[We endeavour to take traditional knowledge from nature, from folklore and from experience to create original and beautiful objects that are aesthetic, educational and useful. All of this whilst treading as lightly as possible on planet Earth.]

[the way things are…]

The Moon, our nearest planetary neighbour in the physical universe and man’s stepping stone on the giant leap into infinite space. As it incrementally changes from a silvery sliver of light, into a cold distant world above, then back again into the inky blackness of the night sky. The way she aligns with distant worlds and suns, and, with our very own eye, turning day into night, like minor notes in a heavenly, harmonic chord. Star clusters slowly spin across our depth of field with a greater purpose and a grander design. A giant celestial clock that ticks out a longer, different time than ours, telling stories of a billion years. The way these infinite spectacles of time unfold, directly above us; we can see it; we can hear it; we can feel it; this is the greatest orchestral show on Earth, it’s free and we’re all invited...
...this is the way things are.

[seasons past...]
The Vernal Equinox tilts our faces to the Sun. Saplings and shoots reach upward and outward. The world around me is waking up. Birds arc in the sky and dip in the hedgerow, some, after magnificent migrations, make this place their home, for a while at least. The bees gift life-sustaining honey and engineer cross- pollination. The trees bear fruit and the fields yield the grain.

The stillness of endless midsummer days;  ciderpops, foraged fruits, glistening waters and giant cumulonimbus. The bursting of yellow ears in the perfectly straight cornfields; the rumble of the machines, drawing their meandering lines all over the rich, golden hillsides in the bowl of the Wolds above my home. The scattering of miniscule, black thunder flies in their millions, all over the land, unwittingly seeking refuge under the glass of the picture frames that hang from the walls in the lounge, to remain there, forever encapsulated.

The burning of the straw-stubble on a late Summers evening, lighting up the lip of the bowl in which I live. The flames and shadows dancing on the hills like old crones at black mass. The weightless black ashes that hover and fall for days and days after the shadow-dance has come to an end; impersonating the tiny souls of the thunder flies that didn't make it out of the inferno alive. 

We turn to the shadows behind the Autumnal Equinox. The wind whistles through the keyhole. The shrill note that infiltrates our dwelling, rising higher and higher then falling away once more to return with a starker whispering, that Winter is on its way. The leaves are scattering far and wide and the crows dive through the grey elemental, seeking shelter from the imminent storm that the one-handed scarecrow has been pointing to all along...

Frozen fractals multiplying on my bedroom window pane, individual snowflakes hovering then find a resting place, sugaring the bowl above our house with a perfect blanket of mute-white. The fields, the trees, the houses silenced once more. The wood smoke curls upwards from the hearth. The moon is fat, rest now and dream of Springtime.

Auguries of Innocence
- William Blake

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.

A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.

A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.

A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight
Does the rising sun affright.

Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.

The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.

The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.

He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov'd by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by woman lov'd.

The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.

The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the last judgement draweth nigh.

He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.

The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy's foot.

The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist's jealousy.

The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the world we safely go.

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.

The babe is more than swaddling bands;
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;

This is caught by females bright,
And return'd to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.

The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes revenge in realms of death.
The beggar's rags, fluttering in air,
Does to rags the heavens tear.

The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.

One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands;
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole nation sell and buy.

He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mock'd in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.

He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.

The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.

The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.

When gold and gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful arts shall envy bow.
A riddle, or the cricket's cry,
Is to doubt a fit reply.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.

If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.

The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding-sheet.

The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro' the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

We print everything on recycled paper that has been produced by harnessing the power of the wind



[about me...]
My name is Ryan Patrick Morley. I was born on the Greenwich Meridian Line on Thursday the 14th, February in 1974, at 6 o’clock in the evening. As a boy, I grew up slightly East of the middle of nowhere, deep in the Lincolnshire Wolds in Tennyson country. I took it as a given that, under the intense inky sky at night with all its millions of dots of light and the cry of Tawny Owls and Nightjars all around, that I was part of something great, not detached by any means...undecided where my own body of blood and bone ended, and where the rest of matter in the universe began. 
With this unresolved disposition, I became full of wonder with this idea and how it directly interconnected with my own existence. 

At the age of eleven I attended Sir Isaac Newton’s, King’s School in Grantham. A period which required independence and stamina both physically and mentally and not without its rewards. I discovered the beauty of the printed word and the learning this unveiled, in the 16th century library that lay under the shadow of St. Wulfrum’s Church. On leaving school, I took a junior design job for two years with Linpac but soon enough, itchy feet got the better of me. I wanted to explore distant lands, experience new cultures and see where it may take me, so I cut loose and paid my passage round the globe by sign writing and working on the land and at sea.

After years of journeying and making work, I now live in NetherEdge with my daughter El and Ruth. I practice under the name of ‘Bird&Bee’ and work from a studio by the River Sheaf, underneath a train bridge on the 'Sheffield to Manchester' line.

[my personal work...]
My work is transdisciplinary and includes sculptural forms, kinetic structures, interactive musical pieces and large-scale ephemeral land art - all bound up in time and motion, sound and perspective. Design is at the heart of my work. I produce illustrated, printworks, using old print techniques, typography and the written word. I work with different materials dependant on their suitability for each exploration. These include wood, metal, stone, paint, machines, lighting, print, animation and film. I am interested in perspective, scale, ratio and pattern and how we experience this as conscious humans in a natural world where symmetry and chaos coexist. Performance based lectures, sideshows and public engagement are a strong vein running through my work, as is my participatory and collaborative approach.

I have mapped the sky, and produce an annual calendar that charts the Sun, Earth, Moon relationship through out the year. This chart is now in its 15th published year, is distributed all over the world and has appeared in Marvel’s, ‘Thor’ movie. I am a practicing graphic designer and visual artist with works in the public and private sector. I mainly produce work for charities, not-for-profit and creative organisations. At present, I am working on a mechanical devices that employ the use of pendulums to draw harmonic ratios. A device that can draw music! This pushes at the invisible boundary between Science and Art and visualizes what our ear perceives to be a pleasing sound or an irritating noise, with fascinating results. Other explorations involve harnessing universal law and earth sciences to create visual works.

[I am available for graphic design work, project management, consultation and educational workshops. Please get in touch if you have any thoughts or questions.]


[Origin of Bird&Bee...]
The name Bird&Bee comes from
the lyrical masters Lennon & McCartney
- in their song ‘Cry Baby Cry
It also refers to the process of creation
- as in ‘the birds and the bees’.

The Bird&Bee insignia encompasses:
the Bird and Air in the North,
the Dragonfly and Fire in the East,
the Fish and Water in the South
and the Hare and Earth in the West -
all of which revolve and flow into one another


To us, there is no point in producing anything that isn’t both useful and sustainable. We print everything on paper that has been produced by harnessing the power of the Wind and completely from 100% recycled paper.

Over the years we have had some wonderful comments about Bird&Bee’s original artefacts. Princesses, Rock Stars and Filmmakers have all found them a sight to behold and a practical source for the passing of time.

Please send us your comments, thoughts and ideas to:

Unit 3D, Nursery Works
100 Little London Road
S8 0UJ

Or you can contact us via email

© 2017 BirdandBee.  All rights reserved.