Shards of Photography

Themes

2010-09-26T14:24:00.001+02:00

It's been nigh a year since I last updated this blog. I can't feel sorry for that, though I appreciate that it have disappointed a few people.

I have been maintaining the Shards of Photography photo portfolio. From the PAWs you may have guessed that I've not been totally committed to photography in the past year. Months went by that I didn't even pick up a camera. In stead, I've been fully committed to my Law studies. I don't know about you but I can't combine a full focus on my studies with the peace of mind I need for photography. It's the one or the other. I chose the one.

It's becoming more and more clear to me that I have a few themes I like to pursue in photography. Clouds is one of those themes. I can't get enough of them. Always changing. Always interesting.

Trees is another of such themes. Just like clouds, trees are never the same. And they're always interesting.

Other themes are reflections

night photography

infra red

(abstract) shapes and forms

light vs. dark

colour

graffiti and other (accidental) street "art"

Yet other themes are panoramas and panoramics

city and rough landscapes

And since a few months I can add seascapes, or the edge of land and water

and the rail roads and (steam) trains

What are your themes?

Blog statistics

2009-10-05T09:46:00.001+02:00

I usually can't be bothered with statistics but the statistics of this blog are always a "joy" to behold. :)

For instance, see here the most popular keywords today:

porn photography
rangefinder infrared
leica m2 for sale
sigma rangefinder
m-rokkor
spencer tunick south africa
nuns
dress code photography
nick ut napalm girl
documentarty photography
ranging 50/2 mini-rangefinder
developing film in coffee
rangefinder blogs
rangefinder pinhole
spencer tunick antarctica
porn photographer
the public's reaction to nick ut's photo
william eggleston red ceiling
straps rangefinder
red ceiling eggleston
minox dcc leica m3 review

A lot of people are looking for porn, William Eggleston, Spencer Tunic and/or Nick Ut. But who looks for "nuns" and ends up on this blog?

How about the operating systems people use to get here? Well, not surprisingly it's overwhelmingly Windows, with a hint of Mac and a trace of Linux.

1	Windows XP	64.72%
2	Macintosh Power PC	10.62%
3	Onbekend	9.89%
4	Windows Vista	6.94%
5	Windows 2000	4.24%
6	Linux i686	1.45%
7	Windows 98	1.00%
8	Windows NT	0.53%
9	Windows Millennium	0.37%
10	Windows .NET	0.11%

And how about the browser? Again, it's overwhelmingly Windows Explorer, followed at great distance by Firefox, chased by Safari.

1	MS Explorer 6.x	32.88%
2	MS Explorer 7.x	19.83%
3	Firefox 2.x	11.28%
4	Firefox 1.x	10.17%
5	Firefox 3.x	6.10%
6	Safari 525.x	3.25%
7	Safari 418.x	2.23%
8	Safari 312.x	1.54%
9	Safari 523.x	1.31%
10	Opera 9.x	1.30%

Images of the mind

2009-10-04T08:56:00.000+02:00

Wind tugs at my coat.
Debris tumbles through the streets.
The sun shines brightly.

Images of the mind

2009-10-04T08:49:00.000+02:00

Sunday morning. Time for church, you'd think. Nobody goes to church anymore. Not even the elderly. Yet the nearby mosque is full.

Images of the mind

2009-10-04T08:47:00.000+02:00

Three indiff'rent streets.
All the same yet none the same.
Small cars eve'rywhere.

Images of the mind

2009-10-04T08:45:00.000+02:00

Five indiff'rent doors.
All the same yet none the same.
Yellow, white and blue.

Images of the mind

2009-10-04T08:39:00.001+02:00

Storm torments the night.
Rudely 'roused crows complain.
The spatter of rain.

Images of the mind

2009-10-04T08:35:00.000+02:00

A man on a moped splutters by.

The wind rustles through the trees.

An elderly lady pushes a pram with a small child.

The sun sets the world alight.

Birds dance a windy tango.

A dog barks faintly in the distance.

The wind still rustles through the trees.

It's Sunday morning.

Images of the mind

2009-10-04T07:19:00.000+02:00

Running for your life.
Silent, to avoid capture.
Hunting dogs bark nigh.

Images of the mind

2009-10-04T07:18:00.000+02:00

Dark, wet, windy night.
Not a soul stirs the silence.
Blinking cafë sign.

Images of the mind

2009-10-04T07:17:00.000+02:00

Wind bends double trees.
Car zooms by on wet asphalt.
Crows in the trees caw.

Images of the mind

2009-10-02T14:42:00.000+02:00

The weather turned grim.
The wind pummels man and beast.
Sea gulls squeal with joy.

Images of the mind

2009-10-02T14:40:00.000+02:00

Sunshine memories.
Thoughts of warm, lingering days.
Rain lashes my face.

Images of the mind

2009-10-01T07:51:00.000+02:00

The hint of rain has turned to rain. The only hint left is to bring along your raincoat from now on.

The cloud deck is an indescribable shade of blueish grey. The roads are filled with white headlights and red and orange tail lights. Mostly red, though. On the highway the traffic is jammed; in the streets of the city traffic is forever waiting for the light to turn green.

Images of the mind

2009-10-01T07:37:00.000+02:00

Half past seven, and the world's still in a sombre mood.

A thick blanket of deep grey clouds shrouds the city in a depressing twilight.

A hint of rain is in the air.

Images of the mind

2009-10-01T07:33:00.000+02:00

It's 3 am. I'm outside, waiting for a taxi that isn't coming. What the **** am I doing here?!

I hear a metallic sound. I look around and see a man in a wheelchair approaching. Slowly approaching. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry at all. Not at three in the morning.

We chat for a while, until he tells me he has to go. He has other things to do. I can't imagine what.

Images of the mind

2009-09-27T16:20:00.000+02:00

It's warm and bright.
People sun bathe at the lake shore.
The first yellow leafs.

Images of the mind

2009-09-21T04:26:00.000+02:00

The silent city.
The sounds sound clear as crystal.
The pre-dawn morning.

Images of the mind - IC140 to Amsterdam

2009-09-11T19:03:00.002+02:00

If, or when, I'm ever back in Berlin, even for a short while I'm going to make an itinerary. The city is too big to see in one go, and the ubiquitous tourist traps are scattered all over town. Best to select some of them and walk from one to another. The walk to the tourist trap is often as interesting as the tourist trap itself. :)

Images of the mind - IC140 to Amsterdam

2009-09-11T18:09:00.005+02:00

The Sophienstrasse is chock-full boutiques and galleries. The Oranienburgerstrasse near Auguststrasse is a bastion of left-wingers, squatters and underground culture. The beginnings of gentrification. :)

But I was much more interested in getting to the Dorotheenstädtischer Friedhof, where for instance Heinrich Mann, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel and Bertold Brecht are interred. Like any cemetery in the middle of any city, it's a haven of peace and quiet. A perfect place to take a short break (and read up on your philosophy or world literature). :)

I stopped for lunch at Thürmann's at the corner of Invaliden Strasse and Platz vor dem neuen Tor. Here I was enjoying a nice bun and some mint tea when I got stung by a wasp! Damn fortunate I got stung in my elbow, a spot with less muscle mass, less blood vessels, less nerves and a lot of bone. The swelling added up to very little, even after several hours, but for the itching and to prevent an allergic reaction I still dropped by a pharmacy at Hauptbahnhof a little later.

I did pass by the Hamburger Bahnhof. I even went in. But the entrance fee of 12 euros and the wasp sting kept me away from visiting the museum. It is, however, only a short walk from Hauptbahnhof; literally in view of it. Maybe some other time I'll come back, with my student card. :)

At Hauptbahnhof, I whiled away some time before I took the M41 bus to Potsdamer Platz. I spent some time there, and got me Fritz Lang's Metropolis. Back at Hauptbahnhof I again roamed around the place, wasted more time, ate something while resting my feet on my luggage; all before boarding the train that is now taking me back home.

