Sunday, 15 December 2013


Christmas 2013...

AAAHHH, at last the day arrived to open the 'magic' cupboard again, the ‘Christmas cupboard, it always holds a few surprises of things you just forgot about yet like very much. A wonderful trip of re-discovery, haha. It had gone smoothly, I was pleased.

The tree was up, the whole place filled with the Christmas aromas of pine and orange and cinnamon and candle-wax. Outside the wind was howling and playing with everything lying loose?

I greatly enjoy the silence of night, but on this occasion, I was listening to seasonal music, varied, from bells to music box to angel-singing. Humming along, dreaming of Christmases past, yes the whole family passed the review. Myself as a little girl… my children little again, yeah time does fly.

I was enjoying the moment, relaxing, everything sparkling in the flickering candle-flames and twinkly lights. When suddenly I heard the most almighty booming voice, I sat up, it was outside, I jumped up and looked through the window… and there he stood, Santa, in the snow, on a roof. The bag he was carrying was full and heavy. He was looking up at the sky; I followed his gaze and saw nothing.

I rushed outside, now I could hear what he was hollering: “Ruuudolf, Ruuuuuuudolf”

Oh dear, poor man, I saw the footsteps where he’d been, the chimney… I saw how he had dirtied his beautiful red coat’s white trimming on the soot? I shouted up: “is there anything I can do?”
He turned and almost slipped, looked down and said:
“Yes, that’s very kind of you; I’m in trouble, I had so many mince pies I just could not get through the chimney… So, please, can you call Rudolf with me?”

So there we were, both of us: “Ruuudolf, Ruuuuuuudolf”
We waited, could we hear anything? I looked around; light after light came on, every house lit up. Neighbours came out, soon all were calling: “Ruuudolf, Ruuuuuuudolf”

At last, the sleigh bells in the distance, Rudolf was rushing through the night. He halted next to his master: “Well? Rudolf? What do you have to say for yourself? You know we have much work and not so much time? Hmmmm?”

Rudolf’s nose was redder than ever; he bent over gently and whispered something in Santa’s beard, everybody on tiptoes curious, eyes wide open. Santa started to roar with laughter, his belly shaking.

Before climbing under the warm blanket in the sleigh, he turned and smiled at us: “Thank you for helping me, my dear friends, all is well; in the team there is a new reindeer, a first year youngster, doing his best, only slowed it down a little and in this weather I am not the most patient of men!

Be good and Merry Christmas… HOHOHOOOOOOO” And he was gone.

We looked at each other, shook hands; here we were; people from Africa, Asia, Europe… from all over.
Then shyness overtook again, each returning home, light after light went out, darkness and silence descended in the street. All was back to the usual, each in our homes, doing our thing, living our lives.

I sighed; it had been a good moment.

I sat down again in the warmth, when in front of the fire, I saw a parcel, ooh I was torn, wait until Christmas? Or open it now? I'm also not the most patient, so I tore the colourful outer wrapping… gently unfolded the tissue paper and out came a beautiful angel, smiling kindly holding a heart.
My soul filled with joy, I must be doing something right? I walked over to my tree and put my new treasure in a prominent place.
Hope you enjoyed it? A MERRY CHRISTMAS.
Thanks, M, (*_*)
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Monday, 4 November 2013

Christmas present

stuck for a nice, inexpensive and original Christmas present for young and younger? EVEN MORE PHOTOS! View here:

Enjoy? Thank you, M, (*_*)

Wednesday, 11 September 2013


This is a story, called 'A special night, that I wrote about a night that Paul and I did a reportage on SHRIMPING.

Part 3.

1 ...

Here you have an overview, I thought it would be interesting to show the different stages!
On Belgian boats the shrimps are boiled on board in between each trek. Most of those boats don't have refrigeration, but raw shrimps must never be put onto melting ice anyway, so they'd have to be packed instantly. These fishermen prefer the old method.

