Pure brilliance

There is a performer in Melbourne who is so incredible I am almost at a loss for words.

This entertainer is a genius with the make-up brush and her creativity in the art of stage make-up knows no bounds. Her lip-sync prowess has to be seen to be believed and her mastery of facial expressions leaves me breathless with dreamlike awe or in fits of giggles. And I haven’t even touched on her costumes and wigs!

When the opportunity arises I cannot resist going to see her perform and, as you might expect, I take my camera with me. Friday night was an opportunity that nearly passed me by, but a fortuitous, if somewhat late, Facebook message found me back at a Fitzroy drag bar for the second week in a row, to see the genius that is Art Simone up on stage with the wonderful Karen From Finance. They were ‘on fire’ Friday night.

Art Simone………you are divine.

 

 

What is it capable of?

I’m not a big fan of swapping lenses. I like to put one on my Nikon and keep using it for as long as possible. I did this with my 50mm 1.8 lens when I bought it. It lived on my Nikon D5100 and I worked within its capabilities until I upgraded to the D750. I then purchased my Tamron 24-70 zoom lens which has been living on the D750 ever since, purely because of the versatility it offers me. I can get good wide-angle/landscape shots and it lets me zoom in that bit closer for portraits.

Then I felt the desire to shoot macro and lashed out on the Nikon 105mm 2.8 macro lens but it only comes out on special occasions. Wednesday and a dragonfly was one such special occasion. I could never have achieved the image I did with a standard zoom lens or even the 50mm prime.

But now I have the bug. I want to play with the 105mm and only the 105mm.

I want to do more macro. I want to see what it can do with portraits. I’m going to challenge myself to see what I can get with this lens. I know that it will mean more work for me because I will be forced to move myself to get the shot I want, but the beauty of a prime lens is the clarity it brings to your images. I love my 50mm for that reason. The images are just………better.

Let’s see how long my dedication to this challenge lasts.

 

Stop what you are doing and get your camera!!

I had a choice tonight. Keep folding the washing or go and grab my Nikon D750, change the lens over to the Nikon 105mm macro and hope that the dragonfly would still be where he had landed after I had unconsciously and unceremoniously flicked him off a dry sock. (I wasn’t wearing my glasses and I thought he was some grass clipping debris.)

Guess what I chose to do?

I think I have lost a bit of my photography mojo because I asked myself the question. There shouldn’t have even been a question. It should have been automatic. But I think the doubt was there. Would the dragonfly still be sitting on the paver when I returned armed with my trusty Nikon and the macro lens?

Thankfully for all concerned, he was still there and he was very patient, even when the dog in his “Ooooo mummy….what are you doing on the ground? Can I help?” mode, walked on him.

Who else understands the trials of photo taking when the animals or children want to ‘help’?  Honestly, don’t you just want to swear a lot?

Then………..because this creature was being so patient (I was thinking that he might have been dying.) I thought I might up the ante and try shooting him on a plain white background. If he behaved.

So back inside I race to grab some white paper from the printer and proceed to manoeuvre the very obliging creature onto said white copy paper which I had placed in the late afternoon sunlight and out of the reach of the bloody ‘helpful’ dogs. All the while praying for two things. One: that the insect would not fly away and Two: that the insect would not fly or jump directly at me because I would very likely scream hysterically and the chance of damage to my beautiful Nikon was high.

As you can probably ascertain from the photo I was able to take a marvellous shot of this delicate creature and the combination of white paper, delicious sunlight and my gorgeous macro lens enabled me to capture the most delectable shadows of the intricate lacework of its wings. (How’s THAT for a sentence?)

I’m very glad that my photography self yelled at my domestic duty self. Sometimes you need to give yourself a stern talking to.

 

 

 

Self-portrait

The self-portrait; as distinct from the ‘selfie’.

A sign of narcissism? An inflated ego? A shout to the world “Look at me!”? Or something else?

I was at the Geelong Art Gallery yesterday to have a look at the Archibald Prize contestants and winners and I was amazed at the number of self-portraits. Initially, I thought nothing of it, but as I prepared an album to share on Facebook a thought came to me and I feel the need to flesh this thought out a bit more.

The self-portrait. It takes a lot of courage to see yourself honestly and convey your true self.

As a model/sitter for a painter or photographer you can only hope that the artist does you justice and conveys back to you an image that you find pleasing. But what happens when you are your own model?

All of a sudden you are required to look at who you are. To see the reflection of the person you show to the rest of the world. You have to look beyond the exterior and see into your eyes. What do they say? Do they tell the story of a content and happy individual? Are years of doubt and depression indelibly etched into the pigment of your iris? Are the eyes looking back at you from the mirror filled with anger or love or compassion or hate?

Has your skin really aged that way? When did you start to develop those lines and pigmentation that you so despised in your mother and father? Surely you were going to look after yourself better than them. ‘Slip, Slop, Slap’ and all the potions and cremes that the advertising industry can guilt you into buying so that you will retain your youthful glow.