Images of the mind - IC140 to Amsterdam

2009-09-11T17:09:00.000+02:00

It's hot in this carriage! I don't think they can remedy it, seeing they've abandoned the control boards

I slept poorly. I was still awake by 1 am. When the alarm went this morning, I still felt tired. I showered, had breakfast and went on my way. I left the hotel by 8:30 and by 9:00 I was at Berlin-Charlottenburg station. Yes, it took me quite some time. But worst of all, at the station I still had to wait for the red Regional Bahn train to Hauptbahnhof. It arrived on time but for some reason it left five minutes late. By quarter to ten I could finally hand my luggage over to the ward room attendants. By 10 am I was on my way -again with the Regional Bahn- to Alexanderplatz.

I made a little itinerary last night. I planned to first go to Märkisches Ufer but when I disembarked at Alex I decided to skip that and go to the next stop on my list: the Neptunbrunnen. While this fountain is as beautiful as any, I much prefer the mor extensive array of fountains between the Neptunbrunnen and the Fernsehturm. There are many differently sized fountains, arranged geometrically, spouting to an elaborate choreography.

From the Neptunbrunnen it's only a short walk to the statue in memory of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. There's very little else on this large open space. It's not even a nice place to sit and relax for a while. The only (remotely) interesting thing here is the statue itself; and perhaps the history attached to Marx and Engels, abut which you won't learn anything here.

Somehow they fixed the AC. It's much more pleasant here now.

My itinerary, like yesterday's, involved a lot of walking; a mode of transport that is oddly suited for Berlin if you don't have to go from one end of town to the other and back. My itinerary wasn't like that. :)

Next stop was Hackescher Markt. My route took me past the Heiliggeistkapelle, built, acoording to the plaque on the wall, in 1300. I was ken to go inside but was unable to find an entrance.

Hackescher Markt is your stop for the Hackesche Höe. This complex of nine interconnected courtyards houses a variety of boutiques, galleries, cafés and restaurants, and other shops. These courtyards all have their own character. It's a really nice place to wander about and do some (window) shopping.

I found there the Lumas gallery, where I saw some really nice photographic works on display (and for sale). For instance, there was Sabine Wild's "Neue Nationalgallerie II"...,

some work by Pep Ventosa...,

the "Wind Studies" by Ethan Levitas...,

some specimen of Marcel Wanders' disturbingly interesting "Superhero Girls"...,

and David Hamilton's "Rèves jeune filles" and "La muse".

But the most interesting to me were Penelope Davis' "Catalogue", a colour photogram (instead of the now century old B&W photograms)...,

and Annet van der Voort's scanograms of (wilting) flowers.

In this one gallery I've seen more interesting and new (to me) work than in any photo exhibition in the past few years. And the prices aren't all together bad.

Images of the mind – Room 501, Ibis Hotel, Brandenburgische Strasse, Berlin-Wilmersdorf

2009-09-10T21:09:00.008+02:00

It was a long and tiring day!

After I left the Kempinski hotel just after noon, I went to the Foto Museum. The museum is very close from the Zoologischer Garten station. From the Foto Museum I walked in the direction of the zoo and on to Wittenbergplatz. I had no idea what I wanted to do next but when I sat down and took out my city guide I found out that the Bauhaus Archiv was quite close by, on the other side of the Landwehrkanal.

When I got there I decided to have some lunch first. The Archiv's lunch room operates from a great idea: Pausenbrot. You order as many slices of bread as you want. Then you select what you want to put on. You can chose from things as Leberwurst, Tomaten-Basilikum-Butter, Aprikose-Lavendel jam, Butter mit dreierlei Pfeffer and more. They sell it in little glass jars; each containing plenty for several slices of bread. I sat there, ate my bread, and enjoyed the airiness of this small lunch room.

Too bad the Archiv itself was completely empty! It turned out that everything was for the time being on display at the Martin-Gropius-Bau. That was a bit disappointing but it least I got the see this building in its natural bare state. I'm still at awe how light and lofty and airy these Bauhaus buildings are. I really like that.

From the Bauhaus Archiv I walked along Reichpietschufer, a footpath along the Landwehrkanal, to the Neue Nationalgalerie. This is one of the museums I had decided I wanted to visit. The part of the museum above ground (as airy as a Bauhaus design) was closed because of something. But the basement part of the museum was open. For a cool 10 euros I was allowed in the exhibition Bilderträume, the collection of Ulla and Heiner Pietzsch. I wanted to come here because of the modern art on display. Well, I got what I wanted and a bit more. I liked the Magritte, Picasso and Miró pieces, as well as the Calder mobiles. But the rest was a bit too much for me. Especially the overwhelming amount of Max Ernst pieces numbed me.

Potsdamer Platz is a short walk away from the Neue Nationalgalerie, and that's where I went next. To the Museum für Film und Fernsehen. I only went to see the film section as TV interests me little. Take your time to get in the exhibition area on the third floor! This is really worth spending a while to enjoy. If you've been there you know what I mean.

The film museum is nice but as usual I can't be bothered to read all the descriptions. No, give me the very visual and exciting Metropolis part, a section entirely dedicated to Fritz Lang's Metropolis. I want to see that movie! And the same goes for the movie M, also by Fritz Lang. The few fragments I saw drew me like a magnet.

The museum also has an extensive section on Marlene Dietrich.

Done with the film museum, I ate dinner at the Corroboree restaurant. This time a disappointing affair. After dinner I wandered around Sony Center a bit longer before I found my way through the Potsdamer Platz station to the U-bahn that would ultimately take me back to the hotel.

Tomorrow is my last day here. I've come up with quite a nice itinerary but I'm still wondering what to do with my luggage. I can't schlep that around all day long. If it weren't for the U-bahn disruptions around Hauptbahnhof I wouldn't even have to consider what to do. Now getting to Hauptbahnhof is a tedious affair that gobbles up my precious time. Anyway....

Images of the mind - Sony Center, Potzdamer Platz, Berlin

2009-09-10T17:13:00.000+02:00

Mmm. That burger wasn't nearly as nice as it was the first time I ate it here. And only luke warm. And still bloody. I don't like my meat to bleed.

Images of the mind - Sony Center, Potzdamer Platz, Berlin

2009-09-10T16:47:00.000+02:00

I'm sitting at one of the outside tables of Corroboree restaurant, waiting for my kangaroo burger.

This morning after breakfast, I left the hotel and walked to the Kempinski hotel, where I was going to give a presentation. Berlin is already quite awake at half past seven in the morning: super markets are open, baker's shops and coffee houses too. Quite a few people are already at work. It took me 20-25 minutes to walk from Brandenburgische Strasse to Fasanenstrasse. Not bad, really. A look at the map made me believe it was a much greater distance, but it's only 2 km.

My presentation went well. I started out slightly nervous but that cleared up soon.

My kangaroo burger is here....

Images of the mind - Foto Museum, Jebenstrasse, Berlin

2009-09-10T12:26:00.003+02:00

I'm at the Foto Museum, which is entirely dedicated to Helmut Newton so should in fact be named the Helmut Newton Foto Museum. But I read somewhere that from 2010 the museum will hold more than just the Helmut Newton collection.

Helmut Newton in Berlin.

I'm not very excited about Newton's work. I do like the Big Nudes series but most of the rest I have no love for. I did get one little idea from a photo of a photographed face held in front of the said face, with a cigar held through a hole burned in the photo where the mouth happened to be depicted. There's more one can do with that....

What I did like was the group exhibition "Three boys from Pasadena", showing photos of Mark Arbeit, Georg Holz and Just Loomis. I found Holz's work least interesting with a genre in which we find photos titled "Fall from grace" and the like. I found the titles too far fetched, though the photos in themselves were IMO better than most of Newton. Loomis' work is all about people. He almost sticks the camera in their faces and shows their poor lives in all its roughness. Part of Arbeit's work is a set of collages; collages that I really did like. He also did other things I liked but the collages stuck with me.

