Finally got out of the office about 6:30 tonight and walked down to the parking garage under the office. I chatted with my boss on the way out then walked over to my car. I put the pack in the back and got in. Turned the key, engine turned. Nothing. Tried again. And again. And again. Nothing. Dead car.
Went back up to my office and cracked out the AAA card. The nice guy from the two company showed up within about fifteen minutes, tried to start the car. Nothing. So he put it up on the tow truck and we headed out for my home. The guy was great - quick, efficient and friendly. But people do decide to say the strangest things. His first real conversation with me, as we drove, started with the following sentence:
"You know, my first fatality pick up was a car like yours, a guy up on skyline, going too fast, straight into a tree like this... "
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
The Passage of Time
When I moved from London to Paris I left behind a lot of stuff in storage. I also had some stuff back at my parents house. When I relocated to the US in spring 2006 I took the opportunity to get the stuff from my parents and put it with my storage stuff in London. Then, when the relo people picked up my London stuff, it all came to the US with me. Buried, deep, deep down in the London shipment was a box and in that box was hundreds and hundreds of 'snappy snaps snapshots'. Essentially the story of my life.
I haven't seen a lot of these pictures for 10 or so years. It's really quite a trip to go back in time and see the things you did and the person you were. The changes are invisible day to day but breathtaking when viewed at a distance of twenty years. So, over the course of the coming months I'm going to be trawling through my box of memories.
Back in the late 1980's I was a skater. In fact I raced. Something called Short Track. That's the kind of speed skating you see Apolo Anton Ohno doing, indoors, tight track all elbows and frantic speed. I became a speed skater because I'd been a skater since I was about 10 years old. I loved it. I skated, at one time, almost every night of the week. My parents were happy that I was getting exercise in a safe environment and I loved skating like a beast. Me and my mates used to scoot around the ice, weaving in and out, jumping through gaps, going backwards, you name it. And, of course, there were girls. To me, at 15 or 16, they were utterly unattainable. And then, finally, it clicked and I met a girl. At the Nottingham Ice Stadium. She was a skater too. She was cute as a button and I was smitten. It wasn't to last, I caught her, making out with a mate of mine. At the Nottingham Ice Stadium.
Around that time I wasn't racing but I did take part in the 'sports' section of a Friday night down at the Stadium. The sports section allowed those beyond beginner to go nuts for a few minutes - skating fast as you wanted - sometimes in a circle, occasionally in a dazzlingly dangerous figure-eight (wonder if that is even legal now). During the sports we used to barrel jumping too. We'd get some gallon cans out on the ice, skate like lunatics and try to jump over them. It was insane. Then we found out that there was an official Barrel Jumping sport in Canada. It even had a world championships! We formed a team and became the Great Britain Barrel Jumping team. We arranged to go compete in Canada and France. For some reason (I think I'd broken something) I couldn't jump... so I became a referee. Before I knew it I'd refereed several world championships indoors and out, mens and womens.
This picture is me as Chief Official at the Outdoor World Barrel Jumping Championships in Ottawa, Canada around 1989.
We had a blast on these trips, especially the trips to Canada which were my first trips to North America. The picture below is me as a young 20-something riding a Skidoo for the first time. Shortly after this picture was taken my buddy took a turn to drive and drove us through a barbed wire fence. He needed stitches. I needed a new ski jacket and gloves.
I had hair. I was a lot thinner. I was pretty fit. I was traveling the world and becoming addicted to it.
Good times.
I haven't seen a lot of these pictures for 10 or so years. It's really quite a trip to go back in time and see the things you did and the person you were. The changes are invisible day to day but breathtaking when viewed at a distance of twenty years. So, over the course of the coming months I'm going to be trawling through my box of memories.
Back in the late 1980's I was a skater. In fact I raced. Something called Short Track. That's the kind of speed skating you see Apolo Anton Ohno doing, indoors, tight track all elbows and frantic speed. I became a speed skater because I'd been a skater since I was about 10 years old. I loved it. I skated, at one time, almost every night of the week. My parents were happy that I was getting exercise in a safe environment and I loved skating like a beast. Me and my mates used to scoot around the ice, weaving in and out, jumping through gaps, going backwards, you name it. And, of course, there were girls. To me, at 15 or 16, they were utterly unattainable. And then, finally, it clicked and I met a girl. At the Nottingham Ice Stadium. She was a skater too. She was cute as a button and I was smitten. It wasn't to last, I caught her, making out with a mate of mine. At the Nottingham Ice Stadium.
Around that time I wasn't racing but I did take part in the 'sports' section of a Friday night down at the Stadium. The sports section allowed those beyond beginner to go nuts for a few minutes - skating fast as you wanted - sometimes in a circle, occasionally in a dazzlingly dangerous figure-eight (wonder if that is even legal now). During the sports we used to barrel jumping too. We'd get some gallon cans out on the ice, skate like lunatics and try to jump over them. It was insane. Then we found out that there was an official Barrel Jumping sport in Canada. It even had a world championships! We formed a team and became the Great Britain Barrel Jumping team. We arranged to go compete in Canada and France. For some reason (I think I'd broken something) I couldn't jump... so I became a referee. Before I knew it I'd refereed several world championships indoors and out, mens and womens.
This picture is me as Chief Official at the Outdoor World Barrel Jumping Championships in Ottawa, Canada around 1989.
We had a blast on these trips, especially the trips to Canada which were my first trips to North America. The picture below is me as a young 20-something riding a Skidoo for the first time. Shortly after this picture was taken my buddy took a turn to drive and drove us through a barbed wire fence. He needed stitches. I needed a new ski jacket and gloves.
I had hair. I was a lot thinner. I was pretty fit. I was traveling the world and becoming addicted to it.
Good times.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Joshua Tree
Been so so busy over the past few weeks I've barely had time to post. I guess my thoughts have been racing too fast for my fingers to type.
A couple of weeks ago I was on a shoot in Southern California, in the Joshua Tree National Park. It's one of my favourite places to shoot and, somehow, I'm never disappointed with the sunsets there. This time around there were no clouds and I was expecting a less than stellar sunset. But, in fact, it was clear and rather beautiful.
A couple of weeks ago I was on a shoot in Southern California, in the Joshua Tree National Park. It's one of my favourite places to shoot and, somehow, I'm never disappointed with the sunsets there. This time around there were no clouds and I was expecting a less than stellar sunset. But, in fact, it was clear and rather beautiful.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Yes, he did.
I've lived and voted in general elections in Britain. I've watched the Presidential election in France and, now, I've seen a US Presidential election. It's quite something. Watching history happen in front of you.
I'm not American but I've always loved this country. I spoke with my mother a couple of weeks ago and she, as a young girl in the middle of England, grew up looking to the US as being a truly special place and I think it is. It's an incredible country. I've always thought so. Things happen here.
