endless bags of dirty laundry

portrait of the week: maydia

2012-02-10T12:46:00.002+11:00

I couldn't decide what to post about today so I have gone back to the portrait of the week idea in order to stall a little before I post a larger entry. But this photo is actually worth more than just a fill-in between 'proper' posts. There are a couple of reasons why this is very deserving of its own post. Firstly, it's my sister, stupid! So naturally she should be entitled to stand out on this blog. Secondly, this photo is fantastic! Anyone who has visited this blog before would know that I'm crazy about the black-and-white film/flash combination, so that automatically adds appeal to the image. Then there is the expression - so full of character while at the same time extremely flattering! Win-win!

The story behind this photo also adds some interest, if only to me. We were at a house party in Fitzroy while Maydia was down for the Christmas break, and quite late into the evening we went into the bathroom. Why? Hmm, admittedly the memory is a little hazy here. Possibly to discuss something away from the crowds and the music, but more likely we both needed to use the bathroom and were sufficiently inebriated not to worry about sharing the experience, so to speak. In any case, Maydia was sitting on the edge of the bath, and when I decided to take a photo of her, this is the expression she pulled. Thanks, Maydia!

I've written before about the benefits of taking photos late into an evening, when the drinks have been flowing. This is more proof of such benefits - because not only do I get a completely uninhibited portrait, but I have captured a memory that I'm pretty sure wouldn't be there without photographic evidence. Admittedly, I treat my cameras somewhat poorly after a few drinks, but with results like this, I have to say, SOZ, CAMERAS. You're going to be bashed around for a while to come.

putting your cutest feet forward

2012-02-04T18:14:00.000+11:00

Even the most straightforward photos of kids are invariably gorgeous. Everything we know is miniaturised and injected with a whole lot of innocence, and it's a combination that is sure to melt hearts and elicit a lot of 'oohs' and 'aahs'. I recently spent a couple of hours with three precious kids that I am lucky enough to be very close to, and I took a couple of rolls of film of their irresistible faces. But I found myself completely (and surprisingly) drawn to their feet.

It got me thinking about photos of feet. Feet don't have a face with which to express emotion. And while feet and legs are relatively flexible, there is a limit on the number of ways you can make feet look different. I mean, feet are feet. Some are less attractive than others, but really, they all look pretty similar. So why do they make interesting photos? Well in the case of the top photo, the interest is definitely in what you can't see: where is she that enables her legs to dangle like that? The fence in the background is subtle but adds a nice element of the ordinary, and perhaps of backyards, which leads to the idea of playing. The different placement of the legs also suggests that the owner of said legs is climbing. So it says a lot about what's happening without showing much at all. I adore that photo. The one immediately above this paragraph holds the answer to the initial riddle: the kids are on a swingset. This one isn't as effective as the top one, but I still love it because there are so many things in it that are universal signs of childhood: bare feet, classic swingset, climbing as play, backyard/fence, and perhaps getting up to mischief by climbing above the swing instead of swinging on it.

Feet are absolutely the star of this shot. For starters, the only part of Holly that is in sharp focus is her feet. Her gloriously dirty feet! Secondly, Holly is looking up at the owner of the feet on the slide - but we can't see who it is, so we wonder what the interaction is between the two kids. All we have as a clue is the first child's feet and the direction of Holly's glance (and the expression on her face!).

So adorable. While it looks out of focus (and largely is), the sharp focus exists on that very small part of her body - yes, her feet. Probably appealing because it's just a little different to usual photos of kids on swings, both in the focus and the angle. And the fact that we don't see a face - the character is discerned from her sitting position (very childlike and unladylike - very like Holly), her clothes, and her gorgeous little half-painted-toenailed feet.

This black and white image is such a spot-on portrait of Holly. Unbelievable. She is defiant and stubborn - and the position of her feet leads me to imagine that she was standing just so, with hands on hips, ready to argue with anyone game enough. She is a total dag, and almost tomboyish, which is in complete opposition to her wonderfully girly sister Jas, and you get that in this image, too: she is evidently OK with dirty feet, wearing only one thong, and wearing that thong on the wrong foot. What an amazingly cute kid.

And here they are again, making another grubby appearance. This is great because you can tell she is on a swing as her legs are dangling, so it adds a kind of movement to the image. And again, it has so many elements of childhood - the bare feet, the willingness to get them as dirty as possible, the joy of feeling dirt between your toes and not caring at all, the grass, the toy in the background. The narrow depth of field enhances the photo too, and for me lifts it above your standard snapshot. I also love this because it goes some way towards explaining why her feet are so grubby in the other photos!

some thoughts on the beach

2012-01-24T22:43:00.000+11:00

Ah, the beach. That wonderful space unlike any other imaginable, which we in Australia are lucky enough to have at virtually every turn. It's a place that is governed by nature alone: witness her mockery when she buries man-made infrastructure over just a few years of changing tides; her majesty when she conjures up thunderous waves that only the most foolish surfers dare to face; or her wrath when she claims a small boat in a rip despite the best efforts of lifesavers, as was happening in the photo at the top of this post. Sometimes she is calm enough to bring serenity to the most tumultuous soul, other times she has enough powerful anger to frighten the most salt-encrusted seaside dweller. No matter the mood she presents, though, she is always raw beauty.

Could this explain the infinite allure of the beach for me and my cameras? Certainly, it plays a part. But there are other factors. As with so many other beloved photographic subjects, there is nostalgia. A childhood by the coast means that I have an essentially neverending store of memories on the sand and in the water. It's also part of the broader national memory, as we Aussies like to take pride in our beautiful beaches, which we have been doing for decades. For what is an Australian summer without the beach? One trip to Bondi is enough to confirm that tourists from all over the globe are fascinated by our iconic shores.

Beyond these somewhat obvious factors, however, there are also social and anthropological aspects of the beach that have long fascinated me. Socially, the beach is the great leveller. Rich, poor, young, old, white, black, thin, fat, devout, athiest - in theory, the beach unites people like very few other spaces can. All those things that govern our behaviour and define us in the real world - from race and class to religion and physical beauty - matter little once we are on the sand. It's as if by stripping off our clothes, we remove our superficial identities. As the immeasurably wise Rennie Ellis wrote of Australian beachgoers in his 1980s photography book Life's a Beach, 'Here, on neutral ground and stripped of their uniforms of pretension, they enjoy easy camaraderie that social convention may not have encouraged elsewhere.' We are all hot, and so we are at the beach. It's often as simple as that.

The beach is also a fascinating space in terms of the behaviour it fosters. The mere fact that walking around half- (or sometimes fully) naked is acceptable on the beach is an indication that there are a different set of rules down there. Inhibitions disappear, sexual energy is rife and people epitomise the carelessness of summer. This is reflected in countless movies: summer flings that take place at the beach struggle to transition into the real, class-defined world (Grease, Cocktail); teens go through rites of passage on their journey to adulthood, learning valuable life lessons before moving on to the next phase of their lives (Where the Boys Are, The Bikini Shop); and irresponsible youths are punished for their reckless abandon through death (Jaws) and law enforcement (Blackrock). The idea of the beach as an environment that cultivates extraordinary behaviour has been linked to the fact that the physical space of the sand - as it lies between land and sea, incorporating both but belonging to neither - is a liminal space whose separateness means that it rejects everyday society's customs. A rebel; volatile like its moods.

So these are a few of the reasons I am completely fascinated by the Australian beach. It's a special place that deserves awe, fear and respect. It deserves to be looked after. And, despite the massive volume of sometimes boring images that result, it truly deserves to be photographed.

one afternoon in camberwell

2012-01-17T22:36:00.001+11:00

I associate a lot of things with Camberwell. Penguin Books, where I used to work. Excellent hot chocolates from Cattivo. Four wheel drives. Rich, bratty teenagers loitering around Boost Juice with their fake tans and upturned collars. Money.

Here are some things I definitely do not associate with Camberwell: Crummy share houses. Afternoon house parties. Kids with wild haircuts and tattoos drinking longnecks in the front yard. Live music. International screamo bands.

Yet these are the things that I was confronted with one recent Saturday afternoon in that very white, very middle class suburb.

It was muggy outside, which meant that the temperature and humidity indoors was threatening to rocket off the scale. Dozens of people - mostly male, mostly under 25 - were crammed into the sparsely furnished and badly carpeted loungeroom. And there, in the corner, below the clunky (and presumably decommissioned) air conditioner and in front of some I-just-moved-out-of-home wall posters that included Mr T and Super Mario, was a five-piece Italian screamo band.

And then they started to play.

The air became even thicker with the sweat of passionate screamo fans, who writhed in that small room as though they were in a Soundwave mosh pit. Luckily for me (and my cameras), I had managed to secure a position standing on the couch, which was pushed against one of the walls. There was another photographer - a pretty large bloke - who thankfully provided a barrier between me and the testosterone junkies. It got pretty wild, which is only partially captured in these photos. This clip of the final song (by which stage I had run out of film - rookie mistake!) communicates the chaos a little better.

The band - called Raein - seemed humbled by the enthusiasm in the room on this, their final show of a small Australian tour. I didn't know what screamo was before this day, but I kind of dug the band. The music reminded me of my own teenage years. But perhaps more than that, the immeasurably intense passion coming from the varied but momentarily united audience was both inspiring and infectious. And kind of what live music, regardless of genre, should be (and often is) capable of eliciting. This is the kind of gig that makes you feel privileged just to be a part of. I love shows like that. They are rare and extraordinarily memorable. And something I would never have expected to find in Camberwell.

aussie christmas

2012-01-03T21:38:00.002+11:00

I like to think that there's nowhere else in the world that celebrates Christmas like we do in Australia. (By 'we', I mean my family, and many other Australian families - but not all other Australian families! In such a multicultural society, there are obviously many different global customs being observed throughout the country - not to mention those many Australians who do not celebrate Christmas at all. Just in case you were worried about such a generalisation.) Back to the classic Aussie Christmas - or, should I say, Boxing Day. We've always done a Boxing Day BBQ with extended family. Christmas Day has traditionally been immediate family celebrations, but on the 26th, many members of our large, widespread Irish-Catholic clan get together for a lot of food, booze, kids, cricket and, hopefully, sunshine. The Christmas just gone gave us some spectacular weather, perfect for all of the things I just listed as essential ingredients for a great Boxing Day bonanza.

Being a family event, it is only natural that such traditions bring with them a lot of memories of Christmases past. As such, there is inevitably a certain degree of nostalgia involved. I think that's why I love that these shots are faded, sun-drenched and sprocket-holed - they just remind me so much of the giant old photo albums, with that strange sticky cardboard under the flaps of cellophane, and the falling-out images that discoloured long ago.

This is the first time I've taken sprocket shots without overlapping the images, and I'm happy with the results. In the absence of the multiple exposure trickery, the simplicity of the photos can be more easily associated with old family photos, so it makes the nostalgia more accessible.

Aside from the physical properties of these images, the content also evokes a lot of memories. Stubbies, those stackable plastic chairs, lawn cricket, swingsets, silly children, irresistible children, sunshine. Christmas. Family.

the summer barbie

2011-12-18T20:59:00.001+11:00

When you no longer open the front door to that rush of cold; when you no longer feel it necessary to take a scarf wherever you go; when the trees on your street start to blossom, releasing their divine sickly-sweet odour into the air at dusk: these are some of the signs that summer is on its way. Sure, summer in Melbourne can be brutal, with the dry grass and scorching days and those few trains and trams that are still not air-conditioned. But summer also brings many incredible things. Long, hot nights that don't require a cardigan, the party-filled Christmas/New Year break, outdoor cinemagoing, the promise of a seaside escape. And the magnificent backyard summer barbie.

We're pretty blessed to have a gorgeous backyard at our place. It's quite picturesque, and perfect for entertaining. We are also pretty blessed that on the day we had planned our belated housewarming BBQ, the gods decided to give us a sneak preview of the summer with a perfect sunny thirty degrees.

Aw, again with the floral double-exposure portraits! This is a pretty special photo, and it nicely sums up the romantic whimsy of the garden, the weather and the lovely relaxed afternoon we had.

Another special portrait! Portia just looks so serene and happy here. The sunshine gives her, and the wonderfully green plantlife in the background, an irresistible glow. Like the previous portrait, this captures something of the essential feeling of a summer afternoon, and this event in particular.

Our resident chef! Because you can't have a BBQ without a BBQ. For the record, our catering and cooking skills equal, if not surpass, the wonder of our backyard. If I don't say so myself.

Yes, there was delicious food and perfect weather and lethal punch and a great setting. But what does that matter without people to enjoy it? It's very satisfying to open your home to people that you care about. My family has always been very fond of barbies, and I'm really pleased that my adopted Melbourne family feel the same way.

Like every good food-and-drink filled arvo, it went into the night. Eating, drinking and being merry outdoors with a whole lot of good company: definitely one of my favourite things about every summer.

monochrome faces: old, new, near, far

2011-12-04T19:47:00.002+11:00

And what a face! I think Kate was imitating an alien on this Halloween eve. An alien who had stolen an astronaut's suit. Of course! In any case, she looks amazing, particularly in black and white, where the grotesque colours of the face paint disappear and we are just left with these incredibly strange textures, and we are forced to imagine what kind of wild colours adorn her skin. Her wonderful expression (and incredible hair) make this a pretty successful spontaneous portrait.

Another great Halloween shot, which sees J's killer plumber (or dead plumber? Not sure...) gleefully ready to attack and Shasta's Nicki Minaj pouting in the background. Halloween really is a wonderful time to take photos, not only because people love to dress up in outrageous costumes, but also because in doing so they tend to shift in other ways too. Becoming more confident, for example, or revealing an aspect of their personality that may lie dormant when there is no identity cloak involved. It's very liberating. I'm not sure that these two images necessarily capture that, but as a general concept I think it's one of the reasons that shooting people in costume is so appealing.

Too soon? Quite possibly. But the towering beauty that is Romy did a marvellous job of turning herself into the late Ms Winehouse. The thing I love most about this photo is that it doesn't come close to capturing Romy's actual magnificence - in the same way that most photos of Winehouse don't do her justice at all. Granted, that was usually due to her own self-abusive ways while Romy is a picture of health, but perhaps that just means that Romy hit the nail on its drug-addled head.

From one form of performance to another - the very strange tradition of karaoke. As Janelle and Jay belted out Shania Twain's 'Man! I Feel Like a Woman!', what should have been an exercise in communal cringing was actually one of the most touching things I've seen in a long time. Number one, Janelle can really sing! Her contagious enthusiasm truly put Shania to shame. Number two, seeing a couple singing together in front of all their friends and family (and on Janelle's 30th birthday) was actually really special, because we got to see this very personal and rare kind of interaction between them. It was so lovely. The party took place in a country hall, and I love the down-to-earth vibe that Jay's classic VB can and the exposed brick wall lend to the shot.

Still in the country, but this time for a monumental milestone of another kind. A high school reunion is a pretty frightening prospect in some ways. Who do you want to see? Who don't you want to see? How many awkward conversations can you bear in one night? How long before you start making up outrageous stories about your life just to spice things up? Not to mention the self-reflection that goes on when you are forced to ask yourself, Am I where I wanted to be ten years after leaving the proverbial nest?

Contrary to that spiel, the above subject is not a member of my graduating class. He did go to my school, though he was two years above me. As far as I can tell he's established himself as a successful DJ in his home town. But this photo isn't about him and his life; I took it because while a DJ behind the decks isn't particularly interesting, one with a giant, sexist Jim Beam flag behind him is a lot more appealing. Evidently this alcohol brand had a big promotion going on in the local pub, because this wasn't the only delightful bit of propaganda plastered to the walls. I'm sure this kind of thing isn't specific to the country, but I found it attractive because the places I tend to frequent don't really do this kind of heavy promotion, so it's somewhat novel to me.

Nicole and Leo - this time, they are members of my graduating class - have been great friends for over a decade now. But they are most certainly not lovers. Which is fascinating, because when I look at this photo, I see a very personal moment between two lovers. The intensity in Leo's eyes is pretty penetrating, and Nicole's expression epitomises sultry. So what's going on? Seeing as interpretation in this case depends heavily on the viewer's level of knowledge about the subjects, I suppose it is all in the eye of the beholder.

When people are aware you're taking their picture in a social setting, to a certain extent it's down to them to transform it from a boring snapshot into an interesting image. Laird and Clinton do a pretty good job of that here. What's particularly interesting - and again, this depends on knowledge of the subjects - is that while these two look like old mates, with their jovial expressions and relaxed demeanour, they weren't actually friends in high school. Which makes for a curious case of what ten years can do to people; you either move on, grow and change, becoming open to new people (or new friendships with not-so-new people), or you don't. I like the idea of the former, and I'm glad I got to capture such a thing on film.

the happiest place on earth

2011-11-22T22:43:00.005+11:00

Admittedly, I've never been to Disneyland. But I understand why the folks with the mouse ears claim to have built the most wonderful, joyous place that the young and young at heart could ever dream of. I have always loved Disney cartoons, and as a child the idea of a journey to that World really was the ultimate dream; watching lucky strangers win trips to the holy grail week after week on Saturday Disney was about as torturous as it got in my life as a seven-year-old.

The thing is, though, while I don't deny the magic that Disneyland creates for children who are lucky enough to get there, for the rest of us it is simply a reminder that we can't go to the Happiest Place on Earth: we're too unlucky, too far away, too poor. Which means that Disneyland, and to a lesser extent, local theme parks like Movie World, are for most of us a slap in the face, taunting us with what we will never have. That we somehow aren't good enough to experience real happiness™.

While I'm sure that kids visiting Disneyland do experience a large dose of happiness, they do so at the hands of a global corporation that uses its theme parks to push endless multimedia properties and sell millions of utterly disposable souvenirs, and they also do so at great expense to their parents.

I know at this point I sound extremely cynical, and I could also quite justifiably be accused of killing large amounts of joy. However, I do so only as an introduction to something that I am significantly less hostile towards.