Is the museum worth the 8 euro entrance fee? Well, if you're into Newton than yes. However, if you don't care for him.... BTW, bring change! The ticket lady had run out of bills and could hardly give me change from 50, and the people behind me had to dig deep in their purses to find small change to pay for their ticket.

Images of the mind - in Berlin

2009-09-09T20:45:00.012+02:00

Here I am, sitting at the desk in my hotel room on the fifth floor, with a view on the back yard of the hotel. At least, that's what I would see if I'd care to look outside. It's dark now and I closed the curtains to keep the dark out and the privacy inside.

I'm sitting here listening to Will Downing's Free while sipping a nice cup of Assam tea. I just took a hot shower and I'm relaxing after a long, exhausting day.

The trip to Berlin was uneventful. Time flew by, really, and before I knew it I set foot again on the platform at Berlin Hauptbahnhof. It's there at the station that things went haywire: there are extensive ongoing works at the tracks and in the city centre several of the U-bahn lines aren't running. A general lack of information and poor directions cost me some time and frustration. In the end it wasn't too bad but I still arrived at least half an hour later at the hotel than I expected.

The lack of lines going to the city centre from Berlin Charlottenburg means I have to find new paths to my destinations. Not quite what I wanted to do but at least I'm now seeing different parts of town I might otherwise not have noticed.

Kolumbarium.

Three-ish I left the hotel. Before coming to Berlin I had already decided I wanted to see a bit more of Wilmersdorf. I went down to the Wilmersdorf Friedhof (cemetery), which is only a short walk from the hotel. This cemetery has a very intriguing urns hall, or Kolumbarium. It was actually rather nice to walk through the hallways, enjoy the views, and read the names of the deceased on the many urns. I'm glad I found this haven of calm so close to the hotel. The cemetery itself isn't as interesting but even on this Wednesday afternoon it was well-visited.

Church.

From the cemetery I walked via Kostanzer Strasse back to Fehrbelliner Platz. On my way I passed a beautiful mosque and a small church which I suspect to be Russian Orthodox in denomination. Speaking of Russians, I'm not sure where the Nazis got their vague ideas about Germans being blond haired and blue eyed. Here in Berlin I'm seeing more Slav faces and dark and black hair than blond hair and blue eyes. Add to that a generous sprinkling of Central Asian, Far Eastern and African faces and one starts to wonder whether the Nazis themselves were blond haired and blue eyed. I'm seriously doubting it, but it's difficult to tell from the photography from that period, it all being B&W.

Statues at Fehrbelliner Platz, Berlin Wilmersdorf

Partner cities of Berlin Wilmersdorf

From Fehrbelliner Platz I took the U3 to Wittenbergplatz, where KaDeWe is located. I had to go in but came out rather quickly. Too expensive for my taste all that Gucci, Dior, Ralph Lauren, and so on. No, Peek & Cloppenburg is more suited to my wallet and there I got me a new polo shirt and a new white, long-sleeved shirt. You can never have too many white shirts, can you?

Outdoor café near Zoologischer Garten

Kurfürstendamm

I walked all the way from Wittenbergplatz, along Tauentziensstrasse, passed the Kaiser Wilhelm Gedächtniskirche, on along Kurfürstendamm to Fasanenstrasse. There is located the Kempinski hotel where I'll be giving a presentation tomorrow. From there I walked further towards Kantstrasse and ran into the Vagantenbühne. They seem to be performing the collected works of Shakespeare, and oddly enough the building feels like it came straight from that day and age. I wandered around a little more there before walking back to Ku'damm.

Vagantenbühne.

Statue.

Continuing west along Ku'damm I came to what Ku'damm is famous for: the outlets for each and every high class, expensive fashion and jewellery brand in the world, be that Dior, Gucci, Rolex or whathaveyou. I came to the Starbuck's at Leibnitzstrasse and I must have sat among at least the (pretend-to-be) rich of Berlin there. More understated wealth I have never seen before. No flashing of golden chains, fat watches, super high black stiletto heels, teased blond hair or wafty high fashion here. But the sense of money was definitely in the air here. It's the only place so far in the world where I almost got run over by a sky blue Bentley cabriolet jumping the lights. :)

Thank heavens Adenauerplatz wasn't too far away now. I was glad to take the U7 back to Fehrbelliner Platz. There I ate at a one-man Chinese/Thai restaurant (Truc Xihn, or such IIRC) in the main hall of this subway station. The food was plentiful and rather good. I'm definitely going to remember this joint. After the food I did a few groceries at a supermarket a hundred meters up the Hohenzollerndamm, after which I needed an ATM. You already guessed it: not one nearby. I had to go all the way down the Brandenburgische Strasse to Blissestrasse before I could get some cash. By that time I had had enough and went back to the hotel, to take a shower, listen to Will Downing and writing this blog.

OK. It's 21:53 and I need to get up early again tomorrow. I'll read a bit, and than it's sleepy time for me.

Images of the mind

2009-09-09T08:13:00.000+02:00

The morning sun lights the world. A thin ground fog obscures the it again. The cows in the fields appear in view like ghosts; so suddenly they emerge from the fog.

All is calm and quiet on this Wednesday morning. The streets are empty apart for a few children cycling to school. Not a leaf stirs. Not a bird breaks the silence. The water in the park's pond is smooth as a mirror.

Of course, it won't last, the spell will be broken. By the yammering of a moped, the squawking of a crow, the whistle of the station master. But for now the peace lasts.

Tilt and shift - it works!

2009-08-13T15:38:00.000+02:00

A Canon Eos 300D, an Eos body-to-T lens mount, a rubber plumbing pipe connector, and a slightly hazy Jena T 80mm f2.8, a bit of cutting rubber and fiddling with the lens distance... et voila, I have a working tilt shift lens!

Give me a few days to get some results posted; I can't find the bl**dy card reader. :(

i-gotU GT120 USB GPS Travel Logger

2009-08-07T21:14:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I bought me an i-gotU GT-120 USB GPS Travel Logger for my photography. I got to try it out over longer distances today and it works well, except for when the GPS signal isn't available.

Either the GPS signal or Google Maps (or both) are also not 100% reliable as the track map shows rather disturbing oddities: photos that were logged a mile or more from where they actually were taken, a track that runs erratically left and right instead of going straight ahead when I'm going straight ahead, and a track that seems to think I'm following a route that's hundreds of meters elsewhere (in a field instead of on the rail road tracks).

And don't get me started on the airport here in Amsterdam. Inside there's no signal at all, and it seems as if the signal outside is skewed, or Google Maps is skewed when it comes to such high profile locations.

That said, the i-gotU device is small, works straight out of the box, and is easy to operate. I just wish I could use different software than the @trip PC software that came with it. Any ideas for an MS Vista user?

Tilt and shift - let's start over

2009-08-06T17:29:00.000+02:00

I always wanted to make a tilt-shift lens after I heard of the Plungercam. Unfortunately, I was unable to find the type of plunger used for this one, or anything resembling it that was big enough to do the trick, and had to resort to plastic bags, rubber bands and extension tubes. None of it really worked very well at all.

But there's now a new and improved Plungercam 2. I ordered me an Eos-to-T mount for very little on eBay. I already had the lens from my experimenting with Plungercam 1. And today I got the 2"-3" pipe coupler. Now let's see when that T mount arrives.

Old films

2009-08-04T11:54:00.000+02:00

Before I went digital completely I used to shoot on average a roll of film per day. Getting the film developed was costly. Scanning the film was time consuming. I was very happy shooting my Voigtlander Bessa but I got even happier when I received my Epson R-D1.

The scanning was really time-consuming. I would spend an afternoon (or five minutes) shooting a few rolls, drop off the film at the Hema for developing, and come back an hour later to collect my film again. Then I would start scanning; first with the ever adorable HP PhotoSmart S20, until it developed a nasty red line right across the scans; later with the Minolta DiMage Scan Dual 3.

