Originally from Northern England, Alan Norsworthy has been a photographer since the late 1960's.

He moved to Canada in 1973 and has made Guelph Ontario his home for the last 24 years.

" I remember visiting the CN Tower in the early 70's and the guide said that as far as you could see in any direction is the best farmland in Canada. That comment echoes down the years as I watch subdivisions eat up the landscape."

The area around Guelph offers up a plethora of rural images which Alan captures with his artistic vision. His work covers everything from macro photographs of flowers, sweeping landscapes, historic buildings and old abandoned farms in both colour and Black and White.

"This is where I find my inspiration, I have a need to show people the beauty I see as I walk the woods and fields of Southern Ontario"

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Old Faithful

Old Faithful
Originally uploaded by Alan Norsworthy

Today was a great day, not only was it warm (comparatively speaking) but it was a day filled with old friends and idle banter.
Or was that idle friends and .. no .. old friends and idle banter I was right the first time.

We visited McLeans Auto Wreckers. Now that might seem to be a strange place to actually want to go to but we are photographers and an Auto Wreckers, especially one with 40 acres of old cars is a photographers paradise even more so when the owners are accommodating and friendly.

My photographs from today are in colour, unusual for me but a glorious sunrise and blue skies deserved to be captured in colour

Apart from everything else it was a good walk ....

Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought,
Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught,
The wise, for cure, on exercise depend;
God never made his work for man to mend.
~John Dryden

Sunday, February 19, 2012

These Poor Hands

These Poor Hands
Originally uploaded by Alan Norsworthy

Old age - it comes to us all eventually.

I saw this lady bending over the baskets of fruit, nimble fingers searching for the best pieces.

By the look of her hands you wouldn't think them capable of such a task.

It was her hands that caused me to stop. However, looks can be deceiving ...

Father Time is not always a hard parent, and, though he tarries for none of his children, often lays his hand lightly upon those who have used him well; making them old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young and in full vigour. With such people the grey head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life. ~Charles Dickens

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Hands of the craftsman

Hands of the craftsman
Originally uploaded by Alan Norsworthy

This weekend I was at Thak Ironworks in Floradale, Ontario and met Robb aka Thak.

He described his teen years as a time of discovery.
When he realised that all he needed was iron, a hammer and a forge he was well on his way to becoming what he is today.

Is it trite to call him an 'artist' ?
a 'smith' ?
A 'worker in iron'?

For he is all these things and more. What he does with iron is beyond Art, beyond 'smithing' , beyond just a 'worker in iron'.
He is all of these and the end result is far greater than the parts.

Above all he is a happy man, one of those rare people who have found a way to make a living by doing what he loves to do.

He is the envy of us all.

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. ~Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Sunday, February 5, 2012


Originally uploaded by Alan Norsworthy

It was good to get out again after several weeks of 'downtime'.

We walked or should I say strolled along a new to us trail in Cambridge and ended up in Riverside Park. The sun coming up casting those long, winter shadows. Great stuff. This is why I love this time of year and why I have missed my walks so much. It's good to be back :-)

How can you explain that you need to know that the trees are still there, and the hills and the sky? Anyone knows they are. How can you say it is time your pulse responded to another rhythm, the rhythm of the day and the season instead of the hour and the minute? No, you cannot explain. So you walk. ~Author unknown, from New York Times editorial, "The Walk," 25 October 1967.