Ella Rose Muse: the story: Travel Plans & Whereabouts

Travel Plans & Whereabouts

I've modelled in many different countries across different continents, from the Scottish Highlands to Penzance, from Mexico to Iceland and from the Mediterranean to the Middle East; in ancient forests, lakes and waterfalls, derelict buildings, ruins, grand houses and beautiful modern hotels; underwater, in deserts, in geothermal pools and geysers, against famous city landmarks, in cobbled colonial streets and flower gardens; in the sea, on the beach and in swimming pools, up mountains, on rock faces, on the tops of cliffs, and in sunshine, rain, frost and snow. I thrive on variety and am a traveller at heart; my portfolio is a catalogue of moments and places I've been lucky enough to experience.

(Copyright: Jim Furness)

Travel

I travel nationally and internationally for modelling jobs. Please use the contact form to email me with any booking enquiries, or if you'd like me to contact you when I next visit your part of the world.

I live in Oxfordshire, near London, and often organise trips around different parts of the UK (especially when prompted!). Meanwhile, I'm available for bookings in 'local' areas such as London, Wiltshire, Buckinghamshire, Hampshire, Dorset, Sussex, Gloucestershire, Somerset, Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire, Cambridgeshire, and the Midlands.

As well as flitting about within the UK, I visit these places regularly (e.g. about once each per year):

EUROPE (Italy, Germany, Ireland, Austria, Switzerland, France, Scotland, Belgium, Norway, Iceland, Wales, Spain, Portugal, The Netherlands), & sometimes

AUSTRALIA,

ASIA,

USA & CANADA.
(...Just ask for details, or to influence my itinerary. Excuses to visit your corner of Earth are welcome.)

....Or you can come to me!

I live 'out in the sticks' in Oxfordshire and therefore have acres of ancient woodland, open spaces & flowers/bluebells/cornfields (seasonal!) on my doorstep. I love shooting here and offer a slight discount as it's so convenient for me. Otherwise, I can recommend studios, local or otherwise, or some beautiful outdoor locations near me (woodland, ancient ruins, rivers, parks, fields, stone walls, avenues of trees... Oxford itself is also very easy on the eye!

Some extra info:

I do not list the dates of my trips online, as they are so frequently subject to change/addition/substraction... I receive many enquiries daily and my schedule is constantly evolving; for my availability for your project, please just ask.
If your location is not currently featured in my plans, please get in touch and register your interest; that way, I can contact you directly when visiting your area in the future, ensuring you don't miss out. Alternatively, I urge you to just invite me for a specific booking; I can then organise further assignments in your area, if you prefer to share out my travel costs. Often a single advance booking can kick start a mini 'tour'!
Perhaps worth mentioning: I don't generally do 'studio days' (a popular concept in the UK where studios advertise that a model will be attending and sell consecutive sessions on the model's behalf). They are usually great fun, but I prefer to take bookings directly rather than being told by a third party who I'm working with. For this reason, please don't wait for me to do a studio day in your area, because it could never happen. Instead, do take the initiative and arrange something with me if you like (many do, and I love them for it)! I can recommend many studios in my area, too.

I welcome all enquiries, questions and ideas, whether it's last minute or far in advance, and wherever in the world you are. If you’d like my help/recommendations with booking a studio or location, I am happy to assist.

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Walter De La Mare, 'The Listeners'

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,

Knocking on the moonlit door;

And his horse in the silence champed the grasses

Of the forest’s ferny floor:

And a bird flew up out of the turret,

Above the Traveller’s head:

And he smote upon the door again a second time;

‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.

But no one descended to the Traveller;

No head from the leaf-fringed sill

Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,

Where he stood perplexed and still.

But only a host of phantom listeners

That dwelt in the lone house then

Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight

To that voice from the world of men:

Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,

That goes down to the empty hall,

Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken

By the lonely Traveller’s call.

And he felt in his heart their strangeness,

Their stillness answering his cry,

While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,

’Neath the starred and leafy sky;

For he suddenly smote on the door, even

Louder, and lifted his head:—

‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,

That I kept my word,’ he said.

Never the least stir made the listeners,

Though every word he spake

Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house

From the one man left awake:

Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,

And the sound of iron on stone,

And how the silence surged softly backward,

When the plunging hoofs were gone.

Natasha Khan/Bat for Lashes, 'Horse and I'

Got woken in the night,
by a mystic golden light.
My head soaked in river water.
I had been dressed in a coat of armor. They called
a horse out of the woodland.
"Take her there, through the desert shores."
They sang to me, "This is yours to wear.
You're the chosen one, there's no turning back now."

The smell of redwood giants.
The banquet for the shadows.
Horse and I, we're dancers in the dark.
Came upon the headdress.
It was gilded, dark and golden.
The children sang.
I was so afraid I took it to my head and prayed.
They sang to me, "This is yours to wear. You're the chosen one, there's no turning back."
They sang to me, "This is yours to wear. You're the chosen one, there's no turning back."

Mark Doty, 'A Display of Mackerel'

They lie in parallel rows,

on ice, head to tail,

each a foot of luminosity

barred with black bands,

which divide the scales’

radiant sections

like seams of lead

in a Tiffany window.

Iridescent, watery

prismatics: think abalone,

the wildly rainbowed

mirror of a soapbubble sphere,

think sun on gasoline.

Splendor, and splendor,

and not a one in any way

distinguished from the other

—nothing about them

of individuality. Instead

they’re all exact expressions

of the one soul,

each a perfect fulfilment

of heaven’s template,

mackerel essence. As if,

after a lifetime arriving

at this enameling, the jeweler’s

made uncountable examples,

each as intricate

in its oily fabulation

as the one before

Suppose we could iridesce,

like these, and lose ourselves

entirely in the universe

of shimmer—would you want

to be yourself only,

unduplicatable, doomed

to be lost? They’d prefer,

plainly, to be flashing participants,

multitudinous. Even now

they seem to be bolting

forward, heedless of stasis.

They don’t care they’re dead

and nearly frozen,

just as, presumably,

they didn’t care that they were living:

all, all for all,

the rainbowed school

and its acres of brilliant classrooms,

in which no verb is singular,

or every one is. How happy they seem,

even on ice, to be together, selfless,

which is the price of gleaming.

Kate Clanchy, 'Poem for a Man with No Sense of Smell'

This is simply to inform you:

that the thickest line in the kink of my hand
smells like the feel of an old school desk,
the deep carved names worn sleek with sweat;

that beneath the spray of my expensive scent
my armpits sound a bass note strong
as the boom of a palm on a kettle drum;

that the wet flush of my fear is sharp
as the taste of an iron pipe, midwinter,
on a child's hot tongue; and that sometimes,

in a breeze, the delicate hairs on the nape
of my neck, just where you might bend
your head, might hesitate and brush your lips,

hold a scent frail and precise as a fleet
of tiny origami ships, just setting out to sea.

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Travel Plans & Whereabouts