With the S20 scanning was a rather speedy affair. I think a roll of film would hardly take 30 minutes. When it broke down and was replaced with the DS3, scanning became a bit of a choir and scanning times became much longer. Putting the 4-5 negatives film strip in the film holder was always a bit tricky, tedious and slow. The scanning took much longer than with the S20, perhaps as much as double, while the results were not better. I loved that S20. :)

I was shooting (too) much and the scanning was taking up more and more time, so I did what everyone would do... I started to skip scanning. First I would let it slide for a day, then a few days, then I would postpone it to the weekend, until I quite scanning at all when the R-D1 entered my life.

So, now I'm stuck with some 300-350 rolls of developed film the results of which I have never seen. :S And I'm leaving out the 50-75 rolls of 35mm and MF b&w and MF colour film I have still lying about.

But time comes to the rescue. Back in them days, having the photos put on CD was prohibitively expensive here in Holland. No longer is that the case. Yesterday I took 50 rolls to the Hema where they'll scan them and put them on a CD for Eu 3.95 per CD and 12 cents per photo. With 1800 photos I'm looking at quite a bill (50 x 36 x .12 for the photos, plus 6 x 3.95 for the CDs) but at least I'm now getting rid of all those films.

Images of the mind

2009-07-24T23:16:00.003+02:00

Rain steadily falls
The road shimmers wetly
Crow caws in its sleep

720nm and 1000nm infra red filters

2009-07-22T13:05:00.000+02:00

I bought through eBay and received two new infra red filters. One a 720nm IR filter; the other a 1000nm IR filter. Both with a 43mm thread so they'll fit my Carl Zeiss Planar T* 50/2 ZM.

The 720nm IR filter (shown on the right) will replace the one Vivek Iyer made for me several years ago. The 1000nm IR filter is a bit of a guess. It blocks out most-if-not-all visible light and some infra red light as well. I'm going to experiment a little with that filter. First results show that I'm losing 3-4 stops over the 720nm, and that the images are rather soft and grainy; much more so than with the 720nm IR filter.

720nm IR filter.
Epson R-D1
Carl Zeiss Planar T* 50/2 ZM
film: iso800, shutter time: 1/111 sec (+2 bias), aperture: f4

1000nm IR filter.
Epson R-D1
Carl Zeiss Planar T* 50/2 ZM
film: iso800, shutter time: 1/11 sec (+2 bias), aperture: f4 +2

Images of the mind

2009-07-19T22:31:00.000+02:00

Sun sets late today
Yellow, red, orange, blue clouds
Magic in the air.

Images of the mind

2009-07-19T22:25:00.000+02:00

Sunny summer's day
We're five thousand miles apart
Mind and heart feel cold

Images of the mind

2009-07-19T22:19:00.000+02:00

Rustling stalks of grain
The wind bears the summer scent
The voice of my wife

Infra red filters on Amazon.com

2009-07-16T17:35:00.000+02:00

I didn't know but it turns out Amazon.com sells infra red filters! That makes life a lot easier if you are in need of a nice 720nm IR filter like I am. What I particularly liked was the availability of not just the very large filte sizes (up to 77mm) but also of smaller sizes (like the good old 40.5mm filter size). I know what I'll be ordering next! :)

Amazon.com Widgets

Public Relations

2009-07-10T21:42:00.001+02:00

I went to Berlin for a few days and came home with a stack of photography books. The cheapest yet best book I got is Garry Winogrand's Public Relations.

Ever since I saw my first Winogrand photo I've been amazed by his work. When I got the book Figments From The Real World with a (small) selection of the (some 300.000 unedited) photos Winogrand left behind when he left this mortal world, my amazement became mixed with a sense of inadequacy.

Then, one day, I had the opportunity to see Winogrand's exhibition Women are beautiful. These photos literally made my head spin. These photos were spot on, in subject and finish. Never before and never after have photos moved, shocked and elated me as those.

And now I ran into his book Public Relations. Again, the photos are spot on. They capture people at public functions like he was visiting the zoo. These photos show people as they really are or, better, how they present themselves out in public. Yet often Winogrand captures them when they've dropped the pretence and shows the real person.

For nine euros this was a real surprise. A surprise that increased my amazement over Winogrand even further.

Public Relations

Enchantment and mystery

2009-07-09T18:22:00.002+02:00

Much of our familiarity with our world comes through photographic visualizations as a surrogate for first-hand experience of places, objects, creatures and events. (1)

I understand why Edwards hails this second-hand experience. My view of the world has also been shaped by the abundantly available photographic visualizations. But to sat that photography gave us a better understanding of the world is disparaging the views and beliefs of our ancestors, extensive numbers of people both in the modern, technologically advanced civilisation and in societies as yet not as technologically advanced.

A bold statement like:

An iconophobic future might make some important gains by dispensing with the mediation of cameras, but the costs would be immense. Images associated with the optical unconscious have played a fundamental role in demystifying our world; without them enchantment would have a greater grip on our understanding (2)

is not only merely disparaging, it's also incredibly short-sighted. It's exactly the element of mystery and enchantment that drove and drives humanity to its greatest deeds, deepest lows and farthest reaching inventions.

1 S. Edwards, Photography. A very short introduction, New York: Oxford University Press 2006, p.5.
2 S. Edwards, Photography. A very short introduction, New York: Oxford University Press 2006, p.6.

The reality of photographs

2009-07-09T17:32:00.000+02:00

In the 1830s, the desire to break away from the laborious and slow practice of drawing laid at the basis of the invention of photography. With photography the photographer (eventually) gained huge benefits over the drawing artist: speed, and ease.

Less realised is that there were losses too, though these are not necessarily seen as losses by most. The drawing artist can make his drawings anywhere, even where photography is forbidden: museums, theatre, court rooms, and so on. The drawing artist is also free in his subject: real objects and events as well as anything his mind can imagine. And the drawing artist can (re)create scenes, locations, events and people that could never have existed or taken place or that could have but never did.

I find these great losses. Photographers in general, though, are concerned with capturing reality and care little for these losses; they don't pertain to them. Yet, photographic reality is as unreal as a drawing. No photo comes close to reality. It may look real but it remains, for instance, a two dimensional representation of the three dimensional world. Photos lack important information: smells, sounds, anything happening outside the frame lines. Without premeditated preparation a photo hardly ever conveys the emotions, thoughts and ideas important to fully understand the (reason for the) image.

To bring the photograph to a similar level of expressiveness and ability to transfer information tales time, effort and skill. Then taking photographs has become making photographs, equivalent to making drawings.

And like drawings, such made photographs are unreal. Or, better, realer than real. Too real. Beyond real.

The Americans

2009-07-04T15:18:00.001+02:00

Robert Frank's The Americans has been re-released. And what a wonderful books it is!

The Americans is really a seminal work. It was for the first time that daily life in America was the sole object of a photographer. America not as a stage for images of human misery, wild landscapes or ideas of grandeur but America for America's sake. It took a foreigner to show the Americans that America was just as intrinsically photographic as, say, London, Paris or Rome.

And now we can enjoy The Americans, originally first released in France in 1958 and only a year later in the USA, again. In a slightly different form than the original but these changes are on instigation of Robert Frank himself.

Amazon reviewed The Americans as follows:

Armed with a camera and a fresh cache of film and bankrolled by a Guggenheim Foundation grant, Robert Frank crisscrossed the United States during 1955 and 1956. The photographs he brought back form a portrait of the country at the time and hint at its future. He saw the hope of the future in the faces of a couple at city hall in Reno, Nevada, and the despair of the present in a grimy roofscape. He saw the roiling racial tension, glamour, and beauty, and, perhaps because Frank himself was on the road, he was particularly attuned to Americans' love for cars. Funeral-goers lean against a shiny sedan, lovers kiss on a beach blanket in front of their parked car, young boys perch in the back seat at a drive-in movie. A sports car under a drop cloth is framed by two California palm trees; on the next page, a blanket is draped over a car accident victim's body in Arizona.