2 ...We looked at each other, and as so often on the same wavelength, we burst out laughing, unable to stop, drunk with fatigue and mirth. We hugged, then crawled back into our berths.
The cadenza changed, waking me. I listened, Paul was in deep sleep. Faint light filtered in through the hatch. I felt around for my stuff, tried to put some decency into my appearance, and, oh so quietly, I felt my way up.
What I saw was stunning. The promise of sun, early rays illuminating the last darkness of night, the sea a pregnant black mass of lapping water-peaks.
It felt as if the iodine scented air was sucked deep into my brain, triggering memories of earlier summers.

As the sun rose in orange glory, offsetting the blue ever more, I saw all the other trawlers on the horizon.

3 ......In our foaming wake, a shrieking battle was going on between hungry seagulls, their agility never ceased to amaze me.
I retrieved my camera and eternalised these beautiful moments.

Well, morning was upon us, we were heading back to land, I'll take you all the way, three more images, hope you enjoy.
Difficult light conditions, still too light for the one, too dark already for the other, c'est dure la vie de photographe, hihi.

4 ...Gradually the air warmed up, the light becoming brighter. The end of a hard night, the start of a glorious day.
Paul appeared, still looking a bit rough, but with a happy grin around the lips.
His cameras on the ready he was now in full swing. Our smiling eyes met briefly, we were on the same level here, I could so intensely sense his joy and elation. This was the light in delight!
As the coast became more visible on the pale horizon, I tried to identify the different towers, then buildings and landmarks.
All the boats chuffing hurriedly in the same direction, the harbour, home!

The activity on board was over, everything cleaned up, the guys were inside, tired and rushing home, the race was on again!
We were so happy to catch that first morning light at sea!!! Seeing the world around us again...distance, wonderful.
Always liked the two 'boat' photos, the one in the evening and the one in the morning, such different light but there seems to be another rhythm, or is that my imagination?

5 ...…As the coast became more visible on the dark horizon, I tried to identify the different towers, then buildings and landmarks. The elegant, tall and slim lighthouse a welcoming sight, she’s called ‘Long Nell’, I couldn't help thinking how many before me must have been either elated or heavyhearted to see her…

Night is in the distance, the water calmer,we were emptying our cameras (finishing our films) in silence and pure inner joy and awe, drunk with fatigue and euphoria.
As we passed the two pier heads, a greeting was shouted over the radio.
Alongside the main pier, a line of waiting sailing boats. Full of well rested people, looking forward to a day at sea, the guests waving, the crew sorting out ropes and sails.

6 ...Soon we were where we had started. Danny and Sylvain helped us up the quay with all our gear.
Their boat ship shape, ready for the next evening, their catch neatly stacked for the auction.

We thanked them and said good-bye. Sylvain adjusted a few last details, happily chewing his small cigar. Danny climbed back up and awkwardly put two plastic bags next to us. Shrugging his shoulders, he indicated this was for us. I saw the shiny prawns, the other bag filled with Dover sole! I immediately offered to pay, but he wouldn't hear of it. This was our share!

Amazingly I saw Paul changing as soon as he set foot on Terra ferma.
Me, I was swaying, my legs trembling. I had the sea in my legs! The earth was moving, I felt drunk after this cocktail of excitement, beauty, adventure and no sleep.
As we drove off, we looked back, it was 7.20.
The sea was getting ready for its next set of visitors, it seemed.
The town was also waking up and preening itself in the sunshine, the council cleaners spraying and cleaning the streets. Shopkeepers putting their wares out, looking hopefully at the clement skies.
I stopped the car at a baker; the smell of fresh bread tickled my nostrils and teased my now very hungry stomach. I ordered fresh rolls and when I picked up the bag, it was warm.
We rushed home.

Changed and refreshed we sipped our breakfast coffee. It tasted better than ever. We had so much to talk about, all these deep emotions that we had experienced.
Around 9 o'clock, we decided to try and get some sleep. Of course we were overtired, so we had the giggles about silly things, gently laughing ourselves to sleep.

My last memory is whispering to Paul, that I would never complain about the price of shrimps and fish again, having experienced first hand, and in summer, what a tough job these people have. I tried to imagine what it must be like in the cold and during the winter storms and bzzzzzzzz...

So, that's it, hope you've enjoyed it.

Thank you for your reactions, have a great day, Magda (*_*)

IT IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN (BY LAW!!!) TO USE ANY OF MY images or TEXT on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved


This is a story, called 'A special night, that I wrote about a night that Paul and I did a reportage on SHRIMPING.

