In the Plantation
I have had a busy weekend. On Saturday I went to the Big Day Out at RMIT and this morning I went for a 60km ride into the countryside.
I think the thing that struck me is early we set off – 5.20am from Phu My Hung. It was pitch black and appeared to all intents and purposes night-time. But it was also the coolest it gets – which isn’t that cool really. There was an occasional whisper of a breeze, which felt great. We then set out over the big suspension bridge (whose name slips my mind) and onto a ferry, into the countryside. The objective was to reach the rubber plantations – for a quick photoshoot for Rod (who owns the Giant store in Phu My Hung). I think this is the furthest I’ve ever peddled before. I almost fell off a number of times, trying to stay up with the rest, hitting big pockets of sand (makes you steering all “lively”), dodging trees. But it was all terrific fun (and hopefully good for me).
One of the Rest Stops
Waiting to Catch the Ferry Back
The Ferry "Terminal"
I think that is more photos than I’ve ever posted in “one go” before.
Anyway – a long day – my thanks to my new cycling friends!
My Grandfather
This is my grandfather. I do not possess a sharp photo of him. I have taken countless pictures of him and none are sharp. I don’t know why. He has huge misshapen hands (according to my father), I’m wondering if the problem is something to do with anomalous physiognomy, which I’ve failed to notice. He has been able to defeat every camera I’ve pointed at him in the last 20 years, the 50D being no exception (don’t suppose he can be simulated in laboratory conditions).
"Pete" the Springer Spaniel
I had a brief chat with a model today about “look”. I think I wrote before about my increasingly commercial style. I found myself telling her that I wanted to go back to a much grittier look – which I suppose I do. We talked about MUAs – I suppose it is about the quest for the perfect image.
Ok. This was Pete – who was my sister’s dog. I he was living proof of the irrationality of the human race. To know him was to love him and people did without fail. When I took him for walks, strangers would come up, just to talk to him (completely ignoring me, inches away though I might be). He was just SO naughty – but you forgave him in a heartbeat (usually).
There is a concert on at the weekend – I’m excited!
Where Elvis Was Born...
A few years ago, I went through a phase driving trips around the US. A little while before I had lived there and in retrospect these visits were a way of saying “Goodbye”. The US is the only country I know where I would choose to travel by car, it seems well suited and scaled a view through a passenger window. When i think back on them, I can believe how lucky I was to be able to do this. I did lots of silly things with my money at the time, but I don’t think was one of them.
Initally, I would stay a night or so with my friend Sandra (I wonder how she is) in Atlanta, slowly building inertia, until I couldn’t sit still any longer and would fly off across the country in my hire car, driving late into the night – I was on my own and could stop and start where I wanted. I have mixed feeling about the American goverment, but the American people have never let me down, always ready with a word or suggestion or two. Just odd words here and there in diners and supermarkets. Shared laughter, hiding from a storm in a supermarket in Wilmington (the lights kept going out).
This is the house that Elvis was born in. There’s a museum in the background. Apparently they are called “shotgun shacks”. It looked immaculate. I’m not sure it was like that when Elvis was a resident.
My Feet in the Pacific
This is from the first time I ever saw the Pacific Ocean. I had arrived in El Salvador a couple of days before and a couple of colleagues had taken us all to the beach, near La Libertad.
The sand was a dark volcanic brown, the surf and sun a dazzling white – My particularly bad camera of the time has burned the edges of my very white skin.
Suzannah
I’ve had contact from a model – perhaps to do some pictures together. She wanted to see more of my photographs – and I found myself wondering,”What I should show her? Do I delve into the mists of time with photographs – like this one? Or do I only show the most recent?”
Although photography is something you do, you are always dealing with photos you have taken (the past). In striving to be more “professional”, I have become more proficient – slick – but I like the pictures less and less. People talk about control and flexibility, but in the striving for perfection, something seems to get lost.
Getting Myself in the Picture!
Quite a long pause between posts this week. My excuse is that I’ve been riding my bicycle – my delay tonight was because I had a puncture – in the middle of nowhere. I’ve been wondering for a while how this would be – and I managed ok – there is a sort of relief when you know you can deal with little emergencies. The strange thing is, that I had been thinking about punctures when it happened – are the two connected?
Anyway – took this picture by one of the memorials in the center of the city. Lots of little messages everywhere – and my foot creeping into the corner (proof of the existance of the photographer!).
Cooking Breakfast
I’ve recently started cycling, which I’m really enjoying. This moring, I was up at 5.00am to go for a ride with the guys from the local cycle shop. Initially, I had thought that it was going to be a road session, but in fact was an off-roader instead, which was a bit disconcerting. So we set off at just after 6am from Phu My Hung, for what turned out to be a really satisfying ride through the neighbouring countryside. Everyone was really friendly, and when one of the team fell ill, quickly called him a taxi to get him (and his bicycle) home.
This was a quick grab I took of the place we had breakfast at.
Smithfield Market
I have the feeling that I took this “near” rather than “in” Smithfield Market. This must be a fairly early picture of mine- from when I first moved to London. I lived in Chiswick and walked huge distances at the weekends. I still quite like the photos, but they are usually devoid of people – a parallel London full of empty streets and silence. If they were a book it would be “Silent London”.
Earlier in the day, I saw someone literally melt down. A youngish woman – perhaps early thirties get out of a car – and as it drove a way, she dropped down to her heels, like a paper bag, held her calves and sobbed. I had never seen anything like it. You feel people’s anguish, but you can’t make it better. City life is like that.
Across the Valley
This is an early version of a photograph I took during the Christmas holiday as I walked into Bath. I think it captures the atmosphere quite well. It has been cropped from the original, which is a bit bigger. Photography for is as much about what I leave out than as what I include. I love the trees, the mist and the flare (thank you Canon). I suspect I will end up cloning out the telephone lines in the foreground.
