Suspense
My colour - your colour blending unseen against solidity As pattern is introduced My being warps it Becomes visible Clearly refracting seen only as a distortion of your regularity bending the very rays and become visible against them perfect imperfection reveals a passing lens I remember falling past you on my way to a fluidic oblivion caught the relic of a splash I made when I was someone else
Water and the refraction of light are common themes in my work. I remember being in primary school and realising that things were visible only if they shone with their own light or reflected light into my eyes. I had this little mirror I used to take to school and I would play games with it like positioning it in the grass on the oval at just the right angle so that it effectively disappeared. I would then spin around or close my eyes for a time, and proceed to look for it ... could I pick out the tiny replication that signalled where the reflection was? That moment of suspense when I thought that perhaps, this time I had actually lost the mirror... upon reflection (no pun intended) I was maybe a little odd as a child. Not that much has changed, I was in love with light even then.
When did you realise you were in love with light? Was there a moment when you really noticed it ... noticed it or simply became aware of it? Do tell :-)
Something in the wine
Three and a half seconds of dragged shuttery, fire-twirly goodness for your viewing pleasure. Have a good weekend ... what are you up to?
Gunung Batur
Oculus time again. This is a picture of Gunung Batur (Mount Batur) on the island of Bali. It is an active volcano and this picture was was taken from the rim of the caldera which was formed around 25,00 years ago. The present cone rises some 700m above Lake Batur which has formed on the caldera floor. The last major lava flows were in 1968 and can be seen clearly as dark basaltic out purings out from the main cone but the volcano urmbles and emits steam regularly. It looks and sounds remote but there are literally hundereds of restaurants and tea houses stretched along this, the southwest part of the rim forming part of the town of Kintamani.
Nearby is a Volcano Museum which wasn't there last time we visited and contains some great models and geological samples. My eldest (7), who's totally into seismographs at the moment (even more so after watching 'Journey to the Centre of the Earth' twice on the plane on the way over...) thought it fantastic. We found a little staircase in one corner of the museum labelled 'Observation Room'. We ascended the stairs to find a little bright room with several tripods with high powered binoculars pointing vaguely at the volcano. The tripod mounts are very wobbly and the scopes could not be focussed ... oh well. On the way back down we stopped at a little glass door where we found the resident seismologist who seemed completely chuffed to have some interested visitors. He welcomed us in and showed us the seismograph which had a trace on its drum from a tremor that morning. Mr 7 was in heaven!
Of course my oculus came to Bali with me and although it stayed in my camera bag most of the time ... it came out whenever I remembered it was there ... like this occasion. Shot using my favourite lens my Nikkor 50mm f/1.4.
Fade
Fade I had no words today I thought to set words to this image to say what I thought when I created it or it created me ... I never can tell then I realised I remember standing there ... holding the trigger the roar of the ocean the bright dawn light I recall the click of the exposure ending after, I guess, the minutes I asked for that in between I went somewhere to where I do not know but it was peaceful there were no words
Walking A Different Path
Walking a different path. Travel ... one of the best things we can do for both ourselves and our children. As a family we travelled ... a lot. I changed schools every two or three years and after a while you make friends like a traveller makes friends ... knowing that it's a temporary thing ... one or other of you will be gone soon. You don't put down roots, they'll only be torn up in a couple of years. You learn to be compact and self-reliant. On the other hand you get to see things other people do not. Countries that no longer exist. Ways of life that have disappeared forever. I remember seeing Chinese junks in Penang and Singapore harbours. Orchard Road with wooden shops before it became high-rise. Islands before they became the footprint for mega-resorts. It wasn't that long ago either.
I remember returning to Australia, to a new school again after one of these trips and finding people simply didn't believe that I'd been overseas ... that I was making it all up ... that everywhere was simply the same as it was here. How I longed to be able to teleport them to walk along one of those streets, or to the center of an asian market where you chose the chicken you wanted for dinner, went away and returned to find it newly converted into fresh-plucked chicken ... still vitally warm ... or you could stay and watch. That would learn them ... maybe.
I believe it's vitally important to walk down another street. A place you've never been ... surrounded by people living a life completely different to yours (albeit superficially ... I mean we're all essentially looking for love and warmth and food) to see how people live. It changes the way you view the world and your place within it ... at times if only to realise just how lucky you are to have the things you have and often take for granted.
I took the picture above on a recent family trip to Ubud in Bali. I liked that it showed that essential nature of travel ... walking a different path.
Do you travel? Have you walked another path?
