2018 - 2024

"To stand at the edge of the sea, to sense the ebb and flow of the tides, to feel the breath of a mist moving over a great salt marsh, to watch the flight of shore birds that have swept up and down the surf lines of the continents for untold thousands of years… is to have knowledge of things that are as nearly eternal as any earthly life can be.” (Rachel Carson, The Edge of the Sea, 1955)

‘Tide’ is a long-term project which explores the rhythm of the tide and the waxing and waning of the Moon. Using photography, moving image and cameraless techniques, ‘Tide’ looks down into the microscopic world of the tide pool and gazes up at the lunar surface. This project is an immersive odyssey into tidal rhythms, submerging into underwater forests, as surreal moons float in inky blue waters. ‘Tide’ reflects on how the moon influences the sea and how we are all bodies of water. Images have been made above and below the water, revealing the hidden, liminal world beneath the surface of the waves. Photographs of the phases of the Moon merge with seascapes to create layered images. Using moving image, the spiralling, circular form of the ammonite echoes the moon’s disc and movement, referencing links between deep time, the ocean, and celestial forces. ‘Tide’ is a visual paean to the ebb and flow of the tide.

Relocating to Somerset in 2015 from London, and with a sudden ability to see the clear night sky, I started noticing the lunar cycle. In turn I became more aware of cyclic rhythms in my own life and in my own body. I began to photograph the full Moon each lunar cycle, researching folklore behind the ancient seasonal naming of each full Moon. I discovered all year-round sea swimming, drawn to the cathartic sensation of immersion and floating in cold saltwater. Memories of childhood rock pooling were rekindled hunting for seaweed specimens to create cameraless cyanotype prints. I started noticing traces of an ancient sea, finding ammonites in the fields by my home near the Somerset levels.

‘Tide’ has been developed and supported by:

Somerset Art Works Project Development Bursary (2019 – 2020)

A funded studio residency at East Quay, with supporting bursary from the Onion Collective (2021)

a-n Artist Newsletter Artist Bursary (2023 – 2024)

The Diaspora Stones (2013) are a series of photographs printed onto stone looking at key themes such as home, abandonment, the land, and migration (using birds as a metaphor for human migration). These stones were found on Helmsdale beach and come from different geological eras. Rock types in the local area include: metamorphic, granite, old red sandstone, flint, slate, quartz and conglomerates. Over geological history (100s of millions of years) these have moved from all over Scotland to arrive at Helmsdale beach. These stones have dispersed, so they could also be a kind of geological diaspora. Much like the people in the Clearances, who dispersed from the glens to the sea and beyond. The photographs now printed onto these various stones, become image-fossils.

Created during the Translocation Residency at Timespan in 2013: http://www.carolynlefley.co.uk/residencies#/timespan-translocation

Realm (2009-2013) depicts a world that floats between reality and fantasy; between believable spaces and sites of make believe. Down the rabbit hole, through the looking glass and into the wardrobe, all of these paths lead from the territory of the real, into the realm of wonder and myth. 

Realm consists of double exposure images that create a layering of realities. A familiar domestic interior and a potentially mythological landscape combine to create an alternative reality, with reference to texts such as CS Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe and George McDonald’s Phantastes: A Fairie Romance for Men and Women. Through these images the home becomes a portal into a mythical realm.

The abandoned interior element of each photograph has been captured in derelict croft houses found in the Highlands of Scotland. The majority of which were photographed during a residency at Timespan Museum in 2012.  The projected mythical landscapes are sites of folklore and fable, captured all over the British Isles.

There are 12 photographs in this series and they are available at two edition sizes.

24.5 inches x 30 inches Fuji Crystal Archive digital C-type photographic print.

Edition of 10.

12 inches x 9.8 inches Fuji Crystal Archive digital C-type photographic print.

Edition of 20.

Cosmogony (2011-2012) explores the poetic symbolism of global creation myths. There are countless cosmogonies, which over millennia seek to tell the story of the creation of the cosmos. In this series miniature forest dioramas form a stage to depict nocturnal scenes suggesting beginnings. Cosmogonies are alluded to, woven together and made new. These photographs of constructed landscapes reference the idea of origins but also attempt explore the inherent surreal qualities of a photograph to depict a world that occupies a liminal space between reality and fantasy.

