Magda Indigo

ABOUT PHOTOGRAPHY UPLOAD-SITES...

2012-01-24T20:03:00.000Z

ANY photo upload site is a place where you open yourself AND your images to outside 'factors'!
Someone complained that they were 'gaming places'!
And indeed, ALL of them are gaming places.
Like in any game, there are specific rules which you accept when you sign up, and either you play the game ... OR you don't... there IS NO MIDDLE-GROUND!!!
PLUS: YOU are on your OWN!!! Site owners, I am sure like many politicians, started out with good and idealistic intentions... then... the success and money started to come in... that is it... no more help or care... why should they? Forgotten are the people who actually 'made' their site (career?) successful, that is the way it IS TODAY in this world we created!
The sooner one accepts that, the sooner the stress will go.
There are people on the sites without any photographic incentive, interest or motivation, all they want to do is cause problems, they are the bullies and saddos... they are the ones afraid of you and your talent, it shows them up. Did they remain stuck in childhood or very bad puberty?
The Site-owners are NOT prepared to do anything about this 'problem', they must be overwhelmed by emails, don't bother to answer, creating even more grief and miscontentment, members try all kinds of tactics to stop it, to no avail and they often are the ones who get banned?
Most of the sites have a life-cycle, I see them come, I see them go, I have yet to see the 'PERFECT' one.
All I know, is... if I conducted my business in this way and mistreated my clients as such, not listening to anything they have to say, categorically sticking to my opinion... I would NOT LAST VERY LONG, certainly in this economic climate!

I am on sites, as I said before, to build up a portfolio, and some have served me well. I USE them to expand and broaden my social media profile (wow, another MUST today!!!), next thing you know, I'll be doing nothing else... no more photography lol.
I made a choice though, I do not have time for twitter or Facebook, what little time I have is for my (free) photography, my lovely husband, my faraway family AND the friends.
I made some fantastic friends over the last 8 years on these sites, quite a few I have met, some I am going to meet very soon... so, yes, I am happy!
All the rest is just useless annoyance and I am not going to get my knickers into a twist for THAT anymore, I'm way past that!

I just shrug and continue with the GOOD!!!
Maturity and wisdom (like good wine, cheese...) comes with age..., my dear friends, it is not that I don't understand your frustration, however, you are fighting a losing battle I'm afraid, do NOT give them the satisfaction of not uploading your images... that is what they want ultimately, take out the best photographers and they become the top Rooster! Once that happens, start looking for another, newer site, caus this one is dying...
Enjoy your photography! M, (*_*)

Flower Photography by Magda Indigo

2012-01-23T13:48:00.000Z

Flower Photography by Magda Indigo

GRANADA, ANOTHER HOUR IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER...

2012-01-04T16:52:00.002Z

Granada.
We arrive at the Flamenco School on time after quite a trek through narrow steep winding streets, it says on the beautiful old door: Escuela Carmen de las Cuevas. It is too dark to photograph, we must hurry. We are led into a cellar-like row of vaulted small rooms, introduced to dancers, guitarists, singers... onto the small studio where the advanced dancers are already warming up. As in every dance studio, the performers are NOT wearing the 'stage' finery! But comfortable warm'cool clothing, also always lots of water bottles, it is very dehydrating exercise! One wall of a dance studio is always mirror.
Paul and I look at each other and grin... interesting... the size of the room, the lights,the reflections... how are we going to keep OUT of the picture?
The teacher comes in, he shows the ladies some steps, they follow, the floor starts to shake and 'thunder', it goes right through you! What an experience! The rhythm is wonderful, I see the important attention also on the hand-movements. The counting goes on, the clapping, the feet so fast.
A guitar player comes in after a short break... a deep swallow of water and they're off again...

It is a Bulería, which originated in Jerez during the 19th century, originally as a fast, upbeat ending to soleares or alegrias. It is among the most popular and dramatic of the flamenco forms and often ends any flamenco gathering. The name bulerías comes from the Spanish word burlar, meaning "to mock" or bullería, "racket, shouting, din". It is the style which permits the greatest freedom for improvisation, the metre playing a crucial role in this. Speed and agility are required and total control of rhythm as well as strength in the feet which are used in intricate tapping with toe, heel and the ball of the foot.
Paul and I are transfixed... then it is over... Silence, the smell of perspiration, the sounds reverberating, atremble still, our adrenaline still pumping... one young lady stays behind, slides down, takes off her dancing shoes, massages her feet, takes care of the blisters...
A wan smile, we say good-bye and thank you, disappear into the night, silent and still very affected by the whole thing. Another unique experience!

Thanks, hope you enjoy? M, (*_*)

A small series of 9 images.

For more of my other work visit here: www.indigo2photography.co.uk

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

THE WINGS of ANGELS...ANOTHER CHRISTMAS STORY...

2011-12-16T15:17:00.003Z

THE WINGS of ANGELS

THE WINGS of AN ANGEL's FIRST CHRISTMAS

The THREE LOST FEATHERS

Another year, another story. I wait till the last moment to write it, so that it is fresh and spontaneous!

In our home, we have a cupboard. Nothing extraordinary there?
Except, it is opened only once a year, it is where our Christmas decorations are kept.
I still feel the same excitement I felt when I was a little girl, and I'd climb the stairs, behind my dad, up to the (huge) attick, yes... open 'the cupboard' holding all the cardboard boxes with the shiny glass baubles, the sparkling garlands.. It wasn't heavy, so I was allowed to help, and ooooh, when I opened the first box, I smelled the pine and wax from years past...
Most of the treasures you remember and look forward to seeing again, many are a renewed surprise.
Last Sunday, it was the moment, the tree was put up, the lights were working, the wreath hanging on the door, it was all going smoothly...
Wind and sleety rain battering against the windows, nice and snug indoors, I was slowing down, growing a little tired... when I heard the most heavenly music, voices singing of a Silent Night, I opened the door, three little angels stood there, bedragled and cold. I rushed them quickly inside, rinsed off their wings and hung them up to dry.
Made the angels a nice warm drink, in no time, they'd recovered and sang their songs of bells that jingle, chestnut roasting, some drummer-boy,things in a pear tree? They helped me decorating in a festive and jolly mood, lighting the candles, arranging the Holly.
One of them felt the feathers, they were dry, they fluffed them up a little, stroked some smooth, time to go...

