after the deluge | a boatman’s call
Well behind schedule, I thought I’d let you know two of my collages from this year’s The 100 Day Project were included in issue #101, open theme, of F-Stop Magazine.
The selection of images in issue #101 is well worth perusing.
untitled #84 [ribblehead viaduct, ribblehead, north yorkshire, england, 2012]
The internet: Today is World Photography Day!
Me: Every day is World Photography Day in my world…
annunciation
This is another image from a new series I'm tentatively titling stained glass.
The first image I shared, in case you missed it, is pietà, interrupted.
It may seem like a straightforward, perhaps bland, title for a series of photographs of stained glass windows but - like many of the images themselves - it's actually more layered.
Although the central subjects of the images are, unsurprisingly, stained glass windows, many of the photos from the series also make the glass appear 'stained' by the outside world:
the sky and/or trees may be visible through or reflected in the stained glass
adjacent mausoleums may be visible through the stained glass
the view of the stained glass might be obscured by elements of and in the mausoleum
parts of the glass might be missing or damaged
I'm not generally one for explaining my image or series titles. I often prefer a certain level of ambiguity and to see if the viewer 'gets my drift'.
I love words and language, especially puns, double entendre and euphemism, as you may have noticed. But sometimes I feel simple titles convey more than you might initially realise.
I'd be interested to know what you think about the series title. Do you think it's:
Deceptively simplistic and too bland?
Works when you know my thought process?
Do you think you would have related the title to my thoughts above based on the two images from the series I've shared so far?
graeme and margaret hyde (photographer unknown)
It’s still an hour or so away from 15 August in London, but it’s already my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary in Australia.
Unfortunately, my brothers and I can’t celebrate the day with my parents in person. My parents are in Tasmania, my brothers are in stage 4 lockdown in Melbourne, and I’m on the other side of the world.
They may not even be able to celebrate the day together after all. Though it would be hit and miss as to whether my mum would know my dad today if he can visit her in her nursing home.
So today is bittersweet. But still cause for celebration of the half-century of love, laughter, family, travel and more that my parents have shared and that I’ve been a witness to for 43 years.
Unfortunately, I don’t have access to any of their wedding photos here in London. My brother, Peter, snapped a pic of this photo from their albums a couple of years ago.
If I recall correctly, it was taken at a dinner party while they were dating or around the time they got engaged.
My dad appears to be in mid-blink, but it captures their happiness for all that.
Happy 50th anniversary Mum and Dad
I love you both xxx
still water
He gazed out over the still water, eagerly anticipating the feeling of the cool liquid on his feet.
The water was so still. It reflected the trees around it perfectly with barely a ripple. He desperately looked forward to changing that.
Not that he didn't enjoy seeing the water so calm and perfect. But he always enjoyed getting his feet wet and watching the way the water rippled behind him and his siblings.
But for now, he had to cool his feet in the dirt on the side of the lake. His mother flapped about bringing his brothers and sisters back into line.
There were feathers to be smoothed. Little ones to calm and coax as they were still becoming accustomed to the water against their bellies. To paddling their way across the lake.
At times like this, he wished he were able to set out on his own and venture forth to pockets along the other side of the lake he'd not yet had the chance to explore. To leave them all behind and set out on his own.
But as the oldest, he had to set an example. He had to follow his mother's orders so the younger ones would too. It was safer for them that way. He recalled how his older siblings had kept him in line in the past.
He joined his mother in bringing the brood together. He herded his siblings into some sort of organised formation, ready to set out upon the water. He helped his mother by counting them to ensure none had ducked away to avoid their daily practice.
They all seemed to be accounted for.
He poked his beak under their feathers. He ruffled them a little in readiness for their afternoon commute. They wouldn't go far, and it wouldn't take long. But some needed to feel protected while they gained confidence in the water.
Their feathers were all fluffy and soft. His had long passed that stage. He had a more defined colour and look about him.
He spread his wings to show off his plumage to his siblings. Show them what they should aspire to. What they would become, soon enough.
