London, Photography

Of Late

The light, in between clouds and bursts of rain, in the very early morning and in the evening just as the blue clears, when we’re bathed in the faintest glow and when rays fight through bolts of grey, is magical this summer.

Last week’s M. Ward gig at Koko (he is my favourite at the moment) will be up tomorrow. And I don’t speak to soon I hope this time round, but normal service will resume.

Thank you so much for keeping checking up. Your emails have been lovely. I owe responses, and more than a small explanation, and you will have both.

Hannah x

Han Friday

Han Friday

{Abstract impressionist acrylics from Yago Hortal}

A squint test at this post reveals this week was the week where ‘Hannah was inexplicably drawn to crap that was pink ‘n’ girly’: and where I say ‘crap’ with regards to other people’s work, I mean it in the colloquial, joyful ‘holy moly that’s awesome’ sense rather than as a pejorative synonym for pooh. And when I speak about myself in the third person that normally means I’ve far exceeded my ego. And when I need to make so many clarifications before the second sentence is over, it probably means that this post should be redrafted from scratch but that I’m attempting to fly with it anyway. Anyway, Icarus may have crashed into the sea, Hannah may need to enrol at the Center For Children Who Can’t Read Good And Wanna Learn To Do Other Stuff Good Too, but it’s Friday, all is not lost, and here’s a orange mocha frappuccino of a post to keep you occupied while Europe freezes over.

{After we went for breakfast beigels last weekend, we took a snowy route to Southbank}

{I’m not one to turn down coloured smoke (see here) and a new project by Lou Mora is exciting me}

{Emmanuelle Alt and the Vogue Paris staff recreate Wake Me Up Before You Go Go for the relaunch of just in time for Fashion Month: encroyable}