A Political Aside

I've supported the Liberal (Democrat) Party for forty years, in a loose, non-commital, no money involved sort of way. Now they're trying to elect a new leader and, to be honest, I don't believe any other party could offer such an uncharismatic, no hope group of individuals for selection (and looking at what the Conservatives offered their supporters recently, that's a very dire position to be in). Surely there is someone amongst their small ensemble of MPs capable of energising something greater than a 1.5 volt battery.

Still, what does it matter? Will we notice? They're politicians; self-service rules and not just at the supermarket.

Atkinson Grimshaw

For over twenty years I have been drawn to the paintings of the Victorian artist, Atkinson Grimshaw. I suppose I feel an affinity with him because my own craft involves painting with light and it is in the effects of light and the creation of atmosphere that Grimshaw excelled.

I was thinking of him yesterday when I took this photograph in Cirencester Parish Church's graveyard. The picture of his that I had in my mind was 'Tree Shadows on the Park Wall, Roundhay Park, Leeds'. I made use of the sun to form the shadows but Grimshaw depicted a lot of his scenes lit by moonlight - I'm not sure I'd want to spend to much time in this location late at night. He also used figures to give the picture scale - I had no-one to call on and I'm not sure I'd have had much success going out in to the street and inviting passers-by to join me amongst the tombstones.

Still you never know, there's some strange people about.

Two Leaves

Today's picture is a lovely example of how people can read different things into a simple image. I took this photograph in the old churchyard behind Cirencester Parish Church where burials ceased in the mid-nineteenth century (it was full). The sun had at last broken through and I was on the look-out for shadows and light kicking off objects. I spotted these two leaves lying on an old gravestone, beautifully lit from an upstage sun. In I went, as happy as Larry (who was he?).

I showed it to Monica this evening. She liked it but said it looked contrived, an observation to which I took umbrage.

'Why,' I said, 'I never touched it.' (See, you're getting dialogue as well now).

'Because,' she replied, 'the stone is inscribed to Samuel and his wife. You've put the second leaf on top of the first. And it's smaller.'

But I hadn't. The symbolism of the image had swept past me without disturbing a single brain cell. And I thought I was observant.

It's also a bit spooky but we won't go there.

Please Ignore This Notice

One certainty in life is that if you put up a notice marking your personal space, people will ignore it. Even if you ask nicely. I've had a good look at this image and I can't identify a single piece of camera equipment in the rack. Lighting, on the other hand, have run riot with gel frames and someone is also thinking about a little shelving scheme somewhere.

What Henry the Vacuum thinks is anyone's guess but he looks happy enough.

Back to Lyme

I think I'm in the grip of Seasonal Affective Disorder as I keeping searching through images from the last few months to find any that have a glimmer of sun in them. I've come across a couple that I shot in Lyme Regis back in October. One of them falls into the 'postcard' category, the other into the 'reflection for the sake of it' group.

It's a tricky time of the year for the photographer-on-a-bike. It takes a real effort of will to get on the machine in the first place, encumbered by four or five layers of clothing (yes, I know all about layering). Then I cycle into town and back, about ten miles, and how many pictures do I take? Usually none - it has to be pretty worthwhile to persuade me to get my gloves off. Still I always find that if I go out looking for them, nothing appears.

The sort of photography that I'm into relies heavily on keeping my eyes open, a liking for the quirky things in life and a liberal helping of serendipity - my friend Peter is a master of this approach. The pioneers like Ansel Adams and O Winston Link could achieve their images with tons of equipment and an infinity of time and patience. I usually have to settle for an Ixus 50 and a beanbag. That suits me fine.

On a totally different tack, spare a thought for an overweight cat called Benji living in Hampshire. It's so fat that it couldn't run away when attacked by a pet rabbit. It's now on a diet. Just goes to show that it's a rabbit-eat-cat world.

Wood with a Hole

It's too miserable at the moment to go wandering outside so I'm raiding my back catalogue for images. This is yet another from the Snowy Mountains in New South Wales. The Snow Gums are fascinating trees with beautiful pastel bark. Colours include pink, cream and green among others - perversely I chose to photograph a dull grey one.

An Echo of a Past Summer

It's been a cold drizzle-ridden apology for a day in Worcestershire, a day for staying indoors, quaffing tea and powering through a minor massif of hot buttered crumpets.

Or not.

For we're now in the post-Christmas anti-binge period when all excess is ruthlessly quelled and preaching against the abomination that is chocolate cake must be pursued with evangelical zeal. This will last until about the end of the month. Then normal service will be resumed.

Several things inspired me to search out today's image. There's Peter's ongoing homage to 'threes' and a lovely image of a post I found on Blues Mama's blog. Also I needed a reminder of how stunning the summer is. For that I've gone (mentally) to the west coast of Vancouver Island, British Columbia. Just add the gentle sound of water lapping.