Two were quick to don their wings, I noticed that one was a bit slower, turned to me and whispered, I've not been an angel for very long, this is my first Christmas, bbbrrrr...
The music echoed in the distance for a brief moment, aaaahhh, what a lovely dream, now I still had to finish what I had started!

I wish you a day full of peace and goodness, thanx, M, (*_*)

For more of my other work visit here: <a href="http://www.indigo2photography.co.uk/" rel="nofollow">www.indigo2photography.co.uk</a>

OF GRASSES, COMPOSITION and THE GOLDEN RULE OF THIRDS.

2011-07-12T16:52:00.002Z

GRAPHIC GREEN GRASS

TRICHOTOMY

MY 'INTERPRETATION' OF THE GOLDEN RULE OF THIRDS....

HAVE YOU EVER LOOKED AT THE SPLENDOUR OF WILD GRASSES?

Or should the title say, my 'interpretation' of it...

Lately I've had a 'rekindled' interest in the compositional rules...
It came through the curiosity and eternal question why certain images 'seem' to work better, please more than others?
My flower photography actually evolved out of that hunger to understand, ( of course it also had to do with lighting, the effects of colours, shapes and textures!)

I am still fascinated by stark compositions... and I love (need) new challenges...

The Golden Mean or Golden Section is a mathematical constant, a ratio that appears in nature and was discovered by Pythagoras in the 5th century B.C.E.
The rule of thirds is a compositional rule of thumb in visual arts namely painting, photography, design and across cultures and history, designers such as artists and architects, composers and poets have adopted the Golden Mean as a ratio that is pleasing to the human eye.
Rotation of plant leaves on a stalk follow the Phi (φ) ratio insuring that the same position is not used twice, affording optimal exposure of underlying leaves to sunlight.

In philosophy, especially that of Aristotle, the golden mean is the desirable middle between two extremes, one of excess and the other of deficiency. For example courage, a virtue, if taken to excess would manifest as recklessness and if deficient as cowardice.
To the Greek mentality, it was an attribute of beauty.

I know the 'rules of composition'... and personally, once I knew them... I loved to 'break' them... creatively that is...

This is a good site for information, simple and direct!

http://photoinf.com/Golden_Mean/Petteri_Sulonen/Geometry_in_Composition.htm

The last image is of YORKSHIRE FOG or Holcus lanatus.

On a tour in our garden last Summer, in between two showers, I found these grasses, they love this type of weather, thrive on it! Very common in grassland and moorland, also in waste ground and neglected gardens.
The birds must have brought in the seeds, or they glided in on the wind...
When I looked closely, I saw all the beautiful colours, the shimmer... the beauty!

Decided I could make a lovely, strong and graphic design, comp in camera.

Up close and personal, there's beauty in everything? (well most...lol.)

During a stop on our outing this Summer, last Sunday to Malham Moor, the views were stunning, the silence deafening, the sky high, the grasses glisteningly waving on the breeze...

I'd taken my shots and was just enjoying everything, while Paul was still busy (aah, the joy of both being photographers... we understand and have a lot of patience with each other)
I looked at the verges and discovered grasses, amongst the abundant Yorkshire Mist (www.flickr.com/photos/9550033@N04/4422947132/in/photostream ), I had never seen.. picked three and photographed them for you...
Now last weeks grasses, well, not wanting to throw them away, I put them in some water, to my surprise, they flowered, well, as you can see, different stages.
Sadly they are gone now, the pollen not so good for Paul!!!

For years I 'experimented' in the studio, to get that Flemish painter's light? Well, I was born in Flanders, it must be in my blood? LOL.

NEW!!! A NEW TREAT HERE, a second choice of some of my images:
youtu.be/IzRM4viw-7g

Lead and enjoy a good life, do and say things that enrich... and do not forget to tell the people close to you, how much you love them!
With love to you and thank you for your time, M, (* _ *)

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

WHAT PART of DO NOT USE is it that you DO NOT UNDERSTAND?
I find my images on numerous blogs and websites EVERY DAY, without my permission!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ON and FOR FATHER'S DAY, in England 19th June 2011

2011-06-19T15:35:00.000Z

THE FURTIVE KISS

It is never easy being a parent!
Each child is an individual... does not come with an instruction manual! LOL Have a great one dads.

A lifelong commitment, that's being a parent, to care about smaller and bigger things, the being there, we have a duty, the morals that we teach them... that's what will (ideally?) shape them, let's not underestimate the impact we have on our nearest and dearest.
The 'father' figure is often one of strength and discipline, never forget that bit of tenderness, so needed in all our lives.

An unforgettable moment in my youngest son's life, she is the apple of her parents eye... not every child is that lucky...

The little girl had been playing very intensely involved in a game, the adults having a vivid conversation, when she suddenly jumped up, ran to her daddy and gave him a kiss. I only had time to lift my camera to my eye and grab this precious moment. The settings all wrong... I was able to 'retrieve' what I wanted, everybody else would have deleted the raw file!

A perfect example of the fact that it is NOT only about the technicality but the emotion in a photograph.
In a studio, the light would be perfect but you would NEVER be able to 'create' a moment like this!

I believe we have become too obsessed with the 'technicality' of the manipulation rather than with the content of the pictures.
Personally, if a photograph touches me, that is the first criterion!
Unfortunately I must admit, if it has been 'massacred' with some software, that rapidly takes away ALL emotions except, GGGGRRRRRR.
Technically perfect images are often , dare I say it? ...BORING???
So feelings and emotions in an image, so often discarded yet so essential!
Mine is pure, unadulterated photography, I'm old school, darkroom age, haha.
It is great fun to 'try' out some of the new gimmicks, however, it is not for me.

