It’s like the story about the blind men describing an elephant and they each think it’s like the bit they’ve got a hold of. You know how it goes, the one with the ear said it was like a big leaf, the one holding a leg thought it was like a tree trunk, etc.
When I was in New York twenty years ago, it was an elephant and the bit I had hold of had the wrong shoes, wet feet, and shivered. You also had to keep your eye on it but I went in with mine closed and got grifted within five minutes of walking out the airport door.
A bus driver took my ten dollars and nodded for me to load my bags in the hold. Moments later when I went to get in the door he asked me for my ticket, apparently he couldn’t remember me. A classic heads up.
street photography, new york,
(Tuesday, 27 July 2010)
On December 2nd 1989 Queensland held an election and the incumbent Government was defeated for the first time since 1957.
I was photographing a lot with infra red film and had bodgied up a flash by taping a wratten 87 filter over it so it would only emit invisible infra red light (thank you Weegee), and went out at night shooting. I liked its softness because it gave the people in the photos a little anonymity, and rendered a generic impression, rather than any gotcha stuff.
Being an historic moment I wondered what I might find. I made my way to the mall from South Brisbane and walked around while I wasn’t standing still, went to a club and then to a party. There were people drinking and dancing and laying down, some kissing and a little aggro. Nothing unusual to report, situation ... normal.
human condition photography
(Monday, 19 July 2010)
Gracie and Kun's wedding spanned three days, two countries and six months; One hot overcast day in Australia before last Christmas, plus two hot and steamy days in Singapore a few weeks ago. The wedding photography gods had smiled again. A special thank you to Margaret too.
Brisbane Wedding Photographer, wedding photojournalism, Singapore Wedding photography
(Saturday, 19 June 2010)
Looking back it was madness but at the time it was why not. The North Queensland sun was pumping up the heat, and a tiny green pool of water at the base of the falls looked inviting from way up at the railway station. Only a trickling thin ribbon of water found its way into the pool sounding like a water feature. The relaxing tinkle echoed off the acres of hot vertical rock, and lured us deceptively. A sign said not to, but it was faded and old and I wondered if it meant it.
The fence was easy and after that the faintest of tracks wound steeply out of sight into the gorge. After 15 minutes we emerged from the greenery onto the boulders that littered the floor. It wasn’t that easy to make our way across, and not a good place to have to run for your life. The green water that looked refreshing from afar was too warm. It was also much bigger than it looked and indicated the scale of the monster looming behind us. I floated on my back looking up but couldn’t relax. After twenty uneasy minutes we left and began to pick our way out and up.
Heavy storms emptied themselves over the tablelands that night and on a hunch I went back to the falls the next day alone. Pulling up in the car park little droplets of water landed on the windscreen, and after turning the engine off a low frequency rumble filled the car. From the platform it was clear; yesterday’s water feature was now a river falling off a cliff. I stuffed my camera into a sandwich packet and hopped the fence.
The closer I got, the harder it was to comprehend what I was looking at. After smoothly pouring over the rim the water began to smoke and explode, before finally shrouding itself in vapor as it’s irresistible force met an immovable object. The too warm pond from yesterday was ground zero and drowned beneath thousands of tones of constantly falling water.
On the way down I passed three others coming back up, all wide eyed like pilgrims to a visitation.
At the base was a stand of small trees with clean trunks that formed a canopy. It was another world, dark because of the foliage and mist with a cyclonic wind that blew from all directions and was equal parts air and water. Most the sound now was a low wavelength thumping that was more felt than heard and triggered adrenalin.
I stayed for a long time and finally climbed back to the railway station as a tourist train emptied.
Barron Falls 1988
(Friday, 18 June 2010)
Scene one:
I’m surfing free to air channels and notice one guy pinning another guy to the floor in a cage fight. The guy underneath is having his arm twisted in an arm lock, suddenly, his arm goes floppy, it’s either broken or dislocated at the elbow, a cut to the studio and the host says “guess who just became a southpaw?” The audience laughs and I change stations a little more disturbed than I wanted to be at 8 o’clock on a weekday night.
Scene two:
Condense the disregard we demonstrate towards each other, add in some self obsession and insecurity, then express it verbally in a 70 minute stream of consciousness rant, and you'd probably end up with something like Thom Pain.
Jon Halpin, Jason Klarwein and the Queensland Theatre Co, delivered Will Eno’s play uncompromisingly. Luckily in the tradition of many productions at the Billie Brown Theatre, it didn’t need to be liked. Thom Pain has a higher purpose than that.
It’s harshness appeared to prompt numerous walk out’s and at the Billie Brown no one gets out without being noticed. The exit is up the front along side the stage and the door itself makes a racket when opened.
Thom was 10 minutes in and footsteps came down the aisle. Jason paused and then, with every eye in the house on the guy, called the him a “c#nt” (gasp from audience) as he exited.
Scene three:
The phone rang and it was the almost daily call from some charity, this time it was for two wheel chairs for a couple of kids with muscular dystrophy, but it could have been in aid of any one with a need that they can’t meet themselves.
In this rich country needy people have to beg. Evidently the majority don’t agree that they should automatically count on us.
Scene four:
Interesting, most people think Beckett’s work is absurd, impenetrable, and elusive. But I have a feeling Joe Mitchell who deftly directed the QTC’s “Waiting for Godot” knows better.
The play centres on two anxious characters feeling sorry for themselves and awaiting something, they’re not sure what, but hoping it will make things better for themselves, though they’re not sure how.
Careless disregard, exploitation and selfishness all make an appearance. No one shows any real compassion and concern for others. The suffering of others is either ignored or reduced to a curiosity or an object of fun.
Now where did Samuel Beckett get those crazy ideas from, and what could he possibly have been getting at?
(Tuesday, 08 June 2010)