Kate Carpenter
@katecarpenter.bsky.social
Photographs about time, place and memory, much of it rooted in the experience of caring for relatives through their years of dementia. And trees, lots of trees. Collaborations | commissions | books | prints | talks | workshops www.katecarpenter.com
‘An Ordinary Sunday’ opens a week today! It’s very exciting, and we have been full steam ahead with all the prep! Espacio Gallery, 159 Bethnal Green Road, London E2 7DG. Do come and see us! RSVP if you’d like to join us at the private view on the evening of Thursday 5th. All info in the flyer.
‘An Ordinary Sunday’ has a structure inspired by the work of Stephen Sondheim. It is a story in two acts. Act 1 sets out the story, and is set mostly in my mother’s home and garden. It’s domestic, but a bit off-kilter. Things are ‘out of joint’.
‘An Ordinary Sunday’ Book and exhibition launching November 5th 2026.
To everyone who has been following this story for the last few years, who has offered words of support, or written to say that the work has touched them, my heartfelt thanks. The next chapter is coming soon.
I’m starting a photography newsletter and I’d love it if you’d sign up. It’ll be a behind-the-scenes look at evolving projects, and news of exhibitions, books, talks, prints and the like. Exciting things happening this year - do come along for the ride! Sign-up link below mailchi.mp/a1fc4883273f...
Kate Carpenter Newsletter Signup Page
Join me behind the scenes of my photographic practice. This is where I share excerpts from evolving projects, along with news about exhibitions, books, talks and more. Sign up and come along for the...
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“As we pass / through arrangements of shadows / towards the verticals of trees / forever*” ‘An Ordinary Sunday’ - work in progress, taking shape. Missing, of course, our collaborator in photography and music, Mum/Granny *Stephen Sondheim, Sunday in the Park with George
In case anyone here is London-based, I’d like to let you know about this talk that I’m giving about my photobook ‘Kaleidoscope’ at the Photobook Café on March 2nd. Tickets at photobookuk.org/whats-on. Do come!
Kirlian printing at @photofusionuk.bsky.social last weekend. We applied high voltage electricity to objects on photographic paper; the corona discharge, resulting from ionisation of the air, is recorded on the paper. This is dill and rosemary from my garden. So much fun!
The last photograph Over the last five or so years I’ve taken a lot of photographs of (and with) my mother. During Mum’s final days, I realised I wanted one more photograph before the end. I wanted it to be simple, serene and full of light. I think she would approve this one.
City of ice, with its ancient stories, drifting north in the current
I went to Greenland because I wanted to see the icebergs. The experience was extraordinary. ‘Time’s relentless melt’ writ large. Remarkable, and sobering, to think that these vast structures are so powerful and yet so transitory.
Sorting out my mother’s things. She did love window light from the north. This old fella must be 75 now.
I froze a set of Polaroids in a sheet of ice, and photographed it melting in the evening sun
A fragment of new work about recent experience. I’ve created a Substack blog to share snippets. Here’s the link if you’d like to subscribe. open.substack.com/pub/kvcarpen...
I seem to be disproportionately sad about the falling of this old tree, dead for as long as I’ve known it, but still standing. It was a landmark, a waypoint, and felt like a dear old friend.
Our wonderful, funny, kind, clever, vivacious mother has died. As many of you know, dementia robbed her slowly of that vivacity, and us of her, bit by tiny bit; every little loss another twist of the knife in our hearts.
The empty chair (that isn’t empty) From “If You’re Not Singing I’m Not Listening” - work in progress
Further experiments from “If You’re Not Singing I’m Not Listening” We have very different sets of images that we are coming to see as ‘songs’ within a show. Ideas for threading them together are developing. The real life narrative is unfolding as we work and that makes it quite an emotional process.