Lead and enjoy a good life, do and say things that enrich... and more than ever, do not forget to tell the people close to you, how much you love them!
With love to you and thank you for ALL your faves and comments, M, (* _ *)

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

WHAT PART of DO NOT USE is it that you DO NOT UNDERSTAND?
I find my images on numerous blogs and websites EVERY DAY, without my permission!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why not view the set as a slide-show?
Also I often upload more than one image at the same time, I see a tendency to only view the last uploaded...

Of stage fright and portraiture...

2011-06-05T16:26:00.000Z

OOUHH-LA-LA... STAGE FRIGHT...

Stage fright Is Good and Makes You Better Looking Too!
Before you learn how to deliver your lines, it is important to be ready to deliver your lines.
For me the same applies in photography! If your portrait is going to be taken, get ready for your close-up and remember it is a good thing 'to not like to be photographed', lol!
Most people 'freeze' as soon as they feel the lens aimed at them...
It is so nice, the odd occasion that someone does NOT say 'I do not like to be photographed'.
It is also the responsibility of the photographer to put your subject at ease, give them time to adjust, have a chat, explain, talk about different possibilities, keep asking if a 'pose' feels natural, comfortable... if not, start again, otherwise you WILL see it in the image!
Stage fright is a phenomenon that you must learn to control.
Actually, stage fright isn't the most accurate term for the nervousness that occurs when considering a speaking engagement. In fact, most of the fear occurs before you step on-stage. Once you're up there, it usually goes away. Try to think of stage fright in a positive way. Fear is your friend. It makes your reflexes sharper. It heightens your energy, adds a sparkle to your eye, and color to your cheeks. When you are nervous about speaking (or posing) you are more conscious of your posture and breathing. With all those good side effects you will actually look healthier and more physically attractive...
( parts used from www.antion.com/articles/stagefright.htm)

I don't talk to flowers, they talk to me and I gladly listen!

This Golden tulip seemed OOUHH LA LA, so FLUSTERED... in a studio? Being portrayed, MOI???

For years I 'experimented' in the studio, to get that Flemish painter's light? Well, I was born in Flanders, it must be in my blood? LOL.

A NEW TREAT HERE, a second choice of some of my images: youtu.be/IzRM4viw-7g

Lead and enjoy a good life, do and say things that enrich... and do not forget to tell the people close to you, how much you love them!
With love to you and thank you for ALL your faves and comments, M, (* _ *)

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

WHAT PART of DO NOT USE is it that you DO NOT UNDERSTAND?
I find my images on numerous blogs and websites EVERY DAY, without my permission!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A WEEK IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER, IN SPAIN. DAY 5.

2011-04-13T18:44:00.002Z

WHERE DO I BEGIN...

NIMBLE FINGERS

CATFISH?

DEVIL CATFISH?

THE APOSTLE

MORE CATFISH

YASSIN

OCTUPUS

JAWS

OCTOPUS BEFORE

OCTOPUS AFTER

THE GREAT ESCAPE

NET FLOATS

PACKED CATCH

Day 5.

Like I said, wherever we travel, we love the sea, the working harbours, so much the same (hard work!) and yet all different...
We decided to explore the Fuengirola fishing area that day.
Often you will see the older fishermen, they cannot stay away and often it is sons and family who continue the traditions, they tend and mend the nettings.
Their eyes are keen on spotting a hole and their hands are nimble!
Also, like everywhere, they are camera shy. I always try and engage in conversation with them, letting my camera in my bag or have it casually hanging on my hand...
Walking on, we saw this gent, gathering small fish from the nets drying on the quayside, there was a resident cat and he was giving them little fishes!
Later, turned out there was another cat, both very shy, and yet, everybody tried to feed them!
Boats came in and out, all were helping each other. Some young guys were curious and wanted to know and see what we were doing... following us around...
Yassin was into his bubble-gum!

Fishing folk each have a right to their 'portion' to take home, so before the cleaning started, that's probably what was mostly left.

We have to understand, sad and distressing as it may be to us, fishermen and farmers... people who have to earn a living of animals... they have a different view on 'life' to us!

As we walked out, in the fishing mine/market, I took some photos of the ready catch to be sent to???????????????

We spent a good afternoon and were determined to come back another day, this was what we liked!

Thanx, M, (*_*)

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

I stand in STUNNED SILENCE for JAPAN, while my heart gently weeps!

2011-03-15T19:20:00.000Z

Today, I saw some of the news for the first time... so far I had followed it in words and not in images...
What they showed... I had to stop watching, it is too much, how I feel such sadness for all those people, it will take generations...even then, it will be something that will always stay with them. A tragedy of such epic proportions! I cannot comprehend what it must be like!
Being 'brave' will not be enough... how do you go on? I know, have to... but how?

I heard that in Japan the colour red means: Courage.
This image is in honour of them, my kimono from Tokyo and my tabi socks, I know the Chrysanthemum is of great importance to them, especially White means mourning in Japan...
This is my Koden-gaes: Giving a token in acknowledgement of an obituary gift.

Now, countries are showing goodwill... getting together, helping out, why only ever when disaster strikes?

Lead a good life!

Thanx, M, (;_;)

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

Please Donate For Japan Earthquake

【Amazon.com】
www.amazon.com/b/?&node=2673660011&ref_=cm_sw_r_t...

【Google Checkout】
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【International Medical Corps】
www.internationalmedicalcorps.org/Page.aspx?pid=1970

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY!

2011-03-08T15:41:00.002Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PF7cLnijKBs

It's a man's world - James Brown & Luciano Pavarotti.

International Women's Day (IWD), originally called International Working Women’s Day is marked on March 8 every year.

It is a major day of global celebration of women. In different regions the focus of the celebrations ranges from general celebration of respect, appreciation and love towards women to a celebration for women's economic, political and social achievements.

Now you all know that I am a passionate photographer. One of the reasons why I love it is that it can be so versatile, it is NOT just working in a studio, it opens all kinds of experiences, because of my job, I had a (rare) insight into many different and more unusual lives. Examples include:

the inside world of BBC, both radio and TV and its people there, the introverts and the extroverts, I'll let you figure out who's who...…

Universities, the professors and their advanced research and researchers…

I experienced the tensions and vigilance on the bridge of a huge Ferry in one of the busiest sea-lanes in the world, the captain, his crew and their advanced technology...

