the audience with a functioning chainsaw turned on, broke his leg and carried on the rest of the concert….

    When I went to my first NA meeting in Dublin in 1991 the man who took me suggested I empty my handbag of all paraphernalia. 2 hip flasks (both empty), one large flick knife, a set of playing cards, a roll of poker dice, a razor blade, a bag of hash, some downers and a packet of Rizlas.

    And now I cannot drink a cup of tea without loosing the plot? It is a disaster.

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  • Beautiful Incisions

    Mastectomy 1You may or may not know that I am an excellent portrait photographer.

    It is a skill that I put down for a while to build up Devotion. I now feel it is time to pick it up again. I have certain projects that interest me greatly and I wonder if you would be interested or able to take part;

    I want to continue photographing women with scars. This does not exclusively mean breast cancer scars although the image here is as the result of a mastectomy. All scars are what I am intrigued by. I work discretely, in my house, away from assistants. The images are only shown in an exhibition with your permission and a print for you, the sitter, is absolutely part of the exchange between us. For many women, this work is a great experience and a lot of physical confidence can be built as the result if that is what is needed or lacking. Otherwise it is a wonderful way to pass a few hours, naked with me. My years as a body painter allow me to hold a very comfortable space.

    Another project, one that requires the Great Outdoors and to be fully dressed, is a series on Women who Shoot. If you are a woman who shoots, be it deer, pheasant, big game etc, I would love to photograph you. If you know anyone who might be willing to participate or who hosts a shoot themselves, please do pass this on. Again, it is great way to spend a few hours together, always an interesting way to get to know someone better and a print is a part of the exchange.

    I have a very wonderful photography site. In the section current projects you will see more. 

    If you are interested in working with me on this level please do email me and we can take it from there.

    First published March 27th 2011.

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  • Another One of Those Days

    SA Shoot May 2011Here is sit, in the shade of two beautiful mountains, in South Africa. I am here because I chaperone my daughter, 8 years old, in her role as the third lead in a Bollywood movie.

    We are watching one of the mountains very closely, waiting for a skydiver to appear as a tiny blue dot against this beautiful background. The dot is meant to be my daughter who, in her role, is supposed to have jumped off the mountain wearing a parachute and then deftly caught a helicopter on her way down and so landed safely.

    The joys of being 8 are unchallenged. I am the one who is challenged. I am seriously struggling with the Perfection of the Universe.

    I rail against this reality. I want to be elsewhere, doing other things than sitting in the background making sure she is safe and hydrated. I want to be in another reality, a different experience…. And it causes me to suffer hugely. 

I was with a friend who lives out here for the last few days and her mantra was endless: It is all perfect, the universe is perfect. It gets irritating to listen to and even more annoying to realise that my endless issue, the lack of trust that I have in this perfection, is so painful.

    In retrospect everything is always fine and good, all turns out well. But sitting here surrounded by the most exquisite view on the planet, being paid to be here, all expenses covered, all creature comforts considered, I still range, roam mentally and itch to be elsewhere.


    I guess it is the addict in me that will never sit still. Nothing is ever enough. I need to take care of this aspect of me every day, moment by moment. I am aware of this beast inside me. I know how to cage and tame it. I am just not good at it when the caging and taming are not enough. How to reign in the screaming wildness inside me that surfaces when things are not going my way?


    My plans have been waylaid by circumstances beyond my control, I should no longer have been here; I ought to have been at home, quietly stroking and tending to my business, instead I am stretched beyond the gap I had allowed for this experience in my life and I loathe it.


    I have stretched my body as far as I can with my yoga practice. (I cannot run here, apparently it is too dangerous for women to run alone…), I have meditated, here I write to offload my writhing, and I will breathe deeply all day and work with the Just for Today Card. An aspect of 12 Step Recovery that is life transforming, takes me out of my self-centeredness and puts me firmly on the side.


    The first line says: Just for today I will try to live through this day only, and not tackle my whole life problem at once. I can do something for 12 hours that would appal me if I felt I had to keep it up for a lifetime.
    It goes on in this way, rather in the vein of Eckhart Tolle and other spiritual masters, to bring everything into the moment. The moment is perfect, I feel better. I can square my shoulders and turn to the next person with a calm smile.
    The universe is perfect…….. just for today.


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