But there has been an awful amount wrong with the country for a long time. The last eight years has seen the country's popularity slip to unknown depths across the world. The economy has plummeted, breathlessly, to almost unbelievable depths. It has been embroiled in a war which had little or no mandate and which, by next April, will have lasted as long as the Second World War (and longer than America's involvement in that war).
Now the country has a leader of intelligence, seemingly strong, passionate, balanced, energetic and somewhat charismatic. He has mobilised a disinterested youth to reenergize their interest and voice in politics and the direction of their country and, by default, their future.
Barack Obama's speech, tonight, was powerful, moving, strong and, above all else, inclusive. He appealed to those whose votes he didn't win. He spoke to his colleagues across the political divide. He also told the story of an American woman 'of colour' that voted today at the age of 106. He related how much she has seen in her lifetime. It carried with it the weight of history that must stare back from the mirror for every American tomorrow morning. Even as a non-American I shed a tear for the thought that this may just be the start of something truly great. So much hope, so much anticipation and so much to do.
One of my favourite journalists is the BBC's John Simpson. As ever, he was utterly on point tonight.
Rise up, America, make this, at least, a start to craft a better future.
I'm not American but I've always loved this country. I spoke with my mother a couple of weeks ago and she, as a young girl in the middle of England, grew up looking to the US as being a truly special place and I think it is. It's an incredible country. I've always thought so. Things happen here.
But there has been an awful amount wrong with the country for a long time. The last eight years has seen the country's popularity slip to unknown depths across the world. The economy has plummeted, breathlessly, to almost unbelievable depths. It has been embroiled in a war which had little or no mandate and which, by next April, will have lasted as long as the Second World War (and longer than America's involvement in that war).
Now the country has a leader of intelligence, seemingly strong, passionate, balanced, energetic and somewhat charismatic. He has mobilised a disinterested youth to reenergize their interest and voice in politics and the direction of their country and, by default, their future.
Barack Obama's speech, tonight, was powerful, moving, strong and, above all else, inclusive. He appealed to those whose votes he didn't win. He spoke to his colleagues across the political divide. He also told the story of an American woman 'of colour' that voted today at the age of 106. He related how much she has seen in her lifetime. It carried with it the weight of history that must stare back from the mirror for every American tomorrow morning. Even as a non-American I shed a tear for the thought that this may just be the start of something truly great. So much hope, so much anticipation and so much to do.
One of my favourite journalists is the BBC's John Simpson. As ever, he was utterly on point tonight.
Rise up, America, make this, at least, a start to craft a better future.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Doing the good thing
I arrived at LAX early morning Wednesday for a shoot up in Joshua Tree. I took the shuttle bus across to the Hertz. Signed in. Got my stuff. Used the restroom. Grabbed some water. Found the car. Headed out to Pomona to meet someone. I pulled into the parking lot in Pomona and headed into a Starbucks for coffee. I went to the restroom there too to wash my hands. That's when I noticed something missing. My Navajo thumbring.
It wasn't an expensive ring but it meant a lot to me. I got it out in the deserts of northern Arizona on our summer road trip last year. I take it off when I wash my hands. I guess having been up since 4am I wasn't too crisp - I'd forgotten to put it back on.
I called the LAX Hertz office, pressed '5' for lost and found and got an answering service. I held little hope as I explained my predicament to the machine. Julie arrived with the package I was taking up to the shoot. I got back in the car and headed out.
Within 5 mins the phone rang. It was Pam at Hertz. She'd sent a guy into the restroom and they'd found my ring. The next morning I went into Hertz to drop the car off at 5am and a guy called Berry helped me out. He'd actually been the guy who'd found it.
To people like Pam and Berry I tip my hat. You do your company proud. Many thanks for your prompt action.
It wasn't an expensive ring but it meant a lot to me. I got it out in the deserts of northern Arizona on our summer road trip last year. I take it off when I wash my hands. I guess having been up since 4am I wasn't too crisp - I'd forgotten to put it back on.
I called the LAX Hertz office, pressed '5' for lost and found and got an answering service. I held little hope as I explained my predicament to the machine. Julie arrived with the package I was taking up to the shoot. I got back in the car and headed out.
Within 5 mins the phone rang. It was Pam at Hertz. She'd sent a guy into the restroom and they'd found my ring. The next morning I went into Hertz to drop the car off at 5am and a guy called Berry helped me out. He'd actually been the guy who'd found it.
To people like Pam and Berry I tip my hat. You do your company proud. Many thanks for your prompt action.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Flying: Out On A Limb
If you drive east out of New York there isn't much left of the continent aside from a spur of land that runs east and north out into the Atlantic ocean. It's called Long Island. I've been to New York a bunch of times and I've been to places 'upstate' but I'd never been out on to the island itself. On Sunday I had a car and a free day so I headed out to explore some of the island.
If you look up a list of famous New Yorkers chances are that they may have come from Long Island; Billy Joel, Billy Crystal, Walt Whitman, Steve Buscemi, Rodney Dangerfield, Kevin James, Joe Satriani and Howard Stern to name but a few. Many of the worlds rich and famous make their second home in Long Island in what has become known simply as 'The Hamptons' at the far eastern end of the island.
Some famous things have happened on the Island too like the first transatlantic radio telephone transmitter at Rocky Point. The Lighthouse at Montauk was New York's first coastal beacon back in 1796. And Lindbergh made the first solo transatlantic flight from Roosevelt Field to Paris in 1927 flying the famed Spirit of St Louis airplane.
In fact, the history of Long Island is intertwined with the history of American aviation all the way from the early beginnings up to and including putting man on the moon. In the early years of the aviation boom, the golden age - between about the world wars - companies set up shop on Long Island and aviators pushed the boundaries of flight to previously unimaginable lengths. Before Lindbergh, in 1919, a Curtiss flying boat flew from Long Island to England with two stops en route. In 1923 John Macready and Oakley Kelley took off from Roosevelt Field and flew, non-stop, to San Diego - the first non-stop flight across the continent of the US. The flight took them 27hrs to cover 2520 miles.
Companies like Curtiss and Sikorsky opened up in Garden City. Sperry and Fairchild in Farmingdale and, later, Grumman and Republic. These latter two companies served the US military throughout the second world war and all the way up into the most recent conflicts in the Gulf. The Grumman company developed a line of aircraft for the US Navy - the famous Grumman 'cats' - that stretch from Wildcats and Hellcats in World War II, through Bearcats, Panthers, Cougars and the Tiger all the way up to one of the most successful naval aircraft of all time, the F-14 Tomcat, the last of the cats. Republic produced one of the most fearsome fighter aircraft of the second world war, the P-47 Thunderbolt, lovingly known as 'the Jug'. Just as Grumman had their cats Republic stuck with Thunder, developing the Thunderjet and Thunderstreak which saw service in Korea and the Thunderchief, known as the 'Thud', which saw much service during the Rolling Thunder operations of the Vietnam war. By the mid-60s Republic was subsumed into another Long Island company, Fairchild, and became known as Fairchild Republic. Under that name it developed one of the most potent and unusual ground attack aircraft, the A-10 Thunderbolt II lovingly referred to as 'the Warthog'. The A-10 is still in service.