A small shrimp trawler, the hardship of fishing during the night, managed by a skipper and his mate…

A veterinary surgeon performing complicated operations…

Ballet dancers in their studios, showing us the tough regime and performing their art…

A brief glimpse into the interesting world of travellers…

The behind the scenes of a casino, where you really get the sense of drama that goes on there often, it’s a place of ‘mysterious mood’ to me…

Several times travelled through Europe, in a truck, a world within our world… a world people do not know much about, day and night, monotonous drives on looooong stretches of road, and the people that transport EVERYTHING we have in our homes

As a woman, to visit and get the tour of a mosque, being shown and everything…

A lady at her home, mother and wife, waiting for a ‘better’ day, so that I could take portraits of her, with her boys, her husband… because she was terminally ill with cancer…

The world of horse-breeders, farmers, bikers, fish-smokers, painters, glass-artist, sculptors, singers, actors, business entrepreneurs, politicians and so many more...

I photographed the new-borns, the young, the’ in love’, the sad and lonely, the happy, the old, been in the presence of world-famous people… people are people to me… I enjoyed it…

Yes, I enjoy it, in case you had not received that message yet, lol!

There is very little, if anything, we cannot do!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/9550033@N04/5502358791/ Get Real! Wise Women Speak...official trailer (for once I was in front of the camera not behind it; a self portrait was used as a still in the film).

This film fits right in! Please promote it, send it to your friends!

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY!

Magda (*_*)

A WEEK IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER, IN SPAIN. DAY 4.

2011-02-22T18:50:00.003Z

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A WEEK IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER, IN SPAIN.

DAY 4.

We wake up to another day in paradise, blue sky, crisp air and lovely sunshine.
It is now Monday, so, at last we will see 'normal' life?
Yet, it seems so quiet? Too quiet! The shops are closed, and it is eerily still. Of course! It is the first of November, a catholic holiday, All Saints Day, tomorrow All Souls Day, when people visit their dear lost ones at cemeteries, bring flowers, remember... even more than other days.
We drive to a part of the 8 km long of beaches we have not visited so far, we are attracted because of the wave-breaker, we love sitting on the rocks, surrounded by the sea.
The tranquillity of transparent waves gently braking in a regular rhythm, peaceful...
Three people pass us, demure, silently huddling together, a bit further they stop, an older lady and the younger one grab each other's arm, the guy clambers to the edge over the rocks, as close to the water as possible, he carries two bunches of flowers, throws one into the water, they all watch as the sea gently rocks and carries the flowers away, the ladies lean into each other... the second bouquet is tossed and they quickly gather, they walk off, turning back now and then with a visible sigh.

I'd been debating whether to photograph or not, always a dilemma for me, but I did, not the women, that I couldn't do, one shot of him and the flowers... (1)

It was a very personal moment that we witnessed, we are subdued.

Soon after, a dad arrives with his two girls, bicycles, pink, laughter and joy! Isn't that just life for you? (2)
We decide to move on, drive the whole length, to see where it will take us.(3)
We end up back on the main road, and we get to Benalmádena.

The municipality has three main urban areas:
Benalmádena Pueblo, the original village, which lies about three kilometres inland at an elevation of approximately 200 m above mean sea level. Its core consists of a typical white-fronted Andalusian
village, although including numerous recent buildings in modern architectural styles. The town of
Benalmádena also has an archaeological museum with locally-derived artefacts dating back to the Bronze Age.
Benalmádena Costa, promenade along an urban agglomeration on the coast.
Arroyo de la Miel, originally a separate village, is in the interior between the other two areas. It has become the main residential area, and is also the most commercially active. Buildings are tightly packed and tend to be apartment blocks. Arroyo de la Miel translates as "Stream of Honey" in English.

The town is also home to the Enlightenment Stupa, the largest stupa (a structure important in Buddhism) in the West, standing 33 m tall and was built in 2003.(4) (5) (6)
Unfortunately, when we get there... it is their closing day! High up, we take in the view over the Mediterranean. We see Fuengirola, the harbour and the BULL!!!(7)
A real ‘beacon’ when you drive ‘home’.
It is extremely windy, a sudden haze is cooling the temperature, not at all pleasant; we move on and drive alongside the mountain, only to discover that we are heading back to... MIJAS!!!
Great!

When we get to the center, it is remarkably more quiet than the previous day, the horses once more on duty, in this image, it looks like a NO Joy-ride, lol.(8)
The light is great, we walk around and take our shots, pure pleasure.
There is a museum of everything BULL, which we give amiss, but do admire the colourful ceramics.(9)
We find side streets tiled with more of the famous Hispano-Moresque ceramics and decorations.(10),(11),(12),(13).

It is getting cooler, and on our way down to the car, we discover A HUGE free-standing rock, half covered in greenery, we see where the chime came from, the massive bell on the top, a chapel is carved out and is a much visited place of worship, like most information, it tells you in ‘tiles’ that it is the Santuario de la Virgen
de la Peña.(14) (for more info about the chapel and the legend, click this link):
http://www.virtualtourist.com/travel/Europe/Spain/Andalucia/Mijas-261102/Things_To_Do-Mijas-TG-C-1.html

There are visitors from all over the world; a Japanese lady stays behind from her group, for a short prayer.(15)

When we come out, the sun has disappeared behind the mountain, cold and tired with sun, sea, wind and photography, we decide to head home… It’s been another fantastic day. And we are keen to download and view our images!

Thanx, M, (*_*)

A WEEK IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER, IN SPAIN. DAY 3, Part 2. MIJAS

2011-01-11T16:31:00.000Z

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Please do not COPY or use any of my images on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved.