The wonderful place that is Darwin has a little park located just a short drive from its city centre. It has three super-dooper water slides, a large man-made lagoon, a water playground complete with a giant bucket that periodically dumps its refreshing contents onto whomever happens to be standing below it, and plenty of communal BBQs for those all-important meals. While this park, the Leanyer Recreation Park, probably doesn't bring as much happiness™ as the land of the Mouse, I guarantee that it brings a whole lot less unhappiness to children that are aware of its presence. The simple reason is this: the park is free. Open to all. Unlimited, free rides on the water slides. You can slide all day if it takes your fancy. (And in Darwin weather, it just might.) Unlimited opportunities to stand under a giant bucket full of water, waiting nervously for the drop while surrounding kids giddily tell you that you're not allowed to look at the bucket for fear of ruining the gleeful shock of the water dump.

Its well-worn playthings, with their bright, non-corporate colours, are as wonderful now as I imagine they were for the first children that used them, simply because they are free and available to use. Like the toddler who gets more joy out of the cardboard box than the overpriced toy within, kids at this park don't need fancy cartoon characters or overblown gimmicks, they just need a place that facilitates their energy and their imaginations, a place where they can play together without worrying about where they come from or how much money their family doesn't have.

I went to this park earlier this year with my family - me, my older sister, my mum and my dad. Four adults. We all went on each of the three slides at least once, and stood under the bucket together, letting out hilarious cries of suprise when we got drenched (much to the delight of the more experienced nine-year-olds watching on). It was one of the few totally free activities we took part in on that trip, and it was truly one of the happiest. No trademark necessary.

saskwatch through a plastic lens (or two)

2011-11-09T22:40:00.001+11:00

Why do people in big bands keep asking me to take photos of them?

Well, to clarify, there are only two bands. And actually, I love shooting Eagle and the Worm. I also loved shooting the marvellous group of cool cats that make up this most excellent band, Saskwatch. Apart from the fact that it was a lovely group of people to be around for a few hours on a cold Saturday afternoon, I think I enjoyed doing this largely because Liam really did all the work; I simply loaded, pointed, focused and clicked.

Liam had scouted all the locations (which were very usefully within walking distance of one another), and he basically directed the whole thing. With so much excellent input on his part, I imagine he could have asked anyone who is handy with a camera to take the shots and he still would have ended up with some pretty bangin' images of the band. But Liam had previously expressed a preference for authentic film photography, so I suppose that's why he asked me. And if I don't say so myself, the above image is something that most other photographers would never have produced due to the specific combination of film, camera and developing process.

This is the stand-out image of the day for me. I've never seen this film produce these colours. It's totally wild. The actual subjects are very typically composed for a band shot, and I think that familiarity makes the psychedelia of the colours more effective.

Most of the film I shot on that awfully windy and icy afternoon was actually 35mm in my SLRs. But knowing Liam dug the ultra-film look, I went out of my way to shoot with my plastic cameras too. The results, as you can see, are pretty interesting if nothing else. While the lack of clarity may not be ideal for many publicity purposes (which I have written about before), they add something to the images that is really special.

This photo is a case in point. While the colours aren't as outrageous as the previous shot (though their ordinariness is wonderful in and of itself), the fabulous square frames on the bridge effectively reveal just how much these plastic lenses distort the images around the edges. I mean, can you believe these bridge frames are actually square? The symmetry in the distortion is close to perfect here, almost to the point that it looks like some kind of amazing avant-garde structural design.

I used some standard colour film for the first set-up too, which compared to the slide film looks pretty ordinary. But I love this photo. Not just because the washed-out colours have a particularly lovely vintage feel, but because it captures a great scene that, by chance, no other camera did. The little dog came from nowhere and excitedly raced past, disrupting the perfect formation that everyone was making every effort to hold. It's a really nice, unguarded moment.

Probably one of the best set-ups, Liam came across an abandoned armchair in this section of landscaping under the freeway overpass and thought it was too good not to use. I completely agree, though I'm not sure Nkechi did - I have to give her kudos for sitting through at least one spider attack. The concrete wall at the back, though subtle, adds this great atmosphere to the shot - very grimy, industrial, and also quite fascinating in that you wonder where the hell they are that has an armchair, lanscaping and a giant ugly concrete wall.

Similar to the bridge distortion on display earlier, this image has another prominent plastic-camera side effect: the light leak. This particular feature of plastic camera photography is alternately a blessing and a curse. There is a very fine line between a leak that adds character and a leak that completely ruins a photo. Happily, the light leak in this instance performs the former function.

While the light leak is great, for me it doesn't compare to the brilliance of the incredibly gothic colour tones in this photo. The atmosphere evoked by the location, the colours, the serious expressions on each face - and even the fact that Rob looks like he's disappearing into the shadows - is really beautiful. Unfortunately, the film is slightly underexposed so this image represents a rare occasion where I have had to do some relatively significant digital setting alterations in order to get a workable result. I don't usually do that, but in this case it is one hundred per cent worth it, and I'm sure the adjustments could be made in a darkroom too, if I'm getting really pedantic about the authenticity of my photos.

There were some great results from the 35mm shots too, but it's wonderful to be reminded that these often unreliable plastic cameras are capable of producing results beyond abstract shapes and colours. That there are so many variations in the plastic camera photos from the day make this project even more rewarding, because while I will never gain complete control over these notoriously temperamental pieces of equipment, it's nice to have a vague idea of the excellent images that they are occasionally capable of.

being social, documenting it

2011-11-06T19:26:00.001+11:00

I've posted black and white social photography several times before, and it's something that I'm still very much interested in. It seems that this time each year, the social calendar starts to fill rapidly, which continues at an accelerated pace until the end of January - or even the end of summer in some cases. Having attended several of these calendar-crowding events already, I have quite a bit of visual documentation of people in the night of Melbourne.

Andrew is the brother of one of my divine housemates, and he was staying with us while visiting from Adelaide. I took this photo at our friend's house party late on Saturday night, when Andrew was evidently intoxicated enough to pose with little inhibition. Thank goodness! What a photo!

Speaking of housemates, here they both are with Andrew's lovely friend Craig (also known as Creg). It's a wonderfully animated moment - the kind that were rarely captured before camera phones became ubiquitous. Those moments that you look at in days following the event and wonder, What was going on here? Why is Shasta doing that to Craig? Why does Craig have that expression? What does Megan think at this point? While the digital photo revolution means that we see more of these moments captured, it is something else to see them captured on beautiful film, with a good camera and with composition that doesn't recall the work of a three-year-old.

The family photo is a time-honoured tradition whereby members of the same clan pose with their loveliest faces on display so that their image, as a family, will be on record for future generations to treasure. If you take into account alcohol and a group of siblings that are awkward (Imogen), spacey (Liam) and excessively modest (Portia), then you don't really get a conventional family portrait. The thing is, those personality traits I just attributed to each subject, and which kind of ruin the photo, are also some of the most wonderful, endearing things about this irresistible group of siblings. I love you guys! And I love this photo. It's got character by the truckload, and isn't that the point of portraiture?

We took another photo that was much better, but it was so much worse. It was boring.

Like the dancefloor image above, this is another pretty standard scene - people talking, people drinking - but there's a lovely symmetry here and again, it's full of character. This particular film has been giving me a lot of trouble lately, hence the smudging and scratching (particularly that lethal-looking tear on Laird's neck), but let's just say it adds to the authenticity of the image and accept it for what it is. And smugly revel in the fact that an iPhone app would never do this.

gardens past and present

2011-10-23T22:25:00.002+11:00

Every house I ever lived in before moving out of home at the age of eighteen had a glorious garden. Not because my parents chose to live in houses with particularly great landscaping, but because my mum is an avid gardener, and she could always turn any space of dirt, no matter how barren, into a little piece of natural magic.

Mum and Dad moved recently, and they now live in a house that I have never lived in. But the garden is unmistakably that of my childhood. I suppose like anything creative, each gardener has a distinct style. I don't know enough about gardening to be able to describe the specifics of my mum's gardens. I just know they look like home.

Mum's gardens are graceful, elegant, classic and gloriously cluttered all at once. They are completely unpretentious and designed with a perfect balance of beauty and functionality in mind. Like every home Mum and Dad have ever created, the gardens always offer old-fashioned warmth and hospitality, welcoming family and friends in to admire, to engage, to play, to enjoy.

They are always filled with a plethora of colours both magnificent and shy, but I think the timelessness of their design, as well as my own nostalgia, make black and white a suitable choice here. Specifically, the wonderfully antiquated plastic camera/black-and-white combination.

Plantlife isn't the only thing in the Parry gardens, though. Birds play a key role as both reproductive aids for the flowers and, in the case of the photographed birds here, food.

This is probably the most appealing of these photos. Something about old-fashioned film with an old-fashioned camera shooting chooks through the chicken wire.

I don't really like chooks - they poo everywhere, they escape from the coop and you have to chase them around the garden like a lunatic, and I'm not very good at feeding things regularly. Similarly, I've never been enthusiastic about creating a garden of my own - or maintaining one, for that matter. Despite this marked lack of interest in gardening or bird-rearing, however, chooks in a chookpen and beautiful gardens will always give me comfort and joy, if for no other reason than they make me feel like I'm home.

garden family

2011-10-05T22:18:00.000+11:00

I realised after going through my Darwin photos that I really, really love taking portraits and then exposing some kind of flora over the top. This is probably my favourite of those I took up North, partly because it looks so unusual. I also love it because you can very clearly see Mum in the foreground, but Maydia and Dad are just as visible in the background. Apart from the road, that's about all you can see - those three figures among this really strange palm-like greenery.

This one is perhaps less successful, but I still think it's great - particularly the position of Dad in relation to Maydia.

Oh I love this one! There's something about Maydia and outdoor, sunny double exposures (remember?); perhaps bright skies and colourful flowers suit her disposition. So pretty.

The gorgeous pink flowers overwhelming this photo evoke romantic, wistful hot summer or early autumn days. All things good. That Mum and Maydia are immersed in the goodness just enhances it.

Despite my repetition with this technique (flora portraits!), I don't find the results boring (yet) and I certainly think my interest in it will continue - especially now that spring has arrived in Victoria and there are so many heartwarming blooms around the town.

bark hut inn

2011-09-28T22:47:00.001+10:00

Just out of Darwin, on a highway that threatens to bypass it completely, stands the Bark Hut Inn - a fair dinkum outback pub. With emus and snakes in the backyard, a buffalo head mounted behind the bar, a menu that includes fresh barra and fridges filled with XXXX, it's pure Northern Territory roadhouse. Everything about it cries out to be photographed, but I can't decide whether the grainy black and white does it justice. Perhaps it does. Monochromatic images aside, there is always the fabulous colour in the photo of that amazing gate, that seems at once completely out of place and perfectly apt.

I can't quite describe how truly, authentically Australian this place is. I mean, it's so close to Mick Dundee it threatens to spill into the realm of cliche. But somehow, it doesn't. It's all part of the country, the state, the top end. If you're ever up that way, I highly recommend that you call in for fresh piece of barra, a fourex with the locals and a whole lot of Territory colour.

more darwin goodness

2011-09-13T22:20:00.000+10:00

I was in Darwin for over a week, and I was rarely without a camera or two, so I have a lot of images from the trip. Many of them don't fit into any particular event or theme; they are simply individual photos that capture an isolated part of the holiday, or the place, or something altogether more arbitrary.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't be that interested in capturing a lone flower in such a straightforward way, but the way these vines were randomly blossoming on these otherwise barren branches was really special. And when the afternoon sun hit them just right, I couldn't not take a photo. The muted tones of this image contrasted with the illuminated orange of the flower are quite gorgeous, and the depth of field really enhances the ethereality of the light.

I was completely taken by the boardwalk at Cullen Bay - something about the colour of the water against the grey wood and chains. This particular shot grabs my attention because my mum isn't facing the camera, which is unusual and lovely, and while the rule of thumb for portraits like this is to decentre the subject to make it more dynamic, breaking that rule makes it much more interesting to me in this instance - probably because there is no face to turn it into a standard 'boring' portrait.

I know this seems like a rather silly photo, but I find it irresistible - the hermit crabs are so tiny and cute! This little guy was scurrying away, and I had to shoot quickly before he left the frame completely. There is a lot of blank sand here, and I can't decide whether that makes it horribly ordinary or excellent in its simplicity.

The colours. The colours! Beautiful, artificial pool-blue, bold spandex aqua-green, sun-kissed tan. Relaxing, relaxing, relaxing...

...did I mention relaxing? The water, the sunset, the stubbies. So Australian. And very much Darwin. What a wonderful place.

the case for beautiful bodies

2011-09-04T18:45:00.001+10:00

A little while ago I posted a self-portrait and wrote about body image. In that post, I acknowledged that I wasn't ready to show too much skin, or to really look at my own body in a semi-public forum. This reluctance was rooted in self-consciousness and a fear of what others might think of me, my body, and the fact that I'm taking these kinds of photos of myself. Lately, though, there has been a shift in my perspective on this matter, whereby any insecurities are dwarfed by a much larger issue related to the female body.

I was invited to take part in a group exhibition, which is happening later this year. I jumped at the chance to prepare a series of images to present to the public in this kind of forum. There was just one problem: the theme of the exhibition is one that I have never been particularly interested in - the female form. You see, when it comes to bodies and human form, I am much more interested in the beauty of the male body than that of the female body. To begin with, I was having trouble coming up with worthwhile or original ways to explore this very broad topic. After much thought, though, I have decided to use photography to investigate the vast difference between my own version of attractive female bodies and that presented in heterosexual pornography.

There are very obvious differences between women in pornography and classic images of female beauty, so in this sense the idea may seem a little trite. We all know about it: fake boobs, bleached hair, bald vulvas, bleached anuses, surgically enhanced labias, and so on - pornographic images of women have long been creating unrealistic standards that make many women feel physically inadequate. But there's something more sinister at work in hardcore heterosexual pornography that seems to be encroaching on the real world more often and in more worrying ways.

This new problem has come to my attention through global reports on the changing sexual habits of adolescents, various personal accounts of sexual exploits that appear in the media, and the personal experiences of people within my social circles. In the first instance, over and again we are hearing about the high incidence of oral sex among very young adolescents, and the extreme sexualisation of teens at a relatively young age. And then there is the ever-increasing presence of anal sex in heterosexual bedrooms around the world (you can read some articles about that here, here and here). Now, I am not judgemental in any way about what people choose to do in the bedroom. As long as it's consensual, it's OK by me. And I have no doubt that many women who choose to partake in anal sex quite enjoy it. My concern is that the ubiquity of hardcore porn online - and the ease with which anyone with an internet connection can access it - is skewing people's expectations of sex: men (and boys) are expecting women (and girls) to act like porn stars, and women believe that partaking in specifically pornographic acts is normal, even if they don't feel comfortable with it. In the first case, this is not surprising: if a boy is exposed to potentially thousands of hardcore images of vaginal, anal and oral sex before he even sees a real-life pair of breasts, is it any wonder he uses pornography as a point of reference for real sex? And if boys all expect their sexual partners to partake in extreme pornographic acts, is it such a stretch to imagine an impressionable teenage girl going along with it? And this is not just teens - plenty of men in their twenties and beyond see a lot more porn than real sex. (An interesting related article appears here.)

Obviously these are some pretty broad generalisations, and I'm not saying that every man and adolescent boy in the world equates sex with porn - or even watches porn. However, I think it's a really valid problem that is occurring more and more in a lot of sexual situations.

In the course of my research for this project, I have been looking at a lot of printed pornographic images of women. As far as I can tell, heterosexual pornography essentially reduces women to the sum of tits, ass, legs and three holes. In this world, the female body is a warm, welcoming receptacle for the penis (often more than one) and copious amounts of ejaculate. I am aware that you could also argue that the male body in pornography is presented as nothing more than a hard penis, but there is no doubt that most heterosexual pornography is largely based on the submission of women and the power of men. While I am not against pornography in theory - power play is certainly valid and there is nothing wrong with presenting this version of women and sex for occasional arousal - I feel it becomes problematic when it is viewed repeatedly and excessively. When you consider that heterosexual pornography is surely the most accessible (and accessed) pornography among heterosexual men, it is not outrageous to suggest that this pornographic image of women would in some way and to some extent influence the way pornography-loving men view real women.

This is something that needs to be rectified, or at least challenged in some way. The female body is one of the most adored forms in the history of art, and it is so much more than a lump of flesh to grab onto and a dumping ground for sperm.

When I go back to these images, which previously made me so self conscious, I now feel pride and defiance in light of this newfound concern about the female body. The curves, the lines, the sensuality, the beauty. My body is not perfect by any standards - but is anyone's? Besides any pointless concerns about perfection, I am certain that these images of my body are so much more beautiful than the images of the female body in most pornography.

With my imminent work, I will be attempting to present some kind of challenge to the ugly image of the female body that is presented in so much pornography. I'm not sure I will succeed, but I am determined to try. But even if it doesn't succeed, this process has taken me one step closer to that elusive body acceptance that so many women struggle to achieve.

the kinds of photos you can't use for promotional purposes, part two

2011-08-20T13:10:00.000+10:00

So we were in this fabulously dodgy motel room, and unfortunately the natural light wasn't strong enough for the film I was using. I had two choices: use a flash, which would wash everyone and everything out and look basically pretty dodgy, or use a tripod and get everyone to stay really still for a longer exposure.

Most of these guys managed to stay wonderfully still. Most.

I guess they got restless.

I love both of these photos so much. The first because you'd never tell it was a long exposure except for Michael's massive blurriness; the fact that everone else is so clear makes it quite bizarre. And the second because while Michael, Emily, Jarrad and Rich are in some kind of motion and Liam, Ross and Joe are not looking at the camera, Jim has this incredible expression - complete with Bible in hand and glasses in mouth - directed right into the lens. So great.

I also think the disgustingly ordinary cream brick wall and the wood-covered fluorescent light, with its eerily warm glow, are pretty great.

These photos were taken with the aim of getting some very specific publicity shots. We did quite a few different set-ups around the motel, most of which turned out pretty well. As ususal, though, there were some shots that were never going to make the publicity cut. These first two, for obvious reasons, are examples.

