What happens when you spend an hour wandering around a bluebell wood with the feeling that each composition you make just replicates every cliché in the book? What happens when your photographic inspiration plummets below every conservable scale, due to over exposure to sweet smelling little flower? Well... you begin to mess around, well if you’re me that is. I must have looked like a total weirdo holding the camera on the branch and waving it about time and time and time again, trying to inject something new into the experience.
Anyway before any of you get all pixel retentive, this image breaks every rule I can think of, but you know what, at this point I had lost the plot and bizarrely it’s a quite a nice place to be.