Part 2

1... I noticed how green-grey Paul had turned; his eyes wide open, concentrating on a point somewhere behind me. Or maybe he was looking for the shore?

(This is an image of a similar trawler trying to overtake us, I guess they have to include this kind of sport before the reality of the long hard night or maybe it's just a male thing? HIHI...sorry guys. (#_#))

A wave of sympathy shot through my fragile stomach.

With shaky fingers he took two pills, trying to swallow them and nodded at me that everything would be all right

I saw Sylvain’s hand reach for another cigar.

I turned my face towards the open window, hoping for some cool air, but hit a wall of warm motor fumes.

Poor Paul looked even more sallow now. I beckoned him to trade places, but it was too late. He barely had the time to quickly waltz out.

The fried egg, that he so lovingly cooked that evening, against my better judgement, disappeared into the sea.

Danny kindly slowed down a bit.

When he came back in, Danny consoled him saying that he should not feel any shame and that for his first eight years at sea, he had been seasick each time, and even now, when he changed boats, he still had it, and that the best Paul could do, was have something to eat.

Promptly Paul’s torso disappeared over the side again.

The two men soon lost interest. They listened on the radio to their pals were telling the story of a recent drinking adventure, with glee in their voices.

2 …The matey, now outside, scurried around, untying nets.

Mounted on each side of the boat, were huge metal triangular structures, weighted with rusty chains and lead, attached to a pulley-system.

As the engine revved, I saw both constructions being slowly lowered. The boat stretching out its iron elbows, as the massive wheels creaked under the pull of the cables.

Danny was commanding the operation from inside, from another panel with knobs and handles.

They were now ready for the first trawl, in a rush to drag the nets on the bottom of the sea and catch its riches, avoiding the treacherous sandbanks and debris, remnants of war and disaster.

Too many of these boats had capsized, often ending in fatal tragedy affecting the whole fishing community.

Once the “elbows” were out, the rhythm of the boat became much more stable. Now like the others it looked like a pair of scales, yes, well balanced, ploughing through the sea, slowed down by the motion and the heavy netting.

3 ...The sun played hide and seek in a dramatic sky, sinking steadily into the sea, whilst shining eerie white rays from behind the dark clouds.

The water a black moving mass, except where the sun reached, it became molten gold.

I zoomed in on boats fishing in the distance and felt great excitement with the wonderful images I was seeing through the lens, and immortalising.

All too soon, darkness fell upon us.

As I used 400 ASA film, I pushed the limits, keeping my fingers crossed and hoping for a fantastic result. This was hit and miss stuff. Ah well…

We sailed straight into the sunset.

Danny turned on the lights. It was obvious that from now on, the activity was going to take place at the stern.

The metal beams came up, carrying full nets, a rain of seawater pouring from them as they swung in, towards the back, nudged along by Danny.                                                                                                                                                     

4 ...Here the night and all the work really started. Danny grabbed the nets and released the knots holding the catch and with a whoosh everything flooded into a square metal trough.

He was wearing heavy-duty rubber gloves to spread out the mountain of glistening sea-life.

I stood looking in wonder at this wriggling and flapping mass.

Some additional info:

To avoid by-catch of juvenile fishes selectivity devices are assembled (sieve nets, sorting grids, escape holes). The towing speed for shrimp is between 2,5 and 3 knots. When the beam trawl is used for shrimping, the foot rope is held off the seabed by setting a string of wooden rollers ahead of the foot rope. This allows unwanted species, such as starfish and crabs, to escape under the belly of the net. The shrimp, stimulated by the approaching rollers, jump vertically and are caught in the net.

5 …The men started to sort instantly, shoving the shrimps through a side chute into a shiny drum – horizontal, two cylinders with holes, turning one inside the other, the shrimps in the inner one being rinsed constantly by seawater. Small crabs and young shrimps gushed out and washed back into the sea. From the middle drum came baskets full of shrimps.