I visited the American Airpower Museum in Farmingdale and saw some of their aircraft. Sitting outside are some examples of cold war hardware built on the island, an F-105 Thunderchief and a rare RF-84 Thunderflash reconnaisance aircraft.
The Republic RF-84 Thunderflash
A General Dynamics F-111.
They also had a meeting of the local hotrod club.
Grumman was quite the company on the island once upon a time. At the height of it's cold war defence contracts the company employed nearly 23,000 people on the Island. After a bidding war between Martin Marietta and Northrop, Northrop purchased the company for 2.1 billion dollars in 1994. It was the end of the line for Grumman on the island. Before all of that happened though Grumman won the contract to build the lunar module for the Apollo missions. The actual ship that descended to the moon. LM-5 was called 'the eagle', this was the lunar module that actually first touched down on the moon as part of Apollo 11. LM-12 was flown on Apollo 17 and LM-13 was destined for Apollo 18 which, of course, was cancelled. LM-13 now stands proudly in the small Cradle of Aviation museum in Garden City. It's a lovely little museum that deserves to be visited for it's place as, literally, the cradle of American aviation.
LM-13, the lunar module for Apollo 18.
After I'd visited the museums I carried on out along the Long Island Expressway, came off on the 27 and headed to Montauk Point, the furthest tip of the island. I arrived as the sun was setting and looked at the lighthouse, the gulls and felt the wind in my face. I wanted to stay and soak it all up but somehow I was just too tired to be poetic.
This particular road trip has taken it's toll and I wanted to start the long trek back to New York to drop off the rental and get to my hotel. I wanted to get my week started and get home. I got back in the car, pausing only to look at the horses in the setting sun then I took off and headed back to the metropolis.
If you look up a list of famous New Yorkers chances are that they may have come from Long Island; Billy Joel, Billy Crystal, Walt Whitman, Steve Buscemi, Rodney Dangerfield, Kevin James, Joe Satriani and Howard Stern to name but a few. Many of the worlds rich and famous make their second home in Long Island in what has become known simply as 'The Hamptons' at the far eastern end of the island.
Some famous things have happened on the Island too like the first transatlantic radio telephone transmitter at Rocky Point. The Lighthouse at Montauk was New York's first coastal beacon back in 1796. And Lindbergh made the first solo transatlantic flight from Roosevelt Field to Paris in 1927 flying the famed Spirit of St Louis airplane.
In fact, the history of Long Island is intertwined with the history of American aviation all the way from the early beginnings up to and including putting man on the moon. In the early years of the aviation boom, the golden age - between about the world wars - companies set up shop on Long Island and aviators pushed the boundaries of flight to previously unimaginable lengths. Before Lindbergh, in 1919, a Curtiss flying boat flew from Long Island to England with two stops en route. In 1923 John Macready and Oakley Kelley took off from Roosevelt Field and flew, non-stop, to San Diego - the first non-stop flight across the continent of the US. The flight took them 27hrs to cover 2520 miles.
Companies like Curtiss and Sikorsky opened up in Garden City. Sperry and Fairchild in Farmingdale and, later, Grumman and Republic. These latter two companies served the US military throughout the second world war and all the way up into the most recent conflicts in the Gulf. The Grumman company developed a line of aircraft for the US Navy - the famous Grumman 'cats' - that stretch from Wildcats and Hellcats in World War II, through Bearcats, Panthers, Cougars and the Tiger all the way up to one of the most successful naval aircraft of all time, the F-14 Tomcat, the last of the cats. Republic produced one of the most fearsome fighter aircraft of the second world war, the P-47 Thunderbolt, lovingly known as 'the Jug'. Just as Grumman had their cats Republic stuck with Thunder, developing the Thunderjet and Thunderstreak which saw service in Korea and the Thunderchief, known as the 'Thud', which saw much service during the Rolling Thunder operations of the Vietnam war. By the mid-60s Republic was subsumed into another Long Island company, Fairchild, and became known as Fairchild Republic. Under that name it developed one of the most potent and unusual ground attack aircraft, the A-10 Thunderbolt II lovingly referred to as 'the Warthog'. The A-10 is still in service.
I visited the American Airpower Museum in Farmingdale and saw some of their aircraft. Sitting outside are some examples of cold war hardware built on the island, an F-105 Thunderchief and a rare RF-84 Thunderflash reconnaisance aircraft.
The Republic RF-84 Thunderflash
A General Dynamics F-111.
They also had a meeting of the local hotrod club.
Grumman was quite the company on the island once upon a time. At the height of it's cold war defence contracts the company employed nearly 23,000 people on the Island. After a bidding war between Martin Marietta and Northrop, Northrop purchased the company for 2.1 billion dollars in 1994. It was the end of the line for Grumman on the island. Before all of that happened though Grumman won the contract to build the lunar module for the Apollo missions. The actual ship that descended to the moon. LM-5 was called 'the eagle', this was the lunar module that actually first touched down on the moon as part of Apollo 11. LM-12 was flown on Apollo 17 and LM-13 was destined for Apollo 18 which, of course, was cancelled. LM-13 now stands proudly in the small Cradle of Aviation museum in Garden City. It's a lovely little museum that deserves to be visited for it's place as, literally, the cradle of American aviation.
LM-13, the lunar module for Apollo 18.
After I'd visited the museums I carried on out along the Long Island Expressway, came off on the 27 and headed to Montauk Point, the furthest tip of the island. I arrived as the sun was setting and looked at the lighthouse, the gulls and felt the wind in my face. I wanted to stay and soak it all up but somehow I was just too tired to be poetic.
This particular road trip has taken it's toll and I wanted to start the long trek back to New York to drop off the rental and get to my hotel. I wanted to get my week started and get home. I got back in the car, pausing only to look at the horses in the setting sun then I took off and headed back to the metropolis.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
500
I like driving. I can drive all day. Yesterday, I did. I drove from Liberty, NY to Charlottesville, VA. I've never tripped through the eastern side of the country. Interesting to move from New York to Pennsylvania to Maryland to West Virginia to Virginia. Finally pulling into Charlottesville around 11pm last night.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Lakestarpaint
Stopped off on my way back to the hotel tonight. At the lake where I seem to keep stopping. The moon is pretty bright and I light painted the trees...
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Coffee
My name is Martin and I've been a coffee addict, now, for a great many years. There, I've said it. Do I feel better? If I could get a coffee, yes.
When you're in the big cities getting a half decent coffee isn't much of a challenge. You can step out of any hotel and straight into a nearby Starbucks for something. Some hotels even skip the outside part and have a Starbucks right there in the lobby.
