Sunrise

Sunrise, originally uploaded by Lily-Wren.

Beautiful sunrise captured over Jack-the-Horse Lake, Minnesota. One of my favourite photographs taken over the last couple of weeks....

The Orange Girl by Jostein Gaarder

The Orange Girl by Jostein Gaarder
Publisher: Pheonix
Date: 7th July 2005 (New edition)
ISBN:0753819929

Well, it has been many years since I read a book, cover to cover, over the course of a day or two. The Orange Girl has restored my faith in my ability to do just this. I have found that every book I have read of Gaarder's has held me captivated and I love the way in which not one word is wasted nor is it skimmed over (on my part!). This book is no exception.

The Orange Girl's main focus is on Georg, his deceased father and his father's love and obsession with the 'Orange Girl'. Georg's father died when he was nearly 4 and 11 years later he his handed a large, unopened envelope from his grandmother. The envelope holds his father's story of the Orange Girl. Written just before his death, Georg's father writes to the 'older' Georg about the girl and the events leading up to them meeting. On receiving the envelope, Georg hides himself away for an evening to read the story.

Gaarder brings his wonderful use of a 'story within story' in to play. We are with Georg all the way as he reads his father's tale and we also witness Georg's feelings and views throughout the book. We are, in effect, seeing Georg growing up in the course of a few hours. We are able to see him getting to know a father who died long before he was old enough to get to know him in life.

It was within the early part of the book I felt I had discovered the 'mystery', however, this did not make the book any less enchanting. In fact it made the story all the more bittersweet, poignant and touching. I found the Orange Girl to be a wonderful book about love, loss, life and making the most of what you have before it has gone.

Often with Gaarder's books I find that I stop myself for a few minutes, remove myself from the daily drudgery of work, bed, work, and see life for what it is! Precious, short and not to be spent being too serious about things for any length of time! The Orange Girl made me do this once again, even if for a short time, before the world of work, stress and earning money beckons!

Psychedelic Renegades: With Photographs of Syd Barrett by Mick Rock

Psychedelic Renegades: With Photographs of Syd Barrett by Mick Rock
Plexus Publishing Ltd
Date: Oct 2007
ISBN: 0859654176

A beautiful book and a must have for Syd Barrett fans and those interested in photography alike, fortunately of which I am both.

Rock presents as insightful a book as any I have seen about Barrett documenting his time through the late 60's/early 70's. I have read several biographies relating to Barrett and have found Rock's photography, prose and interview the most poignant. At the beginning of the book Rock writes, briefly, about his time with Syd in the late 60's, creating a wonderful atmosphere and context within which the photographs and further prose follows.





Rock also offers insights into his early photography experience in how certain photographs were shot. A definite plus for those interested in photography. Interestingly, the early shots of Syd were among the first he took as a professional photographer and he is able to provide us with glimpses and flashes of a mad cap in the making.

The later shots of Syd, in his mother's garden in the early 70's, are amongst the most beautiful and striking photographs. They show a fragile person yet, at times, give us glimpses of hope and smiles. In between photograph's, Rock provides us with information about the times he knew Syd and also the time spent that day in Syd's mother's garden.







A wonderful book and a must have for any fan of Barrett, Rock and photography.

A Good Ole Rant!

I have to get this off my (rather ample I have to say..) chest! I may sound like a grumpy old woman but, so be it. No-one may be reading but, again, so be it. I just have to rant at something, someone..anywhere!! I shall try and not swear, I promise, but it will be hard.

LITTER.

Again I shall even shout it out...

LITTER!!!!!!!!!!!

Phew, that feels better.. Warning, there may be a few more exclamation marks, it is a RANT after all.

Now I know in the grand scheme of things it isn't important. Wars, distruction, poverty, illness and a rather strange Government in place but still, I am fed up with it. I have, in the words of my dear boss, 'reached the end of my lollipop'. I have (almost) reached the point to where I will, with big bloody bin bags in hand and pink marigolds on, go all around the streets where I live and pick up every frikken piece of bloomin, sodding, soon to be rat infested, smelly, careless strewn litter there is. It may take some time.

Granted, where I live is not a 'posh' area, in fact it is quite deprived, but does that give people an excuse to make it look even more like a second rubbish dump??? What is it with people who just carelessly toss that KFC box, Maccy Ds bag, crisp packet out of their car window?? Is their car such a precious item that they cannot KEEP HOLD of these items and get rid of them once home? Or, if yer like me, have a few bags full of rubbish in the car that I keep forgetting to put in my bin *blush* But, at least it is in my car, and not tossed along the street or road.

I was walking in town the other day, I just happened to glance a person just finished their crisps and throw the bag in the road. It wasn't like an accidental drop, or even a PRETEND accidental drop (of which when I am younger I am sure I did *blush again*), it was a throw. Driving along I was behind someone who just threw a carton out of the window.... I saw a bloke blow his nose and throw a tissue into the road..it goes on and on and on. And my blood pressure rises and rises. 'Calm down dear, it's just a bit of litter' I hear Michael Winner tell me! But it just builds up!