The burner was lit under a tall round kettle, where seawater was brought to the boil and the shrimps thrown in.
Sylvain added a handful of something. Seeing my questioning look, he said: “It’s chicory granules, good for the taste, and gives them a shine and lovely pink-brown colour.”
If I were to tell you that there’s a huge difference in taste, and I'm an expert on the matter, it’s all down to the cooking!
Now and then he lifted the lid releasing a steaming aromatic cloud.
Danny continued picking out sole, starfish, jellyfish, crabs and other fishies. Everything too small or unwanted was thrown back into the sea.
He showed me the different types. There was a tiny ray, very dangerous, colloquially called (colloquially) a “policefish”, which was so deadly that if you were stung by the spike on its back, you’d have to raise the alert immediately, so they could come out and air-lift you to hospital.
I noticed when he took off his gloves, that he was missing part of his thumb and his index finger on his right hand. He became conscious of it and hid his hand.
I later heard from his mum, that he lost them years ago in an accident. His hand got entangled in metal chains while hauling in the netting.

6 ... … The green neon light above the work area mixed with the white spotlight, the golden glow of the flames and the steam made for a ghostly atmosphere.
This is probably my absolute favourite, I love the atmosphere, maybe because I still feel the emotion when I saw it in my lens!
That neg needed a lot of TLC(tender loving care), I wanted to do it justice.
…The next batch was poured into the kettle, while the steaming cooked shrimps stood, cooling down, in the officially approved rectangular plastic trays, ready for the fish-market.
By then the nets were dragging the sea-bottom again.
Danny and Sylvain stepped into the wheelhouse to drink hot coffee from their flasks. They poured something out of a bottle into the cups.
Danny winked at me and said: “It’s cold out there!”
I agreed. He nodded encouragingly and offered the small bottle. I declined with a smile. He shrugged and put it away.
...Danny and Sylvain were still hard at work. The nets had to be rinsed, 
Sylvain rinsed containers, hosed the deck, kept an eye on the stove, boiling with their last catch of shrimps.
I found Danny, next to the wheel house, sifting through the cooling shrimps. I went up and asked if I could join him.
Sifting was done in a wooden tray with a mesh bottom, strapped in, so that it could gently rock back and forth, getting rid of tiny shells, fish and crabs. The rest was hand picked by us. He taught me a bit more about sea-life and told some stories.

Gradually the air warmed up, the light becoming brighter.
The end of a hard night, the start of a glorious day.  

So, end of part 2, read part 3? Thanks, M, (*_*)

TO USE ANY OF MY images or TEXT on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved


This is a story, called ‘A special night’, that I wrote about a night that Paul and I did a reportage on SHRIMPING.
Part 1.

1 ...I remember, from when I was a little girl, up until not so long ago, it used to be a rickety, wooden affair, where fishermen would moor and rope their catch up in wicker baskets.
That was also the place where the women would wait, standing together in small groups, always looking in the direction of the harbour entrance. Even in summer they seemed to be shivering, in spite of their woollen wear.
But once the fish was at their feet, no more talk, time for business. People standing around, waiting, were encouraged by the fishwives, screaming at the top of their voices, in a language only they understood, to buy the fresh fish and shrimps, now displayed in round metal carriers.
And it worked, customers flocked, haggling over the price, joking, buying.
Tourists, mostly folk from inland, or close-by Northern France, wondering what was going on, staring at the plaice, sole, still flapping their tails.
They had never seen fish that fresh.
Nothing much has changed, except that the women now each have their own fixed stall,a newly built Fish Market, the fish is on crushed ice and on fish-platters, all neatly presented and priced.

2 ......We met Jo for the first time, when I showed Paul around and bought shrimps.
She was very chatty, told us her name was Josephine but as she had spent the war-years in England, the name Jo had stuck.
She peeled a shrimp and offered it to Paul to taste, saying something in Flemish. Paul looked at me in shock:
“Did I hear correctly? Did she call me her little rat?”
 I laughed... In Ostend, when they call you that, it’s a term of endearment, it means they like you!
From that day on, I only bought from her and always got a good deal.
Summer or winter, whenever the weather permitted the men to go out, she was there to sell their catch!...

(Jo is on the left, on her right is her daughter in law.)