It is a nice, wide drive up the mountain, and the closer we get, the more attractive Mijas looks.
However as we enter, the outer peace and quiet rapidly changes into a touristic nightmare. Cars parked everywhere, people everywhere, horse-drawn carriages in a line, donkey-rides.
We come to an open square with a park, although it is late afternoon, it is very crowded, and surrounded by colourful souvenir-shops. (4),(5).
We find a parking yard, and start walking, determined that you have to ‘experience' everything in life? LOL.
Paul forgot something in the car, I carry on; first I see the donkeys, standing in a row, they look tired, hot and are plagued by flies; I read they are called Mijas taxi… (1),(2),(3)
They are extremely decorated, and lots of people with children stop and give them a pat, which they seem to enjoy.
Moving on I get accosted by all the men sitting outside their shops, they all want to sell me something, a leather jacket, a handbag… it is the last one, perfect for me, and, just for me, a very special price!
I smile (oops, mistake) and try to wave them off, they ask how much will I spend? How many Euros do I have, Paul comes and rescues me, whisks me away… we are still laughing about it, the LAST one… everywhere we went!!!

We pass the horses, and again I notice how decorated and polished everything is, except the horses, they look unhappy. Great for photography though, I do take a few details.(6),(7).

We search for the famous tiles and ceramics in Mijas and find them, take some images, there’s a man roasting chestnuts(8), surrounded by the older locals, all joking and teasing each other, their Spanish is too fast for me to understand, it’s like a machine-gun.
Passing the restaurants and eateries, we are constantly approached and invited in…
The light is becoming interesting, so no thanks. I must say they are tenacious?
As we get further away from the center, into the narrow streets and the white houses, adorned by beautiful ceramics(9), wrought-iron decorations (10),(11),(12), gorgeously crafted wooden doors, at last we discover the real Mijas and love it. (13),(14),(15).
It is the night of Halloween, the children, dressed up, go from door to door, many are open, that gives us a chance to glance inside, we are greeted with “Hola, buenas tardes” (hello, good evening), no, we do not photograph, which would be too invasive.
Surprisingly, there are no fireworks or noise!
The sun disappears, there is a nice afterglow, the lights come on, it's magic.
The horse drawn carriages pass us on their way home, the clippedy-clopping reverberating in the evening, going home, done for the day.(16)
We notice that there are cables crossing the skies, the electricity, as you see in the images, seems to run outside the houses!!!(14), (17)
Unbelievable and unimaginable in England, the people from 'Health and Safety' in the UK would have a heart-attack, on the spot!

Eventually, we track back, have a pizza (?) in a place that looks very Spanish, we’d wanted paella, turns out it is ‘Italian’ and roasted meat orientated, judging from the roaring open fire. We are too hot, tired, thirsty and hungry to take shots.
Well, we do get serenaded by a Spanish guitar-player Bernardo Plaza Torres, (18), (19), a shy man, we do have a chat and he does happily agree to me taking a few impromptu portraits of him, I notice a sadness about him and I also hear it in his music...
All goes well and, as a thank you, we promptly buy his CD, the only one we have for the whole holiday, all our drives and trips… I know it by heart now, and it was often amazing how well it fitted with the ‘landscapes’ we drove through.

We head home, again with a smile and content with our day, knowing that we'll probably see Mijas again, during the week, hopefully a little more quiet?

Already looking forward to tomorrow.

M, (*_*)

A CHRISTMAS STORY...

2010-12-25T16:17:00.000Z

't was after midnight, we'd again worked late, the lights in our Christmas tree were on, some candles spread their wonderful light and made everything flickering sparkly.
We relaxed in front of the fire, to unwind and enjoy, before going to bed.
The previous night a dusting of snow had whitened our world, the day was bitterly cold with a biting frost.
I heard a tinkling bell in the silence of the night, a slight knock on the door...
I opened and there was Father Christmas, he was on one of his pre-Christmas rounds, to see how 'good' everybody was, what they deserved, or not... (he doesn't always get it right, but maybe that's his helpers?) and he had been caught in a blizzard!
Saw our lovely inviting home...
I quickly invited him in, he took of his hat, the gentleman that he is... I saw how wet and icy it was and offered to hang it up to dry.
I fixed him a hot drink, we sat and chatted, he asked how my photography was going, (he really does know EVERYTHING!), was I happy with my new camera? And why had I not waited... he would have put one under the tree for me...

I blushed and confessed that I'm not the most 'patient' of people. He smiled and stroked his beard.
Well, warmed up and dry, he was ready to go, lots to do, deadlines to meet, gosh it all sounded so familiar...
A hug, I waved him out, another bell-jingling, ho-ho...then he was gone... that's when I woke up!

I wish you all the very best, may your wishes come true, and thanx for all your kind words, time. Very much appreciated.
M, (*_*)

I am a Featured Photographer In the Hall of Fame HERE:

www.flickr.com/groups/1579256@N23/discuss/72157625511641635/
I say a few things...

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

Why not view the set as a slide-show?
Also I often upload more than one image at the same time, I see a tendency to only view the last uploaded...

Another fun Blog HERE: magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/11/light-in-dark-season.html

A WEEK IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER, IN SPAIN. DAY 3, Part 1. Along the Coast and up the mountain..

2010-11-16T19:17:00.001Z

After a good night sleep, we have a leisurely breakfast, we bought something we want to try, the Spanish cheese, Tetilla (Spanish: Queso de Tetilla) is the most characteristic cheese made in Galicia, it is the pride of the land where it was created, the secret of this cow's milk cheese has been passed down from generation to generation. The soft cheese is hand formed into the shape of a woman's nippled breast! (1)

In Spain, people revere this cheese and assert that it "tastes like kisses."

It is lovely.

We’ve decided to drive from Fuengirola, along the ‘old’ coastal route, the A7, Autovia del Mediterráneo towards Marbella, the weather is perfect, a few clouds left, which makes it all the more interesting.(2)

Only around 25 km, but it looks promising.

Parts you drive along the Med, then you drive through or along villages and small sleepy towns, well it is Domingo (Sunday) AND around the Midday, only the silly tourists are out. LOL.