I told Jarrad that the flash would make everything look dodge-a-rama, but he was all for it. So the flash came out blazing, blinding all the eagles and worms in the room. These have such a different look and feel to the warmer, non-flash images, but I still like them in all their disgusting glory. The flat tones and non-existent depth suit the crappiness of the room.

During this part of the shoot, Rich had just incorporated some very unsavoury improvisation in his reading from the Bible. While it kept everyone entertained during what can be a pretty tedious process, it also meant that the laughter sometimes got too much. And so we have a photo where only one of eight faces is actually completely visible.

This wonderful wall provided a much-needed barrier between the driveway and the (empty and dirty) pool. The sun was beating down creating harsh shadows and squinty eyes, but the shots turned out better than I thought they would. Indra provided some of the laughs when I needed some animation, which generally worked really well. Then he started throwing someone's shrivelled-up half-eaten sausage at them and things got a little weird. This shot is great because their reactions are pretty priceless, but it's not really what you'd call press-friendly.

The colour scheme of the motel's exterior is so classically bad, in the best possible way. The dated materials combined with the life-could-be-a-dream teal and cream reminds me so much of cheap '80s American movies set in California or Miami. And as a certified connoisseur of '80s bikini movies (a term that I, ahem, actually coined myself), this excited me greatly. The set-up of this shot isn't very dynamic, and I don't think anyone was really feeling it at the time. I don't regret insisting on the shots, though, because I adore the colours and the wonderful repetition in the door/window combo. And that fabulous railing.

The pool shots were undoubtedly the winners of the day. The sunshine, the light and dark teal, the empty grotty pool, the al-cheapo potted palm. It was a lot of fun. (At least, it was for me. I can't speak for these poor over-photographed suckers!)

Last time I wrote about press shots that didn't go as planned, I pointed out that the technically 'unusable' images are often the most interesting. I think that's true of a lot of the photos above, but I think it's especially true of this one. I was using my tripod and getting all the guys (and gal) to stay super still. It was all going well, except that after a couple of shots I realised that I was totally out of focus. But by accidentally focusing on the foreground, I have this wonderful image of everyone where everything is blurry - except for the soles of three pairs of shoes, right in the centre of the image. How fantastic! Well, I think so. An unexpected gem from an otherwise pretty straightforward set-up.

This expedition was a bit challenging, because they were being taken for publicity purposes, and I/we had to work with some interesting confines. While I don't adore the photos in terms of my personal photography, I'm really pleased with the results, relative to the project. And Jarrad was also really pleased with them. And in this case, that's definitely the main thing.

sunset cruise

2011-08-09T23:41:00.000+10:00

It was a very touristy thing to do, but boarding a large boat to cruise around Darwin harbour at sunset made for a truly lovely evening.

Although this one doesn't have the marvellous sunset colours of the previous photo, I think it is quite special.

Mum and Dad had such a wonderful holiday, and this sums up the serenity and joy of the trip. The image is delightful in its simplicity.

And as I lie in my Melbourne bedroom in the depths of winter, with the temperature indoors only marginally higher than the single-digit frost outside my window, these colours and memories manage to warm my heart just a little.

keep your eye on the red and the blue

2011-07-29T11:31:00.002+10:00

On my recent trip to Darwin, I had the amazing experience of attending an AFL match at TIO Stadium. In fact, my football-crazed family and I organised the trip around it.

I have always associated football, and my beloved Melbourne Demons, with a few basic truths: Melbourne (the city), the awe-inspiring MCG, bitterly cold weather, no-frills Aussie camaraderie and, though it's a stereotype that I loathe, rich white kids and archaic bourgeois in the MCC.

As a matter of pride, I feel it essential to point out that I am not a rich kid, nor do I belong to the upper classes of Old Melbourne. My love of the game largely stems from a childhood spent loitering around the local country footy club and the fact that I was born into a large Irish-Catholic extended family who all have a passionate love of the game coursing through their veins. As a teenager, my mum was a mad St Kilda supporter, but my dad apparently made it clear that a life with him was a life following the red and the blue. Thank goodness, because I'm really not fond of that (alleged) club culture.

(OK, this is not a great photo, but it's Watts, and while I may not be a rich white kid, I have no problem with a rich white kid playing damn fine footy for the Dees.)

When faced with the choice of sitting in the grandstand or entering the general admission area where fans sit and stand on the grassy hills, my Territory-dwelling sister assured us that we should go with the latter, because it's a more authentic Darwin footy experience. I think she was right.

Going to this match showed me a side of AFL that you don't get in Melbourne. It was instantly familiar, because, as my sister reasoned, a game in Darwin is similar to a country footy grand final: it's such an exciting, rare event that both tourists and locals come out in force to enjoy the spectacle, even if it's not their team, which ensures a healthy cross-section of the entire community.

And then there were those aspects of the experience that were not only foreign to Melbourne footy, but specifically unique to Darwin. Firstly, there was the heat. It was quite alarming to attend a match where, even after dark, the mercury would have been pushing 27 degrees. For one thing, I had to fashion a summer outfit consisting of red and blue because I couldn't don my regular long-sleeved woolen Dees guernsey. For another thing, the level of energy in fourth quarter was significantly low. While this is not unusual for a somewhat inconsistent team like Melbourne, in this case it was clearly due to the undoubtedly oppressive heat. I mean, by the end of the first quarter Watts' golden curls had become a wet, dirty blond mop. Clearly it was hot out there!

The other distinctly Territorian aspect of the match was the prevalence of Indigenous attendees. Growing up in country Victoria and then moving to the inner suburbs of Melbourne, I have never been directly exposed to Indigenous culture, which I think is a terrible shame. Not only am I underinformed, but I also feel that as a privileged white person, any comment I make about Indigenous people or culture inevitably sounds condescending. However, my intentions are anything but. Seeing that game alongside so many Australians - both black and white - was an absolute privilege. It was a special thing to be a part of, particularly because Liam Jurrah, the electrifying Warlpiri player from the remote community of Yuendumu in the Northern Territory, was appearing as a Demon in his home state for the first time. The crowd erupted every time he went near the ball, and each of his three goals yielded ecstatic cheering and fence-banging. An Indigenous man next to me explained that though he was an Essendon supporter, he was supporting Melbourne that night because Jurrah, he proudly stated, was his 'brother boy'.

Australian Rules football can be extraordinarily divisive; witness the vehement exchanges that frequently occur between passionate Collingwood supporters and fans of, well, any other team. But it is also wonderfully uniting. A love of the same team, or even a love of the game, consistently brings people of all ages, races, classes and beliefs together like nothing else I can think of. It is the great leveller. Finally, it is so beautifully Australian.

Melbourne won the game that night, but it wouldn't have mattered too much if they had lost. What mattered to me was the extraordinary experience of Darwin footy. In many ways, it's footy as it should be. And while not everyone was there to support the Melbourne Football Club, there was an overwhelming sense that, when it comes to this great game of ours, every heart in that ground was beating true.

travelling lights

2011-07-27T22:26:00.000+10:00

I was very excited to experiment with this long exposure technique that I'd had in mind for a while. I didn't have any idea what the results would be, but I'm thrilled with the potential here.

These are the first shots of many that I will post from Darwin, and I think the colours and shapes of the lights capture that tropical nighttime heat perfectly.

So much more Northern Territory to come.

farewell

2011-07-07T22:10:00.002+10:00

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Brodie Lancaster is going to do incredible things with her life. This assured, intelligent bright young thing is calmly ambitious with the talent to match. Accordingly, I don't think anyone was really surprised when, at just 21 years old, Brodie announced she was packing up and moving to the mecca of bright young things everywhere, New York City.

We may not have been surprised, but that doesn't mean we weren't sad. See, Brodie only came to Melbourne a few years ago, but in that time she came to mean a lot of things to a lot of people. People like Lucy, Roberta and Patsy.

When Brodie announced a lovely dinner and drinks to say goodbye to her Melbourne family, I felt that it would be fitting to document the night with portraits of her with some of her closest friends.

The above three images are just gorgeous: the first because the close-up framing of those two beautiful faces is so intimate and subsequently quite moving, and because Brodie looks the epitome of bittersweet while Lucy looks so overwhelmingly happy to be receiving Brodie's embrace; the second because while Roberta is animatedly distressed to be losing her dear friend, Brodie looks simply stunning; and the third because to me that wonderful profile shot embodies Brodie's pride, dignity and bravery.

It's not often that I post a large number of photos from the same event; I usually select the most interesting or successful or representative images so that my posts have a focus on quality rather than volume. However, I think this case presents an exception. For one, as a narrative of an evening and as a connected series of portraits, the shots stand together as one quite strongly. Likewise, the volume is necessary to really communicate just how much this girl is loved - witness how happy everyone is to be part of this special farewell (or how sad they are to be losing Brodie).

While the group shots are nice, it's really the portraits of just two people that I prefer. It's more intimate, and there seems to be a better dynamic because it's just one relationship that is being expressed. And I think there are some pretty great relationships being expressed in these shots. (Not to mention one hell of a fierce coat.)

Before I finish with some of my favourite portraits (and no doubt some of Brodie's favourite relationships), I have a few more things to say to Ms Lancaster. You know this already, Brodie, but I love that I know you, I love that you inspire me, and I love you. So do all of the people in this post. Like them, I'm going to miss having you around. But by living up to your enormous potential, you're giving us all something to look up to. You're going to set the world on fire, and we're all going to be here, waiting for you to return to us, and telling everyone that we knew you way back when, when you were our wonderful friend in a fabulous coat.

the kinds of photos you can't use for promotional purposes, part one

2011-06-20T22:59:00.001+10:00

If you read this blog, you will know that I have taken photos for the band Eagle and the Worm before. It's always a massive honour when Jarrad asks me to shoot for him, and it always challenges my amateur photography skills in new ways. A few months ago, the specific task was to get some band shots to use for promotion. After some careful consideration (and last-minute desperation), we settled on a grand, albeit slightly decrepit, apartment building on a residential St Kilda street.

The building was chosen because it has a number of positive attributes: it is old, with a lot of character; it has a wide platform that quite easily fits eight people across it; the large, arched green doors are really unusual, and add a point of interest to the background; it has steps, so that eight people can be arranged in a cluster without hiding one another; and, perhaps most importantly, it is at once familiar and unique. This last point was really the clincher, because we wanted something that wouldn't look typically Melbourne, but would look classic in a global-city kind of way.

Seeing as we were going for a classic look, I thought it would be appropriate to use lomo cameras as well as black and white, in addition to some more standard colour 35mm. If you ask me, the lomo shots are pretty fantastic. There's an authenticity to them that kind of captures exactly what I had in mind as far as a general feeling. However, with their blurred edges (and, indeed, middles), awkward framing and light leaks, they are just entirely unsuitable for the purposes of mainstream media. Do you think the Herald Sun would have published a blurry, off-centre photo? No.

And that's totally fine. I mean, I understand why they wouldn't. Having worked in publishing for a few years now, I appreciate the technical (and other) requirements that publishers have in order to maintain a certain standard. Similarly, while the black and white looks great, it probably won't grab the reader's already-overloaded attention like colour will. And, while the sun-drenched/light-faded image above has an overwhelmingly nostalgic mood, who wants to publish a picture that obscures its subjects to such an extent?

In the end, Jarrad chose three 35mm images - two colour and one black and white. The main colour image (and the one that ended up in the Herald Sun) is this one:

It's a great choice. It's clean without being sterile, it makes the most of the backdrop without being overwhelmed by it, and it still has those great natural colour tones that keep it from looking like a digital photo, which in turn adds to that classic feel we were aiming for. In addition to all this, everyone looks great in this shot. And believe me, that's no mean feat when there is eight times the chance of blinking eyes, blurred movement, awkward expressions and embarassing gestures.

I've done another shoot with EATW since this one (which I will post at a later date), and like this one, the purpose was publicity. There is quite a bit of added pressure when a) you know you need to produce a media-friendly image; b) you work with film and so can't monitor your progress throughout the shoot; c) you are used to producing experimental images; and d) you know that the likelihood of coordinating nine people to get to the one place at the one time is pretty bloody small. But that doesn't mean that you can't push a little more on the creative side in addition to getting the more straightforward images. It is from this experimentation that some of the most unexpected and interesting images emerge. Just don't expect to see them in the Herald Sun.

the kinds of photos I'm not interested in

2011-06-06T22:50:00.000+10:00

I saw these wonderful shadows on the pavement and I thought I would take a shot, because you often see 'good' black and white images made up of interesting shadows.

I'm sure there are people who take much better shadow photos than this. That said, I don't think this is a bad photo. It's interesting and quite classic. Yet it doesn't inspire anything in me beyond vague attraction to its geometric curiosities. It's just too clinical.

(And it has no people in it.)

sprocket party

2011-05-18T22:21:00.001+10:00

*Click on each strip to enlarge it; you won't see any of the detail otherwise.

A party. A contained event.

Little more than disjointed, undefined flashes - of faces, of shoes, of walls and furniture.

A beautifully messy stream of moments that form a kind of narrative over the course of an evening.

And one roll of 35mm film.

sleaze potential

2011-05-10T21:39:00.000+10:00

I don't think I've ever put as much effort into a photo as I did into this one. Certainly, then, this is proof that effort is not relative to success. However, I am intrigued by and largely satisfied with the result.

The image required effort because executing my idea meant facing several challenges. Challenge number one: take a photo of a partially lit, nondescript torso with an entirely black background. This was extremely difficult, and involved lots of black sheets, a carefully placed tripod and mirrors. Challenge number two: find suitably sleazy and interesting neon in the CBD. This sounds easy, right? Every city has a tonne of sleazy neon, right? Wrong. This is definitely one area in which Sydney outdoes Melbourne several times over. Challenge number three: take a photo of strip-club/sex-shop neon without capturing and/or aggravating potential customers. I achieved this challenge, but the fear of being caught meant I didn't take much time sorting out settings and composition.

Does the final image match my original idea? Yes and no. The concept was to capture some neon on my lovely high-grain black and white film, and expose it over a stylised shot of a partially naked body. (I feel I need to take a moment to acknowledge the amateur nature of the thematic content - and I absolutely do realise how painfully juvenile matching stripper with sex shop is. But the idea interests me very strongly on an aesthetic level, and this was the most obvious content to experiment with.) There are a few flaws, most notably that the neon overwhelms the body to the extent that it's very hard to make out. Also, while I appreciate the symmetry in the image of the neon, I think for a photo like this it should be on an angle, or distorted in some way, or possibly even exposed more than once.

It's extremely far from perfect. But it's good to know that if and when I decide to pursue this concept further, I won't be completely in the dark.

fading memories

2011-05-06T00:39:00.001+10:00

As I sorted through my digitised photo library last week, deep in the fog of nostalgia, I was surprised to find so many endearing photos from last year's trip to Darwin. As I explained when I first posted some of the most immediately successful images, I was disappointed to find that the film I used was so faded and grainy. However, I eventually came to appreciate the unique and extremely analogue look that these photos have. That said, I felt a lot of them were failures, and relegated them to the depths of the (sizeable) library.

Looking at these images that I disliked so much at the time of development, I'm now so charmed by their washed-out colours and super grain. They are at once recent and dated, enchanting and mediocre. Beautiful in their overwhelming ordinariness.

Poor composition, uninspiring colours, shameless tourist scene: everything about this image points to failure, yet somehow it holds enormous appeal for me. And I don't think it's just because it holds personal memories. Rather, like I've hypothesised before, the aesthetic qualities of this film recalls a past I never knew, evoking nostalgia for a time and a place I'll never see. They also bring to mind family photo albums from three decades ago, which are almost exclusively associated with happy memories.

This was the very first photo I took in Darwin, and at the time I very strongly felt that the scene perfectly captured my immediate impressions of the Territory's capital: wildly exotic and uncannily suburban. My initial unhappiness with its ordinariness seems, in hindsight, therefore hypocritical.

Unremarkable, ugly and outdated. Certainly one of the most forgettable of the lot. But again, quite fascinating to me.

Dirty orange, tarnished green, tattered cardboard. This is so ugly! I really do treasure it, though. While nostalgia is the obvious reason for this, I can also fall back on the fact that, with their unsaturated hues and discernible grain, these photos are proudly anti-digital.

I suppose I can't claim unremarkable colours in this photo. However, they are very different to the actual colours of the sky that evening. What a beautiful scene. And a perfect way to remember that fabulously unusual place.

sydney botanic gardens

2011-04-25T20:42:00.001+10:00

After visiting Sydney's Botanic Gardens, my impression of the place overwhelmingly revolved around two things: spiders and bats. Which is why I was pleasantly surprised to see this photo pop up in my packet. I had completely forgotten about this wonderful Adonis, whose immaculate white surface shone so brilliantly in the bright sun. I love the shading on his bicep and navel, and the perfect blue sky against the white. Definitely one of my most treasured images of the Gardens.

This unusual pyramid glasshouse was closed by the time we got to it so we never got to go inside, but that doesn't matter, because the inside couldn't possibly be better than the outside spectacle. Though it's a little off-centre within the frame, it's not entirely unsuccessful.

The bats! I do realise that Melbourne's glorious gardens also have bats. However, I have never seen Melbourne's winged mammals of the night creating such a ruckus during daylight hours. These guys were constantly flying from one tree to another, screeching like maniacs all the while. (I didn't take any photos of the aforementioned spiders, frankly because I was too frightened to get near the huge yellow and black insects in their giant webs that stretched between EVERY TREE IN THE GARDENS. But trust me, it was all about spiders and bats.)

What stops this from being a super boring photo of a flower (which some may argue it still is) is the unusual colouring. The red is so deep and the green so aquatic - and the two against one another create an attractive contrast.

It isn't immediately obvious that this is a double exposure, but I think it's a nice one. You can't really tell, but it's the bats again.

Another photo I had almost forgotten about, and which I certainly didn't expect to turn out so well. Don't ask me what the hell it is. The best way I can describe it is a hollow wire mound completely covered in stones. But who cares what it is - the resulting image is pretty great.

