2026年10月

The radiators clicked off about twenty minutes ago, and you can feel the cold settling into the high corners of the room straight away. It’s barely eight degrees outside, clear and sharp through the sash windows. I’ve put the kettle on and pulled on an extra layer of wool. There’s something steadying about this hour on a Wednesday, when the quiet takes over and there’s nothing left to sort out until morning. I keep returning to the pause in this street portrait: a shoulder against the wall, one hand in a pocket. It gives me somewhere to put the weight instead of holding a pose. For this study, the checked jacket and denim borrow from Lucy Williams’s outfit. I am drawn to the frame where the light catches my hair and leaves the expression alone.

Saskia Holt · 2026年10月8日

Mid-afternoon sun is cutting right across the kitchen table, sharp and pale. It’s unusual to get light this clean in October, where every ridge in the wood shows up without needing a lamp. I’ve got my coat still slung over the chair, just watching the shadows stretch along the wall before I decide what to do with the rest of the day. Some hours don't ask for a plan; they just give you space to breathe.

Saskia Holt · 2026年10月7日

I’ve been thinking about the difference between holding an expression and simply occupying space. In early castings, there’s always an urge to offer too much—tilting the chin, tightening the jaw, trying to project a feeling before you’ve even settled. But the images that actually stay with you are almost always the ones where nothing is being sold to the room. Just standing there, breathing at your own pace, and trusting that stillness has enough weight on its own.

Saskia Holt · 2026年10月6日

Sunday night feels unusually warm for October, the kind of mild air that makes you forget how quickly the season is turning. The street below has gone completely still ahead of Monday morning. I’ve always liked this late hour when the coming week hasn’t demanded anything of you yet. Just a quiet flat, an open window, and enough space to let tomorrow arrive on its own terms.

Saskia Holt · 2026年10月5日

Saturday nights always make the distance between Glasgow and Melbourne feel tangible. It’s just past eleven here, which means Maya is already moving around her studio in Sunday morning light on the other side of the world. I want to leave her a voice note before I sleep, catching her up on the week without feeling rushed. It takes a little patience to bridge that gap, but there’s something grounding about knowing someone’s day is just beginning while yours quietly folds away.

Saskia Holt · 2026年10月4日

The sky is completely clear tonight, which still catches me off guard here. You get so used to cloud sitting heavy over the tenements that when the rooftops have clean, sharp edges against the dark, the whole street looks slightly unfamiliar. I like the stillness of a late Friday when there’s no call sheet waiting in the morning. Just letting the room breathe, watching the amber light from the streetlamps stretch across the floorboards.

Saskia Holt · 2026年10月3日

Thursday nights usually carry this quiet pause right before Friday pulls everything into focus. I caught myself thinking about how much easier it is to work when nobody expects you to grin on cue. In Melbourne, so many early test shoots felt like an audition for perpetual cheer. Here, when you just stand still and let your shoulders drop, people let the quiet carry the frame. It’s always a relief when you aren't asked to perform brightness you don't feel.

Saskia Holt · 2026年10月2日

October starts in less than an hour. Back in Melbourne, this was always the month where everything sped up for spring—brighter mornings, bare arms, that restless push to be outside. Here, the turn of the season pulls in the opposite direction. I find myself welcoming the heavier wool coats and the quiet that settles into the sandstone as the nights stretch out. There’s something steadying about an autumn that asks you to slow down rather than perform.

Saskia Holt · 2026年10月1日