Sometimes though, it's just not that easy to find a coffee place. Recently I was in Jackson Hole, WY and searching for coffee. I came across a small tucked away Italian restaurant one night. Outside they had a few tables with those distinctive red umbrellas that usually mean one thing: Illy coffee. Sure enough, they serve Illy. The place is run by a great German dude called Alex who ended up in Jackson via Boston where he studied at Berklee. I ate there one night and had, quite simply, the best lasagne I've ever had. Wholly recommended. The coffee was stellar too although note that it's a cafe for lunch and dinner so doesn't open until 11am. If you're gasping for caffeine any earlier than there's a Tully's in the Albertsons but anything after 11, head for Cafe Ponza at 50 W. Broadway in Jackson.
Now I find myself in upstate New York. The nearest Starbucks is at least 40 miles away and I need coffee. Last year I took a wrong turn and ended up in the middle of nowhere and pulled off into the small town of Roscoe, NY. In Roscoe is a great little cafe called Buffalo Zach's. It's a cafe with a difference.
It's run by a guy called Peter Swersey. The following is printed on the back of their menus:
Some two and a half years ago, with the help of three of the most prestigious New York hospitals, the proprietor of this unique café decided to fulfill a dream of his by building the first Survivorship retreat and sanctuary for Cancer patients in this country, just outside of beautiful Roscoe, NY. It was the profound loss of three of his family members to the horrific disease of Cancer that drew him to this mission.
This very strong commitment of his had him spend over 1 ½ years in the planning stages to launch what will become known as “Camp Tomorrow”, A Place of Hope, Renewal and Healing; so Cancer survivors can remain cancer free for the remaining years of their lives.
The inception of Buffalo Zach’s Café in Roscoe will serve as a support and foundation for the funding of “Camp Tomorrow”. The opening for his retreat is scheduled in the near future and hopefully will be the beginning of many more cancer survival retreats in the country. It is in this context that the entire staff at Buffalo Zach’s Café would like to Thank You for having the pleasure of serving you, our valued customer. Thank You for entering these premises and allowing us to accommodate you and hopefully making your visit a delightful experience.
So, the coffee is seriously very good, the food is great - if the buffalo chicken panini I had today is anything to go by - and the staff are just wonderful. And the profits go to a good cause. What you waitin' for?
When you're in the big cities getting a half decent coffee isn't much of a challenge. You can step out of any hotel and straight into a nearby Starbucks for something. Some hotels even skip the outside part and have a Starbucks right there in the lobby.
Sometimes though, it's just not that easy to find a coffee place. Recently I was in Jackson Hole, WY and searching for coffee. I came across a small tucked away Italian restaurant one night. Outside they had a few tables with those distinctive red umbrellas that usually mean one thing: Illy coffee. Sure enough, they serve Illy. The place is run by a great German dude called Alex who ended up in Jackson via Boston where he studied at Berklee. I ate there one night and had, quite simply, the best lasagne I've ever had. Wholly recommended. The coffee was stellar too although note that it's a cafe for lunch and dinner so doesn't open until 11am. If you're gasping for caffeine any earlier than there's a Tully's in the Albertsons but anything after 11, head for Cafe Ponza at 50 W. Broadway in Jackson.
Now I find myself in upstate New York. The nearest Starbucks is at least 40 miles away and I need coffee. Last year I took a wrong turn and ended up in the middle of nowhere and pulled off into the small town of Roscoe, NY. In Roscoe is a great little cafe called Buffalo Zach's. It's a cafe with a difference.
It's run by a guy called Peter Swersey. The following is printed on the back of their menus:
Some two and a half years ago, with the help of three of the most prestigious New York hospitals, the proprietor of this unique café decided to fulfill a dream of his by building the first Survivorship retreat and sanctuary for Cancer patients in this country, just outside of beautiful Roscoe, NY. It was the profound loss of three of his family members to the horrific disease of Cancer that drew him to this mission.
This very strong commitment of his had him spend over 1 ½ years in the planning stages to launch what will become known as “Camp Tomorrow”, A Place of Hope, Renewal and Healing; so Cancer survivors can remain cancer free for the remaining years of their lives.
The inception of Buffalo Zach’s Café in Roscoe will serve as a support and foundation for the funding of “Camp Tomorrow”. The opening for his retreat is scheduled in the near future and hopefully will be the beginning of many more cancer survival retreats in the country. It is in this context that the entire staff at Buffalo Zach’s Café would like to Thank You for having the pleasure of serving you, our valued customer. Thank You for entering these premises and allowing us to accommodate you and hopefully making your visit a delightful experience.
So, the coffee is seriously very good, the food is great - if the buffalo chicken panini I had today is anything to go by - and the staff are just wonderful. And the profits go to a good cause. What you waitin' for?
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Musical Transportation
Music, more than just about any other sense, is the one that transports me in time and place. I can be just about anywhere and I'll hear a song and I can see and sense just what I was doing when that song was around first time out.
I remember earlier this year driving through Oklahoma on the way to a shoot. A song came on the radio - I forget what it was now - but my memories of that song go all the way back to when I only knew Oklahoma as a musical movie.
It happened again tonight, too. The drive from JFK airport in NY to Liberty, NY is probably about 2hrs straight. I've never managed to achieve that. For whatever reason my brain melts down as I navigate the twisting roads that cross from Queens, through the top half of Manhattan and the Bronx. Wiggling through New Jersey and then back into New York State again. I'm usually tired and hungry from the flight from SF. It's usually dark and cold and, more often than not, a little wet. Whatever it all is, I usually get lost several times before shuffling into Liberty sometime around 11pm. So, I normally try and get some food on the way. Usually that food is some horrid little roadside service station but tonight I managed to find a Chili's by the road in Ramsey, NY.
The food was pleasant enough and there was a Dunkin Donuts next door. I needed a coffee for the road so I called in. As I was waiting for my latte a song came on their radio. It was Spandau Ballet playing 'True'. My mind spun out of control and all the way back to 1983 when that song hit the charts and was played non-stop back in England. I was fresh out of school, I was 16 going on 17 and the world was my lobster. It was the smoochie record of the year but my teens were not a good time for me with smoochie partners so I remember, with some irritation, hearing that song being played over and over and over again on the radio, at parties, discos. You name it, wherever people were likely to be "makin' out", there was that Spandau style sax-break. There was Mr Hadley givin' it his best shot in the crooning stakes. I can still picture all the smooth dudes dressing sharp since Spandau ditched the highland tribesman look and went into full on sharp suit and tie, impeccable hair gelled to within an inch of it's life. All of that and all of twenty five years ago. I had hair then.
I smiled to myself, paid the man and headed off into the night to get lost in upstate New York yet again.
I remember earlier this year driving through Oklahoma on the way to a shoot. A song came on the radio - I forget what it was now - but my memories of that song go all the way back to when I only knew Oklahoma as a musical movie.
