Marc Provins

This acanthus is growing in my front garden. I like that I inherited it from the previous owner of my home, or maybe the one before that. Several neighbours told me in my first spring here what to expect; huge spectacular flower spikes that last for weeks and weeks. I'm amazed it's so happy in soggy Manchester as it is native to the Mediterranean and North Africa. The leaves are thought by historians to have been the inspiration for the decoration of Greco-Roman architecture and are apparently embroidered into clothing worn by Helen of Troy. Truly woven into our human culture.  Like all plants this acanthus is reaching for the sun, a star 150 million kilometres away from our home. Without the sun, there would be no life on Earth. Nurturing and growing is an everyday activity whilst simultaneously being an act of immense poignancy. I like this curious meeting of the domestic and the massive. We juggle the two every day, going through the motions, keeping thi...

I was in an insular state of mind earlier in the week as a result of spending several solitary hours working in my garden, thinking about growing things. I suppose it doesn't matter what type of creativity you involve yourself in, but when you are truly immersed in thought and experimentation the rest of the world recedes into a quiet hum whilst you focus on the task at hand. I couldn't snap out of this state so I decided to walk to Hulme to post a card through our old neighbours door, something I'd been meaning to do for days. I thought the 6 mile round trip would clear my head, I took pictures as I went (of course) and spent most of the walk thinking about the neighbours I was heading towards. They are two nuns, Sisters and sisters who were our neighbours for a couple of years and have remained friends ever since. Despite me being an atheist and them obviously having religious and theological beliefs at odds with that we get on incredibly well and can...