Robert Frank's The Americans reappear 40 years after they were initially published in this exquisite volume by Scalo. Each photograph (there are more than 80 of them) stands alone on a page, while the caption information is included at the back of the book, allowing viewers an unfettered look at the images. Jack Kerouac's original introduction, commissioned when the photographer showed the writer his work while sitting on a sidewalk one night outside of a party, provides the only accompanying text. Kerouac's words add narrative dimension to Frank's imagery while in turn the photographs themselves perfectly illustrate the writer's own work.

The Americans by Robert Frank

Eleventh PAW of 2009

2009-07-04T15:01:00.002+02:00

Enlightenment comes in many forms but none more literal than in the eleventh PAW of 2009.

Eighth PAW of 2009

2009-07-04T14:56:00.000+02:00

An angel. No, two angels. And, framed by blossoms, they fell for a mango.

Penelope for eighth PAW of 2009. Who could have thought of that? Not me. But there she was shining brightly in the dark. A beacon of beauty on a dark night. A radiant view on that the cold and windy platform.

Seventh PAW of 2009

2009-07-04T14:47:00.001+02:00

For some time now I've been wondering about the use and application of calligraphy in this day and age. Where some scripts lend themselves very well to calligraphy, the Latin script seemingly does not. Scripts like Arabic, Chinese, Old Mongol and such are by their very nature calligraphic. They're painterly, meant to be drawn, often based on (stylised) images.

But who cares for the arbitrary symbols of the Latin script? The kind of calligraphy it seems to lend itself to is the kind we find in old manuscripts or on old German banknotes.

However, as you can see from the seventh PAW of 2009 there are ways to force the Latin script out off its straight jacket and make it free flowing. You may not call it calligraphy but I'm inclined to do. It's rough and uncouth. It's not Art (whatever that is) but "vandalism". Yet I am seeing purpose in it. I see someone put thought into it. The "artist" dared to step out of the box of common literature and art to find a new means of conveying his message.

Sixth PAW of 2009

2009-07-04T14:35:00.000+02:00

The sixth PAW of 2009 is an exercise in form and motion. The smaller "bubbular" forms contrast with the circular forms which in their turn contrast with the straight forms. The waviness contrasts with the circular wave patterns.

Essays on photography

2009-07-03T21:56:00.003+02:00

Amazon.com Widgets

Fourth PAW of 2009

2009-07-02T22:09:00.000+02:00

An oversized pram. Distinguished men, immortalized in paint. Dark red velour. The ghostly imprint of a walking man, left behind because of slow shutter speed. You'll find it all in the fourth PAW of 2009.

Where can this be? It exudes a certain wealth. But what's with the oversized pram? Is it art? And if so, what is it doing it such a setting?

Street art

2009-07-01T21:35:00.000+02:00

Tunes.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FX10
Leica DC Vario-Elmarit 5.8-17.4/2.8-5.0
film settings, shutter time & aperture unknown

Panna.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FX10
Leica DC Vario-Elmarit 5.8-17.4/2.8-5.0
film settings, shutter time & aperture unknown

Kwellie!.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FX10
Leica DC Vario-Elmarit 5.8-17.4/2.8-5.0
film settings, shutter time & aperture unknown

NFA.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FX10
Leica DC Vario-Elmarit 5.8-17.4/2.8-5.0
film settings, shutter time & aperture unknown

esterik.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FX10
Leica DC Vario-Elmarit 5.8-17.4/2.8-5.0
film settings, shutter time & aperture unknown

Hello Kitty.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FX10
Leica DC Vario-Elmarit 5.8-17.4/2.8-5.0
film settings, shutter time & aperture unknown

229.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FX10
Leica DC Vario-Elmarit 5.8-17.4/2.8-5.0
film settings, shutter time & aperture unknown

Second PAW of 2009

2009-07-01T20:38:00.002+02:00

Who could have figured that for the second PAW of 2009 I would end up with tropical hill-side temple? It was all the more strange if you know it was January, that I was at home in Holland, and was eagerly awaiting warmer and brighter days.

Or maybe my wishes opened my mind and my eye for this scene. A scene created by the edge of our dining table, a pile of books of different sizes and shapes, and a low angled watery sun.

First PAW of 2009

2009-07-01T20:35:00.000+02:00

The year started well. I felt like shooting and chose a parking lot as first PAW of 2009.

A parking lot. At a drive-in McDonald's. The scene had this eery, empty atmosphere about it that reminded me of the sense of abandonment, loneliness and aloneness so abundantly present in Edward Hopper's paintings. I needed a focus, different from the parking lot, to bring to the fore this atmosphere without being to blunt about (and thus ruining the very feeling I tried to convey).

Fifty-second PAW of the year

2009-07-01T20:25:00.003+02:00

I said farewell to 2008 with the fifty-second (and final) PAW of 2008.

A wintery scene like we know so well from the masters of the Golden Age. Not nearly as cold as in those days (when a new ice age was working its cold magic), and not nearly as white coated with snow as more easterly parts of this country, but still we had plenty of fun skating.

And, though six months late: Happy New Year! :)

Fifty-first PAW of the year

2009-07-01T20:22:00.002+02:00

"Angel's hair". It was, after all, the season for it when I took the fifty-first PAW of 2008. The sun shining watery through the bare branches of this weeping willow reminded me of the Christmas decoration I named the photo after.

Fiftieth PAW of the year

2009-07-01T20:20:00.000+02:00

A bit of an eye for details, plus a bit of Paint Shop Pro, and we have the fiftieth PAW of 2008.

I called it "The bottle tree" but in hindsight I wanted to call it "The drinking tree". Can you figure out why?

Forty-ninth PAW of the year

2009-06-30T22:18:00.004+02:00

The forty-ninth PAW of 2008 is all about theatre. The children were asked to impersonate a movie maker or cameraman. And this is what they came up with. Action!

Forty-seventh PAW of the year

2009-06-30T22:09:00.000+02:00

The sinister atmosphere on that dark, wintery, November evening was what triggered the forty-seventh PAW of 2008.

The ominous glow above the spikey trees. The faint shimmer of a street lamp on the rough bark. The dark, ice-covered lake. And in the distance, the brightly lit swimming pool; because it ís a swimming pool. Warm. Inviting. Full of people. This late, it would have to be a swimming class, or the water polo team at training. A mug full of hot chocolat milk would do really nice right now.

Forty-sixth PAW of the year

2009-06-30T22:01:00.004+02:00

For the forty-sixth PAW of 2008 (yes, last year!) I had to dabble a little in Paint Shop Pro to get the image I had seen with my mind's eye.

A wintery, grey scene. Dull and boring. Gently the snow fell and covered the streets. Suddenly, the greys and whites are broken by this one bright red umbrella. With my camera at hand it took me more seconds to "see" the shot, compose, and wait for the umbrella to appear in the right spot.

Images of the mind

2009-06-10T14:06:00.001+02:00

Through the sky clouds race
On the swift currents gulls chase
It is gods I face

2009-05-23T12:35:00.000+02:00

The sun is burning in my neck. The playground of this complex of elementary school and community centre is completely deserted. We're walking towards the entrance. Sumiya is talking in Mongolian to another Mongolian. In the harsh shadows we see a few people squatting. If I didn't know for sure we're in Utrecht, Holland, I wouldn't have been surprised if we had been in a small village in the Mongolian countryside.

Images of the mind

2009-05-16T13:44:00.000+02:00

The people here in Amsterdam are crazy about their bicycles. They do everything on it: eating, drinking, making phone calls, carrying the groceries, and so on. Except for it, at least not while riding the bicycle. The bicycle shed at the school grounds was and still is a favourite hang-out for them horny high school students.

What never seizes to amaze me, and I'm born and raised in Amsterdam, is that once that once they are on their bicycles it's damned hard to get the riders off it again. Waiting for the traffic light to turn green? Everyone remains in the saddle. Having to cross a steep bridge? They'll only get off when they're moving backwards faster than forwards. Kissing their lover goodnight? They'll only dismount when they can mount him or her.

