Even on the brightest of all days, the shadows of saddened solitude may cease to scatter at the sight of sunlight.
Though reckoning winds tell tales of trepid tribulations, solace whispers like rivers running briskly beside, meandering with magniloquence between the cracks and crevasses of a broken past. Bathed eyes are rinsed as visual clarity is drained, refracting glimmers of light from the path ahead. Shot in a stance of regimented disarray, photographer Chieska Fortune Smith captures model Luke Robson enveloped in a preraphaelite-like disposition. The cotton fields above quiver gently in the winter air as the days become nights and the nights become days; dawning the birth of brand new and uncharted beginnings.
As silence runs avid amongst dancing leaves, seas of surrounding trees apprehend the thoughts of all those trailing between. Melancholy, like drunk wildfire, burns mercilessly on the embers of festering cynicism echoing from within. Though sutured smiles may unravel, stems of salvation will again blossom from the scorched earth and replenish hope in the future to come.
Where dreams of love and lust yield welcomed comfort on the coldest of winter nights, nightmares of desolate isolation may loom sullenly in the distance. Likewise, even on the direst of days, the shelter of serenity maybe waiting nearby. Deliverance, however, does not befall those who dream, rather only those who awaken. Styled by David Nolan, the contrasting colours and variance in layers convey the paradoxical nature of human emotion; fluctuating with unpredictability, assembled with inimitable complexity, yet as normal as the changing weather. Just as hope was once lost, the skies were once black, but not forever.