Hi, I'm Yaso welcome to my website.

Mixed media

Trees carries many possible readings and brings light to life made collateral to mortal concerns. It can be a quiet remembrance of loss we cannot contend with and the love that still endures. It is dedicated to our fallen stars. AI-generated visuals were curated and composed as companions to the poem. September 2025 Minted on Tezos for archival purposes.

   

Lady Melody is a visual poem that moves between sound and silence - a gothic ritual of rhythm, memory, and overcoming. It explores how voice survives when language fractures, and how beauty can rise from the ache of restraint. I loved writing it. The poem and the Vispo were created in a single (very long) sitting, under the Beaver Moon - a welcome but, unexpected moment of flow. AI-generated visuals were curated and composed as companions to the poem. Original minted on Tezos · © Yasotha Browne, November 2025

These photos were taken June 2020. I had the fortunate discovery of a black bird's nest behind our conservatory. It meant I could view them without disturbance to the nest. We have three cats and so we kept them indoors until they fledged which was not easy and, as silly as I am sure it sounds to some, I believe the blackbirds really did know what was going on and appreciated the help. They all made it with one straggler leaving the nest a day after the others. I still think they come and visit from time to time just to let me know that it was all worth it.

In David Lack's "The life of the Robin" he talks about how when in close proximity captive Robins would kill each other but with enough space this would stop. I sometimes feel like humans are actually similar.

Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die. - Mary Elizabeth Frye

In July 2021 I decided to go to Shetland for a few weeks having left my job. I know from experience that when I am upset, as an introvert and someone who finds nature uplifting and magical, somewhere remote with a wildlife subject to study will generally bring me back to feeling myself. I think we are all different and so I wouldn't go so far as to say nature is healing or it is medicine for everyone. I am a family Doctor and I have worked in remote places of beauty like the Isle of Wight and people can be as unhappy and stuck in life as people that I saw in inner city Birmingham. There is no quick way of getting well with chronic illness or finding your new normal with your symptoms. I like the idea of social prescribing but I think you have to be interested first and to have taken the time to know what gives you joy (not addiction). It actually can take a lot of focus to achieve a true picture so don't be discouraged if you are figuring that out still, I think to a degree I still am.

I used to want to do photo books for each place that we would travel to, this would include keeping all receipts and other necessary mementos which probably looking back translated to permission for me to continue a hoarding habit. Also frustratingly laptops have failed, hard drives malfunctioned, SD cards were lost and the interest to complete the task never really surfaced. I think having a photo story or photo book agenda can be quite good for informing the photos you take. It's nice reminding myself of this. Anxiety can be an underlying cause for hoarding. I am able to throw more things away that I really don't need, but I still do find it difficult. I think the photographs we take can provoke sense memories, an asset when they are good.

"...Does my haughtiness offend you? Don’t you take it awful hard ’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I’ve got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise." - Maya Angelou.