It happened again tonight, too. The drive from JFK airport in NY to Liberty, NY is probably about 2hrs straight. I've never managed to achieve that. For whatever reason my brain melts down as I navigate the twisting roads that cross from Queens, through the top half of Manhattan and the Bronx. Wiggling through New Jersey and then back into New York State again. I'm usually tired and hungry from the flight from SF. It's usually dark and cold and, more often than not, a little wet. Whatever it all is, I usually get lost several times before shuffling into Liberty sometime around 11pm. So, I normally try and get some food on the way. Usually that food is some horrid little roadside service station but tonight I managed to find a Chili's by the road in Ramsey, NY.
The food was pleasant enough and there was a Dunkin Donuts next door. I needed a coffee for the road so I called in. As I was waiting for my latte a song came on their radio. It was Spandau Ballet playing 'True'. My mind spun out of control and all the way back to 1983 when that song hit the charts and was played non-stop back in England. I was fresh out of school, I was 16 going on 17 and the world was my lobster. It was the smoochie record of the year but my teens were not a good time for me with smoochie partners so I remember, with some irritation, hearing that song being played over and over and over again on the radio, at parties, discos. You name it, wherever people were likely to be "makin' out", there was that Spandau style sax-break. There was Mr Hadley givin' it his best shot in the crooning stakes. I can still picture all the smooth dudes dressing sharp since Spandau ditched the highland tribesman look and went into full on sharp suit and tie, impeccable hair gelled to within an inch of it's life. All of that and all of twenty five years ago. I had hair then.
I smiled to myself, paid the man and headed off into the night to get lost in upstate New York yet again.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Public Service Post
Voting
Even though I can't vote here... I would recommend you watch these. Better yet, send them to as many voting friends as you can.
Link: Clean Version
Link: Slightly Fruity Language Version
Health Issue
Last year the great photojournalist James Nachtwey won the TED Prize. This prize allowed him to finance a story of his own choosing. As with all of his work Jim wanted to make a difference. The result is the XDRTB organisation to combat the pandemic spread of extremely drug-resistant tuberculosis (XDR-TB). Pass on the word and increase awareness of this disease.
XDR-TB
One last thing, if you think TB only happens in poor countries. My best friend caught TB... in London, England...
Even though I can't vote here... I would recommend you watch these. Better yet, send them to as many voting friends as you can.
Link: Clean Version
Link: Slightly Fruity Language Version
Health Issue
Last year the great photojournalist James Nachtwey won the TED Prize. This prize allowed him to finance a story of his own choosing. As with all of his work Jim wanted to make a difference. The result is the XDRTB organisation to combat the pandemic spread of extremely drug-resistant tuberculosis (XDR-TB). Pass on the word and increase awareness of this disease.
XDR-TB
One last thing, if you think TB only happens in poor countries. My best friend caught TB... in London, England...
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Jackson Hole II
I've been here for a week. It's been a hard week, worked hard, long days, early mornings. Been up for sunrise most days, the light is so beautiful. Of course this week the leaves are also turning, which makes the colors in everything so rich. The temperature fluctuations are crazy. In the early morning hours it's around 24º F (-4º C) and in the middle of the day it gets way up into the mid 70's (20's C).
Yesterday I went out early morning and drove up towards Oxbow Bend to a large prairie. I've seen horses and buffalo up there but in the dying light of the day. I wanted to get them at dawn. First up were horses. I could see a couple of off in the distance so we drove down a little, then realised that they were heading towards us... whipping the car back to a pullout the horses galloped into view before the sun even came up.
As the sun started to ignite the long yellow grass I noticed that the buffalo which had been in the field behind had made a beeline for the road... and then crossed it... and headed into the field I was looking at.
There were hundreds of them. Beautiful in the warm morning sun.
Many of them jumped the fence to take off into the field with the horses.
Some just stopped and stared straight at me.
These things are big. Big enough to stop traffic on the main road heading from Jackson to Yellowstone.
Further on down the road, the horses had come to a halt and were relaxing in the sun.
Every once in a while they'd all take off, galloping across the prairie.
Yesterday I went out early morning and drove up towards Oxbow Bend to a large prairie. I've seen horses and buffalo up there but in the dying light of the day. I wanted to get them at dawn. First up were horses. I could see a couple of off in the distance so we drove down a little, then realised that they were heading towards us... whipping the car back to a pullout the horses galloped into view before the sun even came up.
As the sun started to ignite the long yellow grass I noticed that the buffalo which had been in the field behind had made a beeline for the road... and then crossed it... and headed into the field I was looking at.
There were hundreds of them. Beautiful in the warm morning sun.
Many of them jumped the fence to take off into the field with the horses.
Some just stopped and stared straight at me.
These things are big. Big enough to stop traffic on the main road heading from Jackson to Yellowstone.
Further on down the road, the horses had come to a halt and were relaxing in the sun.
Every once in a while they'd all take off, galloping across the prairie.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Jackson Hole
I'm writing this in a hotel in Jackson Hole, WY. This small town nestles at the foot of the Grand Tetons a truly amazing an iconic part of the US.
I'll be writing more about the place when I've had more than three hours sleep. In the meantime... a shot from sunrise this morning. Edited in Aperture + Color Efex.
These were both taken shortly after sunrise
More to come...
I'll be writing more about the place when I've had more than three hours sleep. In the meantime... a shot from sunrise this morning. Edited in Aperture + Color Efex.
These were both taken shortly after sunrise
More to come...
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Cambria
I've been to Cambria a whole bunch of times over the past seven or eight years. It's long been a favourite little getaway from the Bay Area. J and I are wont to go down there a few weekends a year. Door to door, our house to any of our 'preferred' hotels is about 3hrs. It's become quite a chic little place too with art galleries, antique stores, nick-nacks and boutiques.
Someone in one of the stores told us that this summer had been a disastrous one for them, 'one of the worst in memory' she said. I was trying to figure out why that would be so. The US dollar is so bad against just about every other country on the planet, a lot of Americans are staying closer to home than usual because it's just cheaper. But, I realised, that Cambria is no longer an inexpensive 'ride out'. Gas might be slightly down on what it was a couple of months ago but it's still high. Out on the central coast it's always more expensive than in the major cities - higher cost of delivery, I guess. The restaurants are not so cheap. The stores offer no bargains. It feels like the town priced itself up during the good times, rising ever higher upmarket and, now, now that rainy times are upon us and the economy, the place is just too expensive. 200 miles in a car that does nearly 28 to the gallon is still over 7 gallons. At local prices that is around 30 bucks. So that's 60, round trip. Two nights in a hotel, and you're not looking at much change from 300. Two dinners, without alcohol at about 30 each. Couple of lunches at 20 each. Other incidentals 'n' stuff and you're looking at about 500 bucks for a short weekend getaway. No wonder people are staying home.