But being almost born in the saddle also has a drawback. Cyclists feel invincible. Like the native American Indian never considered himself a prime moving target for the cavalry, so the cyclist in Amsterdam never sees himself as vulnerable. A red light doesn't mean anything to many. Checking the other traffic before making a left turn is unheard of. Mothers using their child-carrying bicycle as a wedge to gain way. For me it's already a frightful sight. I can't imagine how a tourist who foolishly decided to drive his car in this city experiences it.

However, I'm happy the people in this city like their bicycles so much. Imagine how it would be if all of them went by car or moped. Congestion would increase beyond what we can endure. Air pollution would ultimately reduce us to a species with gills to filter the air we breathe. And the noise would force us to wear ear muffs even in summer. No, let's keep riding. I don't look too swell with gills and ear muffs.

Images of the mind

2009-05-16T13:25:00.000+02:00

My cats see things that aren't there. At least, I think they aren't there. Most of the times the cats stare intently at something on the wall where I don't see anything but the wall.

Sometimes, though, I too see what they see. Like the teensiest spider traversing from one side of the wall to the other. Of course, as soon as one of the cats moves in too close with its sniffer the spider lets go and gets away on the end of its silky safety line.

My cats also have a knack for sniffing out flies, mosquitoes and other flying creepy crawlies. Fortunately, the mosquitoes mostly reside on the outside of the window. Flies, on the other hand, seem to find the way into the house better than the way out again. Once inside, they've become prey, either for my fly swatter or for the cats. Especially the red cat knows how to catch them. And yes, I let him eat his catch.

Images of the mind

2009-05-06T20:12:00.001+02:00

Her legs clasping mine
Rain ticks against the window
She sighs in her sleep

Images of the mind

2009-05-03T09:45:00.000+02:00

A loud bang shattered the quiet night. I didn't think much of it, Maybe it was another RPG attack on the high security court house half a mile away from here, like we had a few years back. Or an afrekening in het criminele circuit, which we had our fair share of here in Osdorp as well over the years. Or perhaps someone slammed shut a heavy truck door nearby. The mind always tries to find a reasonable explanation.

As I lay pondering another, less loud, bang shattered the nightly silence. Now I also heard a very strong engine approaching at great speed. A fire truck, no doubt. And it was, as I could see when I peered out of the window.

Another bang, and a fire flaring up, drew my eye to the opposite side of the street. In between two rows of shops and offices, in a cul-de-sac, was a car ablaze. Another bang made the flames go yet higher. They were reaching the second floor by now.

The fire truck passed in front of me without sirens. This late at night they don't really need them and the people can keep on sleeping.

The fire was out quickly when the fire fighters aimed their spout at it. Not much later a tow truck arrived and took the wreck away. When I checked out the spot the next morning with my daughter, only a bit of charred curb was all that remained of last night's events.

Images of the mind

2009-04-29T06:20:00.000+02:00

The couple is talking to each other in a language I don't understand. It sounds like an African language, which would fit with their appearance. The man is telling something the woman finds hilarious. She gestures and laughs and almost chokes on her chuckling. He keeps on talking. She keeps on laughing and chuckling. I'm not getting the joke. :)

Images of the mind

2009-04-29T06:10:00.000+02:00

Water, smooth like glass
Reflects the red sky above
A duck quacks in love

Images of the mind

2009-04-29T06:05:00.000+02:00

The sun warms my face
First time this year this early
Cold wind chills my back

Images of the mind

2009-04-26T08:17:00.001+02:00

The fog and drizzle
cannot deter the mating
a frog burbs nearby

Images of the mind

2009-04-26T08:12:00.000+02:00

Da tada tada
slowly a train rolls along
fragrant fields of grain

Images of the mind

2009-04-24T22:35:00.004+02:00

But the one place that ever made me feel like crying with frustration over not being able to open myself fully to the power of "god" is the Choijin Lama monastery museum in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. I'm too controlling over my spiritual responses that I can't "let go", can't surrender myself to "god". Only at the Choijin Lama monastery have I ever felt frustrated about that inability. The experience of visiting the different temples was so overwhelming that my mind demanded being released. I tried, and I cried because I couldn't.

Ulaanbaatar has one other temple where my mind tugs at its leash. It's the Gandantegchinlen Khiid, better known as Gandan.Here the 26.5 meter high golden statue of Migjid Janraisig fills your eyes. The tantras fill your mind. The repetitive turning of the prayer wheels brings you in an alpha state. Usually too many people are visiting the temple but sometimes you get lucky for a few moments and enter a state of total relaxation, calm and satisfaction.

Images of the mind

2009-04-24T22:25:00.000+02:00

India is full of Hindu temples but until I actually had set foot in Delhi's largest, I didn't know India is also home to innumerable mosques. The Jama Mashid is a very holy place. Not only is there a foot print of the Prophet in stone, there are also some beard hairs of the Prophet. But no matter how holy this mosque may be I didn't "feel" it. Call me a blasphemer but I'm not so sure that was the Prophet's foot step. His "presence" was lacking.

No, if you want to experience the Prophet's presence you should spend some time in the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. Even though a non-Muslim visitor isn't allowed in the restricted prayer section just sitting, just sitting against one of the pillars, drinking some water and resting a little from an exhausting day, listening to the people talking and praying, your eye cannot help wandering across the walls and ceilings.

The mosque's interior is fabulous, and the more you look at the intricate architecture and the immaculate decoration, the more you feel the "presence" of holiness. This place lives, vibrates with life, plucks at deeply spiritual strings.

Images of the mind

2009-04-24T22:18:00.000+02:00

People could hardly accuse me of being religious but somehow churches and temples are at the heart of some of my most vivid memories.

My paternal grandparents used to live over the apostolic church in Doesburg. I can remember I entered the church only once. When I looked up at the ceiling all I could think about was my walking, even sleeping, in the attic above. I can still hear the warnings on Sunday morning: "Don't stomp. Don't run. People are celebrating mass." On those Sunday mornings I didn't have to go to church. Church came to me.

Somehow falling asleep at my paternal grandparents' was always hard. Their house lies nary at the foot of the Martinikerk in Doesburg, a church with of the tallest spires in the Netherlands. It also has a carillon. It plays the quarter hours. The bells chime softly at the half hour, and they chime loudly at the whole hour. The chiming only stops after midnight. Lying in my bed in the dark, with my sister breathing softly in her bed on the other side of the room, I listened to the silence, waiting for the bells. Many times the bells woke me from the slumber I was just entering. Long were those sleepless hours.

One of the oldest parts of Amsterdam is the area around the Oude Kerk. This church is the oldest of the city, though it was extended and renovated many times over the centuries. Very early in the morning, especially on a foggy day, the Oudekerksplein is where the ghosts of the past surround you. Shoes sound loudly on the cobble stones. The solid masonry of the church, its impressive architecture take you back five hundred years. In the narrow ally behind the church momentarily the fog presses down on you, maybe hiding a purse snatcher. It is an eery place at such times.

Images of the mind

2009-04-23T21:47:00.000+02:00

Bangkok. Waiting for the tourist coach to arrive, I wandered off to a small supermarket to get some bananas and bottled water. After I greeted the store girl in Thai, she seemed to think I could speak Thai and started rattling to me.

Pronunciation: A+
Vocabulary: F-

:)

Images of the mind

2009-04-23T21:42:00.000+02:00

When people are willing they can converse even when they don't speak each other's languages. Minding my own business one day along the river Tuul near Terelj, east of Ulaanbaatar, a younf man came up to me to "practise" his English. With hands and feet, a lot of drawing in the sand, and a smattering of (my) Mongolian and (his) English we got to know each other a bit. He was there talking to me for no other reason than my being there, and that is good. No demands. No obligation. Just sharing a few moments.