Looking at this collection of photos, it's clear that the Gardens have a lot of interesting sights. It was a gorgeous Autumn day and it was a lovely place to explore over a few hours. Despite this, I think I prefer Melbourne's Gardens. Do they look as good on film? I'll have to investigate that. All I know is they have much fewer spiders.

how to make landmarks look different*

2011-04-14T22:45:00.003+10:00

* not a guarantee

When I went to Sydney a couple of weeks ago with my excellent mum, the sole purpose of our overnight trip was to see the Annie Leibovitz exhibition that was on display at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Which meant that we would be staying near the museum, at The Rocks, for the sake of convenience. Which in turn meant that a lot of our activities would take place around the ultra-touristy Circular Quay area. And that meant that a lot of my photos from the trip would include those inimitable structures, the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge.

My very first post on this blog included the ghostly image of both of these landmarks, and in that post I lamented the difficulty of photographing such over-photographed scenes. In an(other) attempt to capture these breathtaking structures with some degree of originality, I took several approaches that gave me varying degrees of success.

get some perspective

That is, an unusual perspective. You obviously can't change the position of the structures themselves, but you can find places that most people don't shoot them from. For the photo above, I took advantage of the attractive fence that runs around the harbour, and shifted focus so that the House would take the background. Which, of course, is impossible - as soon as you recognise what it is it necessarily takes centre stage. And that is precisely the point.

This another example of the different perspective approach.

* * *

send it back in time

Obviously the taxi in the foreground modernises the photo, but what I really mean is, shoot in black and white. Just because you have a digital camera with a gazillion megapixels and brilliant colour, it doesn't mean that's going to give you the most interesting result. Black and white brings a whole lot of baggage with it, mostly to do with history, which can sometimes be a bad thing. But the Bridge has just as much baggage on its own, so bringing some other preconceptions to the table can't be a terrible move.

* * *

get up close

Can you believe this is the Opera House? I never think of it as being tiled. But when you really get up close to the thing you can see the incredible lines that the patterned tiles create. Doesn't it look fascinating? Definitely one of my favourite landmark shots.

* * *

paint it black (and green)

This tip is twofold: first, silhouetting a building as famous as this one is really effective because there is no risk of mistaking the iconic shape; and second, using a film that distorts the natural colours of the sky adds a dimension that very few other people will have (and the previous photo demonstrates this to an extreme).

An additional (personal) feature of this photo is that my mum is sitting just to the right of the second peak.

* * *

double up

If you have a camera that excels at multiple exposures, embrace it! If that original photo of the Sydney icons from several years ago taught me anything, it's that layering images is a sure way to make them look unusual.

The clouds in these two (very similar) photos makes the House look as though it's shrouded in smoke, creating a quite ominous effect.

* * *

put people in the picture

How I wish I never made this a multiple exposure! It would be so lovely without the second layer. Regardless, I think it's successful in the sense that it foregrounds my mum to the extent that, like in the fence photos, the House takes a long-overdue back seat.

I guess these photos reveal that I was much more preoccupied with the house of opera than with that massive bridge. Hopefully they also point to a few ways to semi-successfully get some interesting and worthwhile images of some extremely cliched landmarks. Before this trip, I wondered whether I would even want to take more photos of these Sydney staples, but seeing them up close I couldn't help but be completely overwhelmed by their breathtaking presence. I mean, they truly are spectacular. So making the effort to capture that magnificence, even if it means going to more effort than usual, is absolutely worth it.

circular quay railway station

2011-04-04T23:24:00.000+10:00

The first of several photos I will share from my recent two-day trip to Sydney. It is also the first photo I have posted using this particular film, which I had never tried before last week. Apparently it brings out some beautiful greens.

In addition to the unusual colour, the lines in this - a result of the harsh late-afternoon sun hitting this glorious building - are infinitely appealing to me.

More to come.

triumph

2011-03-23T22:09:00.003+11:00

It was over a year ago now that I took some photos of a certain local band's debut live performance. I felt honoured to be asked to do it, and I thought I was up to the challenge. The band was Eagle and the Worm, and I wrote about the dismal failure of the photos on this blog about eleven months ago.

When just two weeks ago Eagle's mastermind Jarrad asked me to take more photos of his wonderful band, I was more than a little reluctant. What if they fail again, I thought. Everyone in the band will know. I'll let Jarrad down.

Lucky for me, and lucky for Jarrad, they didn't fail at all.

(A note: I really must recommend that you click through on all the images to see them enlarged.)

The above photo is, for me, by far the most successful and wonderful image of the dozens I took that afternoon. It just hits every note: composition, lighting, contrast. But more importantly than all that (and no doubt in part because of all that), it captures something at once beautiful and classic about this band, and it seems to hold so much of what I love about photography and about music.

While I can definitively say that the first photo is my standout, there are many other highlights, if only because a) I took so many shots, and b) I was shooting with four different types of film, so there is lots of variety in the results. Take this shot of Joe, who was in the prime position to bask in the late afternoon rays of light streaming through into the gorgeous rehearsal room. This particular film, with its extreme grain, gives all the light an ethereal quality. Doesn't Joe look like some kind of apparition?

Another reason Joe was a favourite subject was his amazing instruments. He had brought three keyed instruments - at the risk of sounding ignorant, I'm going to say an organ, a piano and a keyboard - which surrounded him with this incredibly striking border. The gorgeous, smooth, silvery film perfectly complements the black and white of the keys. And let's not overlook Joe's amazing shirt. And hair. And moustache.

While I took a tonne of photos using my 35mm cameras, I also wanted to make good use of my lomo cameras. Jarrad had said that he was looking for a classic, analogue look, and so there was no way I was going past the vignetted, scratchy look of black and white through the plastic lenses of the Holga and Diana. This great shot of Jarrad makes me pleased I decided to coordinate all four of my cameras, because it's got such great energy. In truth it was really rushed because we were getting kicked out of the room, but to Jarrad's credit (and possibly to mine), we managed to get a totally natural, dynamic and quite timeless shot of this modest leading man.

Another classic image of Jarrad - though you can't necessarily tell it's him. Most photos from the day made good use of my various flashes. But thanks to that one stream of light, I was able to get a few in natural light. I love the way it hits the floor and creates the stark shadows in this image.

The main aim of the afternoon was to get shots of the band playing together, and photos like this one, with all the mics in a row, hint at the scale of the band while still focusing on an individual.

The great thing about being in the rehearsal room with Eagle and the Worm was that I felt totally comfortable getting right up in their faces, which I needed to do in order for lomo shots like this one to work out. Everyone was overwhelmingly welcoming and accommodating, too, which made all the difference. I wouldn't have the success rate I ended up with if not for the total cooperation of all these lovely people.

I was happy to push myself and my cameras to capture more than one person in the frame. But I have to be honest - the shots I revelled in taking were the lone portraits, which enabled my cameras to really get to know everyone, so to speak. Initially, I did this while they played. And take a look at these four stunning shots of the solo musicians:

There isn't much to say about these that you can't tell just by looking; they're all so vibrant and attractive.

I wanted to take the portrait idea further, though, and so I got each member to pose for me against a grotty old wall after the rehearsal had finished. I shot them on both 35mm and the Diana, and I love the results from each format. Here are just a few examples:

Look at Liam! Look at Jim! At Joe! At Michael! Holy hell, if nothing else you have to concede that this is one good-looking band.

I suspect Jarrad asked me to take the photos because he thought that the style of my black-and-white photography would suit the down-and-dirty, marvellously boisterous vibe of his magnificent band. I think he was right. When he told me he was thrilled with the results I felt completely relieved and abolutely over the moon that my photos could please someone else to such an extent. But aside from that, the almost total success of these photos means that I'm finally at peace with those terrible images from just over a year ago.

drug house?

2011-03-11T00:19:00.000+11:00

Isn't that what shoes over the wire is supposed to mean? I quite often see shoes flung over the wires on our street. Either this means that we live in a particularly active narcotics area (quite possible), or we have a lot of bored neighbours with too many shoes.

Either way, I have no complaints. Because the result gives me a regularly shoe-filled view when I crane my neck skywards, which never fails to charm me.

I didn't have high (zing!) hopes for this shot but it actually turned out nicely. I particularly like: the amount of blue sky; the fact that the shoes are so well centred within that blue space; the classic detail on the house directly below; and, most of all, the placement and pattern of the wires across the sky. Why are there so many wires in a quiet residential street?! Wait - I'm asking too many questions again. It doesn't matter whether this quaint house hosts a veritable drug lab or not. It doesn't matter why there are eight wires in such a small space. What matters is that it all came together on a wonderfully clear, sunny day to give me what you see here.

portrait of the week: ghostly cousins

2011-03-08T21:48:00.001+11:00

I didn't mean to expose the film multiple times, but with all the flurry of shooting my cousin's wedding I completely forgot to wind on! An oversight, to be sure, but lomo cameras are designed to yield such accidental oddities.

It's not one of my most successful multiple exposures, but the thing I really like about the layers is Holly's calm face between the two dancing girls. Aside from the double image, the bright green and brilliant blue are, as always, irresistible.

As the summer well and truly says goodbye, I lament the fact that it passed without a single picnic in the gardens or trip to the beach. Its demise has caught me, like many others, completely unawares. However, perhaps it is a good thing, if only because the shock of its impending departure forced me to shoot a slide roll while the sun was still shining at the weekend. Unless it all goes disastrously, expect to see some newborn images here soon.

climbing trees

2011-02-27T08:02:00.000+11:00

I used to love to climb trees when I was growing up. Didn't you? There were two trees in particular that I loved to climb: one was a very large blackwood that had some planks of wood nailed at the base of the branches, making a makeshift tree house; the other was an acorn tree that was especially good for climbing and playing as one of its branches was horizontal and flat and wide, like an elevated platform.

This tree isn't as grand as those others, but that obviously doesn't dampen Jasmine's excitement. Being up a tree - regardless of the size - takes you away from the real world and into the world of nature. I always used to love the idea of shrinking in order to explore the magical world of gardens (Honey, I Shrunk the Kids is one of my favourite kids' movies!). The scene from Disney's original Alice in Wonderland that sees Alice sink down into a field of daisies, looking up into the sky from beneath the flowers, is burned into my memory as one of the most fantastical things to experience. I just rewatched the scene, and interestingly she starts up a tree, before descending into the daisy field and singing about a world of her own where she interacts directly with nature. What a lovely idea.

portrait of the week: ben and imogen

2011-02-15T22:22:00.000+11:00

Both of my SLR cameras have half-finished films in them at the moment, and I haven't taken the lomo cameras out for a while for various reasons. At times like this, with no fresh content coming in, it is easy to lose inspiration for these posts. My solution is to introduce 'portrait of the week'. It won't appear every week - just in those weeks that nothing else is standing out to me. This solves my problem because a) I have a lot of interesting portraits so there is no shortage of content, b) I don't necessarily need to write a lot because it's just one photo, and c) I will stop feeling guilty for neglecting my blog.

This week's portrait is of the endearingly dysfunctional couple (who will tell me they are not dysfunctional at all) Ben and Imogen. I was trying to take a photo of the camera-shy Imogen when Ben interrupted and made her laugh. It's a really cute interaction between the two of them, and I think that it is clear that the moment is between them even though they are both looking at the camera.

I'm sure I will develop new films soon and rediscover all that enthusiasm. In the meantime, this lovely portrait will hopefully suffice.

babes, birthdays

2011-02-03T22:53:00.000+11:00

Some of my favourite people have birthdays in the hot, hot months of February and March. After a small hiatus, I figure this is as good a reason as any to get back to the blog and dig out some sweet portraits. It's also a nice way to reflect on the downright necessity of excellent friends and family by highlighting just a few of their lovely faces.

Taka - with the mind of a ninety year old, the face of a nineteen year old and the energy of a nine year old - kicks off the festivities with an early February date.

Shasta, pictured here with her affable little (big) brother Corbin, will no doubt out-party everyone during her traditional birthday week of celebrations - and still make it into work on time. When I moved in with her, I hoped Shasta would be a good housemate. As it turns out, she's like some amazing buy-one-get-one-free shoe deal at True Blue Shoes, because I got an excellent friend, too.

Despite our many differences in appearance and character, my only sibling, Maydia, is still the only person in the world to understand me on certain levels. If you have a brother or sister, you will probably know what I mean. It's an easy thing to overlook but I have come to realise that it's something that should never be taken for granted. I have no doubt Maydia will celebrate in glorious fashion when her March date rolls around. If she can afford it.

And Sasha, that kooky Russian who has, on occasion, driven me to distraction with her various and multiple neuroses. Who is also the most unwaveringly honest, kind and loyal friend I am probably ever likely to have. I'm not sure how she'll be celebrating her birthday, but I can only hope she knows that she is truly worthy of every kind of festivity coming her way - in March and beyond.

I am positively lucky to have these four wonderful people in my life, and I am even more blessed because I am close to many more glorious souls whose birthdays fall outside of these select months (or whose February–March birthdays escape me at this moment). And I think it's important to acknowledge that from time to time.

timeless

2011-01-14T21:15:00.000+11:00

After the countless rolls of film I developed from my cousin's wedding, I had quite forgotten about the lone shot I took on my Holga that day, which remained out of mind until I finally finished the film and picked up the prints last week. In the same way that the black and white Holga beach shots from Queensland enchanted me, I think the classic beauty of this image is divine. Sure, it's a little out of focus and that black shading over the bottom right corner is distracting, but its imperfection undoubtedly contributes to its charm.

It is certainly one of the loveliest things about film that one can occasionally be rewarded with such long-forgotten gems.

2010: a party retrospective

2011-01-05T22:26:00.000+11:00

When I look back at my photography in 2010, I see two major trends: the rediscovery of 35mm SLR photography, and the discovery of bright flash + beautiful black-and-white Croatian film (thank you, eBay). On many nights during the latter half of 2010, I would venture out with my F4 loaded with said film, flash ready to fire at always happy and usually inebriated friends and strangers.

(A side note: the photo immediately below of Robin, Simon and Brian is the only one in this post not taken on the lovely Croatian film. And you can tell - it's much greyer and less silver than the others. Still a great party portrait, though.)

The reason I love using black and white for these photos - and this particular film - is because it's classic, and it's flawless, and it's real. While the paradoxical assertion that black and white conveys realism more strongly than colour may no longer be common, I still subscribe to this position, albeit without being able to easily explain why. Possibly because, especially with this gorgeous silvery film, the high contrast and deep tones look unmistakably like film - I have yet to see these aesthetic properties exactly replicated digitally - so there is no possibility of manipulation. The logic is absolutely flawed, I know, but I can't get past the fact that when I look at these photos, I never have any doubt that they are displaying the truth. There are no tricks, there is no interference. Just a flash, a shutter, and film. Like social photography from decades past, these images seem to say This is what happened, exactly and completely. This is what it was like.

I suppose you could argue that taking photos of people when they are not sober is unfair to them because they may be acting out of character. But when the effects of alcohol are at their best and people are overwhelmingly jovial and celebratory - like the above two photos, taken at the closing end of my cousin's wedding in November - any usual insecurities give way to moments of unguarded and unfiltered enjoyment. It's a wonderful thing to be able to capture, and it makes for some spectacularly animated images, full of action and character. In the photo immediately above, I was trying to get a portrait of Kate and Arthur when Marg ducked in front of them and grinned directly into the lens. Anyone who knows Marg well will be familiar with her latent mischievous side, and will be able to very easily imagine her doing this after a few drinks. Which means that this photo depicts a very real but quite rare aspect of her personality. Certainly, the same could be said for Robin (on the left) in the photo above this one.

When photographing strangers it's hard to know whether or not you're capturing some intrinsic part of their character, but that doesn't mean you can't get some fantastically animated images. Admiring my oversized camera, the guy on the left asked me to take a photo of him and his mate (on the right). I agreed on the condition that their other friend - with his perfect teeth and ridiculous moustache - be included, and that he take the centre. They did the rest themselves and what I ended up with is a very well-centred photo of three strangers, each bringing their own silliness and vitality to the image. And even though I don't know any of them in any way, I really love this shot.

Certainly, several people interacting with one another makes it somewhat easier to get an interesting and animated party photo, but this one of Kev demonstrates that individual folk can provide the frame with plenty of action, too. This was taken at Yah Yah's late one night and it's a simple photo, but it's a great expression. Also, I love freckles in black and white. (Look closely.)

Aw, Ester and Anne at the Tote. So cute. And so fitting.

This one is slightly different, as it is completely orchestrated and my subject is completely sober. It's still a great party portrait, though, because she's absolutely confident in front of the camera, and also because she's showing off one damn fine jacket.

Here's another orchestrated shot, but this time it's of a stranger. She was extremely patient while I tried to get my flash to work very late into Cherry's Halloween party. Her make-up was white, black and red, and her hair was bright green, so I wondered at the time whether black and white would do her justice. But the contrast and texture in the image are wonderful, and I almost think colour would take away from that. The success of this photo is a great reminder never to be afraid to ask strangers for a photo. When it's this far into the partying, it's highly unlikely they will refuse.

In all of the above photos the subjects have been at least aware that their photo was being taken. Not so here, where the moment is completely unaltered. Similar to the photo of Adrian and Seán I posted a while back. Like that photo, this is wonderful precisely because it doesn't acknowledge the camera's presence; the idea of documenting a moment exactly as it happened is at its purest in images like these. And it's such a classic social photo: one talks - leaning close to overcome the intrusive music - while the other listens. We can tell D'Arcy is listening (or trying to) because his gaze is aimed too low to be looking at someone else; his eyes are avoiding any other action while he tries to catch everything Taka is telling him. The crowd that is visible behind him reinforces the busyness of the place, and in the absence of audible music we still get the sense that it would have been hard to hear.

I absolutely love experimenting with the psychedelic beauty that film (and especially lomo) cameras are able to produce. The forms of expression possible with those kinds of effects are irresistable and endlessly exciting. But the raw and absolutely beautiful truth that black-and-white social photography offers is what excited me most about my 2010 collection of photos. No doubt this is due in part to their autobiographical aspect - This is what I saw, This is what I did. More than that, though, there's something incredibly satisfying about being able to present an unadultered experience to people who weren't there (or who can't remember it), to tell a story about a time and a place, and to give people something truthful, however small. I'm absolutely thrilled to have all of these images, and I plan to take many more right through 2011.

explode

2010-12-31T16:52:00.000+11:00

So it's the most overrated night of the year. But hey, at least there are fireworks. And this kind of looks like a fireworks explosion, don't you think?