Anyway. Aside from that. It's still a great town. Get a good coffee at Cambria Coffee. Great fudge from Erica at Cambria Fudge. Decent pasta at Lombardi's and great Thai at Wild Ginger. Not going to say where we stay, it's already hard enough to get a room there...
Around and about in town. Interesting bumper sticker. "George W. Bush is saving your ass, whether you like it or not". I still don't have a clue what that means.
We often get feathered visitors on our hotel balcony. Especially when tempted by health bar goodness. This is a fine looking Stellar's Jay.
Just down the coast, on the way to San Simeon, are beaches teeming with wildlife. One particularly beach has hundreds of snowy plovers. They sit on the beach in little depressions they make in the sand. Occasionally rising as one into the air to hang on the winds coming in from the sea.
Sitting atop a trash can in the turnout
All rise and take air
A turkey vulture comes to join the party
Further along the coast there are elephant seals. I first photographed them there about 8 years ago on one of my first trips along Highway 1. I remember pulling into a turnout late at night, in the dark, just to stop and look at the stars. I got out of the car and there was the most unearthly sounds coming from the darkness. I found out later, when I got to my hotel, that the noises were made by elephant seals. Back in those days they beached in a little cove near a turnout. Now, the Friends of the Elephant Seals have built a walkway and protection barriers for the seals. Saving the public from the occasional encounter and, of course, the seals from the marauding masses. It's hard to get anywhere near them anymore. These were all shot with the D3 attached to the William Optics Zenithstar II telescope with a camera adaptor.
Of course, one of the nice things about being down on the coast is that there is a lot less light pollution from towns. I took this shot with the D3 and a 24mm lens. Exposure wasn't too long at 15s at ISO 4000 and f/2.8. The dark lanes of the Milky Way and, toward the lower left, Jupiter, shining bright.
From the balcony of the hotel, I shot this with the D3 and an 85mm f/1.4. 5 seconds, wide open at ISO 1600. The long smudge, towards the upper left is our nearest galactic neighbour - The Andromeda Galaxy.
The next morning, as we were leaving, the moon rode high and dreamlike in the morning blue sky. Shot with the telescope.
Someone in one of the stores told us that this summer had been a disastrous one for them, 'one of the worst in memory' she said. I was trying to figure out why that would be so. The US dollar is so bad against just about every other country on the planet, a lot of Americans are staying closer to home than usual because it's just cheaper. But, I realised, that Cambria is no longer an inexpensive 'ride out'. Gas might be slightly down on what it was a couple of months ago but it's still high. Out on the central coast it's always more expensive than in the major cities - higher cost of delivery, I guess. The restaurants are not so cheap. The stores offer no bargains. It feels like the town priced itself up during the good times, rising ever higher upmarket and, now, now that rainy times are upon us and the economy, the place is just too expensive. 200 miles in a car that does nearly 28 to the gallon is still over 7 gallons. At local prices that is around 30 bucks. So that's 60, round trip. Two nights in a hotel, and you're not looking at much change from 300. Two dinners, without alcohol at about 30 each. Couple of lunches at 20 each. Other incidentals 'n' stuff and you're looking at about 500 bucks for a short weekend getaway. No wonder people are staying home.
Anyway. Aside from that. It's still a great town. Get a good coffee at Cambria Coffee. Great fudge from Erica at Cambria Fudge. Decent pasta at Lombardi's and great Thai at Wild Ginger. Not going to say where we stay, it's already hard enough to get a room there...
Around and about in town. Interesting bumper sticker. "George W. Bush is saving your ass, whether you like it or not". I still don't have a clue what that means.
We often get feathered visitors on our hotel balcony. Especially when tempted by health bar goodness. This is a fine looking Stellar's Jay.
Just down the coast, on the way to San Simeon, are beaches teeming with wildlife. One particularly beach has hundreds of snowy plovers. They sit on the beach in little depressions they make in the sand. Occasionally rising as one into the air to hang on the winds coming in from the sea.
Sitting atop a trash can in the turnout
All rise and take air
A turkey vulture comes to join the party
Further along the coast there are elephant seals. I first photographed them there about 8 years ago on one of my first trips along Highway 1. I remember pulling into a turnout late at night, in the dark, just to stop and look at the stars. I got out of the car and there was the most unearthly sounds coming from the darkness. I found out later, when I got to my hotel, that the noises were made by elephant seals. Back in those days they beached in a little cove near a turnout. Now, the Friends of the Elephant Seals have built a walkway and protection barriers for the seals. Saving the public from the occasional encounter and, of course, the seals from the marauding masses. It's hard to get anywhere near them anymore. These were all shot with the D3 attached to the William Optics Zenithstar II telescope with a camera adaptor.
Of course, one of the nice things about being down on the coast is that there is a lot less light pollution from towns. I took this shot with the D3 and a 24mm lens. Exposure wasn't too long at 15s at ISO 4000 and f/2.8. The dark lanes of the Milky Way and, toward the lower left, Jupiter, shining bright.
From the balcony of the hotel, I shot this with the D3 and an 85mm f/1.4. 5 seconds, wide open at ISO 1600. The long smudge, towards the upper left is our nearest galactic neighbour - The Andromeda Galaxy.
The next morning, as we were leaving, the moon rode high and dreamlike in the morning blue sky. Shot with the telescope.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Moonlight
After photographing the moon this week I grew curious to photograph the light of the moon...
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Pushing the moon
Thought I'd try the Nik tools on a decent moon shot, tonight, taken through my telescope.
Image taken with a Nikon D3, shot through a 120mm achromatic refractor. Eyepiece adapter with 12mm plössl eyepiece. ISO 400. Exposure of 1/125s. Edited in Aperture. Final finishing with Nik Viveza and Sharpener.
Image taken with a Nikon D3, shot through a 120mm achromatic refractor. Eyepiece adapter with 12mm plössl eyepiece. ISO 400. Exposure of 1/125s. Edited in Aperture. Final finishing with Nik Viveza and Sharpener.
Moonglow
I have a 200-400 f/4 Nikkor on loan at the moment, I thought I'd give it a go on the recently waning moon. This shot was taken at ISO 400, f/11 at 1/250s. Imported into Aperture where I made my edit and where it was 'balanced'. Then, using Nik Software's Viveza, I managed to bring down the 'heat' of Tycho's ejecta. I then used Sharpener 3.0 on it to bring out as much detail as possible.
I'm going to have a go with one of my telescopes one of these fine nights. Tethering my D3 into the MacBook Pro makes short work of getting critical focus/exposure right through the telescope. More to come.
I'm going to have a go with one of my telescopes one of these fine nights. Tethering my D3 into the MacBook Pro makes short work of getting critical focus/exposure right through the telescope. More to come.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
A Perfect Burger
If you're ever in California, somewhere near San Jose, and you decide that you need garlic, chances are that you'll end up in Gilroy. Gilroy prides itself on being the garlic producing capital of the world* and they even hold an annual Garlic Festival in the town to proclaim their love of the fragrant bud. There are plenty of garlic shops that will sell all manner of garlicked products.