Names like El Faro, where you see the old and the new. (3)

El Chaparral, Ana Maria, Torre de Calahonda, Torre Ladrones, Costa Bella… we stop at one of them, discover a lovely little beach, with a fish restaurant, looking very local, the fire is burning, the fish is cooking in a typical way!(4)

The beach is deserted, we walk the shore, the sun is pounding, Paul forgot his bandana in the car, so I give him my blouse which we make into a ‘turban’, he looks quite rakish, my Sultan!(5)

We walk to the end of the Cove, stopped by the rocks. We see what's further down, the beautiful blue of the sea, Torre de Calahonda... (6)

Looking down, to our dismay, we are once more confronted with a sad sign of our times… people just discarding their rubbish… wherever. My lens is not wide enough to take the whole lot, this is only part of it! (7)

WE ARE THE ONLY ANIMALS TO SOIL OUR NEST LIKE THIS!!!

I am disgusted and storm away, the walk through the sand is tough, it fuels my anger, but by the time I get to the stairs towards the car, I’m exhausted, and feel flat.

We drive off in silence.

At some point; we come to a sign pointing to Altos the Marbella (Heights of Marbella), we both think that if we can get higher up into the mountains we might have great views, with Cypress, Olive trees. (8)

We pass a huge half finished hospital, another building site which seems deserted.

Vendors have been telling us Spain is in a crisis! Yet, everywhere you look, they are building, self-contained enclaves in the mountains, along the beaches, they are raping their land! Everywhere you look, it is like Lego-land identical boxes, neatly arranged and mostly empty and for sale, masts, cables, and roads leading nowhere.

Again, there’s silence in the car, up we go, lovely (new) road, brings us to our destination, a Securitas protected (new) village, no barrier so we drive on, you feel the cameras on you, all the villas are hidden, the gardening plantation looks well maintained, watered and fresh, lots of beautiful oleanders, NOBODY to be seen… it feels like ‘The day after’!

We meander on, till eventually, we are out and on the way down again, the nice road is finished, now more rocky, we pass a few deserted old ruins of small farmhouses, come under the The Autopista del Mediterráneo, the E15(see day 1.) (9)

It is both impressive and intimidating; we both get out to take photographs.

Driving on, we come into a lower new development… just as empty, our sat nav tries to get us out, however, every road we get to is blocked off, we see the faint arrows still there, no way out… I feel like I’m in a bad movie, in the end, we just doubled back in silence, now no longer interested in the surroundings. Another sharp bend and we are in the surreal world of Dali, amongst the manicured estate, in the middle of the road stands a herd of goats…

We stop, neither one of us gets out..., I open the window and put out my arm, hand with camera, no viewing what I'm shooting!

What a bonus auto-focus is! I 'chance' it.

They stare at us, we look at them… it is a stand off! (10)

A few minutes later, they charge…(11) past us, although at first it looks like it is at us!

Out of nowhere appears a shepherd and his two dogs.

THAT I want to photograph! I jump out of the car, camera in hand, again in my ‘BEST’ Spanish I ask him if I can take a portrait of him, he smiles, laughs, tells me a whole lot of which I don’t understand anything. I see he is wearing a Securitas jacket... is he also the security guard?

He walks off, turns around, waves at me, (12) comes back and asks if we have water for him!(13)

We do and Paul gladly offers him a bottle, he’s very grateful and takes a deep drink immediately, talks a bit more and waves good-bye, (14 )then he’s gone.

We sit in the car, except for the droppings in the road; it could have been a dream...

It has made our day, we laugh a lot.

Eventually we leave the place behind and get back, past the hospital onto the main road.

We are going to Mijas, the mountain village above Fuengirola.

Thanx, M, (*_*)

A WEEK IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER, IN SPAIN. DAY 2. FUENGIROLA.

2010-11-12T19:18:00.009Z

DAY 2.

The morning after our arrival, we wake up and see that it has rained and it is very overcast!
Slightly disappointed, we decide we will not let this dampen our spirit and that we are going to 'discover' Fuengirola. Get to know it, our way around…
It is a good thing that we thought of bringing our sat-nav (satellite navigation).
We already know from last night, that Spanish drivers are not the most patient and like driving fast and quite aggressively!
Fuengirola was in ancient times known as Suel and then Suhayl and is a municipality on the Costa del Sol in the province of Málaga, autonomous community of Andalusia in southern Spain. It is a major tourist resort, with more than 8 km of beaches, and home to a medieval Moorish fortress,(1) Sohail Castle. The town has its origins in Phoenician, Roman and Arab civilisations.
We want to find the ‘southern’ beginning of the promenade and come to the foot of the fortress, proudly waving the Spanish flag!
We are impatient and want to see the Mediterranean again, on our short way I spot an Egret (2) standing in a bit of a laguna. Click, a shot… (I don’t DO birds…lol)
The Med is not its usual glorious blue because of the grey sky, but the temperature is fine. (3)
I sit and soak up the atmosphere. (4)
A balmy 23 degrees, suits me perfectly... up to 25, I'm fine, more then that and I suffer, I'm the Northern type, what can I say?
Paul cannot resist and walks onto the empty beach with only stacked redundant and rather tired looking sun-loungers. (5)
When he returns, he’s happy, he ‘touched’ the sea! (6)

As we drive off to further explore, I spot a high-rise building being painted ‘a la Española…’. (7) (8)
I’m grinning ear to ear. That’s the stuff I’m after!
We discover a lovely little park with flowers and trees that are new to me, bliss, if only the light was better, not so flat. (9) (10)
Fuengirola seems to be busy for this time of year, it’s not easy finding a parking space, but when we do, we‘re glad, because it is very close to the harbour.
The old port is still used by the local Spanish fishermen. (11)
It is Sábado (Saturday) and there is little activity, the boats are in.
Eventually we find a fisherman checking his gear, again it is something I’ve never seen before, and yet, every country I ever visited, I’m always drawn to the fishing harbours, their methods, netting, boats and people.
He’s sorting out ‘pot’ after black pot on one rope, from the quay to the boat. (12)
He spots me; I go up to him and (try) asking him in my BEST Spanish, what they are for?
He answers kindly… for catching ‘pulpos’. (13)

They catch octopuses by taking advantage of the animals' habit of hiding in safe places during the night. In the evening they put grey ceramic pots on the sea bed. The morning of the following day they check them for octopuses that sheltered there.