Apologies if you're getting sick of the palm trees. I'm determined to keep going though!

A more detailed post to follow in the wee days of 2011... and many more posts to follow in all twelve months of 2011! Hooray!

meredith

2010-12-18T15:33:00.000+11:00

Though I have been to Golden Plains at the Meredith Amphitheatre twice before, this year was the first time I attended the iconic Meredith Music Festival. As such, I took several cameras and loads of film with the intention of capturing everything I could. Of course, the weather was so dreadful most of the time that taking cameras from the (relative) safety of my tent was too risky. And so, I don't have the plethora of images I hoped for. But I do have some.

This photo is pretty much my favourite of the lot, because it really sums up my feelings toward the festival. As far as I'm concerned, there are two ways to look at this photo, which can both be applied to Meredith: with jaded cynicism or with optimistic celebration. If you take the former viewpoint, you might see ultra-hip North-side girls wearing the 2010 festival uniform (i.e. high-waisted, possibly acid-washed denim shorts - middle seam digging into the arse crack optional) and getting muddy and 'free' for the sake of it (this was around 4pm on the first day, and it wasn't yet raining) - because, It's Meredith, man. If you prefer not to take the cynical path, you might see in this image the recklessness and ebullience that has always been associated with youth. You might even think of classic music festivals from eras gone by, and feel privileged to be a part of this generation's equivalent. I really stand somewhere between the two.

Most of these photos offer the choice of cynicism or celebration, pathetic hipsters or enviable revellers. Of course, as the rest of them are my friends, I'm leaning toward the latter from here on in...

Looking through the photos from the weekend, I have realised that Meredith is largely timeless. What I mean is, it doesn't have a whole lot of 'twenty-first century' elements, and so images taken there often look like they could be twenty years old. When your friend drives an old Kingswood, this is especially true.

(Though I don't have an explanation for that giant air mattress.)

I wasn't thrilled with the colour throughout this film, with the possible exception of this photo: look at that brilliant green against her burnt-orange hair! Glorious.

The great thing about taking photos from behind people is there is very little chance they will see you, which means your photo will be totally natural. Of course, it also means you don't get to see faces. But in this case, I think it looks fantastic anyway.

A side note: the girl is standing on an esky. Those blokes are that tall.

OK, so I guess at this point the bad weather was on its way. Though I don't like the silhouettes in the foreground, the colours in the sky are wonderful.

Before that bad weather hit, we had a few quiet moments with my favourite kind of sun: the late afternoon golden glow. Just stunning.

Cliched? Yes. But who cares, it still looks great.

Still a bit of a glow about Rich. Though I suspect that had little to do with the sun.

Great headgear. Great size juxtaposition. Great background.

Speaking of the background - how could I not take a photo of the cherished wheel? A rare lomo shot from the weekend; the sky clouded over after this and I refused to waste slide shots on a dreary canvas.

My only attempt at some Meredith–lomo magic, which didn't really go as planned - it's overexposed and largely unclear. But maybe that's perfect.

photographer + subject

2010-12-07T21:39:00.003+11:00

A little while ago I went to an exhibition at the Heide showing photographic work from Carol Jerrems, William Yang, Larry Clark and Nan Goldin, all from roughly the same era (1970s–1980s). I was reluctant to trek all the way out to Heidelberg when I wasn't even familiar with any of the artists, but something about the promotional image (Jerrems' stunning 'Vale Street') told me I shouldn't miss it. I convinced a friend to drive me out one Saturday, and I'm so glad I was able to see work from these four wonderful photographers. Goldin's images are confronting if only because they are so unashamedly warts-and-all; Yang's visual stories from pre-AIDs gay Sydney are breathtaking in their intimacy; Clark's gorgeous presentation of mid-American youths doing drugs and having sex is a natural precursor to his debut feature film Kids (1995), and probably my favourite images from the exhibition; and Jerrems' depiction of 1970s Australia from a female perspective is both fascinating and inspiring.

While I usually write only about my own experiences and photos on this blog, I wanted to take a moment to talk about this fantastic exhibition because I have rarely been so moved by the work of other photographers (Rennie Ellis is the only other obvious example, but that's another story). Specifically, I want to talk about Jerrems.

Her work - at least that which was presented in the exhibition, though I suspect that constitutes a lot of it - is not consistently great. There were some images that didn't move me at all, and which I thought were quite ordinary. But when Jerrems took intimate photos of people, and particularly of women, she seemed to reveal these essentially universal emotions: pride, shame, lust, defiance, insecurity, power, fear. Maybe that's why 'Vale Street' is so famous; all these emotions and more are captured so perfectly in that one frame.

Occasionally, she turned the lens on herself. Standing in front of a mirror, camera partly obscuring her face, Jerrems would shoot herself. I have read interpretations that talk about a deconstruction of the female gaze, and while I'm sure that is in there, I think the images are powerful at a more basic level. For me, they show a woman who is intensely curious about her body. Her stance and gaze (where it's visible) reveal a calm inquisitiveness - a gentle wonder - that is only just prevailing over the self-criticism, shame and insecurity that every female feels at some point (and often too many) in their lives. This is reinforced with tragic execution in her hospital self-portraits, where she examines her mutating and dying thirty-year-old body. In all of Jerrems' self-portraits, she is looking at herself, for no one but herself, and learning to accept. In this way, maybe the deconstruction mentioned above is apt; Jerrems is reclaiming the gaze from the countless men (and women) who have judged before her. It's a triumph - over others and over herself - that a lot of women probably never reach.

Like every other woman and girl I know, I have experienced the volatile and highly charged relationship between the self and the body. For me it started out with indifference, before moving (with a lot of peer encouragement) to intense scrutiny, on to shame (manifested in the constant attempts to hide it), reluctant discovery, the first stages of acceptance, and most recently, the beginnings of pleasure and admiration. It's a vital process, and one I'm pleased to be in. But even as I approach total acceptance and celebration, the negative views of the body are impossible to kill. This ongoing battle between love and hate, acceptance and rejection, is undoubtedly what I respond to most strongly in Jerrems' self-portraits.

The photo at the top of this post is a direct response to how Jerrems' images made me feel. I'm not quite ready to reveal close-up details, too much skin, or even my face - but I am willing to really look at myself, and to embrace the aspects of my body that are beautiful, but which I always thought were unsightly. It's hard to post even this for fear of judgement. That I'm unattractive. That I'm attractive. That I'm unoriginal. That I'm vain. But then I think of Jerrems, and I know that I can't be judged if the image is for my eyes only. And it is.

more psychedelic palm trees from the fitzroy gardens

2010-11-29T22:45:00.003+11:00

And so it continues - the exploration of these wonderful shapes silhouetted against a spring sky. The journey is far from over, though; what I'd like to achieve is a completely blank sky, with the chosen pattern appearing only within the silhouette. I've done it once before, with the Holga:

But the F4 is a million times more accurate, and as such doesn't so easily overexpose. Which just means I have to keep experimenting. It's hard to imagine what the daisy(?) photo would look like with a clear sky, so I can't really determine whether or not it would be better than what you see here. On the one hand, I quite like the consistency of the floral yellow soldiers throughout the entire frame, and the glow around the palm. On the other hand, a clear sky would really accentuate the tree. It would literally be a burst of flowers. I'm looking forward to achieving what's in my head.

I took quite a few of these shots on a recent Sunday trip to the lovely gardens, with picnic rug, book and Yan-Yan in tow. None of them achieved the desired result - which disappointed me at first, until I realised that if you're a self-taught photographer then straying from the path is all part of the learning. The most successful image from the day is successful precisely because it didn't give me a clear sky. I just don't think it would look as good:

The faded background (outside of the palm) highlights the subjects so vividly, and the composition is, for lack of a better word, really cute. The inclusion of people is also a plus for me, because when it comes down to it, inanimate objects just don't excite me as much as the human form.

So I'll keep trying, pushing, changing, until I get what I think I want. And then I'll probably push some more.

a wedding

2010-11-23T23:08:00.007+11:00

I have rarely agreed to take photos for someone's event, purely because I am not confident enough that I will deliver what they want. After all, I am not a professional photographer. Very far from it. But when my lovely cousin Emily asked me to bring my cameras along to her low-key beach wedding, it was quite something else; this was family. Once I had repeatedly warned her that I'm not really that good, and that any photos I take may not turn out very well - and after her own reassurance that she wasn't fussy and was not looking for anything spectacular - I wholeheartedly obliged. In fact, I was honoured. Honoured, and nervous.

I took all four of my film cameras - two SLRs and two lomos - with the idea to shoot colour and black and white simultaneously. I also borrowed a friend's point-and-shoot digital in order to bulk up the volume in case of any film-related disasters. When the day came around, I was feeling relatively prepared. My cameras were loaded and batteries were charged.

The conditions were bright and windy, posing two problems and one benefit: harsh shading, windblown faces and hair, and beautiful colours, respectively. It wasn't ideal for photos, but I supposed it was just a matter of making do with what we had.

On the plus side, everyone looked their beautiful best - none more so than the glowing bride Emily, whose magnificence is best captured in the photo at the top of this post. It's my favourite photo of her from the masses I took, because in addition to being a knockout, she looks so confidently happy. Which, I imagine, is exactly how a bride should look on the day of her wedding.

I found the 'essential' photos the most challenging - that is, photos of the actual ceremony, family portraits, the group photo - because I had such little control over the action. I don't doubt that a professional photographer would turn such restrictions into wonderful images, but these were probably my weakest. Which is not to say that they are awful - I quite like the above photo of the monumental kiss. But it is undoubtedly flawed: the sky is completely washed out and the bright sun has taken away a lot of the detail.

Colour was better for the ceremony because the glorious beach blues it captured prevent the white wedding party from blending into the background. I quite like the cropping of this one because it allows us to focus on Em and Dan's two gorgeous daughters, who took part in the ceremony with what seemed like equal parts excitement and mystification.

And as far as a family portrait - with all heads in the frame - goes, this is pretty hard to beat. What a lovely moment.

Here's another 'essential' photo that turned out beautifully. I think this one is irresistible because it is so perfectly classic. With the simple, timeless white dress, the nondescript white shirt and tie, the traditional pose (the masculine groom leaning down to kiss his petite bride, his large hands gently encasing hers) and the lovely black and white, it could easily be a photo of any newly-wedded couple from any decade. As such there is a nostalgia attached to this image (at least, for me) because it would be right at home in most people's family wedding albums.

While the essentials were essential, the photos I was most eager to take were those moments between official poses; the detail that goes on when people are preparing for the camera. When I accompanied Em and Dan and Co. to get ready for the ceremony, there were plenty of these, which I did my best to identify and chase. The moment above is probably the most precious to me - but tragically the window behind them knocked the exposure out and the resulting image is undefined and grey. On top of this, some dust has interfered with the scan leaving Emily with an unsightly ring on her forehead. Despite its aesthetic flaws, though, I still love this photo to pieces.

I don't think this is a brilliant photo technically speaking, but Daddy + Daughters looking expectantly up at the new (unseen) bride is a pretty priceless image.

Likewise, the soon-to-be-mother-in-law attempting to attach the flower to the groom's shirt is at least a little bit precious.

And one of the irresistable princesses, patiently allowing her dress to be tied and re-tied by any number of flustered adults.

And this - my favourite of all the images I captured that day. The ceremony was over, and the girls were evidently having trouble with their shoes and needed to fix them, or remove them. (Maybe they had to pour out the sand.) And just like on any other day, they went straight to Mum for help. So here are two little angels, literally leaning on their mother - grabbing onto the pristine wedding dress that everyone else was afraid to touch for fear of soiling it. It's so special because it shows that untouchable relationship between a mother and her daughters, and while (again) it's not technically brilliant, I think it's near-perfect for the reasons described above.

It was a lovely day, and a wonderful celebration. There were a lot of photos that you don't see here that didn't work out very well, and it's easy to be disappointed by that. However, I hope there are enough successes that Emily and Dan will be able to compile a nice set of memories. I think there are.

(And I probably won't be agreeing to photograph another wedding any time soon. But I'm so very glad I was able to do this one.)

three party portraits (including joe vs the floorboards)

2010-11-08T22:06:00.003+11:00

It was an art gallery opening, I think. The white paper letters belonged to one of the minimalist installations - or decorations. Whichever it was, it had partially collapsed, leaving Sesame-Street-style block letters strewn across the suitably rustic floorboards. I was standing with Joe, and perhaps some others, when I looked down and saw 'O' and 'E' at our feet. That almost spells Joe! I pointlessly exclaimed. A lightbulb flashed behind taka's eyes and he vanished, momentarily returning with a wonderfully jagged handmade 'J' to complete my picture.

I've never been able to successfully recreate my 'people vs walls' (etc.) portraits in black and white. The detail generally gets lost without contrasting colours. This, though - this is something else. The exposure in both compositions is just right, and the haphazard position of the letters adds interest. Joe's warm smile also contributes significantly to the image's overall success.

It was freezing out on the balcony but the liquor was flowing and spirits were accordingly elevated. Someone spotted the camera conspicuously hanging from my neck and proceeded to orchestrate a group portrait. I didn't have the heart to tell them that the Holga flash isn't strong enough for such a far-away shot, so I chose to waste a few dollars on a photo that wouldn't work in order to avoid rejecting a stranger (or was it taka?) and the ensuing social awkwardness. Get in closer! I yelled in an attempt to hide my cynicism.

But hey! It worked after all. Some people look great, some people look blurry, some people have their eyes closed. Consequently, some might say it's not a great portrait. I say, if I'm trying to accurately capture a group of people at a party then the combination of closed eyes, blurry faces and hot babes is not a bad representation at all.

The buzz had died. The music had deteriorated. The cold had reached the bones. It was time to leave. Of course, not everyone shared my fatigue - and I did have one more shot left on the roll. Attentions were adequately hazy, allowing me to get in close without being noticed. I doubt even the split-second beam of intrusive brightness alerted these subjects to my activity.

In a way, this is my favourite kind of party portrait. Although it doesn't have the aesthetic flair of the Joe photo nor the jovial vibe of the group shot, it's a moment that would have existed exactly as it is with or without my presence. It's more real than the others precisely because of that. Also interesing is that even though Adrian (on the left) is fully visible and takes up around 40% of the frame, it is undoubtedly a portrait of Seán. I suspect it's because Seán is the more active partcipant; he talks while Adrian listens.

People have asked me if I feel self-conscious or embarrassed when I venture into the night with a camera floating at my chest or nestled under my arm. And I say Never. Because if nothing else, photography should provide a view into a time and a place. Memories for those that were there; insight and vicarious experience for those that weren't. If the photos happen to be interesting at other levels, all the better. What I will hopefully end up with is an ever-growing collection of images that can potentially tell a million stories. Which is totally worth any suspicious or judgemental looks that might come my way.

inked

2010-10-26T22:37:00.003+11:00

Tattoos are incredibly common, especially if you live in Melbourne's inner north. Some may argue that they are so common as to be boring or unworthy of attention. Indeed, in certain areas or social scenes (Melbourne's music scene, for example) it is undoubtedly less common to come across someone with no tattoos than someone whose skin has been permanently marked. Yet I don't think that makes tattoos less interesting. Regardless of their current prevalence, they still provide endless fascination for me, no doubt in part because I don't have any myself. But think about it - someone with a tattoo has chosen to mark their body with certain words and/or images for life. What is it about those words, or that image, that renders them so special to a person? And what made them choose that part of their body? And how do they then display them to the public, if at all? (In fact, some of the more interesting choices relate to those tattoos that cannot normally be seen.)

I felt like a total creep taking the above shot, because I was obviously aiming the lens at Ester's legs and not at her face. But I quite love the image, which I suppose proves that being a creep in the name of art is worthwhile. The fact that two very crucial elements - Ester's face and the dog on the end of the leash - are missing from the frame make it much more interesting to me, because what is in the frame does plenty of explaining: the leash is pulled tight so we assume there is something strong and alive on the end, and the white hair on Ester's sleeve confirms the suspicion; while we can't see Ester's face, her sheer black stockings, chipped nailpolish and evocative tattoo tell us a lot about what she might be like. Whether the conclusions we draw are accurate or not doesn't matter; the photograph is an exercise in imagination, and ties into the idea that a lone tattoo can reveal something about its owner.

Imogen designed her remarkable tattoo, which sits proudly and colourfully on her right shoulder. I know it took a lot of planning and bravery on her part to go through with it, but I think it's worth it as it's a gorgeous aspect of her body. I hope she thinks so too. This photo is not necessarily bad, but probably doesn't stand on its own very well. When photographing subject matter as potentially cliched as tattoos, it's easy for the results to be unremarkable. However, I think something like this would work beautifully in a series.

Again, this is probably better when viewed with other images as part of a common theme, but it does have its strong points - not least of which is the fact that you can't help but wonder what's on the top of that fine looking leg. I don't know the story behind Ben's tattoo, but I do know that it suits him perfectly. He's had it (and one other) for as long as I've known him and I just can't imagine him without it. Which again contributes to the idea that body art can become so much a part of a person that it comes to partly define who they are and how they are seen.

There's great potential for a series of images on modern tattoos, particularly within one community. What do they say about the group of people? About the individuals? How strongly does body art define these people, at this time, in this place? My guess is, more stongly than you think.

'no, no, I'm not very photogenic'

2010-10-24T16:56:00.002+11:00

'But you have a beautiful face for photography!'
'No, I really look bad in photos.'

So went the conversation I had with Rosalind when I asked her if I could take her picture. In the end I insisted that she oblige me, and with a little help from Laird and alcohol, managed to get her relatively relaxed in front of the camera.

So often my attempt to photograph people elicits similar responses. Besides telling people they look great, there really is no way to convince them to trust me. Reassuring them that the photographic vision in my head is truly wonderful just doesn't work a lot of the time; insecurities are usually too deep to be silenced by the words of someone shoving a camera in their face. I know this because I am guilty of it myself.