3 ...…So, as we got to know Jo better, I now felt at last, that I could ask her, if it was possible to accompany them on a fishing trip.
A couple of days later, she reported that her husband wasn't keen – something to do with insurance, but her son Danny was. He was a skipper on a bigger boat. A date was set; it only depended on the weather now. We couldn't believe our luck, what an opportunity!
From then on, our ears were glued to radio and TV weather forecasts, several times a day!
How unnecessary! The sea speaks for itself, if you know the listening code.
The old fishermen could tell you with great accuracy, their information so much juicier. OK, so what, some tall stories thrown in for good measure, but what raconteurs! You certainly left with a smile and more knowledge.
How impersonal, our electronic gadgets!
The Big Tuesday at last!
From one of our windows, we could just see the sea. The waves rolling in with vigorous white foam-heads. Silence, our look said it all. Dragging our feet somewhat, we spent the rest of the afternoon checking over our equipment, all laid out on the table.
Lenses shining, Metz-flashes recharged, batteries tested, extra film, filters, everything spic and span, ready!
Another glance at the sky. Looking good! Clouds gathering on the horizon below the bright sun, promising an interesting sunset.
We wanted our expensive and fragile cameras from under their feet, spotting the least activity at the bow. Sitting on either side, we started to click and click, close ups of netting and other stuff lying around us.

(This is Paul, full of anticipation, camera on the ready, he is holding his Rolleiflex twin-lens reflex.)

4 …Onto the first boat, clambering over cables, chains and ropes, we got to the second one, moored along side, our vessel for the next 12 hours, the “Steve” O54”, a 20m long trawler.
Already on board was Sylvain, the mate, not exactly the kind of guy you’d expect. Not tall, rather slender, unshaven, big black moustache and beard hiding his lips, his long hair curling from under a small white hat. His muscled arms, the canvas of a tattoo-artist, looked too big for this shrimpy little man.
Loads of gear and machinery filled the deck; I knew we’d find out what the purpose of all of it was.
The men were extremely busy preparing the boat, fighting ropes and chains, pulling and separating them from our neighbour
Danny (the skipper), on the other hand, fitted the pattern perfectly. He was broad shouldered and chunky, wearing jeans and the real blue fishermen’s pullover. I wondered if they went to the same needleman for their skin decorations. Something else they had in common, was the traditional earring, a small, thin gold band, in one ear, and only visible when the wind chose.
They half-smiled at us, no time for niceties, our hosts nervous and excited, like horses before a race.

5 …Beckoning in the distance, the harbour entrance. The other boats leaving one by one, slotting in, from left, right and centre, different docks. Black silhouettes against a clear blue sky.
The light had that incredible quality, so sought after by photographers and painters.
The sun casting a warm glow on the old buildings and docks, with the long shadows in fascinating contrast to the glittering sea.
Sylvain’s white hat was bobbing up and down; they were shouting instructions to each other above the drone of the engine. Both far too busy to be bothered by our lenses, they hauled in the side buoys, another rope, yes, there we went, quickly picking up momentum.
The thudding under our feet quickened.
Oh, what a joy to see the metal of the prow cut through the foaming water!
The familiar towers and landmarks glided by, and I detected the faint smell of chips mingled with sea, fish and tar.
For most people the day was almost gone, holidaymakers savouring a meal in one of the many restaurants, along the quay.
For us, the long night started. I thought longingly of our cheese and tomato sandwiches, but although hungry, I postponed the pleasure.
The skipper steered the boat with a steady hand.
We gently rocked towards the ends of the two piers, people on both watching and waving.
I remembered the many times I stood there, doing the same and dreaming of adventure.
Here the work and adventure really started, here I was 'dangerously' hanging overboard to get the angle I wanted...

