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It was my late father who brought me back to South Cornwall – a corner of the country that had meant childhood holidays of striped windbreaks and rockpool fossicking; learning the names of thrift, skylark, wood sorrel and primrose, a form of poetry to me. Dad had spent years meandering the coastline, and there was a section of the South West Coast Path from Par to Portscatho that I wanted to complete for him.
Sunset along the Helford River on the Eda FrandsenLucy Laucht
Those days of hidden coves, wild ponies and setting suns interrupted by wilder storms became a bigger photography project. And somehow, I ended up living on the Lizard Peninsula, a lyrical and untamed landscape of sheer cliffs, hidden creeks and the right sort of seclusion. I was drawn by the landscape, and the way the light moves across it. But I was also convinced I could swap New York City for a life here by the rich, vibrant community I found – of filmmakers, photographers, potters and people forging a life connected to the natural environment; all making it work, and so supportive of each other. For two years, I’ve found a renewed sense of creativity in this place.
Lucy Laucht
I’ve also seen a side to Cornwall that sometimes gets lost in the headlines – especially the little scenes building on the edges of the better-known places. Such as increasingly artsy Penryn, just north of Falmouth; or Newlyn, a workaday, authentic alternative to Penzance, the northern neighbour it runs into. From busy St Ives, the tourists thin out as you drive south towards Sennen – one of my favourite stretches of coast anywhere in the world. Cornwall has become home – and, having never thought I could base a creative career here, it now feels like there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