This image is my absolute favourite of the 36 from my latest roll. I was certain at the time that the composition was perfect for the moment, and I stand by that conviction; the position of Rosalind at the top left corner allows her gaze to direct the viewer's, first to Laird and then to the others in the background. I think it's very effective. The actual moment - Rosalind reacting to Laird's inevitable tomfoolery, and simultaneously to the fact that at any moment she will be captured on film - is a wonderfully honest one between two good friends, despite the awareness of the camera. And while Laird definitely looks good in the shot, he is merely a bit-part player in the scene, instigating Rosalind's action and in essence facilitating her. Because without doubt, this photo is all about Rosalind.

What an amazing smile, what vibrant eyes, what irresistible freckles. Her happiness shines through so strongly here, but more than anything Rosalind just looks so incredibly alive. I look at this photo and think, Wow, I'd love to have an image like that of myself.

And so I implore my readers and potential subjects out there to take this as a lesson: if I tell you that I think I'm going to get a great shot of you, or that you're going to look wonderful on my film, please trust me. Even if it turns out to be less than wonderful, I will blame only myself and promise to be discreet with the results, for I know how icky it can be to have a bad image of yourself on record. But maybe, between us we will create an incredible photo and capture a moment that we can both treasure. And isn't that worth the risk?

faces in the sky

2010-10-19T21:08:00.000+11:00

Anything that involves the flashing lights, bright colours and hand-painted imperfection of the time-warp Americana carny aesthetic is sure to make me swoon. (You might know this by now.) Carnivals, fairs, fetes, shows, parades, festivals - they all render me weak at the knees. So when September rolled around and the Weekly Times released its annual bumber Royal Melbourne Show guide, it was a no-brainer that I would fork out the hefty entrance fee for the chance to catch all the carnival splendour in its natural habitat.

I took a couple of photos as I navigated my way through the pram parade, but something was amiss. Everywhere I looked - and especially through the claustrophobic maze of eccentric spruikers, dangerous rides and exploitative games - I saw incredible scenes, but still, somehow, felt completely uninspired. At the time I anticipated every photographic mishap I have ever had, and as a result imagined that any photos I took would be failures. And so, after exploring most of the layout on foot, after taking about seven photos between two cameras, after under two hours, I left.

My photography woes continued days and weeks after the Show. As I had only taken three shots on my Holga, I knew I needed to use up the film. Unfortunately I had left the flash switched on for several days and the batteries were dead, meaning I would have to take the remaining nine shots without a flash - a daunting task considering even outdoor shots usually need a fill-in flash. This did not help my lack of enthusiasm. But as I set off to the second of two Grand Finals, a whole two weeks after the Show expedition, I forced myself to take the camera and make the most of the blue sky and sunshine. And so, on the way to and from the dismal game, I finished the film. The following week, I picked up the prints with hopelessly low expectations.

How I wished I took more at the Show. The one at the top of this post is gloriously over-the-top in its colours and layers, and the food stand exhibits all the things I love about the carny look - the typeface, the building shape, the colour combinations. But what really makes this photo worthwhile for me is, of course, that mischievously happy face in the sky.

I do quite like the striking shape and composition of the overwhelmingly imposing church, but it's the intense blue sky that made my heart sing when I saw this photo.

Aah, the mighty MCG. With a lot of post-firework smoke in this instance. I find this shot really interesting with the colours and the smoke - but let's face it, any shot of the 'G is going to be appealing to a Melburnian, if only for sentimental reasons. (And, for the record, much more worthy of worship than the church.)

It's a little overexposed, but the way the flora perfectly parallels the Birrarung Marr Federation Bells is nothing short of lovely.

The fruits of my lomo labour thankfully proved encouraging enough to pull me out of my photographic funk. Which is often the case, with art and otherwise - precisely when you start to lose faith, it pulls itself together and proves itself worthy of your attention. Just in the nick of time.

it's a celebration!

2010-10-12T21:14:00.001+11:00

So I guess I should also say hello!, this is my first blog post on my first blog. I don't really know what I'm doing but I'll keep doing it for at least a little while longer (until my enthusiasm wanes). At this point, though, I am very much looking forward to regularly sharing my images, some old and some new, with a potentially unknown cyber audience. Hooray!

And so I introduced myself to the world of blogging - to friends, to strangers, or perhaps to nobody - exactly one year ago today. I am thrilled to say that my enthusiasm hasn't waned in the slightest since I began; if anything, the thrill of putting my work out in a public forum has made me more excited about this blog, and about photography in general. It's an interesting psychological occurrence: even though in reality very few people probably read it, the knowledge that anyone, anywhere, could read it has the same effect as if thousands of eyes were scanning it every day.

The above is from my most recent roll of film, and is characteristic of many images I have shared in the past - a double exposure with a strange combination of colours, shapes and patterns. I think it's very beautiful. Photos like this still excite me because they are simultaneously representative of and completely removed from reality.

I love to take photos. I love the rush of adrenaline I get right before opening that cardboard envelope and seeing what I have produced. And I love sharing the results with everybody, anybody and nobody on this blog.

(thank you)

love!

2010-10-06T21:36:00.000+11:00

One of the things I was itching to do when I purchased my F4 was to test out the multiple exposure function and see how layered images might look when produced on a camera that isn't made out of plastic. As part of my very first test roll, I took to the Fitzroy Gardens on a sunny Autumn day to get some standard flora shots (which I did, and which served the purpose of getting to know my camera, but are far too boring to post here). The sun was really performing and I used the opportunity to get a silhouette of one of the garden's magnificent palm trees, with the intention of shooting some colourful flowers as the second exposure, which would theoretically show through the black area of the tree. But I guess the flowers were all pretty much dead because everywhere I looked was just green and brown.

Frustrated with the lack of opportunity and about to shoot a patch of grass just so I could move on to the next frame, I noticed a small splash of colour on an ancient towering tree trunk. Upon closer inspection I realised that someone had stuck letters onto the trunk, the kooky formation spelling the work L-O-V-E. Well, even if it was a bit boring, at least it wasn't grass. And so I got out the massive flash for the first time, pressed a few buttons in the hope that it would fire some light, positioned the letters in the frame where I recalled the palm leaves had been, and took the shot.

When I saw this image about a week later, it took me a second to recall exactly what it was. Because it doesn't look like anything, really - it doesn't even look like a real photo. It almost reminds me of a badly put-together Photoshop job. That it is, in fact, a real photo, for me turns it from an aesthetically ugly image to a remarkable example of what this camera can potentially produce. And despite the photo being a bit unsightly and borderline corny, I think the composition is really cute - LOVE in a natural explosion of excitement! Just like being in love! OMG!

And let's face it, despite everything else, we all need some love now and then. Even if it isn't so pretty.

back to the beach

2010-09-30T21:46:00.006+10:00

When I went to Splendour in the Grass in 2009, I was lucky enough to be staying right by the beach, and I took some incredibly vibrant colour (slide) photos while I was there that captured the beautiful blues and yellows of the sunny Australian shore. Though this year I camped on-site at the festival, I did manage to glimpse the Queensland ocean when we took a seaside detour on the way to Brisbane airport.

Whenever I am at a beach - and especially in sunny conditions - I am always tempted to take photos. I think there's something about the colours of the landscape that inspire many people to capture beach scenes, and they often do so beautifully. In spite (or because) of this, I made the decision to capture this particular stretch of sand using black and white film.

I didn't expect to like the results - I mean, my past beach photos have been successful largely because of the colour. I anticipated a mass of indistinguishable greys, completely uninteresting to the eye. And in one sense, that's what I got; these images don't have much definition at all, in terms of colour or shape. And they're not even level! However, there is definitely an element of charm to them. With the faded shades, the poor focus and the powerfully obvious vignetting, these photos are strongly reminiscent of some lost era - the days before people took colour photos, and camera technology was in its infancy. I know plastic camera photography often has this effect, but I don't believe any of my other photos have ever evoked it so strongly. Why? Because to shoot the beach devoid of colour seems like a waste. Like something one would only do if colour wasn't widely available - say, in the 1920s. Ridiculous? Yes. But it's the only way I can explain the impression these images leave on me. Will I shoot the beach in black and white again? Maybe. But I don't know that I will be able to once more resist capturing those beautiful colours...

black and white beauties

2010-09-21T18:50:00.010+10:00

Is there anything more beautiful than a gorgeous girl on black and white film? Not only is it classic, it also has the very welcome ability to remove flaws - or at least turn them into something lovely in and of themselves. I've recently come across a great film that, with its ultra-smooth definition and high contrast, is the perfect accompaniment to a breathtaking femme fatale.

(I recommend you click through on the images to really see the excellent detail in the film.)

With her tiny frame, platinum hair and enormous eyes, Jessica just cries out to be captured. And I don't think it's the first time she's been randomly photographed - when I asked if I could take her picture she was very open to being in front of the lens. If only every subject was as comfortable with the way they looked; even if she is very aware of being photographed, her fearlessness translates into a gorgeous image. Now, you may be thinking Well no wonder she's comfortable - she's stunning! And you'd be right in that she is undoubtedly very beautiful. But her beauty is nothing if not unconventional, and I really believe that the most attractive people, whether on the street or on film, truly embrace the way they look, even (or especially) if it doesn't fit conventional standards.

Imogen: another wildly attractive lady with unique features. Here she is at a party, and after a few drinks her exhibitionist tendencies have overcome her usual (unwarranted) self-consciousness. I think this is a great shot of Imogen, but knowing how disapproving she can be of herself, I wasn't sure she would agree with me - it's certainly not a typical glamour shot and her eccentricities are on full display. When I showed it to her, though, she loved it! And I suspect it is because she looks so totally confident here. More proof that regardless of anything else, you look your best when you feel great.

Melissa has a dignified modesty about her that ensures she never gratuitously flaunts her beauty. She is also one of the most consistently stylish people I know. I mean, she always looks great. Perhaps this explains why Melissa also always seems quietly self-assured. I look at this photo, and I think her expression communicates that very strongly - she is justifiably calm and confident in front of the camera, but without a trace of arrogance. She is just so elegant.

Bronwyn is the kind of ecstatically enthusiastic person that immediately puts others at ease. Always at the ready with kind words and a heart-warming smile, her outwardly sunny disposition infects everyone around her. I realise this is almost a stereotype, like the introductory voice-over of a bad romance movie, but trust me, in the case of Bronwyn it's true. Well actually, you don't need to trust me - just look at that photo and tell me I'm wrong.

Each of these four images reinforce my impressions of their respective subjects. Are they accurate? Maybe. But it doesn't really matter. They're successful images precisely because they capture what I believe to be true qualities of these magnificent beauties. And, of course, because of that flawless black and white film.

twisted sister

2010-09-14T21:59:00.006+10:00

I've always been fond of incorporating multiple exposures into my portraits, usually at night, usually using a coloured flash and usually layering a nondescript pattern over the subject. With these characteristics in mind, this image takes my multiple exposure portraiture in a completely new direction: daytime, natural light, landscape layered over the subject.

I didn't expect that it would work at all as I had rarely attempted this kind of photo before, but it immediately captured my attention because of its extraordinarily unique attributes. The grain, which I have written about before, adds a sense of nostalgia to the image as it reminds me of some of the photos you see from the 70s or 80s. The mise en scene (can I use that term in relation to photographs? Probably not) reinforces this impression, as there is nothing particularly modern in the frame. (Well, maybe the piercing?) Technically it's quite a success, as the portrait itself takes the majority of the film while the landscape only comes in just enough to be visible without ruining the main image. Plus the composition is nice - she's looking slightly off to the left and her hair is in sync with that movement.

Perhaps this one isn't so successful, but it's still very interesting to me - though I can't figure out why. Possibly because it's such a new kind of image for me, and I'm fascinated by the colour and grain - mediocre by today's standards - in a similar way that the portrait on the Sydney Harbour fascinated me. (In fact, they're very similar.) Maybe these images appeal to me precisely because it would be extremely difficult to replicate the effect digitally. Between the slightly off colour, the severe grain and the layered exposure, it is unquestionably created using film. And as ridiculous as it may sound, that just seems a lot more real to me.

the first day of spring

2010-09-05T17:06:00.005+10:00

Here we are, back to the Melbourne of old - where the city's weather lives up to its reputation for being inconsistent, unpredictable and often rainy. For the past several years our winters have been alarmingly dry and umbrella ownership has probably dropped significantly, but this year's winter has been suitably wet and cold and miserable. And so it was no surprise that Melbourne welcomed spring with a dreary, grey and relentlessly wet Wednesday.

Eager to finish my film in time to drop it off before closing time, I took out the F4 for the walk between Flinders Street Station and Lonsdale Street in order to reach that often difficult exposure number, 36. (I have done this before on a different route, remember?) I also felt it would be good to test this particular film - a very high speed black and white - in (semi-)daylight because the previous shots on the roll were all taken after dark. The result was pleasantly surprising, as I think the obvious grain really suits that wonderful melancholia that a wet, cold city can evoke.

I also thought I'd try a couple of double exposures, basically because I don't do enough of them. The reason for this is that the nature of multiple exposures means leaving a lot of the outcome to chance, and I find it difficult to surrender that control - but it's a good exercise because more often than not the results are, at the very least, interesting. This image fascinates me - not because it's a perfect shot in any way, but because it shows a lot of potential for multiple exposure in black and white, and in the city. The juxtaposition of the old building with the modern shop signs is quite a good one, and the glow of the lights on this particular film is lovely.

I'll definitely be using this film in the city again. But as the weather inevitably warms up with the changing seasons, I guess the question is - will a less miserable city yield such promising results? And I suspect the answer is, of course. Because while Melbourne might be renowned for perennial teardrops falling from an endlessly grey sky, we know there's a lot more to her than that.

the older they get, the cuter they ain't

2010-09-01T21:40:00.005+10:00

So says Marge Simpson's beauty-challenged sister Selma - and in the case of she and chain-smoking, DMV-desk-dwelling twin Patty, it's probably true. But as if to challenge the Bouviers and prove that some sisters retain their splendour long after childhood, the lovely Surace girls recently provided my lens with one of the most fabulous portraits I've taken in quite some time.

These country-bred beauties have been dear friends of mine from the time we were small enough to potentially drown in the large cow pats on their family farm. Of course this alone makes the picture special, but it also impresses me because it reveals some strikingly accurate personality traits: Dallas, the fun-loving extrovert whose outrageous humour and powerful vocal chords cause as much glee for her cohorts as irritation for her seniors, but which also make her irresistible to all but the stoniest of souls; and Bree, whose kindness and overwhelming congeniality - present in her gorgeously honest smile - enchant all whom she encounters. I think this perfectly captures a wonderful moment shared between sisters - two people who know each other intimately enough to put one another completely at ease, even with a camera present. Beyond the personal aspects of the image, the shockingly white hair (they were both wearing wigs) against the flawless skin and midnight background makes for a stunning spectacle.

The photo was taken at a wig party, and was intended to be the first in a series of wig portraits taken over the course of the evening. What a great concept - all of these completely normal guests with outrageous wigs on! In the black and white I thought it would be especially effective, letting the bizarre shapes speak for themselves. However, I only got two taken before everyone removed their wigs in a fit of itchiness. The second one really doesn't stand alone as a good portrait, particularly when compared to the success of the first one, but I think it would have worked had it belonged to an extensive series of portraits as planned. Alone, it seems unspectacular because it lacks animation, and it doesn't appear to capture any particularly vital moment.

Or maybe it's just because they're not sisters.

the cricketer

2010-08-27T23:33:00.007+10:00

Kids are prone to obsession. A generalisation, I know, but the combined knowledge from my own childhood, later years of babysitting and the new generation coming through the extended family tells me that youth is consistently marked by passionate fixation. I know a boy whose determination to collect rare Australian coins led him to spend hours putting money in vending machines and cancelling the purchase - apparently you don't get the same coin back - in search of those elusive commemorative dollars. His eternally patient mother was obliged to go through the process with him; he was just eight. My own mother confessed to keeping a painstakingly comprehensive scrapbook devoted to the St Kilda Football Club in her younger years (though her love was evidently fleeting as she soon converted to the mighty Demons). For me, it was The Simpsons and Prue Leith's Confident Cooking series. And as the teen years took hold, Rage Against the Machine, Quentin Tarantino and of course the obligatory high-school heartbreaker.

The subject of this photo is devoutly committed to all things sport. Most prominently, I believe, AFL and cricket. Around the time I took this (last summer) he was so immersed in cricket that he successfully requested the back lawn be spray-painted with the '3 Mobile' logo - then principal sponsor of the Australian Test Series - to match the 'G. I took the shot above using the Diana, which as I have lamented before tends to cut people's heads off if I'm not careful. Clearly, I wasn't careful - yet I just adore the result. Without a face to focus on, the image conveys two very powerful and wholly adequate components: a young boy + cricket. And that really goes beyond this particular child and his sport obsession to represent a century or more of young kids who love the game. The way the ball hangs effortlessly in his right hand while he gently assembles the bails with his left... I just couldn't have asked for a better outcome. Its unexpected beauty blew me away.

That I got two incredible images of the divine Mr Josh with his cricket paraphernalia is quite unbelievable considering the unpredictability of lomo photography and the fact that I was still getting the hang of the Diana. But here it is - the second great image of a boy in his element. (Um, no pun intended... though maybe his T-shirt adds a symbolic layer to the shots?) This one has a shot of Josh catching his cricket ball exposed over a shot of his old cricket scoreboard. I love the moment. I love the shading on his face. I love that you can see the gaping hole where his two front teeth used to be. I don't often gush so unashamedly over my own work, but these two photos have been dear to my heart ever since I saw them, and in fact I was reluctant to post them because I find them so special. Special for their aesthetic beauty, special for their Australianness, special for their gorgeous star cricketer.

