now playing: bat for lashes - trophy
memory
There is nothing new except what has been forgotten. - Marie Antoinette
Over: Bee Brady
Under: me
Bee Brady and I were paired for the first time in this round of The Divine Diptych Project, and Marico Fayre distributed some lovely and inspiring quotes for us to work with in creating our images.
Attributed to Marie Antoinette, the phrase kept circling through my mind as I was shooting a series of self-portraits in the bathroom at my friends' apartment in Edinburgh last month.
The memory aspect hinted at by the quote played a part in my thoughts, but for me it also spoke of the repeating cycles that we go through in life. The way that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Or that perhaps the more you think things have changed, that you have changed, that often you find yourself back in the same place, a place you have tried to avoid and steer clear of for so long, but before you realise it you are falling back into.
Though both of our images are somewhat overwhelming in terms of detail and objects in the images, I feel it suits the theme, as memory is like that: overwhelming, cluttered, complicated and messy. Every time you recall a specific moment or place you remember more or different aspects, and there is often too much to take in to really remember everything as clearly as you'd like to think you do.
I enjoy the various references to memory and nostalgia in Bee's image: the mirrors, the camera, the clock, the candelabra, the vintage items. The sense of reflection and angles, and being submerged in the moment.
now playing: simple minds - don't you (forget about me)
100 people - #23: Mel
As is often the case, I don't remember the exact particulars of virtually meeting Mel Brackstone and first coming across her work, but as we mixed in the same RedBubble circles, it was inevitable that we would meet.
Her photography initially centred around landscapes (particularly seascapes), but over the years has expanded to incorporate humans and the human body, both those of her friends and models, and herself.
When I moved to Brisbane we organised to meet one day: myself, Mel, Kelly and one of Kelly's friends. After an early morning wander with Kelly around Redland Bay, the day was primarily spent sifting through op shops in Carindale, then lunch; after which myself and Mel adjourned to an abandoned property soon expected to be demolished near Eight Mile Plains, where I took le moribund.
On another occasion Mel and I met to shoot in her mother's house, which was being put on the market for sale, where I took this portrait of her with a Lensbaby Mel let me try out on my D50.
In all my dealings with Mel, I've found her to be extremely generous with her knowledge and happy to help others, and as equally voracious in her enthusiasm to learn more. She's always keen to learn how a new technique, a new piece of equipment, a new processing trick will help her achieve what she is after conceptually.
I always enjoy seeing what new avenue her work has taken, though I may now spend a lot less time around The Bubble than I have in times past.
now playing: lou rhodes - this love
100 people - #22: Aaron
Where Catherine is a whirlwind of thoughts, words and movement, her boyfriend Aaron is often the quiet observer sitting by listening to what is being said, and occasionally interjecting.
From time to time he will take control of the conversation and speak animatedly about a particular subject or situation, but most of the time he's just content to be.
He and Catherine were both heavily involved in building the large kit home on Aaron's family's property in Wombeyan Caves, that overlooks an amazing view over an area at the base of the Blue Mountains in New South Wales.
He was keen to show us around the property - the site of the old home, the waterfalls, and the edge of the property overhanging the valley. I was not so keen on the latter two, involving extreme heights, so settled for the first.
I snapped Aaron contemplating the view whilst we relaxed with a few drinks one afternoon after some exploring.
now playing: pulp - sorted for e's & wizz
100 people - #21: Catherine
I met Catherine in year 10 when I moved to Stawell and started at the local high school. We hit it off pretty much straight away.
She was pretty, intelligent, articulate, a talented illustrator and photographer, very into music and a very good friend. Over the years, very little has changed.
Despite our respective movements around Australia (both of us) and the UK (me), and the odd loss of contact here and there, we have managed to keep our friendship alive.
We were always willing subjects for each others' various assignments: I acted in her TAFE black & white 16mm film (which I wish I had been able to see!); she let me drape her in chains and seaweed (on separate occasions).
We have both been supportive and encouraging of each others' art, whether it be visual or literary.
During my road trip with Philip Ivens through the eastern states of Australia, we were lucky enough to arrange to meet Catherine and her partner, Aaron, to spend a long Easter weekend on Aaron's family's property, Shady Rest, in Wombeyan Caves at the base of the Blue Mountains in New South Wales.
The time spent there was a great opportunity for me to catch up with Catherine and Aaron, but also turned out to be a very inspiring one, with the old home site at my disposal to shoot self-portraits and other photographs amongst what was left of the previous home. I felt very spoilt.
During my time there, I only managed to snap a few shots of Catherine. She is animated to the point that finding a moment of calm in her is often impossible. Her mind and her body move at a rate of knots most of the time.
And though usually I would avoid shots like these; shots where someone is playing up to the camera, and specifically dropping into a defensive stance - the single finger salute taking centre stage - I think this actually sums up Catherine quite well in some respects.