Changing Light
Have you ever travelled somewhere you've been before but a long time ago? Somewhere perhaps where things are different to the life you left to go there? Although I'm an Australian and have spent most of my life here, I was born in Georgetown, Penang and have spent significant periods of my life growing up in Asia. I feel an affinity - there's a large part of me in Southeast Asia. I recently returned to the mountains of the Indonesian island of Bali after an absence of 10 years. Bali's a beautiful (& warm) place with rich a Hindu culture and warm, friendly people ... did I mention warm? The morning we left Canberra it was -6C! When we landed it felt the same ... it smelled the same. We couldn't find the driver our hotel sent so we jumped in a cab for what's normally a 40 minute ride. The trip took 2 and a bit hours in at times quite ridiculous traffic ... perhaps traffic is a bit generous - traffic implies movement of some kind. There was plenty of time to look out the window. As the sun set I noticed something had changed. At first I couldn't put a finger on it yet it altered my whole perception. By the road, shops and houses, scooter repair, makan (food) carts, temples and shrines - switched on their lights pools in the increasing darkness.
The shops felt colder, less inviting ... why was that? Of course! The light! The light was now blue! I remembered it as orange ... incandescent ... warm. The incandescent globes had all been replaced by compact flourescents (CF) with their cold bluey glow. Here in Australia, we've been changing the globes over for years and I remember noticing that houses looked less inviting and colder then. It was one of those 'Derr!' moments when I realise the obvious ... of course everyone everywhere is changing to the new bulbs ... of course it will look different. Then why did I have such a reaction to this?
I'll declare I dislike CF lighting ... it feels stark and cold to me ... somehow less intimate. Halogens still retain their warmth (literally most times!) ... I guess people who've grown up with nothing else do not yearn as I do for those warm oranges and yellows. I sincerely hope that lighting engineers are working on warmer, energy-efficient solutions - I'm sure they are!
How about you, do you miss the incandescents? Have you always known CF lighting? Does it feel cold to you? Less intimate?
Do let me know :-)
Let Me Count the Ways
As you may have guessed by now I'm in love with refraction ... the bending of light through water or glass. This picture is one from a couple of years ago when I was right into refracting patterns through droplets of water. My setup for these consisted of a sheet of glass suspended above the pattern, in this case a frangipani blossom, with droplets placed onto the glass. I adjusted the height of the glass until the pattern was contained within the drop. I particularly liked blurring the background so that it gave the viewer the knowledge that the drop was refracting something much larger behind it. This picture, Let Me Count the Ways, represents the culmination of those efforts and attempts (and failures!) to create something ... an idea ... an essence.
On another note: I'm going away on a family holiday for a week or so and am leaving the internet behind. I won't be visiting your beautiful blogs in that time but I promise to look when I return.
Geoffrey x
Sum of the Parts
Sum of the Parts
Ocean swells and falls as a twilight breeze ruffles my hair
salty fresh with spray
waves thumping deeply through bedrock
Watching the moon rise
and waiting
Alone now
Then it happens ... the scene blurs and folds
into two ... then three
Ocean Sky Moon
as balanced as they are suspended
Individually separate
As the sum of the parts
they are the world
(Inspired by Ness 2012)
I have been working on a series lately called 'Sum of the Parts' in which I deliberately blur my photograph in an attempt to break it into it's component parts. The pieces invite the viewer to to meditate on a scene without visual distraction of detail in a realm without time. That's the theory anyways! The first image in this series was blogged here as Sunset Wave and is shown below.
Tell me, do you work in or on a series? By that I mean do you think "today I'm going to take a picture for my *insert classy description here* series"? Or do you look back on your portfolio and think "Hey I've got a lot pictures of flowers/car number plates/left shoes ... I should put them together in a series"?
Do tell! :-)
Fernland
Fernland
Damp, earthy - a faint musk
Cool, verdant
quiet ... still
Fractal patterns stretch
Unfolding gently, chaos becomes ordinary
repeated
and repeated
and repeated - seeming endlessly
easy to dismiss, to overlook as all alike
they're copies to a point
each unique - new and ancient both
Reaching for the light
As I to you
unfurling in hope that the light will come
Do you see me here in the fernland?
beneath the trees
striving for the dappled
When I find it I thrive
Without it a piece of me dies
(June 2012)
----
I'm not a religious person, let me just state that up front. Sometimes when I look over what I've written, I can see how some of the writing could be viewed that way ... all this striving and longing for light stuff. What I am striving for is a completeness that I don't find in my day-to-day life. A feeling that I glimpse every now and again of a natural patterning (and I emphatically do not refer to design) at once simple and mind-bendingly complex. I see it in the sky, in the forming of clouds or the way light refracts through a freshly rained droplet. Or in this case the fiddle-head of a fernlet reaching through the dark. I see them as beautiful but I also have the rationality to know that it's me who's labeling them that way. That they, in all likelihood would exist and go on without my observations ... or would they? Sounds like a discussion over a glass of wine (or three)! Anyways, enough rambling. Enjoy!