They are very popular in Tapas and most Spanish dishes, like Paella!

He looks at my camera, I tell him it is sad that the light is not better, to which he replies … it will be fine tomorrow, Mañana… now there’s a word you’ll hear more of in the coming days!
A bit further I spot more people, mending the netting, where I come from it was the ‘old’ people’s job, not here it seems. (14) (15)
I sense they don’t like the ‘intrusion’.
We take some general shots and walk back to the promenade, as we sit on a wall, suddenly the clouds open a bit and the sun is caressing us, what a wonderful feeling. Everything changes, it comes to life! We stay and enjoy it.
Looking north, we see the mountains and the blue in the sky. (16)
Mountain villages clinging on the flanks, looking forward to exploring that!

Eventually, we head home, to our apartment; we’ll eat the beautiful gambas that we bought, with some olive bread and a glass of white Rioja, on the terrace, that’s after a glass of Jerez with mejillones (cooked mussels, mmmm) as an aperitif.
After our meal, we view our images and we sit happily outside till all’s gone quiet, this is the night the hour changes to Winter-time, so we gain an hour.
We’ll have our beauty sleep and tomorrow we’ve planned to venture a bit further along the coast…
Thanx, M, (*_*)

A WEEK IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER, IN SPAIN. DAY 1.

2010-11-10T18:16:00.007Z

At last, the day has arrived, we are ready!

To us, each ‘travel’ is an adventure; we are full of trepidation, excited, we know that we’ll encounter things and people new, that once more our lives will be enriched…

Our plane is ready on the tarmac; I see our suitcases going in as we are absorbing the electric atmosphere so particular to stations, ferry-terminals and airports.

People arrive, people leave, hellos and good-byes, tears and laughter, a chunk of life.

Our flight is called, we are installed, the weather is dreary and dank, it really is full-on autumn here in Yorkshire.

Paul and I squeeze hands as the plane leaves the earth and soars the sky… up, up and away!

I grab my camera as we almost climb above the clouds, one last glance and the land is gone.

We travel through the cotton wool layer of clouds, till we see the bright sun, beneath us, it is like the Arctic, endless white, a horizon and blue, the surrealness of SPACE…

The captain announces that we have a strong headwind (we’re going to be late!), the speed and the temperature outside: -46 degrees.

I see the ice on the window, the sun sparkling it, I’ll just take advantage of the window-seat I have, to break some of the monotony, and try to take some images.

We turn, I see the sun sinking slowly into blanket, it’s turning golden, adding a different sparkle on the ice.

Again I’m reminded of Dante; first there was heaven, then inferno, now it looks like we are descending into hell.

We are well above Spain, but nothing to be seen.

Then, I see a few flashing lights, our ears are popping, the descend has begun, we’re nearly there, I see more lights, a ribbon of orange, The Autopista del Mediterráneo. The motorway of the Mediterranean or AP-7 is a shaft of 1109 km, which connects the entire Mediterranean coast from the border with France, La Junquera to Algeciras, and ends in Guadiaro (Cadiz).

The first section of motorway was opened in 1969 from Barcelona to Granollers.

We land safely at Malaga, get into the hall, pick up our luggage, go for the keys of the car we hired, finally, we breath in the mild Spanish sea-air, I'm engulfed by all the exotic and heady fragrances.

We head for Fuengirola, which is to be our 'base' for the next 10 days.

It is dark; we do not see any of the surroundings, except some lights dotting the mountains.

Because we're late, the restaurant is closed, we walk a few streets through the balmy night and in a side street, discover a genuine, local tapas-bar. In our 'paleness' we attract the attention, but they are quite 'merry' and are singing Spanish Flamenco songs, we can't believe our luck... too bad we did not bring our cameras... However, I think that some things are just to be experienced and enjoyed!

Can't wait for tomorrow!

Thanx, M, (*_*)

WILLEM VERMANDERE, OF THE PASSION FOR YOUR MEDIUM AND AN ARTIST'S HANDS...

2010-10-18T15:23:00.005Z

Willem Vermandere is a famous and much celebrated Belgian Artist.
My friend is a sculptor, singer-songwriter, musician, writer, poet and painter, but also a wonderful philosopher and raconteur.
We always enjoy a get together when we visit the Continent, this time no different!
Here, after a whole animated discussion about why we do what we do, how to do it well etc... here, he had told us the fascinating story of this old ebony clarinet, still in the original, allbeit battered instrument case, he then for a moment disappeared into his own world of melodious sound, eyes closed, see beautiful portrait, full of the emotion, taken by Paul.Indigo : HERE.

We got back to our earlier conversation, about PASSION!!! He talked about visiting different regions, the quarries, the choosing of the rock, stone he wants to work in, wood, metal, he caresses the roughest material as if it was something very precious, well, it is to him!
You have to have PASSION for your medium!
For a photographer we agreed that that should be all about the light!!!
As you can see, his hands are his tools, during the week, he carves, cleaves, chisels, chops and files on his quarry trasures, the granite, marble... all very rough on his hands, then on the week-ends, his hands become the softer tools as he performs as a musician, stroking and playing the delicate instruments, strings and keys...
Combining the two passions is a constant concern to him! Both disciplines so important to him in their own way!
The gorgeous afternoon-light fell onto his hands, that afternoon in his studio...

Such moments are pure magic.

THANX, M, (*_*)

This is about the man himself:
magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2007/08/willem-vermandere-is-fam...
with a follow-up
magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/let-me-tell-you-story-on...

And here is my blog on The Importance of Hands in portrait Photography:

magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/01/importance-of-hands-in-p...