But there is another delightful secret there in town. At the corner of Monterey and Seventh is Baha Burger a tiny little 'drive in' that makes great little burgers. Old school burgers.
The place was bought 40 years by a guy called Al Tamayo. He bought it from an Iranian student who needed to give the place up. Al, apparently, can't remember the student's name but it was something like "Bahadin" so now the place is called Baha Burgers.
We see Al through the window when we order but we order from Marina, Al's daughter. Today we saw Al's wife through the window too - it's a family affair.
There's nothing fancy about the place. Vinyl seats, creaky tables, and some old gaming machines.
But the cheeseburgers. Well, the cheeseburgers are worth the drive. Simple patties on plain bread buns with mustard, onions, tomatoes and cheese. The french fries are crinkle cut and delicious. And the shakes? Ah, yes, the banana shake is my favourite...
* according to statistics on Wikipedia, Gilroy isn't even close to being the garlic capital of the world. China produces around 75% of the worlds output of garlic, the US, in comparison, produces 2%. Not that I'm knocking Gilroy... it's a great town.. it's just that China produces a frightening amount of garlic.
But there is another delightful secret there in town. At the corner of Monterey and Seventh is Baha Burger a tiny little 'drive in' that makes great little burgers. Old school burgers.
The place was bought 40 years by a guy called Al Tamayo. He bought it from an Iranian student who needed to give the place up. Al, apparently, can't remember the student's name but it was something like "Bahadin" so now the place is called Baha Burgers.
We see Al through the window when we order but we order from Marina, Al's daughter. Today we saw Al's wife through the window too - it's a family affair.
There's nothing fancy about the place. Vinyl seats, creaky tables, and some old gaming machines.
But the cheeseburgers. Well, the cheeseburgers are worth the drive. Simple patties on plain bread buns with mustard, onions, tomatoes and cheese. The french fries are crinkle cut and delicious. And the shakes? Ah, yes, the banana shake is my favourite...
* according to statistics on Wikipedia, Gilroy isn't even close to being the garlic capital of the world. China produces around 75% of the worlds output of garlic, the US, in comparison, produces 2%. Not that I'm knocking Gilroy... it's a great town.. it's just that China produces a frightening amount of garlic.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
For those that dare II
In my ongoing desire to share the glories of my business travel I thought I'd explain my journey back from France to the Bay Area for your reading pleasure.
I got to bed Saturday night, Sunday morning at around 3:30am. My alarm went off at 6:15am and I leaped out of bed all panicky around 6:40am. I was checked out and on the road by 6:55 (I packed the night before... free travel tip, knock yourself out).
I picked up Brett down town around 7:05 and we headed down into the south of Perpignan and the freeway down towards Girona. We pulled into Girona around 8:15 and dropped Brett off in front of the main train station. I pulled back on to the main freeway to Barcelona and clogged it.
I pulled off at a gas station on the outskirts of Barcelona to fill up the rental car. It was a Renault Laguna. New one. A funny thing about French car designers - they like to do things differently. It took several minutes and the assistance of the garage attendants reading the manual in Spanish in order to find the gas cap release. Who know. You just push it and it opens. I pressed on to Barcelona and El Prat Airport. Dropped the car off and legged it to the American Airlines check in desk.
There was a huge line for check in for the main cabin and only about 12 people in line at the business desk. Excellent as, for once, I was traveling business. I looked up at the board and it already showed a 90 minute delay on my flight. Great. Time passed, the main cabin check in line dwindle and mine barely moved. I swear every single person in line before me on the main cabin line checked in before I did.
The flight passed reasonably without incident. Apart from the wailing bairn a few seats behind me. By the time we landed at JFK we were three hours overdue. My layover time which seemed generous now seemed paltry.
As soon as the doors opened I ran to the immigration desks and got in line. JFK being my first point of entry into the US meant that I needed to pass immigration and customs. Of course they aren't in a hurry and really don't care that much about potential missed flights. I eventually got through and headed for bags. One would have thought that given all the time in immigration the bags would have come through. But no.
Finally got bags and joined everyone else in the line for flight reassignments. They judged that I was worthy of a shift to a Delta flight. Which ran from Terminal 3. I was at Terminal 9. I hoofed upstairs and took the Airtrain over to Terminal 3, my least favourite terminal at JFK. There was a business class check in so I managed to skip the lines and got my back checked and boarding pass. Now for security.
Because I had now changed away from my American Airlines regular tickets and was now on Delta my return leg to SFO showed as a one way ticket. The TSA deem holders of one way tickets to be somewhat suspect. If you are flagged as suspect you get 'SSSS' printed on your boarding pass. (There is some debate as to whether SSSS is random, but each time I get a one way ticket I get SSSS). Being suspect means that you get a much more thorough search - which is exactly what I need after being on the road for about 12hrs at this point. A man in a headset talked to someone who was clearly watching us on camera. He searched me to the instructions being given to him on his headset. Rather bizarre.
Finally got onto my flight to SFO. Tried to eat. But fell asleep. Tried to wake up, several times, but couldn't. Finally arrived at SFO and waited interminably for my bag. Almost got into a fight with some kid on the airtrain,
"Is this train going to the airport?"
"Yes, it's the loop train... it only goes to the airport"
We pull out and move away from the airport (but it's a loop, it'll loop back) and he says,
"Ah, so you were wrong".
"What? What did you say?"
"You're wrong, it's going the wrong way"
"It's a LOOP!!!! It can't go the WRONG WAY"
I was so angry I could have punched him. Seriously, if you ask directions accept what people tell you. Or don't ask.
I finally made it to the car and staggered into my house a full 26hrs after I had left my hotel in Perpignan. Joy for traveling. Monday came around and I could barely walk, talk or phrase a sentence. Not sure that I've ever felt as tired. The combination of Beijing followed by Perpignan took it's toll.
I got to bed Saturday night, Sunday morning at around 3:30am. My alarm went off at 6:15am and I leaped out of bed all panicky around 6:40am. I was checked out and on the road by 6:55 (I packed the night before... free travel tip, knock yourself out).
I picked up Brett down town around 7:05 and we headed down into the south of Perpignan and the freeway down towards Girona. We pulled into Girona around 8:15 and dropped Brett off in front of the main train station. I pulled back on to the main freeway to Barcelona and clogged it.
I pulled off at a gas station on the outskirts of Barcelona to fill up the rental car. It was a Renault Laguna. New one. A funny thing about French car designers - they like to do things differently. It took several minutes and the assistance of the garage attendants reading the manual in Spanish in order to find the gas cap release. Who know. You just push it and it opens. I pressed on to Barcelona and El Prat Airport. Dropped the car off and legged it to the American Airlines check in desk.