Autumnal Fire
Canberra has had one of the most spectacular autumn displays in years. A combination of the drought breaking last year and a very mild, wet summer. The oaks and maples are still running yellows but the main show met the icy winter blasts that heralded the beginning of winter's grip ... great cold fronts dragging up air from the antarctic. Where there were streets transformed into riotous displays of colour, trees now reach for the sky with branches bare save a few hardy splashes of colour clinging on.
The first picture was taken of a golden ash in full flight using a Lensbaby 3G ... a quirky little lens that can produce outstanding results. The second picture, below, is the back deck after a recent rainshower. You could likely guess what kind of trees we have in the back yard...
For a lot of you it will be late spring or early summer. Canberra, although known as the 'Bush Capital', has many exotic tree species and plantings ... which I find kind of nice as the Euclaypts, being evergreen, aren't renowned for their spectacular seasonal shows. Autumn in Canberra is gorgeous. Do you have native flora where you live? A mix? Is the landscape around you so modified by people as to form a new kind of 'natural' or native?
Temple of the Sun
Another oculus picture from my coastal artist retreat from earlier this month at Ness. Here the rising sun clears the top of an exposed rock.
Looking at a scene refracted through the glass sphere makes it appear both internalised and externalised at the same time ... like I'm both within and without simultaneously ... it does something for me ... something deep.
Do you have a special object or way of of looking that touches you deeply? You know, makes you think of things differently for a moment? That takes you beyond?
Do tell :-)
“It’s dead” said Petra
1. She held out her hand Upon her palm a tiny lizard, a skink A shining dark olive back – thin yellow strip along the sides Iridescent blue-aqua beneath its chin Beautiful “It’s dead” said Petra as she held it aloft by the tail – and it was I looked into its eye and saw right through to the verdant bush beyond The tangled twigs and rocks – a land of nooks and tasty creatures “Most likely where this lizard is now” I thought as I peered through the eyeless window I remembered to breathe – brought myself back The sounds of this world filling my ears as I returned from reverie and soft melancholia Into the light - the present 2. She made a small home for the lizard A little box lined with tissue and care The tiny claws catching still – a feeble anchor it looked like it would dart away in a flash but it already had Discarding this garment long ago a once animate husk Beating and alive
(GD @ Ness May 2012)
Chasing Rainbows
At the end of 2011 I had an exhibition of my work showing with a fellow artist at a local gallery. Part of the deal was that we had to 'sit' the gallery during the weekend opening hours. I took the Saturday shift and also took the opportunity to photographically document the show. I was putting the final touches to shutting up the gallery when I heard a clap of loud thunder and the afternoon sun disappeared. I had ridden my bicycle across town to the gallery and was literally about to step out the door when the heavens opened. You could just make out the car park through the rain and hail ... a little supercell ... after all of fifteen minutes it was past and the sun was shining brightly though the rain still falling lightly. I thought "there's got to be a rainbow following that" and I finished locking up, jumped on my bicycle and set off in the sunshiny rain ... I adore sunshiny rain. I love rainbows. Chasing rainbows? Oh yes, let's go!
Steam was beginning to rise from the freshly washed hot roads. A little way down the street and I could see the forming rainbow and quickly thought of places I could go where there wouldn't be any powerlines or buildings. I headed down to the eastern end of Lake Burley Griffin, the lake that runs through the center of Canberra. It's a ten-minute ride from where I am so I ride quickly ... the rainbow's in full blaze when I arrive at my site. I have pretty much all my photogear in the Chariot bike trailer because I had been documenting the show. I put on my Sigma 10-20mm and could see both ends of the rainbow easily within the frame ... (one of the reasons I wanted such a super-wide lens was so I could see both ends of the rainbow) ... not only that but the reflection of the arc in the water at each end. The small island in foreground is bathed in that brilliant storm-light. This picture won me first prize at this year's Royal Canberra Photographic Competition.
I talk often on this blog about those times when a picture simply seems to assemble itself before my eyes ... this was definitely the case here. It was a beautiful day.
Turning the camera around, I shot the scene behind me with my bicycle and trailer, sun behind the building being constructed, pavement shiny wet.
Do you chase rainbows, or storms or clouds or frosts? Have you ever seen a picture forming 'just over there' and raced to capture it?
The Small Details
It's easy to overlook the small details ... those little things largely unnoticed. Often they're the things I find most rewarding to capture ... the pictures that bring intimacy to an otherwise mundane scene.