Where did that bump come from? That isn’t the body you thought you had. The body you imagine is taller. The body you dream in has grace and elegance. The body you fantasise you have looks incredible naked. Who is this?! Why is there not a thigh-gap? Where is that six-pack abdomen? My goodness….are they man-boobs? Have those toes always looked like claws?

Before you can paint or photograph yourself you have to accept yourself.

Is there anything more confronting than that?

 

 

 

 

Putting it in perspective

Yesterday I had a birthday. Suddenly I am no longer 50. I am now 51.

I began to think about how I felt about being 51 and I wasn’t sure that I liked it. Fifty is such a statement age. “I am 50.”  I owned it.

Now I’m fifty……….one.

I would have to say that my year of being fifty was the best year of my life. As my best and dearest friend said to me as she came to grips with her own fiftieth birthday (I am paraphrasing here as I didn’t record her exact words); “I feel like a fine wine that has been put away till it was ready. And now it’s time to drink it and enjoy.”

By god, did I open my ‘matured’ bottle of wine and drink. I drank with gusto. So much so that the hangover of my excessive exuberance is still pervading my life. I don’t want the joy of the last twelve months to end. There is no reason that it should end, or even diminish, other than my attitude to life changing and I can’t see that happening.

My reticence at turning 51 was put into perspective though when I began to edit the photos from a birthday I was asked to shoot a week ago. The birthday girl was 100.

100

A woman who was born at the end of one world war, who has lived through another world war, a depression, seen a man land on the moon, witnessed the development of worldwide communication through phones and the internet, seen the eradication of polio and is a mother, grandmother and now a great-grandmother…….

I’ll bet my bottom dollar she didn’t flinch when she turned 51.

With that I vow to keep the momentum of the past twelve months going.

I’m 51!!!

Time

There are too few seconds in a minute

not enough minutes in an hour

never enough hours in a day

scarcely enough days in the week

never enough weeks in a month

too few months in a year.

 

All I wanted was for 2018 to go a little bit slower than 2017 but instead it is racing along at breakneck speed. I have so many things I am trying to accomplish and achieve that I am losing my mind as quickly as I am losing the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks and months.

Tonight I stopped to take a breath. It is only a short breath, but a breath it is. I haven’t managed to slow the passing of time or add extra seconds to the upcoming few minutes, however I can feel the rotation of my thoughts reduce speed momentarily.

 

 

Who are you?

Who is this person reflected back at me from the mirror?

I do not recognise you.

Where is the face full of doubt and uncertainty that I know so well?

When did that sense of inadequacy disappear?

When did your eyes begin to show this self-confidence?

What has enabled you to wash away the countenance of fear?

I do not recognise you.

But I think I like you.

Can you share with me your secret?

Is there a story that should be told?

Who are you?

 

Autumn

Even though the last week has seen me coughing and spluttering and with barely any voice thanks to some delightful cold germs that I picked up from some bloody snotty-nosed child, I still made my way out to “Montsalvat” in Eltham to see the opening of the Dapper Rabbit exhibition by my photography friend Julie Powell.

I’ve never travelled out to this wonderful place before, but I expect that this will not be my only visit. Quite the photographer’s and artists heaven. Art and sculpture everywhere. Plus the pretty gardens.

And the weather yesterday was simply spectacular. In the last few days of autumn, when you would be expecting the days to be getting colder, we were treated to glorious sunshine and blue skies.

All I wanted to do was capture that glory.

I think I managed to. 🙂

Red

The light is warm.

It is both sensual and comforting.

Though the vermilion light conjures up shameful thoughts of brothels and nefarious deeds, this is no ‘red light district’.

Relaxation and calm.

Gentle breath.

Close my eyes.

Peace.

So what if I’m in my car!!!

Before I get into the whys and wherefores of today’s blog, can anyone tell me why Flinders Lane is called Flinders Lane. Why doesn’t it follow the pattern of the other streets in the grid? It’s Collins Street then Little Collins, Bourke Street then Little Bourke. Shouldn’t it have started with Flinders Street then Little Flinders?

But I do digress.

The other day I was driving down Flinders Lane, heading out of my marvellous Melbourne after a full day of photography work…….

I’m going to digress again.

I can hardly say that I was driving down Flinders Lane because the traffic was moving so slowly I could have got out of my car and taken the above photo from a dozen different angles before leisurely returning to the driver’s seat and inching forward a few more metres.

Anyhoo………….

I was sitting patiently in my stationary vehicle when I happened to glance to my left and spot these two rough and ready buskers propped on milk crates on the footpath outside a cafe. There was so much activity around them, but they were oblivious to everything except their conversation and their instruments.

Fortunately for me, my camera bag was on the passenger seat beside me and all I had to do was whip out the camera, wind down the window and wait for the moment where I had inched forward enough in my car to get a shot that was as clear of the bicycles as possible.

So what if I was in my car. So what if I felt like I was some paparazzi. One does what one has to do to get the shot one wants.