Images of the mind

2009-04-23T21:37:00.001+02:00

Cool thing about going places where you're not expected or not supposed to be is that often people consider you part of their -restricted, off limits- world. At the harbour in Willemstad, Curaçao I ran into a crew of four Colombian fishermen. Though I know only a handful of Spanish, we greeted and chitchatted for a short while, before they went back to unloading their catch, leaving me to my business.

Images of the mind

2009-04-23T21:29:00.001+02:00

Curaçao is a laid back place. The law doesn't mean much there except, perhaps, as a general guideline. Walking along the harbour one day, I found my path to the hill fort blocked by a gate; an open gate, but chained off with a sign warning trespassers. Not knowing how to proceed I wandered in a different direction until I came to a police station where I asked the officer at the front desk how I could get to the hill fort. He suggested two options. One was a long walk, in one direction. The other was a short walk, in the direction I had just come from.

"But it says "No trespassers."
"No problem, sir. Just follow the quay until you reach another gate. From there you can take the road up to the hill fort."
"And if that gate is closed?"
"No worries, sit. Just climb over it."

The gate was there, and it was closed. And far too high and pointy and barbed to climb over it. Instead, I crawled through under it. As the officer had said, no worries.

Images of the mind

2009-04-23T19:27:00.000+02:00

It's a sultry spring evening. The few people on the platform are calm and enjoying this pleasant end of a fine day. Two girls are practising their ballet steps. A grizzly bearded black man joins the ballerinas, who don't seem to mind his antics. Rather, they try to teach him how to do a twirl, until he gets it right even less. The other people on the platform look at the scene and have their own thoughts about it.

Images of the mind

2009-04-23T19:02:00.000+02:00

Police on motor bike arrive out of the blue. The boys scatter and scurry away like cockroaches. The police chase a few who reacted too slow. The others shriek with surprise and excitement like little girls. The police don't care whether they catch one. The boys are enjoying the exciting break. Once the police are gone the boys gather again, bragging about how cool this one acted, how brave another scolded the pigs from a distance, how cowardly far and fast another ran away. It's all in the game, and an opportunity to gain or loose prominence in the group.

Images of the mind

2009-04-20T22:05:00.000+02:00

Here I am, sitting in the dark, quiet house, with only candle light to illuminate the paper, and the Buena Vista Social Club softly playing in the background, writing. Or. at least, contemplating.

The flickering of the candles, the calm of the house, sooth my mind. Thoughts and ideas come and go. Some linger longer, only to fade into oblivion when a new thought claims attention. The one thought that keeps coming back, though, is that the life I live is wonderful but hardly conducing for writing. Too many distractions, not enough "writing structure", and never enough time to contemplate ideas to let them roll around my mind like a good wine.

For that to happen changes need to be made; changes I'm not yet willing to make. Changes, too, that may not find approval with everyone, not in the least with myself. It's rather confusing to realise what you want to do, and knowing what you are doing. No, no, I'm not entering some quarter-life crisis or any such modern luxury "issues". This has been going around in my mind for years, and one of the reasons I went travelling and met my wife. And now my mind is building up new challenges for me to try my hand at: writing stories, completing my studies, starting a business, become independently wealthy, travel again, live in different places for some time, cross Mongolia and write about it, photograph with meaning. Some of these challenges I'm tackling already. Others need, of necessity, to wait until a later time; a time that will come and I will be prepared for it.

Images of the mind

2009-04-20T21:53:00.000+02:00

I've never felt poor with my wife but today I felt rich with her. Reading E. Heminway's An American in Paris together, in bed, with the sounds of a spring evening coming through the open window, the cats chasing each other throughout the house, and Nomin fallen asleep, I could not help to consider my luck, my happiness, my fortune.

Images of the mind

2009-04-18T11:33:00.000+02:00

There are days you suddenly realise how poorly you know your town. Yesterday was one such day.

We had taken our daughter to a play friend and took a tram back home. My daughter's friend lives in a part of town where I hardly know my way around. I always thought it too far out of the way.In the past ten years I've been in that neighbourhood perhaps three or four times; always to the same location, and never venturing out to explore this district.

The tram took us through this district. What opened my eyes was that after only a few stops we were already in a part of town I'm more familiar with. And within another few stops we were in the city centre; territory I know like the back of my hand. All these years I had assumed that district to be distant and hard to reach. Yesterday's tram ride proved me wrong.

Images of the mind

2009-04-10T10:03:00.000+02:00

Three crows came fleeting along our balcony; their black feathers reflecting the sun. At the end of the street they banked right hard in unison.

In the clear blue sky a pidgeon hacked its way high up in the air, like a roller coaster hacks its way to the top. And like the roller coaster the pidgeon threw itself over the top to go in a long, smooth, wonderfully elegant glide back to earth.

Images of the mind

2009-04-06T06:02:00.000+02:00

The talk in the tram early in the morning is... great.

Someone woke up on Sunday morning somewhere in the Kinkerstraat. Another spent her evening at the bar, but next week she'll be at the stadium again. Yet another was at the fair too early; it was still closed. His talking partner, on the other hand, was there an hour later and at that time it was open.

Like I said, the talk this early is great. :)

Images of the mind

2009-04-05T22:19:00.000+02:00

Last night I dreamt of black, white and black and white balloon dogs. The kind clowns make from these long, thin balloons for the children at the fair or a party. In my dream I saw them everywhere: amongst the trees, on a branch, with its head sticking out of a bin, in a shop window... everywhere.

And everywhere I went, they went as well: around the block, in the park, at the station, downtown. Odd at first, their presence became infuriating, until a resignation settled over me. Then I woke up.

Images of the mind

2009-04-05T21:52:00.000+02:00

What's the coldest water you ever had the displeasure to experience? Two episodes in my life come to mind, and after all those years I'm still wondering when the water was colder....

One fine May day -I must have been fifteen or so- we decided to go swimming. Swimming in the purification reservoirs in the dunes near Zandvoort. The weather was sunny and warm, and we were all a little excited because what we were about to do was strictly forbidden. We climbed the barbed wire fence and settled ourselves in a well-sheltered spot, invisible from the world yet fully exposed to the sun.

Some of us had already stripped to their underwear and jumped in. The screaming voices were enticing the others to jump in to. I was lagging behind a bit with a few others and we tried our best not to be the last ones in. Sometimes, though, coming last is a good thing....

I ran to the edge of the water, leapt... and went head first in the icy water. The shock was incredible. I came up, swam back and climbed out. I spent the rest of the time sitting in the sun, trying to get warm again.

Years later, while on holiday in England, we went swimming again. This time at an indoor pool. The weather was a bit dull on this summer day and the sun was sporadically seen. The pool had an outdoor pool as well. It was entirely deserted. The indoor pool was mightily crowded, though, and I wanted to do some laps. Coming from the warm humidity inside, outside was disappointing. Not very warm at all. But good enough for some laps. I jumped in at the far end, and while I was still going down I felt my muscles cramp. My brain felt cold, and my heart beat felt very heavy. Damn, this water was deadly!

After an eternity I came up again. My head was pounding; my arms and legs freezing cold. My spine felt like it would snap. It took all my strength and will to swim the ten meters to the side. Climbing out at the ladder was agonizingly heavily. I was shivering all over and could hardly walk back.

Back inside I remained at the shallow end to warm up again for a while. I narrowly escaped death there. An older person might have had cardiac arrest.

Images of the mind

2009-03-24T06:28:00.000+01:00

The early blue hour, later than expected because it's cloudy. It rained all night. The street lights are off. The streets are deserted. A lonely car, head lights on, comes towards me... and passes me by, leaving its trail on the wet asphalt. The silence returns.

A few hundred meters away. It's still the blue hour. The arc lights are off. The high way is densely packed. Car after car, read tail lights on, move away from me and the city. The noise never subsides.