Why do people just seem to toss aside an empty drinks can, a crisps packet or fag packet on the street and then walk a few metres up their path into their bloody house? Do they have no bin inside? Do they not have one of those godforsaken wheelie bins??

My theory was that the bins of such careless minded folks must be completely empty... but then this theory was blown out of the water after Fridays rubbish collection day. Even the bloody bin collectors are at it. The street gets even worse after they have emptied the wheelie bins. WHY?? Surely the rubbish is supposed to go in the truck??

*deep breaths*

Sorry, sad aren't I? Or am I? Does this litter throwing community represent something more? Something to do with beliefs, values, apathy, ignorance? I don't know. But what I do know is..

IT GETS ON MY BLOODY WICK!!!

*sighs*

Right I shall go now and promise next time to be lighter and free from litter stress. I intend to do something I haven't done before... attend the next meeting for this area at the council, it may help my sanity then again people may just look at me and think 'blimey what with all that is going on in the world she moans about this??'

I shall leave it for you to decide... Incidently I went out to take photographs in the street and back street where I live. When I was in the backstreet someone actually passed in their car, reversed and asked WHY I was taking photographs as they lived round there, I felt like saying I am taking photographs of the bloody litter. But I just said I lived round there too...unfortunately.

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

I run a monthly reading group where I work and at the last meeting we discussed our latest book - The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga.

The book was greeted with mixed reviews. Myself and another member loved the book whilst other members found it hard to get into and did not really enjoy the book at all.One thing we did all agree on was Adiga's ability to describe India, the Caste system and the division of rich and poor in such a vivid way that we were able to gain some understanding of the system within which Balram (the White Tiger) lived and worked within. The sewage filled streets in parts of Dehli and the servants who appeared to have their own pecking order, at which Balram was at the bottom for most of the time, to name just a couple of examples.

The book follows the life of 'The White Tiger'. A man who worked his way up from the 'lowly' servant status to that of a self claimed 'social entrepreneur'. The Premier of China is due to visit India and Balram decides to write emails over 7 nights to the Premier describing India in his eyes and, in particular, his own experiences and life to date. He does not paint a pretty picture.

From the offset we know that Balram has committed a crime, that of murder, yet we only find out how this was committed towards the end of his letters. Balram illustrates a palpable hatred towards the system in India which has created such poverty and distinction between the rich and the poor. The masters and servants. He writes in such a way that brings humour to often traumatic circumstances. However, the hatred he holds towards the system and its' masters is often meted out and clear for all too see.

Balram was brought up in 'The Darkness', another word for the villages and outsider, poor areas. He rises to become a driver for a wealthy coal merchant, although is at pains to tell us a driver is not just a driver but also performs whatever duties a servant would need to perform. Eventually, however, it is his deepest wish to go to Delhi and drive for his master that turns into his undoing.

Whilst the book raised mixed reviews from the group, it did have a very bittersweet feel to it. Balram conjures up a myriad of feelings in us ranging from sympathy, anger, humour and hate. As a character it is hard to know whether to hate him, like him, feel sorry for him or even begin to understand him. The things he does and the conclusions he comes to could be as a result of his harsh experiences and one feels sympathy for these, however, not for the actions he takes as a consequence.

Overall, I feel Adiga has written a book that provides us with a wonderfully vivid and stark image of India and its' underbelly. So much so, you can almost smell the open sewers and envisage the servants paan stained teeth!

He has also created a character who is so deep and complex that by the end of the book I am still unsure as to what to make of him!Balram, is indeed an illusive White Tiger both in the telling of his story and in our understanding and grasp of him.

Gregory Crewdson : A photographer on a mammoth scale.

Plate 19

I stumbled upon Crewdson just by chance, in fact it was probably looking for photography books on Amazon! The images I saw just drew me in and I just had to get one of his books to see more.

Crewdson may not be viewed as a photographer in the traditional sense and not be to everyone's taste but that's the beauty of photography, it moves around, changes and evolves and, as I have read many times now, does not necessarily mean one lone person travelling the country and globe to capture the shot. I enjoy many different styles of photography and Crewdson's is one of my favourites...so far!

Crewdson is different in that he uses the skills of an elaborate production team. His work is on a large scale, setting up scenes in, more often than not, small town America. Scenes that are dreamlike, unusual and that make the usual seem out of place.

Take the 'Twilight' photography series. This was the first book I bought by Crewdson and it will not be the last. The book includes 40 untitled photographs (plates) which are all seemingly shot at 'Twilight' which he says is an evocative time for the 'movement of transition between before and after' which is what the shots are about ( see more in The Guardian Article here ). The photographs all include people in everyday situations but with that added extra or a missing component.