The Days are Falling (2011–2012) began after an on-going morning ritual monitoring the last remaining leaf on a tree in my garden. It seemed to hang on for weeks despite strong winds and rain. For me this image spoke of determination, holding on and hope. I started to photograph the last leaf or leaves remaining on trees in the local area.

Around the same time I shared these images with poet and friend Sarah Fordham. We started a dialogue about how we read the symbol of the last leaf. Sarah’s poem 'The days are falling from the trees', describes an image of letting go, the cycle of life and death. I was interested in how our interpretations of the same visual were so different. My reading is about holding on and Sarah’s is about letting go. I am indebted to Sarah for the title of this series that references her poem, which can be read here.

This project was completed during a residency at Camberwell College of Art, supported by the AA2A scheme. 

Within (2007) explores the tension between fantasy (the miniature) and reality (the gigantic).  From within each doll’s house room, through the recurring windows, we gaze out to the larger reality of a real home. The commonplace domestic details are transformed into strange and uncanny vistas.  In the half light within, forgotten toys and Narnian furniture are laid abandoned, waiting to be played with once more.  

It was one of these mysterious fairy calls from out the void that suddenly reached Mole in the darkness, making him tingle through and through with its very familiar appeal, even while yet he could not clearly remember what it was…Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way (1).

Home: a place of comfort and love, a container of memories, a site for longings and a place to belong. Much like Mole’s search for his Dolce Domum in The Wind in the Willows, for many years my practice has explored this elusive state of longing for home. The setting or stage for these photographs has moved from my childhood home, to strangers’ empty homes to doll’s houses. The doll’s house has captured my imagination from an early age since watching the film The Incredible Shrinking Man as a child, where the film’s diminutive hero is relegated to the doll’s house only to be attacked by a ferocious pet cat. A doll’s house is a dream home in miniature, a place for childhood imaginings and adult escapism. I have used the construct of the miniature home to make photographs that depict a world that floats between reality and fantasy, between believable spaces and sites of make believe.

The empty and neglected bedrooms in Belonging  (2006), that seem to groan with implicit memories, loosely represent the unease and weariness encountered throughout my own uncertain quest for home. In fact the repetitive representation of rooms has haunted my photographic practice for many years. Rooms which once served as the playgrounds of childhood fantasy, sometimes become places of paradox; where the perfection of the fairy-tale is found by adult experience to be wanting. Betrayed by the conviction of innocence, we begin the grown-up search for that elusive place and position in which we can truly feel at-home; where we belong.

1. Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, 1908

The series Home (2006), reveals a darker, almost unfamiliar view to the house which I grew up in. The pictures were taken at night and combine the darkened private interior with the warm glow of suburbia outside. 

Semi-detached (2006) explores the humble but iconic architecture of the suburban semi-detached home, with its neat front garden, the bay fronted windows and red tiled roof. I grew up in a pebbled-dashed semi in leafy Middlesex. The semi-detached house seems to be a symbol of suburbia and all that might represent. The sprawl of suburbia boomed in the British interwar period, housing was built up in the countryside surrounding the towns and cities. In London, suburbia grew out to the Northwest along the route of the Metropolitan Railway. My family settled in sleepy Eastcote in the heart of John Betjeman’s Metroland. Whilst unfashionable now as other areas of London have become more ‘desirable’ for 21st century living, the suburban areas remain like a warm and comfortable timewarp, with streets, houses and gardens still in their early twentieth century layout, including internal and external appearances.

As a child, the uncanny feeling experienced whilst in next door’s house remains: it was a mirror image of our own home and the décor was different but it felt strangely familiar. 

Semi-detached is presented as an artist’s book. The images show the architectural symmetry of the two halves, whilst revealing subtle differences in the tastes of the owners of each side. The inhabitants are absent in these pictures; their identity suggested by the private interiors of their homes.

The Watchers (2005) depicts domestic space from the viewpoint of the television set. The viewers are absent from the images with only clues of the watcher's identity being encoded in their domestic environment. The scenes are lit solely by the glow of the television. On a rudimentary level, the television is a source of entertainment and information, but often the television becomes a member of the family or a surrogate companion.