One of his sisters nipped at his wing as he brought them back to his sides. She always had to bring him back to earth. He could be a bit of a dreamer and a braggart. But she always kept him in line.
He quacked in her face in retaliation. She took a step back; remembering her place.
Although he asserted his strength and superiority, he secretly knew she was the better swimmer. She was more adept at finding food under the water's surface even when the whole flock disturbed its serenity as they passed. There was unspoken respect between them for their unique qualities and place within the family.
Finally, it seemed their mother might be ready to lead the charge across the water. She fluffed her feathers and raised her voice to rouse the younger ones. To increase their confidence in the water.
He watched as she took one last march up and down the entourage. She straightened a feather here, lifted a beak there. Nudged the webbed feet of another. And then she appeared satisfied they may proceed onto the serene surface without making any unnecessary disturbance to it.
She waddled to the head of the line and gently stepped into the ankle-deep water before setting off gently across the lake. Her children followed. Some more confidently than others, but all of them obedient and remaining in line.
She shepherded them along the lake, taking them into the centre; the deeper part of the lake. She dipped her beak under the water. She fished, making sure her movements were clear and deliberate. Easy to follow by her children following her.
After a while, she slipped to the side of the long line of ducks and observed them as they passed. She watched them closely and coaxed those who needed it.
He proudly paraded past her, paddling under the water so smoothly that the water around him remained unbroken. He couldn't help but be proud of his talents in this arena. He'd practised hard to get this good.
The fishes swimming below didn't stand a chance. Every now and again he would suddenly break the surface of the water with his beak and snatch up a perfect catch. Sometimes he shared it with his nearest sibling. Other times he gobbled it up whole; proud of his prowess.
He looked about him at the still water and the overhanging trees and thought how lucky he was. How idyllic this place was.
untitled #4
As I'm sure is the case with many during the current pandemic, my unemployment has meant that this time has been one of personal projects.
Obviously, my 100 Day Project was one of them though I would have tried to undertake it even when employed full-time. And very little of my project directly referenced the current global crisis.
My situation wasn't directly caused by the pandemic. My redundancy was due to a restructure already in the planning before coronavirus reared its ugly head.
The pandemic has had relatively little impact on my life in that I'm an introvert who spends a lot of time at home, indoors, working on my own projects when not in my day job.
In all honesty, had I been made redundant at any other time, life would have been much the same for the past four to five months.
untitled #16
The greatest exceptions:
I wouldn't have washed my hands so often and obsessively.
I would have been able to take at least one city break with Simon.
I would have spent more time in pubs.
I would have spent more time in galleries.
I would have spent more time face-to-face with friends.
I would have spent less time on videoconference platforms.
I would probably not have been able to spend quite so much time on my 100 Day Project. It may have been incomplete or not completed within 100 consecutive days.
I would have spent a lot of downtime in the gym losing weight and enjoying BodyPump and yoga classes to regain flexibility, balance and strengthening my ankle.
I might have seen more films at the cinema.
I probably wouldn't have cooked as much.
I probably wouldn't have grown or resurrected as many plants as I have. And I definitely wouldn't have been able to start to develop our front garden with the aid of Simon and my downstairs neighbour (whose garden it, in fact, is).
untitled #13
And this last project is one that has, surprisingly, taken up a large part of the past week (and before that, many conversations and time spent researching, contemplating and planning).
Surprising mainly because I've never really been a green thumb at all. Mostly my thumbs (and the rest of my digits and palms and half my forearms) were purple or red from picking mulberries and strawberries in my parents' garden. That's as close to gardening as I ever used to get.
Although our front garden is a work in progress, it's taking shape well so far. Hopefully, most of it will be completed within the next few days, slightly behind schedule.
Our front garden is not nearly ready enough to unveil. But thinking about it this evening reminded me of my visit to Helmingham Hall with my parents in June 2017.
Despite the gardens being a little knocked around from a storm the day before, they were quite impressive and gave me plenty of opportunities to focus my lens on the colours and shapes around me.