Images of the mind

2009-03-24T06:13:00.000+01:00

A calm, quiet beginning of the day is what I prefer. The rest of the day is noisy and busy anyway, so let me have my quiet start. :)

But some days start out differently. Tram too late, full of people. The din of all those talking, chattering people is overwjelming my sensitive early morning ears. The driver and conductor are shifting blame for the delays to their defaulting coworkers, over the intercom. The heater is on "high", purring loudly over the voices of the passengers. After a whole night raining, the heater fills the humid air with a stuffy heat, creating an atmosphere like a jungle. The passengers are grumbling and complaining, adding to the already sick atmosphere.

It wasn't a good start of the day.

Images of the mind

2009-03-23T23:18:00.000+01:00

Caressing my wife
breasts and tummy, her behind
skin soft as velvet.

Images of the mind

2009-03-23T07:41:00.000+01:00

The world bathes in the pale yellow light of a watery sun. The wind still holds the nip of winter. I'm reminded of my grandfather's garden in spring.

Images of the mind

2009-03-23T07:20:00.001+01:00

Early morning.

The clouds in the sky are golden with the sun's first rays. I'm in the tram at the terminal. It's time to go. The driver closes the doors. It acts as a call to arms. Now, from several directions, people come running to catch this tram. It takes only seconds for these people to arrive and jump in.

Then the driver closes the doors again and leaves the terminal, leaving behind one or two who weren't fast enough.

Spring!

2009-03-21T14:51:00.000+01:00

It's spring time!

The days are becoming longer and longer. The temperatures are rising. A new season to look out for. Get that camera and shoot!

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Images of the mind

2009-03-21T14:42:00.002+01:00

The blue hour. Construction sites bathe in flood lights as soccer fields for an evening match. The men wear hard hats, which light up in the strong light. They go here and there, much like the soccer players on the pitch. And it seems they move around just as aimlessly.

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Images of the mind

2009-03-17T06:06:00.000+01:00

Certain people can do nothing but complain. I admit, I used to be like that. :) When I was like that, I assumed other complainers were kindred spirits; the critical voice of society. One needs at least some justification, right? Wrong! It's just an excuse for not wanting (or daring) to change.

Having changed -or rather, still changing- from a complainer to a critical but positive voice, I can't help being disappointed with those who are still like I was. I ty to ignore them, which is not always easy as they're often rather loud and vocal in their complaining. :)

I've also become more appreciative of optimists. It's in my nature to look for the "bears on the road ahead", which to me is a skill in its own right. Yet, I'm now also looking at ways to circumvent the pifalls and overcome the "issues" so we may go forward. In my experience a real optimist can boulder on without even being distracted by the pitfalls -an annoyingly cool trait. I haven't reached that point, if I ever will. But a certain recklessness, or call it taking chances, is what the optimist mind has given me since I've began to change my ways.

Reading it over, it sounds I'm rambling! Deal with it. :)

Library of Photography

2009-03-15T21:30:00.003+01:00

Photography books are a great way to get to know the work of other photographers. I have a lot of photography books, and I'm adding all the time. To ~~show off~~ showcase these books I set up the

Library of Photography

It's an overview of many of the books I have. I love them as a resource to new ideas, old information and fresh knowledge. I've picked up quite a few ideas for my projects, my subjects and thoughts on photography from these books. I hope they do the same for you.

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Images of the mind

2009-03-09T21:45:00.000+01:00

Yesterday we went to pay our last respects to our neighbour's wife. She passed away last Wednesday morning after struggling to survive from complicated stomach bleedings on Sunday evening. She left behind her husband and a three year old son.

As f*cked funerals and vigils are, seeing a three year old boy walk around amongst the crowd without understanding what is going on, is heartrending. His father, of course, was lucid when he greeted people and received their condolences but as soon as there was a lull he sank back in the cocoon of sorrow, despair and not understanding, having little eye for the boy. I talked to the little man for a moment, trying to gauge his state of mind. All he knew was that mommy would never come back, which he didn't like much. I guess he never got a chance to say goodbye to his mommy properly, seeing how sudden she was rushed to hospital and the amount of surgery they put her through over the course of several days. Sedated and on the IC, she may not have been conscious since Sunday.

Djeez, this sucks eggs....

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1001st post!

2009-03-08T01:36:00.000+01:00

Woohoo! Congratulations to the Shards of Photography blog for its 1001st post!

And of course a big thank you very much to all of you who have been reading my ramblings and have been ogling my photos all these years.

Over the years the contents of this blog have changed a bit. Where it once held mostly my opinions, some advice and news on photography, today I mostly write about the images I'll never shoot. Why? First of all, there are many many more of them than photos I can take. Secondly, while the photos I take may or may not tell a story, the ongoing Images of the Mind always tell a story.

I have come to realise that a photo may tell more than a thousand words, but that they are your, the viewer's, thousand words. I can live with that (though I'm not so sure if other photographers can). But for all those stories I have in my head and see before my eyes, I need words to convey them to you.

An added advantage of the written word is that they come to me at any one time, whereas photos don't. For photography I need to have time and be in a certain mode. If either lacks, I'm just wasting my time or trying in vain to shoot something interesting. My personal photography is not something I can do on command. Coming up with stories, on the other hand, is something I can't stop from simply happening. :)

Photos will remain a part of this blog, but not as essential a part as they used to. (Who is that cheering in the background?!) I hope the Images of the Mind will provide you with as interesting pictures as my photos but I have to face this change of course, a course that many a photographer had to face.

Cheers!

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Images of the mind

2009-03-07T22:37:00.002+01:00

Women go to work
hastily, and with wet hair.
It rains, doesn't it?

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Images of the mind

2009-03-07T22:35:00.000+01:00

I'm in the tram. The world still dressed in its dark blue night gown passes me by. I see the ghosts of the other passengers in the window. It's amazing how they all look good in this spirit form. No wrinkles, no pimples, or bumps.

Then I turn my head and look at their fleshy appearance....

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Images of the mind

2009-03-07T22:32:00.000+01:00

The tram is full of dull people on their way home from work. All of a sudden she is there amongst them. Her copper red hair lights up in flames in the 6500 K tube lights. She outshines the bright white hair of the elderly gentleman. Her presence overpowers even the pretty young woman with the deep, fur-lined cleavage.

As sudden as she appeared, she is gone. She leaves a grey void where once was her fiery light.

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Images of the mind

2009-03-07T22:09:00.003+01:00

What to do with mofo's who know you're about to make a mistake, wait until you do, and then laugh in your face making snide remarks about how stupid you are? Well, I accost them. Like the mofo in the metro last week. The f*cker knew the stop I had to get off at was closed for repairs and that I would have to get off at the next. Instead of pointing out the notice on the back wall of the carriage, he began to laugh and make remarks. At half past six in the morning I'm not much into such "funny" business. I told him. In no uncertain terms.

Some days later I saw him again. I kept my cool and ignored him. He kept his distance and, best of all, kept his mouth shut. No muttering under his breath as usual. No half mumbled remarks. No nothing. Which is good at half past six in the morning.

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Images of the mind

2009-03-07T22:09:00.000+01:00

At a house not far from the old lady reading the curtains are only partly drawn, offering a view of an interior that the furniture business would call "rustic", "Colonial" or "Old English". The room, made darker by the dark brown of the oak wood furniture, is dimly lit by an orange glow, relieved by the bright blue shadows of a TV set. On the couch a man sits. In his underwear. His big round paunch hanging over his brief, creeping from under his wife beater, showing icky, hairy, pasty skin. I shuddered and told myself to avert my gaze when I'm passing this window in the future.

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Images of the mind

2009-03-07T21:33:00.002+01:00

Two, three times a week I pass this house, this window. Most of the times, the old lady sit at her dining table in front of the window. She reads her news paper that lies spread out on the table, her face an inch above the letters. I guess her eyes aren't too good anymore, or maybe she falls asleep while she reads.

The first time I walked past and saw her sitting like that, I thought she was dead. I took two steps back to have another look. Then I walked on again, with double feelings.

A few days later, fortunately, I saw her standing motionless close to the clock on the mantle piece. Since then I have seen her on a regular basis, bent over her news paper reading, or perhaps asleep.

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