There was a huge line for check in for the main cabin and only about 12 people in line at the business desk. Excellent as, for once, I was traveling business. I looked up at the board and it already showed a 90 minute delay on my flight. Great. Time passed, the main cabin check in line dwindle and mine barely moved. I swear every single person in line before me on the main cabin line checked in before I did.
The flight passed reasonably without incident. Apart from the wailing bairn a few seats behind me. By the time we landed at JFK we were three hours overdue. My layover time which seemed generous now seemed paltry.
As soon as the doors opened I ran to the immigration desks and got in line. JFK being my first point of entry into the US meant that I needed to pass immigration and customs. Of course they aren't in a hurry and really don't care that much about potential missed flights. I eventually got through and headed for bags. One would have thought that given all the time in immigration the bags would have come through. But no.
Finally got bags and joined everyone else in the line for flight reassignments. They judged that I was worthy of a shift to a Delta flight. Which ran from Terminal 3. I was at Terminal 9. I hoofed upstairs and took the Airtrain over to Terminal 3, my least favourite terminal at JFK. There was a business class check in so I managed to skip the lines and got my back checked and boarding pass. Now for security.
Because I had now changed away from my American Airlines regular tickets and was now on Delta my return leg to SFO showed as a one way ticket. The TSA deem holders of one way tickets to be somewhat suspect. If you are flagged as suspect you get 'SSSS' printed on your boarding pass. (There is some debate as to whether SSSS is random, but each time I get a one way ticket I get SSSS). Being suspect means that you get a much more thorough search - which is exactly what I need after being on the road for about 12hrs at this point. A man in a headset talked to someone who was clearly watching us on camera. He searched me to the instructions being given to him on his headset. Rather bizarre.
Finally got onto my flight to SFO. Tried to eat. But fell asleep. Tried to wake up, several times, but couldn't. Finally arrived at SFO and waited interminably for my bag. Almost got into a fight with some kid on the airtrain,
"Is this train going to the airport?"
"Yes, it's the loop train... it only goes to the airport"
We pull out and move away from the airport (but it's a loop, it'll loop back) and he says,
"Ah, so you were wrong".
"What? What did you say?"
"You're wrong, it's going the wrong way"
"It's a LOOP!!!! It can't go the WRONG WAY"
I was so angry I could have punched him. Seriously, if you ask directions accept what people tell you. Or don't ask.
I finally made it to the car and staggered into my house a full 26hrs after I had left my hotel in Perpignan. Joy for traveling. Monday came around and I could barely walk, talk or phrase a sentence. Not sure that I've ever felt as tired. The combination of Beijing followed by Perpignan took it's toll.
Perpignan
Every year the worlds greatest photojournalists gather for a week of meetings, conversation and occasional imbibing of French beer in the southern French mediaeval town of Perpignan.
The festival is run by the inimitable Jean-François Leroy who is known throughout the community for his drive, passion and commitment to the craft and art of photojournalism. Once a year he prepares a full week of screenings in the open air of the Campo Santo. This year the screenings celebrated the stories of the past year, current work and a recap of some of the work shown over the previous twenty years. Aside from the screenings are panel discussions, exhibitions and agency portfolio reviews. This year attracted 3000 people from the photojournalism community.
The light in the south of France is just incredible. The evening light slowly warms up the buildings and on one particular night the clock tower overlooking the Campo Santo was bathed in sunlight but with strong storm clouds in the background. As the evening drew on large storks came to sit on the tower.
The festival is run by the inimitable Jean-François Leroy who is known throughout the community for his drive, passion and commitment to the craft and art of photojournalism. Once a year he prepares a full week of screenings in the open air of the Campo Santo. This year the screenings celebrated the stories of the past year, current work and a recap of some of the work shown over the previous twenty years. Aside from the screenings are panel discussions, exhibitions and agency portfolio reviews. This year attracted 3000 people from the photojournalism community.
The light in the south of France is just incredible. The evening light slowly warms up the buildings and on one particular night the clock tower overlooking the Campo Santo was bathed in sunlight but with strong storm clouds in the background. As the evening drew on large storks came to sit on the tower.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Beijing - All Over II
The Olympic volunteer kids are quite incredible. I spent a good amount of time with them after my mammoth day out trying to get a car and driver for my second day. They wrangled and wrestled, haggled and hustled. Eventually, after trying various options we decided to just book a taxi in the morning. So that's exactly what I did...
My driver headed out into the empty freeways of north Beijing. About two hours out is the small town of Simatai, home to a gloriously unrestored section of the Great Wall. I headed out by a rickety cable car which traversed deep gorges and close by shrubbery. The cars held only two and most of them were empty. The creakiness was evident, as was the rusty two bolts holding the car hook to the cable. After the cable car is a small funicular train and then the hike. Goodness me, the hike. I arrived at the top of the great wall panting, sweating and suffering from the heat and humidity.
It was a hazy day but the wall snaked out into the distance. The Great Wall of China is something that most learn of as small children in school. It's not something I ever really thought I'd one day stand on. But there I was. It goes into the box with the Pyramids...
Never one to pass up an opportunity to find places to add some more info to my book project, I found an air museum on the outskirts of Beijing. What a spectacular it one was too.
A converted airbase with a spectacular collection MiG's and Shenyang made fighter aircraft. The first portion is inside of a hangar 'tunnel' dug out of a hillside. When you arrive on the other side of the tunnel there is a long row of MiG's, in the setting it is truly an atmospheric moment.
I walked in the heat and stifling humidity - the air museum is located in a jungle like area - past rows of aircraft. Even Chairman Mao's transport aircraft...
Yet again I fell asleep in the car on the way back to Beijing.
More to come on my last few days in China...
My driver headed out into the empty freeways of north Beijing. About two hours out is the small town of Simatai, home to a gloriously unrestored section of the Great Wall. I headed out by a rickety cable car which traversed deep gorges and close by shrubbery. The cars held only two and most of them were empty. The creakiness was evident, as was the rusty two bolts holding the car hook to the cable. After the cable car is a small funicular train and then the hike. Goodness me, the hike. I arrived at the top of the great wall panting, sweating and suffering from the heat and humidity.
It was a hazy day but the wall snaked out into the distance. The Great Wall of China is something that most learn of as small children in school. It's not something I ever really thought I'd one day stand on. But there I was. It goes into the box with the Pyramids...
Never one to pass up an opportunity to find places to add some more info to my book project, I found an air museum on the outskirts of Beijing. What a spectacular it one was too.
A converted airbase with a spectacular collection MiG's and Shenyang made fighter aircraft. The first portion is inside of a hangar 'tunnel' dug out of a hillside. When you arrive on the other side of the tunnel there is a long row of MiG's, in the setting it is truly an atmospheric moment.
I walked in the heat and stifling humidity - the air museum is located in a jungle like area - past rows of aircraft. Even Chairman Mao's transport aircraft...
Yet again I fell asleep in the car on the way back to Beijing.
More to come on my last few days in China...
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