She is done with the niceties of life. She doesn't really care too much what you think about her and how she lives her life. She's all about being in the moment and living her life the way she wants to. And she does.
now playing: r.e.m. - be mine
clutch
The imprints of your fingers leave their mark on my neck like a psychologist's ink stains.
I still feel your fingertips, gently but firmly holding me. My neck, my waist. Exploring, investigating, supporting, caressing, teasing.
In the darkness I can imagine they still sear my skin; still seek me out.
That you're not thousands of miles away, and so far from my touch.
Why, sometimes I've imagined as many as six impossible things before breakfast.
now playing: bjork - aeroplane
work is the curse of the drinking classes
I returned to London today after spending a few days in Paris with Victoria, a friend from Australia who was in my hemisphere all too briefly, and who invited me to join her in Paris in an apartment overlooking Parmentier Metropolitain station.
We spent about 2.5 days together wandering around Paris. Our first stop, on our first afternoon there, being Pere Lachaise cemetery. Though I’ve been to Paris twice before: the first time with my family on a ‘round the world’ holiday in 1991/92; the second on a ‘team-building’ day out with my work colleagues in 2001, I hadn't yet had a chance to visit this icon of cemeteries.
My obsession with cemeteries began only a few short weeks after my first visit to Paris. My family and I went on a tour of one of the major cemeteries in New Orleans and I fell in love. I would have to hunt through records to confirm 100% which cemetery it was, but it was majestic, full of mausoleums (above ground burial is compulsory in New Orleans because of the swampland) and full of history.
On my second visit to Paris, with co-workers, I didn't feel comfortable asking if we could wander amongst the dead so I could take photos, though we did wander freely through Pigalle (admittedly in the ‘downtime’ of daylight hours).
So when Victoria sent me details of the apartment she had booked, the home of an American musician who was back home on holidays, and I saw it was near Pere Lachaise Cemetery, I was pleased to find she was as keen as I was to visit this fantastic cemetery.
Visiting there during intermittent rain on Sunday afternoon, we wandered amongst the elaborate mausoleums and statues and even met a ‘local’, a lovely man with the surname Papillon who was visiting his late wife and showed us her grave.
We both managed to get numerous photographs of various resting places in the cemetery and we decided to forgo visiting Jim Morrison, but dropped in to see Oscar Wilde on our way out.
The few days we spent in Paris were really enjoyable: wandering around the city without getting too caught up in the tourist fray. Apart from Pere Lachaise Cemetery, the closest we got to tourist spots was Montmartre's Place du Tertre and Basilique du Sacre Coeur, both of which I'd visited before.
I found the Metro quite easy to navigate (especially with the assistance of an app on my iPhone), and actually felt much less daunted by the city than I expected, even with my limited knowledge of the French language (I recognise far more words in written form than I would ever understand spoken to me!)
One of the highlights of our trip was totally fortuitous: we had bypassed a cafe in the Marais area after quailing at the sight of the line for the free Impressionist exhibition at Hotel de Ville, and stumbled into Le Pick-Clops, a cafe down a side street, to grab a hot chocolate and a tea out of the rain, on Tuesday. Speaking broken French to the waitress, I was embarrassed to realise she was actually American, but she was very helpful with suggestions of places to while away our rainy day, including Jeu de Paume where we were exposed to the self-portraiture of Claude Cahun.
The only downside to the trip is the amount of weight I may have put back on from indulging in copious amounts of cheese and bread and wine. Even with all that walking, I possibly overdid it!
now playing: the dead milkmen - beach party vietnam
where the light plays
now playing: lamb - darkness
femme vérité
Aaron Hobson's work came to my attention in late 2007. He and I exchanged messages about Crewdson, LaChapelle, Sherman and, of course, self-portraiture.
Nicknamed The Cinemascapist, Hobson creates panoramic film stills for semi-autobiographical films that have never been made. From his bio: "Hobson's work is created by combining several sequential, vertical images, thereby offering more visual information and an obscured rendition of any moment depicted by a single image."
His images, predominantly set in various locations in the remote Adirondack Mountains where he is based, often feature the photographer as multiple characters and have a way of slowly sinking in: the full details of the images are not always immediately obvious but most rewarding when you do absorb all the clues laid before you. His attention to all those little details, his use of light and locations to full effect, and his ability to create believable characters playing their part in intriguing narratives makes the images both beautiful and mysterious. Though the format of his site has changed since my first visit (previously the images spanned the full width of the browser window), the impact of the images is still strong at their reduced size.
There is a sinister edge to his first three "seasons", dark, even darker and winter, and I suspect the darkness that permeates his work thus far will continue into his new season, femme vérité.
And this is where, for me, his work becomes even more interesting. Hobson's new season involves the wiry, tattooed man transforming himself into female characters for narratives based on the encounters and the lives he has shared with various women.
From the early images appearing on his blog, such as the above image, new beginnings, (and subsequently, complacent and go away), as I had suspected, there is no sense of the lampooning of women or female self-portrait artists. Simply, an artist pushing his work into new areas without observing the limitations of gender when selecting his roles.
I look forward to seeing the series unfold.