6 …A gentle breeze came in through the open porthole behind me and looking back I saw the coast fast disappearing in the distance. The wind not only carried sea air and silt. I spotted the engine-room below us, wafting up the pungent smell of diesel and machine oil.
Apologising for the rocky ride, Danny said:” There’s been a northerly, that’s why there’s still so much swell.”
He fiddled with a few buttons above his head and after some crackling, the nasal voice of another fisherman out there, filled the space.
Sylvain decided to smoke another one of his small cigars. He carefully picked it out of the box wedged against the window. His tongue appeared amongst all the black growth and with great relish he bit off the tip of the cigarillo. I watched it almost disappear under the moustache. His eyes squinting happily, his head held askew, he carefully lit it. He deeply inhaled the smoke into his lungs, to release half of it, almost with a sigh, in white curling swirls around his face.
He never touched the small stump again, just let it burn out before it set fire to his face.
Probably stimulated by the smell, Danny also grabbed one of his cigarettes. Soon, the thick blue smoke started to slide slowly past me, out of the window.
Paul gave me another brave smile. We desperately tried to hang onto metal handholds.
I decided to let my body follow the motion, but as soon as I thought I had it, the movement changed abruptly and I was thrown back against the wall.

Some additional info on this type of vessel:
The horizontal opening of this trawl is provided by a beam, made of wood or metal, which may by 10m long or more. Beam trawls are used mainly for flatfish and shrimp fishing. Beam trawling is not used much today except in some shrimp and sole fisheries.
  • Beam trawls are cumbersome to use and are always fished over the side. Modern beams are made of steel. Several tickler chains are added near the foot rope to increase the weight of the gear.
Hope you are enjoying this? Read Part 2 and 3, Thanks, M, (*_*)

TO USE ANY OF MY image or TEXT on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

Wednesday, 4 September 2013



These are the colours from the past and  for the coming season!
Light and colour can influence how people perceive the area around them. Different light sources affect how the colours of walls and other objects are seen. Specific hues of colours seen under natural sunlight may vary when seen under the light from an incandescent (tungsten) light-bulb: lighter colours may appear to be more orange or "brownish" and darker colours may appear even darker.
Light and the colour of an object can affect how one perceives its positioning. If light or shadow, or the colour of the object, masks an object's true contour (outline of a figure) it can appear to be shaped differently than it really is.
Objects under a uniform light-source will promote better impression of three-dimensional shape.
The colour of an object may affect whether or not it seems to be in motion. In particular, the trajectories of objects under a light source whose intensity varies with space are more difficult to determine than identical objects under a uniform light source.
Carl Jung is most prominently associated with the pioneering stages of colour psychology. Jung was most interested in colours’ properties and meanings, as well as in Art’s potential as a tool for psychotherapy.

Colour has long been used to create feelings of cosiness or spaciousness. However, how people are affected by different colour-stimuli varies from person to person.

There is evidence that colour preference may depend on ambient temperature. People who are cold prefer warm colors like red and yellow while people who are hot prefer cool colours like blue and green.
A few studies have shown that cultural background has a strong influence on colour preference. These studies have shown that people from the same region regardless of race will have the same colour preferences.

I'm ALWAYS fascinated by COLOUR!
Have a lovely day and thanx for your visit, M, (*_*)

For more of my other work or if you want to PURCHASE (ONLY PLACE TO BUY MY IMAGES!), VIEW THE NEW PORTFOLIOS AND LATEST NEWS HERE on our website:
IT IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN (BY LAW!!!) TO USE ANY OF MY image or TEXT on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

Friday, 12 April 2013


The Emotional Impact of Flowers Study was published in the April 2005 issue of Evolutionary Psychology.
Home Ecology of Flowers Study
Harvard: Living with Flowers Strengthens Feelings of Compassion, and Decreases Anxiety and Worry

With people’s desire for tranquility and stress relief stronger than ever, fresh research takes an insightful look at flowers and the important role they may play in our daily lives. A behavioral research study conducted by Nancy Etcoff, Ph.D., of Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard Medical School, reveals that people feel more compassionate toward others, have less worry and anxiety, and feel less depressed when fresh cut flowers are present in the home.

“Other research has proven that flowers make people happy when they receive them,” Etcoff says. “What we didn’t know is that spending a few days with flowers in the home can affect a wide variety of feelings.

The Home Ecology of Flowers Study at Harvard uncovered three main findings:

*Flowers feed compassion.

Study participants who lived with fresh cut flowers for less than a week felt an increase in feelings of compassion and kindness for others.

*Flowers chase away anxieties, worries and the blues at home.