So I thought I'd share some photos I took in the gardens at Helmingham Hall. And hopefully, I can share some from my own garden soon.
What projects have you been focussing on during the pandemic, whether in lockdown or not?
pietà, interrupted [cimetière père-lachaise, paris, france, 2011]
Almost exactly nine years ago, I finally had the opportunity to visit Pere Lachaise Cemetery. I was in Paris to meet my friend Victoria.
As you might have read in the encrypted instalment of my postcards from another's life series, I've been somewhat obsessed with cemeteries, graveyards, churchyards and such from a young age.
So when Victoria offered me the opportunity to meet her in Paris, I jumped at the chance, knowing she would be up for visiting the cemetery. And it did not disappoint.
We only spent a few hours there. I felt we like barely scratched the surface (we didn't even visit Jim Morrison's grave). But it was wonderful.
We visited the final resting place of Oscar Wilde - before they cleaned the lipstick off and created a barrier to stop people kissing it - and some other celebrities from the ages.
But most of our wanderings were among the graves of those less known.
I found patterns forming in my photos as we wandered; some definite series forming.
Despite visiting the cemetery on 17 July 2011, I only edited one photo on my return. I edited others in 2014 that haven't yet been posted online.
This photograph I edited tonight.
It fits with a series that formed during my visit. I hope to share more of the images from that series in the coming weeks.
I'll be sharing a post (hopefully within a week!) about my thoughts on the 100 Day Project I just finished. But I don't want to lose momentum on sharing work.
Compared to the time it took to create a digital collage each day for one hundred days editing photos is a walk in the park. And I have so many of them to share!
Not every photo I post will come with so much rambling, but I hope you enjoy them!
toasted
Day one hundred of The 100 Day Project.
...and it’s a wrap!
My 100 day project is done!
Thanks for following along. It’s been fun!
I’ll keep the collages coming, just likely not daily. They’ll be posted as early-access, patron-only posts to my Patreon about a week before I post them here and elsewhere around the web.
Illustrations:
bathing beauties
Day ninety-nine of The 100 Day Project.
My penultimate collage for the project!
Illustrations:
lead a marey dance
Day ninety-eight of The 100 Day Project.
Illustrations:
Horses by J. J. Grandville from Cent proverbes
a sheepish confession
Day ninety-seven of The 100 Day Project.
Illustrations:
Sheep confessing to wolf by J. J. Grandville from Cent proverbes
seeking solace
Day ninety-six of The 100 Day Project.
Illustrations:
Women by Frederick Richard Pickersgill from The poetical works of Edgar Allan Poe
pride of london
Day ninety-five of The 100 Day Project.
Only five more to go 😮
Illustrations:
Woman and lion by Adolf Ehrhardt from Deutsches Balladenbuch
shedding light upon the matter
lockdown: day 1,984
Day ninety-three of The 100 Day Project.
Has anyone put forward a law similar to Godwin’s Law that describes the likelihood of a discussion on the internet about coronavirus guidance/regulations/restrictions leading to comparisons to George Orwell’s 1984 or Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World yet?
I’m seriously tired of people perceiving protecting themselves and others from needless death in the current situation as comparable to situations in these (admittedly brilliant) novels.
All I see when I see those posts is entitlement, selfishness and people unable to understand the sacrifice of even basic pleasures for the safety of themselves and others.
Illustrations:
Couple on couch by Paul Gavarni from Œuvres choisies de Gavarni, volume one
a fight to the death
Day ninety-two of The 100 Day Project.
Illustrations:
Fighting men by an unknown artist from Les Bons Romans
dis joint, ed!
off on a comet
Day ninety of The 100 Day Project.
Illustrations:
deaf as a dodo
Day eighty-nine of The 100 Day Project.
Illustrations:
Dodo by an unknown artist from Bilder-atlas zur Wissenschaftlich-populären Naturgeschichte der Vögel in ihren sämmtlichen Hauptformen
nun but the lonely heart
Day eighty-eight of The 100 Day Project.
Illustrations: