About the work:

"Despite T.S. Eliot's assertion that 'April is the cruellest month', I invariably feel a sudden surge of wellbeing and optimism when the first scent of spring hangs in the air. I know I'm far from alone in this - photographers and artists surely feel that sense of excitement as keenly as any gardener eagerly rifling though their seed packets. Mother Nature, it seems, is handing us our images on a plate. The light is soft and benign, the colours, gentle, and the countryside seems to suddenly be filled with boundless enthusiasm. Quotes such as 'Spring is nature's way of reminding us that every day is worthy of celebration' pop up on social media with unfailing regularity - long before the first cuckoo is heard.

This image was taken at Stanmer Park, just outside of Brighton. A blustery day in early April, the air was filled with the sweet smell of April and the profligacy and exuberance of the new growth emerging was inspirational. Blossom-laden branches were everywhere but I concentrated on one small tree that stood apart from the rest. For reasons unclear, its tiny flowers seemed whiter, fluffier, altogether more generous than that of any of its neighbours.

It was bitterly cold. The type of cold that can only be experienced when one has left home in overly optimistic clothing, only to realise that the wind chill factor hadn't been accounted for when getting dressed. I struggled on for about half an hour - reluctant to retreat to the warmth of the nearby cafe and the very enticing appeal of a cup of coffee.

Fortunately, my inspiration came quickly - as the tiny petals blew around my head and I stood there shivering in all my reckless optimism, I realised it felt like nothing more than being encased in one of those half-domed snow globes. The fiercest blizzard was surely never this intense. I certainly couldn't imagine it ever being this cold.

Photographic perfection is not my objective. Its obedient conformity initially attracts, but, for me, leaves little enticement to investigate further. So it was that the tangled complexity of branches and the disparate arrangement of blossom engaged, rather than frustrated my aspirations. By layering image upon image, frame upon frame, I was able to build up the layers of blossom and emphasise the movement of the branches. All photographic images represent a moment in time. The way I make my images combine several. I walked around the tree, back and forth trying to engage with the long-limbed gaucheness of its extended branches.