Overall, people in the study simply felt less negative after being around flowers at home for just a few days.

Participants most frequently placed flowers in their kitchens, dining rooms and living rooms, where they spend a lot of time at home. They reported wanting to see the blooms first thing in the morning.
*Living with flowers can provide a boost of energy, happiness and enthusiasm at work.

Having flowers at home can have a positive carry-over impact on our mood at work, too. The study found that people were more likely to feel happier and have more enthusiasm and energy at work when flowers were in their home living environments.
“As a psychologist, I'm particularly intrigued to find that people who live with flowers report fewer episodes of anxiety and depressed feelings,” Etcoff says. “Our results suggest that flowers have a positive impact on our well being.” AND AM I NOT LIVING PROOF OF THAT???????? LOL????
As a youngster, being born in Bruges, West Flanders, I would often just walk into one of the many musea and churches where you could admire all the great old Masters, I was a sponge, absorbed it, stored it, till now?
So, I adapted the lights and reflectors for the 'Flemish School of light' again, it so suits these.
It is full on the time of the DOUBLE TULIPS in the shop... at the moment, I feel they 'might' be my favourites! They are a bit capricious, Baroque, so varied in shapes, with small oddities, I have become fascinated by them, aahh, and the colours, from deep red, through textured orange to veined yellow to green, the leaves also perform.Oh my, and that sweet honey fragrance... HMMMM, Love them.
Here are a few 'studies'.
I wish you all a very good day and thanks for all your kind words, time, comments and likes. Very much appreciated.
Magda, (*_*)
 For more of my other work or if you want to PURCHASE (ONLY PLACE TO BUY MY IMAGES!), VIEW THE NEW PORTFOLIOS AND LATEST NEWS HERE on our website:
IT IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN (BY LAW!!!) TO USE ANY OF MY image or TEXT on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

tulips,red,double,blooms,flowers,design, conceptual Art,studio,colour, black-background,square,lighting,Nikon D7000, magda indigo

Tuesday, 2 April 2013



I was asked by Rosphoto for an exclusive interview. See the link at the bottom!
The choice of images I left up to them. They best know their 'audience'.
Often the questions are the same, but I like to think that my answers differ somewhat from my peers.
It is a Russian site and a lot got 'LOST IN TRANSLATION'???
That is why I am giving you both the questions AND my answers, as I gave them.

- When you started taking the pictures?
All in my family had cameras, I grew up with them, but 'serious': about 30 years ago. What a journey!

- What genre of photography is your favourite?
Over the years it has changed. I still love to photograph people, because I strongly believe that one of the main, yet too often forgotten ingredients in photography is: EMOTION! I am however best known for my flower-work. I maintain though, I AM NOT A FLOWER photographer... just "A" photographer.

- What equipment are you using?
To me, cameras are just wonderful tools! It is the photographer, behind the camera, who makes the photo!
I love my Hasselblads and my Nikons, but it really does not matter, give me any camera! GOOD lenses(glass) are important though, more important than the body.
Studio lights, often use a big softbox, continuous light and many reflectors.

- What do you like the lens Carl Zeiss? 
I love it for its clarity, sharpness, quality.

- Finish this sentence: "The Photo - it is.." last seeing on screen or in print the image I saw in my creative mind, the thrill of having conquered the challenge.

- What advice can you give a novice photographers?
By learning the skill that 'IS' photography, not chancing it like I see too much of, people don't 'care' enough. It's been made, they think, 'TOO EASY'? You have to RESPECT your medium! Learn about composition, in other words: THE RULES so that you can break them!
It took me about 20 years to come to the result I WANTED!
All I can say is experiment, experiment, experiment... the camera, the lens, other people's EXIF data are irrelevant, because each subject, the material, circumstances, light source is different. Make it your own!
Learn from every mistake you make. Do you think I've stopped learning' I probably work harder at it than most, trying out different, new light settings and techniques constantly.
Never upload an image that is not 100%. Treat each upload site as you would an Art gallery, because that is what it is, you put up an exhibition! People come, visit and judge!
Accept that not everybody is going to like your work, just like you don't like all of theirs.'Your ideas' also aren't always understood, but when they are, you'll get a compliment that will touch you deeply. And last but most important: have fun, enjoy it!