Something else that is very special to me, and to this blog, is the incomparable film Pecker, in which the title character wisely states life is nothing if you're not obsessed. Thank you Pecker, and thank you Josh, for the always timely reminder of the irrepressible joys of reckless infatuation.

nondescript loveliness

2010-08-25T21:44:00.005+10:00

On my recent trip to the sunny North for Splendour in the Grass I had no choice but to shoot on my Holga as the festival rules stated "no SLR cameras". A ridiculous rule, but not surprising seeing as this particular festival seems hellbent on making sure all possible funds that can be squeezed out of the weekend go their way, from exorbitantly priced on-site liquor - the only alcohol option for those unwilling or unable to smuggle in their own - to the apparent threat that patrons may take professional-grade photos and profit in some way from them. (For the record, had I taken the F4 my photos would most definitely not have been professional.) In any case, with the Holga as my designated tool, I loaded it with black and white with the aim of getting some no-frills shots of the on-site, off-stage antics.

At the outset, I was imagining taking candid photos of humorously dressed, possibly intoxicated revellers, as well as capturing some of the inanimate absurdities that are found at every festival. As usual, things didn't really go as planned. For one, I didn't end up taking as many photos as I would have liked. Another downfall of the exercise was my unwillingness to get up close and confrontational with strangers for the crowd shots. But, in keeping with the apparent rule of my photography - that each film's only certainty is surprise - there were some unexpected gems to come out of the roll.

When I turned around and took this shot of the crowd relaxing on the ampitheatre's enormous hill while waiting for Little Red to take to the stage, I assumed it would be a bit of a dud. Regardless, I followed my urge to take it because that hill, when peppered with people as it is in the shot, looked quite breathtaking and I wanted to somehow capture that. In this endeavour I think I failed, yet I still love the shot. Here's why: the scene is very clear, in that it undoubtedly depicts a lot of people sitting on a hill with trees behind them - but the individual people aren't clear enough to focus on, or to detract from the overall scene. The blurriness around the edge of the frame enhances this anonymity, making for nothing more or less than an image of a crowd.

Another reason this photo delights me is because with all my close-up flash portraiture, I had almost forgotten that in natural (good) light, the Holga can and will capture a lot of people in the frame. Not individuals, but people. Which is really what festivals are like - a faceless mass of denim-short-wearing, leather-bag-toting, Ray-Ban-loving youths looking too cool. (Of which, admittedly, I was probably one.)

OK, I realise that the word-to-photo ratio on this one is kind of unbalanced, so while I will post most of the other photos from the festival another time, below is one of those absurdities I mentioned earlier. And if anyone can tell me exactly why they felt the need to display a roped-off but open-walled pristine toilet - which was presumably not intended to serve any practical purpose despite the inevitable temptation of more than a few drunken attendees not wanting to face the lines and repugnance of the port-a-loos - please do.

street light, three times

2010-08-14T16:57:00.009+10:00

So you've met my F4 before, and you're pretty familiar with the Holga. But remember when I spoke about iPhone photography? Well today I'm going to show you the same basic image taken with all three pieces of photographic equipment.

The lights - at a mall carpark in Darwin - looked so pretty against the blue sky, and I thought that their cute simplicity would make them a good object to shoot in order to compare cameras. Also, as my Holga and my F4 had slide film loaded, testing them on the sky was perfect as these particular slide films really love blues.

And here they all are. I think it's an interesting comparison. They are all different, and this goes beyond their aesthetic qualities: one of them cost me about $4.00 to produce; one cost about $1.10; one was totally free. Does the result correspond with the monetary value? I really don't know.

blame tracy

2010-08-10T20:39:00.006+10:00

Walking around Darwin's city centre (which is more like a town centre by most Australian city standards), what struck me most about the buildings is that they are all so dated. Not old, exactly, but extremely un-modern. Just as I realised that all of these outdated buildings were reminiscent of roughly the same era, it hit me - the architecture is uniformly dated because it was all built at the same time. Or rather, rebuilt.

I think everyone in Australia knows at least a little about Cyclone Tracy. For those who are a bit hazy, here are the essential facts: It hit the city of Darwin at around midnight on Christmas Eve, 1974. By Christmas morning, approximately 70% of the city was destroyed, 48,000 people were homeless and 65 were dead. Following the immediate aftermath of the disastrous storm, then prime minister Gough Whitlam set up a commission with the task of rebuilding the city within five years (despite some calls for the entire city to be relocated).

While I haven't been able to verify my suspicion, it seems indisputably obvious that these buildings were a part of that immediate late-70s rebuilding process. All of the images here were taken in the city centre, and there were countless others in the same style.

The abundance of architecture from this period - concentrated within the very small CBD - gives Darwin proper a fascinating, almost forgotten feeling. It's as though they (and who's they exactly? The government? The Australian people? I don't know) frantically streamed money into the city in order to rebuild it as quickly as possible, and haven't been back since.

And that's probably not far off the truth.

parliament house

2010-08-05T20:43:00.005+10:00

I recently mentioned that I would write about Darwin's architecture. When I (finally) develop my remaining Darwin shots next week I will go into more detail on the startlingly unique buildings in the city streets of the NT capital, but for now, take a look at the state's parliament house. Some of the detail eluded my lens, but let me explain: an enormous white, rectangular structure with striking vertical and horizontal patterns (executed with white poles) at several points around the building's exterior. According to Legislative Assembly of the Northern Territory website, this parliament house was built between 1990 and 1994, making it the newest parliament house in Australia. The design aims to accommodate Darwin's tropical climate, and "its façade across the exterior screens and defuses 80% of direct sunlight from the interior of the building".

Though the above image doesn't capture these finer points, the blinding whiteness and linear style is well represented. In addition to this, the intense blue of the sky and the almost stereotypical palm trees (the perfect repetition of which complements the building beautifully) encapsulate the eternal summer of the city. It's all just so fabulous.

kite in the clouds

2010-07-28T23:06:00.004+10:00

I usually postpone the composure of this blog until I have ample time to write something worth reading. This approach, while ensuring each post has a sizeable chunk of text attached to the image(s), means that there are sometimes substantial gaps between entries. To a certain extent I am OK with this, but when I realised that if I didn't post something tonight then it would almost certainly be another week before I got to it, I decided action must be taken.

So here is a photo with not much text, for your viewing (if not reading) pleasure. It was taken on my second roll in the F4, and it's quite nice, albeit slightly cliched.

Enjoy. (Or don't.) I'll return to my sprawling rants soon enough.

garden of eden

2010-07-16T19:35:00.016+10:00

As you will be able to see from these photos, Nightcliff Beach - like many other beaches in Darwin - is the kind of stunning scene that you might find in cringe-worthy Australian tourism campaigns. This particular day was a perfect sunny 32 degrees (as usual) - a day just begging for a refreshing dip in the sparkling blue ocean. The sand was hot underfoot, the intense sun and warm breeze brought delicate beads of sweat to the forehead and the beach was clear for as far as the eye could see - meaning we had it to ourselves. I took this shot of Maydia with the Holga before heading down to the shore to give the F4 a workout and satisfyingly touch toe to water.

And this is where it gets frustratingly complicated. See that vast, clear, oceanic paradise above? It's deserted for a reason. Due to the combined threat of saltwater crocodiles and box jellyfish, the beaches are off-limits to all but ignorant tourists and drunken locals. This is Maydia returning after indulging in a knee-deep wade (and ignoring me squealing at her to get out before she gets eaten and/or stung to death). A picturesque place that simply can't be enjoyed beyond its visual beauty.

Of course the other thing to note here is the grand introduction of my new, non-lomo camera to the fold! A few rolls have passed behind the lens so far, but this particular photo comes from my debut experimentation with 35mm slide film. Though I am happy with the quite stunning colours in this shot, I was initially perplexed by significant grain in the film. I suspect this may be due to the relatively high speed of the film (400) for such a bright outdoor scene.

After getting used to the grainy Darwin images that appeared on this 35mm slide film I have decided I quite like the tarnished effect the grain brings to the photos - I think it suits my overall impressions of the place (but more of that in my forthcoming entry on Darwin's architecture). Although I didn't take the above shot (it is of me), it conveniently reinforces the two main points of this entry: the overwhelming emptiness of the immaculate beach; and the unique technical properties of these 35mm slide photos, with their combination of strong colour and rough resolution.

So how do I feel after introducing a new format to my blog? Pleased to be able to show you all of the things I am exploring in the land of film photography. (And also pleased that blogger has decided to maintain a uniform width for all of the images. A hint, though: click through on the 35mm shots to see the necessary detail. They get really big.)

darwin: home of the b-52 bomber

2010-07-13T20:52:00.006+10:00

It's true - Darwin is home to one of only three B-52 bombers outside of the US. The massive aircraft is on display at the Australian Aviation Heritage Centre on Stuart Highway, Darwin, NT. Now, I haven't actually seen the B-52, but I know it is there because the sign out the front of the Heritage Centre told me so. And I read the sign because I was fascinated by the curiously shaped, bizarrely decorated construction, pictured above, that sits right next to the Heritage Centre. Alas, the sign didn't tell me anything about this wonderful anomaly on the otherwise bland stretch of highway, and so I am left with this image and the adjoining museum's sign as the only clues to the purpose of its existence.

The film I was using isn't my regular slide film and apparently it was a bit sneaky in its between-shot movement; as it dangled boisterously from the strap around my neck, the various knocks and bumps urged the film on half a shot so that it ended up crossing over into the adjoining exposure. I don't think the effect is awful, though, and in fact I kind of like it. Adding to its allure is the thematic link between the intertwined images:

This is another strange building on an otherwise barren stretch of road. It's a very small church that looks to be constructed entirely out of concrete or brick, which has then been painted according to a striking white and pale blue colour scheme. Its small windows look like they are stained glass, and from the roadside there even appears to be some kind of doggy-door that no grown person could fit through. Like the B-52 monument (?), this building appears to have been plonked on the side of the road with no obvious connection to anything in its immediate surroundings. Moreover, neither building looks like they could (or do) function in any practical way. My tour guide (aka my sister) was kind enough to take me on a trip especially to capture these two oddities on film, because she understood my immediate fascination with their apparent arbitrariness.

I was thrilled to experience the eccentricity of Darwin during the week I spent there. I can't imagine any other place in the world being quite like it, and I was thoroughly excited to catch a small part of it through my lenses. My various impressions of Darwin will feature over the coming posts, as will my newfound photographic equipment that I agonised over in my previous post. But tonight I thought I would just offer a couple of interesting Holga images depicting slightly surreal constructions in an extremely unique place.

me vs the toilet floor (and a contemplation of change)

2010-06-30T19:33:00.007+10:00

There are two reasons for this photo selection, which I would usually avoid seeing as it's obviously not entirely my composition: I previously alluded to the fact that I would post more toilet floor double exposures and the others are quite unflattering of my friends (who I don't wish to upset); and I am using this entry to convey some of my ideas about where endless bags of dirty laundry is heading, so it's a bit more personal and reflective than usual.

The red flash gives this image a more subtle floor effect than the white flash I have used in the past, which means it isn't as striking as previous attempts, but also means that I show up in both the black and white squares (as opposed to only black). The photo is pretty dynamic, too, thanks in equal parts to my ridiculous expression and the second-exposure photographer Ms Lenton's decision to turn the camera on an angle. Thanks Annie!

But really, there is a more pressing reason for this blog entry. I'd like to spend a little bit of time writing about myself, my ongoing adventures in photography, and also about the blog that you are reading.

OK - a confession. I have strayed from the lomo family. In a big way. I recently purchased a second-hand film SLR and have subsequently spent quite a lot of my photo-taking time with the giant machine that is the Nikon F4. Which is not to say that the Holga has been entirely neglected; I picked up two new rolls today. But it does mean that the plastic-camera output has been and will continue to be reduced.

OK - another confession. I recently acquired an iPhone and have been enthusiastically (and critically) exploring the infinite number of photo applications available. I am shielding my face in anticipation of all the proverbial backlash I am expecting - Not only is it digital, but it's a PHONE camera! I hear you cry. However, so many applications attempt to replicate the plastic camera/analogue aesthetic - some better than others - and I am fascinated by the range of results I can get. I mean, just how good can iPhone photos be? Could you replicate (or even improve) lomo photos? Given the relative costs of both methods it is a question worth considering.

I still love my Holga, but my photography interests have expanded. I want to document them, and I want to record my ongoing exploration in a public forum. The obvious question is, Can or should I post non-lomo photos on this blog? It's a tough one to answer, because I can think of very good reasons on both sides. For example, the idea of breaking the beautiful square-photo layout of the blog is a bit devastating for a pedant like me. On the other hand, if I started a new blog for my SLR (and even a few iPhoto) images, I wouldn't be able to update either blog as regularly as I'd like.

To be honest, I'm leaning towards morphing endless bags of dirty laundry into a multi-format photo blog. But I want to know what you think. Do you strongly oppose? Support? Do you even care?

Please, tell me, whoever you are. I care more than you think.

don't you think?

2010-06-15T21:59:00.003+10:00

The ironic photo is often as cringe-inducing as the song this blog post takes its title from, which is why I don't often attempt to capture irony through the lens. But on my visit to Bondi, I couldn't resist! At the risk of sounding like I belong on a certain other Sydney beach, this image is just so Australian.

No wonder Bondi Rescue never runs out of material.

la paloma

2010-06-01T22:09:00.004+10:00

Reason #1 this photo is flawed: there is light leaking in from the right hand side.

I know what you're thinking - Just photoshop it out! But let it be known that all the photos on this blog are unadultered, except to reduce the excess brightness that my cheap scanner introduces. The light isn't that bad. Just distracting.

Reason #2 this photo is flawed: the subject lacks definition.

Perhaps it would be nice if we could see his face a little better.

Reason #1 this photo is beautiful: the fabulous typography. Backwards.

Isn't that typography just a dream? Classic and superb. Its inversion makes it that much more interesting to look at.

Reason #2 this photo is beautiful: the wonderfully decrepit paint on the outer wall.

Every aspect of the cafe's exterior design recalls images of traditional (European?) towns and buildings. The great thing about the wall is that it is actually just old and peeling, rather than made to look old and peeling. It feels very authentic.

Reason #3 this photo is beautiful: taka. Looking unsettlingly calm.

Why is he just standing there? Even though I know the answer to this (which is: I asked him to), looking at him in here makes me question it every time. I don't know how he manages to look so completely disinterested in the act of being photographed, but he does it brilliantly. This makes him the perfect subject because he is wholly unfazed by the prospect of being observed - by me/the camera or by any passers-by.

Reason #1 La Paloma is worthy of documentation: its charming, understated aesthetic.

See above.

Reason #2 La Paloma is worthy of documentation: it's on my street.

And my street's great.

Reason #3 La Paloma is worthy of documentation: CHURROS.

Hands down, the absolute best churros I have ever tasted. None of this chocolate dip business, either - the long piped donuts are fried to perfection and smeared with a generous helping of rich, super-sweet condensed-milk-style caramel. Then covered in sugar. You'll never set foot in those blasphemous San Churro brothels again.

ghost kids

2010-05-25T21:18:00.005+10:00

It's fair to say that ghostly images of little ones are traditionally kind of creepy. I'm mainly thinking of horror films - you know, The Shining, The Others, The Orphanage. But I've taken a few 'ghost' (i.e. double exposure) shots of kids and I've never had that result. I don't specifically aim for eerie shots, but I'm surprised they never come out that way. Kids are supposed to be pure and good and innocent and protected, which is presumably why the image of a ghost (read: dead) child is usually a particularly sinister or tragic one.

Alas, the ghost kids I've got are quite beautiful, and not in a scary way. Take the above - it's bright and colourful, it's at the beach, she's wearing a sun hat, everyone's having a great time! (Not even the over-exposed white gives her an otherworldly presence!) Am I wrong? Is there some kind of Sixth Sense vibe that I'm missing?

Even in the old-fashioned black and white the ghost child fails to elicit chills. She's just so happy! (Incidentally, this double exposure was unintentional, and I would have loved to see the other image on its own - the one of her with her head resting on her shoulder. It probably would have been a lot more mysterious, too!) It's not that I don't like these photos, it's just that they're more Casper than Ringu, which is at odds with conventional images of ectoplasmic infants in the creative media.

Well that's it from me today - all this talk of ectoplasm has reminded me of the sheer awesomeness of The Frighteners and I'm off to YouTube that shit.

people vs walls, pt 3

2010-05-17T21:44:00.006+10:00

Looking over the scores of photos I've taken since receiving my Holga in late 2008, double-exposure portraits involving the colour flash and patterned walls stand out as being among the most successful. It's a formula I return to often precisely because the results are almost always exciting. There are a few rules I stick to in order to maximise my success rate:

1 - Use a dark colour flash for the walls (red or blue is my standard). This way you reduce the risk of losing your human subjects in the bright wall patterns.
2 - Choose a pattern that has at least some dark elements. If your wall is mostly light-coloured, those parts will be highly exposed and your faces won't show through them.
3 - Get close to your portraitees and use a white or a yellow flash. This will ensure that
a) there is enough light to capture them (being too far away with any flash is a disaster, as I have previously demonstrated), and
b) the thematic focus of the image is the portrait, while the darker-coloured wall patterns provide the figurative background.

The above photo demostrates all of these rules in action. And what a lovely photo it is! - no doubt enhanced by the gleeful smiles on my subjects' drunken faces.

While I stand by the relative reliability of the above rules, it would be short-sighted and boring of me never to challenge them. One of my most common departures from these guidelines is the employment of surfaces other than actual walls. This one was from the embroidered velvet head of a motel bed (deliciously sleazy!):

Also an excellent demonstration of the downside/upside of the white elements in patterns.

Other times, I don't alternate the colours at all. Here's an interesting one, not only due to the muted colour but also because it's not just an abstract pattern - it's very obviously a toilet floor:

But it still works. So, you see, breaking rules can be beneficial!!

Coming up: (more) people vs toilet floors. Plus! people vs their jumpers.

smile!

2010-04-28T21:24:00.004+10:00

Maybe the most common type of photo that people take is the "Hey guys! Smile!" photo, which I think could just as validly be called the facebook photo. Sometimes it's in front of a national landmark, sometimes it's with a reluctantly obliging quasi-celebrity, sometimes it includes the photographer as well as the photographer's outstretched arm. Everybody has them, and more often than not they contain a combination of bad lighting, ordinary composition, awkward facial expressions and severe red-eye-itis. Why do people insist on continually taking such unappealing photos? Three reasons: 1 - so they can tag their friends; 2 - while the images may be aesthetically unappealing, they are often treasured for the memories they capture (and besides, a lot of people aren't afflicted with the photo snobbery that I have just displayed); and 3 - occasionally, the "Hey guys! Smile!" photo avoids all the usual traps and turns out brilliantly.