Plate 18

I find them very striking in that all the people in them appear dislocated from their current surroundings with almost blank features and stiff, motionless bodies they appear, to me, like the walking dead. Probably not a great comparison but that is what strikes me as I gaze through the photographs.

On the more subtle ones (if subtle is a word to be used here!), a first quick glance and you would almost not notice anything out of place. But something starts to make you feel uneasy, it's un-nerving and you find you have to look for longer, taking in all the surreal dreamlike and, often, haunting visions. You just have to question what is going on here? What came before and is coming after so, in effect, the purpose of showing the transition of before and after has, for me, been achieved.

Plate 6

One of the most striking images for me is Plate 6, that of a woman dressed in her nightie and underwear, kneeling in her kitchen/dining room on a bed of flowers. Dirt covers her legs, and her expression is vacant, her neck is covered with sweat. Amazing streams of light come in through the windows shining into the room. The kitchen itself seems to have been transformed into some kind of greenhouse, it looks hot, plants and flowers are growing in abundance yet there is a woman sat in the middle of frame, in the pile of flowers. I keep looking at this and wonder, was she just gardening and has stopped in mid-thought!? Is she angry and has been beating it out of the flowers? Why the heck are there a load of flowers in the kitchen/dining room?? What is the metaphorical meaning if any?

Plate 19 though is my favourite from the whole series (see above). This is also used as the cover for the book and with good reason. A woman lies face up on a floor, of what seems to be water, in the living room. She is motionless, yet, I find something quite alive about her. The image is quite haunting, as with all the photographs here, and quite disturbing too. But, for me, the beauty and depth shines through. The reflections are wonderful and, once again, the lighting is just so perfect.

That's what I love about this photography, the ability to make me look at it for ages and contemplate what has happened? What is happening? and what is about to happen? A small part of me, maybe the working class, northern 'neigh lass what d'yer want to look at stuff like that fer'

wants to fight against it and questions whether it is a little pretentious, but that is a very small, minuscule part of me and one which, for many years in the quest of my creativity, I have had to strongly fight against (another blog on that I think beckons).

Plate 7 Plate 27

But for now I can just sit back and enjoy, reflect and contemplate the photographs of Crewdson and look deeper into the photographs to find my own meaning of such images. I shall be looking for more work from Crewdson and I think 'Beneath the Roses' will be my next purchase!

Till next time!

Why Photography?

Leaving Bokeh Behind

Such a question I ask myself, now and again, as I look at the countless number of photographs I have on computer. I had to transfer many to disc the other day as I think my computer was complaining about the number! Over 3,000 went on disc to be stored away to probably never be looked at again!

I have to admit, I am guilty of the crime ‘photograph hording’. No matter how I try I can never get rid of them. I come back from one of my sojourns, check my photographs and delete but a few blurry ones. I select a few for editing and the rest just get left (and put on disc at a later date) for me to never look at again! But, try as I might I can never press ‘delete’. Is this common theme for photograph-olics?

Anyway, back to the question I ask. Why photography? It is something I touched upon on my previous blog but I still come back to it and feel I need to explore some more! As I look at the photographs I display on Flickr I do ask why do I do it? I do enjoy taking photographs and it also means I get off the sofa and go out walking. I also enjoy editing and presenting the photos for others to see. But still some thing niggles at me and I ask why?

I enjoy receiving comments but it never fails to surprise me to see how one photograph I thought was ‘just OK’ receives a lot of positive comments whilst another I love doesn’t! Photography, so subjective! And again, still something niggles and I ask why?

I love and appreciate other people photographs and learn so much from them. But, just as I learn and enjoy seeing others works I can get disheartened as I see so many wonderful pieces of art and just know my work is what it is….raw, unfinished and, quite rightly so at this stage, amateurish. That said, that is how I like most things!!

Anyway, back to the question I still ask. Why do we do it? Why do you do it? I know for me it isn’t the money (I would never make any from this game!) or the fame (ditto!). Once I have completed a photograph and posted for others to see it is kind of ‘right, next one!’

It is strange, I shouldn’t really ask why? And just take it as art, a way of being creative and a way of showing part of myself that very often lies hidden. At work people are surprised when they see my photographs, possibly catching a glimpse of a person they never see. My family also appear surprised, maybe for the same reason. I am often surprised! I just see it as me pressing a button and ‘Hey Presto’. But I realise it is more about what we are seeing at that time and how we view the world differently from others, in other words, producing our unique art.

But once again, the whole process puzzles me and I am still left wondering why photography? What is it that captures mine, yours and others imagination? What is it that makes me look a photograph for ages ‘feeling’ the environment and the images? What is it that spurs us all on to take more shots? Stand knee deep in snow? Wriggle in the mud? Squat in a field? Just to get the shot?

Anyway..ideas on a postcard please!!