- What character should be a photographer?
A determined creative, with a madness they love to call 'PASSION'?

- Your favourite flowers?
Impossible to answer!

- Your dream?
Most of my dreams have come true, because I wanted it enough? Have a sudden win, money to organise and pay for a MASSIVE exhibit for all the good photographers that I know and who's work is sadly not being seen or recognised!

- Tell me please, how do you manage to make such a beautiful, clear photos on a black background?
To light an object well you need to understand it.
I have tried all sorts of light sources, from flash to Northern daylight, to halogen, FL, and other continuous light sources. There is no magic formula. Each flower needs to be brought to life by individually lighting it. The size, distance, angle and quality of the light all play a role.

- What is your source of inspiration?
My inspiration is nature and people, and a love of life and beauty. I've often said, 'I don't talk to flowers, they talk to me.' I try to let nature's beauty speak to me and then show what I see to the world.

-The creativity of any photographers who is to you particularly important?
As a creative, I try NOT to be influenced by anybody, I want to keep it fresh and personal... meaning that it comes from my brain, not someone else's. However, I do admire the work of Ralph Gibson, Jane Bown, Shinzo Maeda and my husband Paul Indigo.

Thank you, any comments are always welcome! Magda, (*_*)

Monday, 25 February 2013


A bouquet of flowers, to thank all who wrote in yesterday, for your feed-back. I am not 'the Oracle of Delphi' lol. I only wrote my personal opinion on the matter, because of what had happened to me too many times. I can take a lot, well I HAVE taken a lot. but I do have my limits. And I feel I can say things because I have earned my stripes, put in the years, made the mistakes, and I am still learning EVERY DAY. I am ALWAYS humbled when an image of mine gets chosen, out of the millions, I NEVER want to get used to it! But it feeeeeeeeeeeels good!

I got one very interesting reply:
"Hi Magda

I spent a lot of time last night thinking about what you said and about how you felt about my glib response and the message hit home that it is important to take your work seriously. You sacrifice time, money and energy for something you love with the ultimate hope of creating something beautiful and memorable. I spent some time ths morning reading your blog and viewing your work as a professional photographer as again the words 'precision and passion ' jumped to mind."

I ALSO had time to think, and here goes, Paul and I gave workshops, so people 'payed' for our opinion, our input, our vast personal experience and knowledge... and they were happy and grateful, feeling enriched and encouraged. HHHHHHMMMMM, strange when something is FREE that it is NOT so appreciated? So, lovely people, if you want a proper critique... I'm afraid from now on... you will have to pay for it!!! HAHA, take care, M, (*_*) 
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Sunday, 24 February 2013


On MANY photo upload sites there seems to be a movement of people who are stating: "I am tired of just getting comments like: great, awesome, excellent etc ..."
They say THEY WANT A PROPER CRIT???????? OOOHH NO THEY DON'T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'll give you the example! I resisted for a long time, but this time it seemed genuine. So I put the time in and wrote on one image, that was in a group. On the one, that the horizon was skew and that is a big NO-NO in photography and that the sky was full of dust bunnies (BTW both VERY easy to 'correct' in PS), the photographer of the photo agreed however, I got ticked off by another one who thought the photo was AWESOME....
First thing I saw in the second one was that the photo was uploaded skew, then the subject, it was softened to death, had lost ALL its beautiful detail. It looked plastified... I gently asked why? And wrote that it had lost ALL its beautiful detail. The reply: I KIND OF LIKE IT! That is a communication stopper, if ever there was one? 
Then you MUST ALWAYS upload what you 'LIKE', and not give a shit about what anyone is trying to help you with, also STOP whining then about how you want to learn (buy a book or go on a course) and about the comments isn't that what you want? Well, some 'not so good photogs' are now giving critiques... the blind leading the blind! Good luck!
If you are NOT prepared to put in the care and love an image deserves, as does the viewer, why bother at all?
I am not going to waste my precious time any more and for ALL out there: if you want enemies: just give them the truth, LOL!

Thanks, Magda, (*_*)

PS: Agencies and Art sellers DO NOT WANT images that aren't perfectly cared for!