I'm the first to admit that I, too, am partial to this particular type of photo for all of the reasons listed above. When my digital point-and-shoot was still around, its primary role was to click and capture after a "Hey guys! Smile" was gratuitously yelled across a room. I've also taken a lot of these photos on my lomos, usually while socialising (and often inebriated), with varying degrees of success.

On the highly successful end of the scale sits the above image, a wonderful example of a basic photo that just works. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways:

1 - It's in focus
2 - It's well lit (for a Holga flash photo) - the flash has illuminated both subjects without taking away shading
3 - The background is interesting without being overbearing
4 - The dark hair + dark jacket against the light hair + light shirt creates a lovely contrast
5 - It contains two beautifully natural (and naturally beautiful) smiles - a difficult thing to capture in a posed photo
6 - The glasses are reflection-free
7 - OK, the personal reason - this contains two lovely ladies, Min and Kate. Friends to me, but more significantly, extraordinarily good friends to one another.

This last reason was the motivation for taking the shot at all - Kate was visiting briefly from Canada and was revelling in the opportunity to spend time with her family and friends. But I also knew that she and Min were rapturously anticipating their reunion in the lead-up to Kate's visit, so I thought it would be nice to get the two of them in a shot together. And, in addition to all of the technical successes of the photo, it succeeds because I think it conveys a feeling. I mean, don't they just look so genuinely happy to be there next to one another?

Oh, and just to prove that I'm not claiming immunity to the bad "Hey guys! Smile!" shot, feast your eyes on this number:

OK, now go back to the one of Min and Kate.

browntowning

2010-04-22T21:56:00.010+10:00

There's this band in Melbourne that seems to be playing everywhere at the moment. The Tote (just before it announced its closure), The Birmingham, The Espy, Cherry, Rats, The Worker's Club, Pony - plus MySpace tells me there are upcoming support gigs for Dan Kelly and The Gin Club on the calendar. As far as I can tell, there are two reasons this band is gigging so much: 1 - This is an incredible band. Truly, amazing. 2 - Browntown is just such a good guy.

Eagle and the Worm is the combination of a motley bunch of musicians who, to my untrained ears, are damn good at what they do and, to my untrained eyes, have a brilliant time doing it. What they are doing, exactly, is largely dictated by the quiet genius of Browntown, or Jarrad Brown - the bespectacled man behind the band that seems to have become local music's new darling. There he is, above, on stage at The Tote in his green All Stars the night Eagle and the Worm debuted as a live band.

I met Jarrad about a year ago and he's one of the nicest and most unaffected musicians I have met. I reckon most other people who have met him would probably think the same thing, and maybe that explains why venues are so enthusiastic about hosting his band. I mean, who could say no to this face:

Moreover, the parts of Jarrad's personality that I have witnessed shine through brilliantly in his music - overwhelmingly positive, chilled out, a little bit psychadelic - in his own words, good times. Maybe that's why venues are so enthusiastic about hosting his band.

So when Jarrad asked me to take photos of his new band at The Tote, I instantly obliged even though I hadn't done such specific projects before and my cameras are notoriously unreliable. The gig was packed but for whatever reason people stayed away from the front of the stage. Which meant I had to shoot in full view of the entire audience. Which, on a school night with very little alcohol, meant I was pretty damn nervous. But I swallowed the nerves and persisted, shooting a couple of rolls on colour and black and white.

When the photos came back I was bitterly disappointed. Not because they were awful, but because they weren't what I wanted. They were (are) too dark, too vague, too ordinary. It took a long time to choose a photo to include here, but in the end I went with the one that showed Jarrad most clearly (which should give you an idea of the overall lack of clarity in the results). I could never really articulate the overarching thing that bugged me about these photos. But now I get it. After writing what I have just written, it seems so obvious. The photos just didn't do justice to, or fit, the music - or the bloke behind it all.

So here it is, my (semi-)public admission that I took some bad photos... when someone specifically asked me to take good photos. I cracked under pressure and let my discomfort get the better of me. (Jarrad being Jarrad, he maintained that he liked them and was ever grateful.) In order to wash the acrid taste of disappointment from my mouth, the best thing to do is to stand up, move on and write the whole thing off as a learning experience. And above all the other lessons I could take from this - and there are many - maybe the most poignant is to just relax and do what you love. If you're anything like Browntown, the results will not disappoint.

little bourke street

2010-04-15T21:40:00.007+10:00

After some recent lomo disappointments and the realisation that I need to take my plastic-camera-photography back to basics, I challenged myself to finish off a film (four shots) on the walk from the bus depot at Spencer Street Station (Southern Cross, whatever) to Michaels. Suitcase wheeling behind me and Holga rattling against my necklace with each step, I set out on Little Bourke Street looking left, right, up and down for any kind of interesting scene.

The first one I came across involved a lot of writing on a large wall, with frequently placed and evenly spaced lights jutting out above it. What attracted me most to this structure was my surprise at having never seen it before. It's just a part of the city (west of Elizabeth Street) that I don't venture to very often. What attracts me most to this photo is the angle and the lights. What surprises me most about this photo is that it's evidently a monument to K-Rudd's 'sorry' speech - I was so taken with the aesthetics that I didn't even bother to read the words when I took it!

A bit boring, this one. At the time the sun was creating very sharp shading across the buildings and I thought it might be interesting. But I (once again) forgot that my camera wouldn't capture such fine detail.

At this point I knew I was struggling for a good shot. Two photos left. Two opportunities to get something nice. Or curious. Or surprising. Or blog-worthy.

Again, building + light + sky. This image reveals one of the drawbacks of having a viewfinder that doesn't see exactly what the lens sees - no amount of second-guessing will guarantee a perfect composition. You can see what I was going for... just didn't quite pull it off. Still, I don't think it's awful.

One photo left. Hmm. So far, the subjects haven't really been representative of the variety to be found along the Little Street. So far, it has just been looking up at mostly boring buildings. OK, stop looking up.

Again, kind of boring. Having said that, it is a scene that can be found in or just off most of the CBD's streets and lanes; for every dingy laneway with a dirty-chic bar full of hipsters and colourful (or socially relevant) street art there are a handful of dingy laneways or alleys that are just, well, dingy. Forgotten bluestone, upturned milk crates, ordinary grafitti, discarded club flyers, broken booze bottles - it's part of the city and, more specifically, part of Little Bourke Street.

The very next alley had vibrant, unique grafitti displayed lovingly all over the wall, and I considered shooting it before deciding that the dingy alley was a truer, edgier depiction of the city. Who needs pretty when I have dirty? What do I want with that flashy alley, the kind that would probably end up in some trend-a-rama tourist guide to Melbourne? My alley was hardcore. I had to risk any number of depravities - put myself at the mercy of any number of unsavoury alley-dwelling characters - just walking in there to get the shot. Yeah, I was totally keepin' it real, bitches.

Besides, I had finished my film.

as the winter months approach

2010-04-05T20:47:00.004+10:00

When March draws to a close and those crisp autumn nights send Victorians reaching for jumpers and boots, I am usually ready for the cool. The intense heat of the Melbourne summer has traditionally left me craving winter clothes (scarves, gloves, coats) and a winter city (cafes, umbrellas, footy) by the time Easter rolls around. For the first time in many years, however, I find myself lamenting the loss of the balmy nights, the bare legs, the sweat, the heady romance. Maybe it's because my winter wardrobe leaves a bit to be desired. Maybe it's because I prefer cider to coffee. Maybe it's because I'm a Demons supporter.

Or maybe it's because winter means that the above scene - family cricket on a sunny day in a glorious field of ebullient dandelions - is simply not possible.

I know that I will revel in the many shades of winter black I can add to my wardrobe. I know that I will cherish wrapping my hands gently around a Max Brenner hug cup of liquid chocolate on an icy day. And I am sure that I won't care about the cold when, at least a couple of times this season, the siren blows at the MCG and the Dees are up. I know that Melbourne is an incredible winter city. But I also know that right from the beginning, I'll be longing for those magnificent balmy nights.

hungry?

2010-03-30T21:58:00.004+11:00

I reckon this burger could fill a pretty decent hole.

The great thing about this shot is that the absence of any explanation or analysis makes it exponentially more interesting and absurd.

(The end.)

people vs walls, pt 2

2010-03-24T21:53:00.003+11:00

The combination of a beautiful wall and a beautiful person is a great one. Positioning people in front of striking patterned or textured walls for black and white portraits can yield gorgeous results. But I have discovered that there are other ways to incorporate walls into portraits. For example, instead of positioning the subject in front of the wall, why not place them in the wall?

We were in Koko Black in the city, sitting upstairs by one of the stunning semi-circle windows that looks out over Royal Arcade's classic black and white tiled floor. The room's dark wooden and leather decor radiates a winter comfort, incorporating a lot of irresistable deep brown floral wallpaper. It's elegant, and it's warm. And it matches my mum perfectly - visually and figuratively.

I have taken other photos of people in walls, which have been highly successful for the most part. I may post them another time. But for now this photo stands on its own. For several reasons I feel this is one of the best and most unique images my Holga has produced. And so it is, as it is, as it should be.

colour and shape or: how i learned to stop worrying and love the plastic

2010-03-16T21:35:00.006+11:00

While I am still unhappy about the poor standard of my latest rolls, there will be no actual smashing of plastic. Here is one of the (very few) images I got back that I am fond of. It took me a long time to work out what is pictured in the photo, and when I did figure it out I realised that it actually doesn't matter.

I took this because I was at an event and wanted to get some photographic evidence. But there is nothing in this image that can be obviously linked to the event - which leads me to the question, Why only take photos at noteworthy moments? I have taken many photos of ordinary things at ordinary moments in the past, but lately I have only been exercising the cameras during outings of some description - day trips, gigs, visits. And perhaps this is more of the same problem; as I lamented in my last post, these cameras are not always capable of standard photographic fare. I should stop expecting them to be, and instead allow them to capture strange combinations of striking hues and unpredictable patterns such as those displayed above. I have to accept that the cameras operate with a certain level of autonomy.

Possibly, this resurrected philosophy will prevent any future post-Michaels mini-meltdowns. Possibly.

excuse me while i smash some plastic

2010-03-09T21:42:00.012+11:00

It is a common belief that a good chef, when faced with a bad dish of her own creation, should never blame her tools. Instead, she should accept responsibility for the mediocre meal and acknowledge that her cooking instruments are merely a practicality; a way to get from egg whites and sugar to meringue. I have always subconsciously subscribed to this belief and its counterparts (carpenters and hammers, musicians and guitars, lawyers and the law), but lately I have been wondering, What if her oven is inherently flawed and consistently inconsistent? Is it really her fault if a temperamental thermostat causes her souffles to fall?

In the past, I have acknowledged that the plastic cameras I use are in fact flawed, and that I must accept their limitations in order to maximise their potential. And I have tried in earnest to work with these limitations, often with significant success. But there are times, like tonight, when I pick up a new roll or two and wonder why the hell I am throwing so much of my money into something that so often disappoints me, despite my best efforts to avoid any obvious lomo traps.

Take the above photo. My lovely family and I spent a picturesque weekend in the Dandenong Ranges, taking in the towering greenery and general peace that pervades the area. This image was supposed to capture the serenity of the surrounds and, more significantly, to get my mum, dad and sister in a shot together. I know Diana has a tendency to cut people's heads off (the discrepancy between the viewfinder's view and that of the lens is significant), so I aimed higher. I knew the shade of the tree would throw the lighting out, so I opened the lens up and used a fill-in flash. Even with this considered approach, though, I ended up with the kind of murky mess you might expect to see come out of a child's first roll of film. What could I have done to avoid this?, I have been asking myself. And the only thing I can come up with is Accept that Diana can't handle shaded mid-shot portraits. What kills me is that I can see just enough to know that this photo would have been gorgeous had it been captured properly.

The detail and texture in this wall - which is made from pieces of doors - looked so beautiful as we sat in an eatery with the afternoon light pouring in through the open shopfront. There's enough light, I thought. Even though it's inside, and the Holga has traditionally done a bad job with natural light inside? Yes, look at the light, it's really bathing the whole scene. Maybe a flash would be good? No, it will ruin the way the natural light falls on the wall. There's definitely enough light.

THERE WASN'T ENOUGH LIGHT. And so much for the texture in the wall. What could I have done to achieve the desired effect? Unfortunately the only answer to this question is Use a better camera.

The scene and the colours were so beautiful, so achingly beautiful, that I put Brodie in the potentially uncomfortable position of moving seats around in public to very obviously pose for me. Slide film will make the blue of the sky sing! The red flower in her hair will be a glorious contrast! The composition will be delicate, subtle, and will capture Brodie exactly as I think she should be! It isn't often that I am so sure of a photo.

I almost cried when I saw this. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?! The sky is overexposed. This, I suppose, comes down to bad judgement on my part; I probably had the shutter speed set to "cloudy" instead of "sunny". But I'm quite sure the composition I tried to achieve had the whole flower within the margins. And I have never - never! - experienced blurriness due to camera movement. (I'm almost certain it's not just out of focus because if that were true, the background at least would be in focus.) Is this some awful new trait of Diana's? I mean, just how long did the shutter stay open for?

There is some suspicion in my mind that this is actually an OK-looking photo as it is. But there is no way for me to tell. All I see when I look at this is the perfect image that it should always have been.

I've taken photos of bands at the Birmy before, and they have almost always been successful. There isn't much I can say about this photo that can't be concluded just by looking at the thing. Too dark, too blurry, too bloody awful. Again, some may see something worthwhile in its strange imagery, but all I see is a giant fail.

At times like this, the siren song of the digital camera is never more alluring. The fact that I picked up these photos the very day before my shopping-spree work bonus hits my bank account is probably not a good thing at all.

the floating cafe

2010-02-25T21:58:00.004+11:00

Apparently this is a rather famous cafe in Sydney. Or at least, its parent cafe in Woolloomooloo is famous, being a known celebrity-slash-tourist attraction, and also being listed on the National Trust register. It's called Harry's Cafe de Wheels, and its culinary specialty is something called a 'Pie Floater', involving a meat pie, tomato sauce and mushy green pea soup.

But I couldn't care less about the fecal-sounding menu, or how many times Elton John ordered from it in the seventies. To be honest, I never even laid eyes on the 'original' Harry's, nor do I have any great desire to. What I do care about is the lovely little shoebox eatery pictured above, which sits unassumingly at the foot of the grand Capitol Theatre in the (outer?) CBD. As soon as I set eyes on this architetural anomaly I just knew I needed to get a picture. Its irresistable typography and romantically sweeping asymmetrical roof cry out to be celebrated and commemorated on film.

Beyond my admiration of its mid-twentieth-century Americana aesthetic (no doubt related to my unabashed love of carny chic) is my joyous surprise at discovering a permanent fixture in the city that is, paradoxically, inherently temporary. I mean, the thing's on wheels! It recalls the Mr Whippy ice cream van that haunts the Arts Centre stretch of Melbourne's St Kilda Road. Unlike the ominous icy-treats van, however, Harry's never goes away.

I don't recall a black and white medium format picture of mine that has ever looked so dreamy. I like to think my camera responded to the otherworldly vision in front of its lens. As one observer remarked upon seeing this image, it looks like it's floating. And I tend to agree - floating in time, floating in space, floating in a city that sometimes seems to be drowning in its own bigness.

I don't know what your Pie Floaters are like Harry, but I really dig your style.

people vs walls

2010-02-13T18:15:00.010+11:00

There's nothing I love more, photographically speaking, than a good portrait. When I talk to someone in the same spot for long enough I will invariably consider how they might look on film in that moment. Sometimes the answer is like shit, but sometimes if I have my camera on me I decide that a shot is definitely warranted. When James and a few others were in conversation over dinner in early 2009 I noticed how lovely the seat backing was, and snapped with the hope of capturing that and his beautiful smile. When photographing people - particularly when you're only prepared to chance one shot on them - it is hit and miss as to whether the result will be any good. I think this one was a hit.

This is not necessarily a miss, but I do regret the (lack of) focus and the break in the wallpaper to the left. What is visible of the wallpaper looks great, though, and I think it's a lovely shot of Madeleine. The fact that it was taken on her seventeenth birthday makes it even more momentous.

I suppose the notion of a busy background in a portrait seems like it might detract from the subject, which I have no doubt is a common occurrence. Perhaps the reason I don't find that in these shots is because they are black and white, so the backgrounds are only as busy as their patterns, rather than colours. (The graffiti shot of Laird is another great people vs wall shot - in this case the background actually complements the portrait as it's one of Laird's favourite, and most frequented, alleys in Melbourne.)

I have only made one attempt at these shots in colour, and I love it - but I don't think it's necessarily successful as a portrait. The combination of the surreal colour and the black-as-night sunglasses dehumanises it, so while the image is aesthetically pleasing, it doesn't reveal much about the subject.

I was immediately disappointed with taka's eyes being closed when I got this back, following my logic that eyes are a crucial element of a good portrait. Then I looked at it a bit more, and within a few hours I was in love with this image. The photo collage makes for a fabulously unusual background, and the bright flash around his head combined with the vignetting around the trim gives the shot a great sense of depth. It's hard to put my finger on the reason I grew to appreciate the closed eyes - perhaps because it doesn't necessarily look like it's a blink (though it was), so there are an infinite number of conclusions that can be drawn. Is he deep in thought? Is he rejecting the photographer's request to take his picture? Is he upset? Or resting? Or listening to something? What? It seems that closed eyes can prompt as many questions as open eyes.

Analysis aside, another reason this is a treasured image is because it captures a common weekend occurrence: 2am, Brunswick Street, pizza slices. Taka is drunk and sleepy, and he happens to be standing in front of a great looking wall. And maybe it's as simple as that.