Flux & Flow | A Single Photograph

This season we have been exploring how the evolving self is something to celebrate, and how we all have the capacity for great change and innovation. 

To bring this to life, we invited you to share your responses to the season's title, Flux & Flow, through a single photograph. Many of us have recently changed an aspect of our lives for the better, whether it be a different routine, or an entirely new unique perspective.

The winning entry, chosen by a TOAST Panel, came from Bruno Duplant, who for the past 20 years has been living in Northern France. Titled 'Paysage sans Age' (Landscape without Age), Bruno has long captured landscapes that echo his work as an artist, musician and composer. His dreamlike depiction was taken in motion and has been printed directly onto metal, accentuating the wildness of nature.

“For me, it doesn't matter where or when this photo was taken. I am not trying to fix reality by the image,” Bruno explains. “What interests me is to create another reality, a more mysterious one that our eyes cannot perceive. A type of reality that can exist without time and space.”

We talk to the five finalists about their own take on Flux & Flow. 

Jack Greenwood (Above left)

This picture was taken during my stay in Berlin, it is part of a greater project exploring urban spaces within the city. I selected it as it stood out to me in these hard times, allowing me to contemplate on everyday moments that we often take for granted.

I choose to submit this as a reminder of where I was three years ago, versus where I am now. I am currently expanding my photographic background into a bigger Fine Art context, and I'm looking at making my autism a central voice within my future work. 

Tanya Maryshko (Above right)

In the strictest part of lockdown in the middle of the pandemic, confined to a 2km limit, I had the idea of taking a photo that represented something fragile. Something that takes a lot of time and effort to construct, and yet can be destroyed in seconds. In an essence, something illustrating the fragility of life, and the fragility of a moment.

My photo was taken in the green across from where we live, in a field full of dandelions. In a time when the days drift slowly, with no sense of urgency, no rush, no hurry; the new dough is rising to be tomorrow’s bread, almost synonymous or symbolic of a pandemic, bubbling away: slowly, unhurriedly. As do fears. 

We dream... we hope... we wait... we hold our breath...

Hannah Morgan (Above left)

I spent lockdown living at my family home in Bath. This period of time became one of the most enjoyable and beneficial moments of my life. With nowhere to go except the countryside around me, I very quickly began re-living my childhood days, spending most of my time exploring outdoors. Through this experience I learnt to pause and really see the endless beauty that is all around us. I learnt to listen to the creatures we share this planet with and in doing so I learnt to respect it and nurture it, constantly. 

Taken during lockdown, this photograph is of my mother (proudly holding up the sheet) and her Verbena Bonariensis, specifically grown for the bees in the garden where I spent some of my happiest moments. Although I’m living in Brighton again now, escaping to the East Sussex countryside has become a regular and essential part of my life. 

Trudie Richards (Above right)

From acorn hats to natural dye. Peachy water unfolds to liquid gold, watching the linen take shape to unveil such colours from nature. Over time through lockdown I started to forage for such delights to dye with. I thought to myself what can I make that is part of nature.. So here we are. 

I've always been drawn to nature, and over the past few months, more recently so. At the end of last summer my world turned upside down when my dear mum passed away suddenly. Nature and memories can heal. As I forage for such delights I am filled with excitement and amazed with the process of natural dye. 

Brittany Purlee (Above left)

I’ve been self employed for over a decade, and while this is truly wonderful in many ways, I’m really tired too. Lockdown gave me rest, when I let it. After the first few weeks of anxiously refreshing news feeds, I found myself drawn to more tactile ways of creating my hours at home. In the warm weather I began to garden, hang laundry to dry, read, swim in the lake, and return to painting. 

I have no clue what’s next, but right now I’m clinging to noticing more and achieving less. This photo was taken in one of these moments—a delightful surprise of color as I came inside from my makeshift garage studio to rinse my brush. I lament that the reality has been much, much more difficult for many, and hope for a future where we can all be less hyper-vigilant about survival stress, and become more connected to ourselves, to others, and the world.

Sigrid Bjorbekkmo (Above right)

Weds, 09:20, July. The season of the midnight sun is short, and it feels like it is almost gone before one gets to enjoy it. On 69 degrees north, above the arctic circle, the sun never sets for some weeks during the summer months. The light is warm, reflected in the landscape in shades of orange and red. The steep mountains, sandy beaches, flowers and weeds are the same as when I grew up, but I have changed. Capturing these fleeting summer landscapes, watching the light change minute by minute gives perspective about time passing, and has become some of my best summer memories.

Bruno’s winning entry was selected from a thoughtful and creative collection of photographs. Thank you to all of you who entered and shared your images and inspiration with us.