ALA-REMBRANDT. Magda, portrait for movie, called "Get Real! Wise Women Speak"

2010-09-29T14:44:00.007Z

I was contacted by Joni Steele Kimberlin, Producer, Director, Writer and the maker of this film/documentary,

Get Real! Wise Women Speak,
www.youtube.com/user/cowgirlfilms#p/a/u/2/vWpY0UH114I

www.cowgirlfilms.com

She wants to incorporate this self-portrait in it as a still!!!
Interviews with interesting and famous, mature ladies, like Actress Jane Fonda, poet Nikki Giovanni, Connecticut Governor Jodi Rell, Editor Susan L. Taylor, Buddhist Nun Tenzin Palmo, Oceanographer Sylvia Earle, Author Marianne Williamson, Nobel Laureates, artists, grandmothers, activists and educators and many more, check it out? Coming out in the fall...next year the DVD, I'll keep you posted on that!
How 'wow' is this? I am very honoured to be part of this project.
Ladies over 50… we DO have a voice, we DO have experience and ooohhh soooo much to give and share… however, not taking any nonsense anymore!
www.facebook.com/pages/Get-Real-Wise-Women-Speak/25223947209

I had to rework it, so that is why I re-upload it with the original title: Ala Rembrandt:
Rembrandt van Rijn had a particular light and tone in his wonderful portraits and paintings. Dark backgrounds and warm coloured subjects.
Well, Rembrandt's paintings were never (that) dark; they were plastered with crude varnish by well-meaning conservationist, and however that is how we see them now.
He had a paint-colour named after him, Rembrandt red= orangey red.

Paul and I were experimenting once more with different light settings in the studio, still fascinated after all those years at what light can do, how it is the most important in photography ( well, equal to the often 'neglected' EMOTION'? LOL).
We love challenges; I was dressed in black and chose a black bg.
Although I'm not photogenic and don't often go for self-images, this one, ALA REMBRANDT... well, in those days they preferred a bit more curvaceous ladies, so, fitting? HEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
I am a very smiley person normally but not in portraits and NOT with longer exposures, where the smile becomes too often like a grimace.

Silver umbrella on Goddard light, just using the modelling light. NO FLASH hence the long exposure and 'softness' ( you try and stand still for 20 seconds minimum? (You DO have a heart-beat!!!)
No filters.
May your day be a good one,
Thank you, Magda (*_*)

BEACH, SAND and WATER-ART and SERENDIPITY?

2010-09-23T14:58:00.003Z

We, my husband Paul and I, are just back from a few days in Northumberland, the North East of England. Very close to the Scottish border.

We'd heard so much about it, somehow never got there although it wasn't so far for us, less than 3 hours drive. But this time we made it, and wow, was it worth it! We were lucky with the weather…

Windy, which meant fabulous waves...

Cloudy and sunny, which meant fabulous light, light-play and interesting skies...

Only a bit of rain during the night, which made everything look fresh and vibrant!

We had rented a cottage at Seahouses, a small colourful harbour.

A good place to start, almost in front of the Farne Islands, to the north you have beautiful dunes, white beaches, and Bamburgh Castle Epic and majestic.

But let me come back to this in a later blog, after I have processed the photos?

What I really wanted to write about is that, besides the more obvious, I love to photograph the UNOBVIOUS. I arrive on a beach, I see the sand-patterns blown by the wind or shaped by the sea, some have stones, others have shells, and with wild seas you'll have lots of seaweed all very interesting, because of the variety, colour and shapes. I love looking, making compositions, when it all comes together, I'm thrilled, touched, and yes, it releases emotions.

I do understand that it is NOT to everybody's taste, but I do not take them for anyone...

So I uploaded some of them and as expected, they did not get much attention, which is fine.

And that is what I wrote in the write-up under the images yesterday.

SERENDIPITY:

Today, I discover what Seth Godin,

http://www.sethgodin.com/sg/

wrote in one of his latest blogs:

QUOTE:

"I need you to see things my way"

And that's the frustration of the marketer or the artist who hasn't figured out how to navigate critics and the marketplace.

If you need the validation and acceptance and patronage of everyone you meet, you'll get stuck, and soon. Everyone isn't going to get it. Everyone isn't even going to get you, never mind what you sell.

Experienced marketers and artists and those that make change understand that the new is not for everyone. In fact, it's not even for most people. Pass them by. They can catch up later.

It's not a referendum, and you don't need a unanimous vote of acclamation. No, you merely need enough to stay in business, to keep moving, to make a dent. And then your idea can spread.

If the kids in the back of the bus/audience/store don't get it (or don't get you) it's their loss. Focus on those that want to celebrate the work you do instead."

No need to say more he?

Thanx, M, (*_*)

CAMERA GEAR anno 1993...

2010-09-10T17:02:00.001Z

Going through some old negs and prints, I came across this 'Polaroid' we made for fun, of some of the photographic gear we had then in 1993.
Only 2 things survived, the 2 Hasselblads.
For 'sentimental reasons' I kept the Canon AE1 (which I'd had since 1979, it was the world's first camera with an embedded microcomputer and was designated as the official 35mm camera for the 1984 Summer Olympic Games in Los Angeles, U.S.A.)
I also still have my favourite of all times: my Nikon F4, later joined by a second one, but that one now drains the batteries!
Light-meters, lenses, flashes with heavy flash-packs...
All analog... there were already 'rumblings' amongst our peers about something called digital(?), but, no, nothing was EVER going to replace the quality of film...

Oh dear, I resisted a very long time (about another 14 years), well, until I 'had' to agree that digital was 'as' good?
I still feel that film has something digital doesn't, but the technology has made things easier especially during pro shoots with lights, no more Polaroids to see if you have got the lights, composition, position, etc. right, no more darkroom, loading your precious film on the bobbins (in the dark, by feel), mixing the chemicals, the temperatures, the nail-biting wait for the results. (probably gobbledygook to a lot of you? haha)
Having said that, where with analog you had the work before and in the darkroom... now it is very much after... in the digital darkroom.
The basics and rules of photography have NOT changed, you still HAVE to know them and learn the skill!!!

thanx for your time and comments, greatly appreciated, M, (*_*)

THE DAY WE MET THE TRAVELERS!

2010-07-23T18:34:00.018Z

At last, our friends from the Continent had arrived, the long wait was over.
For some time Paul and I had wanted to go back to beautiful Staithes, on The North-Yorkshire Heritage Coast.
We decided to wait till we could all go together!
The weather was perfect, not too hot, some interesting clouds in the sky, we drove North through some impressive landscapes, however wanted to reach our destination as quickly as possible,
Up hill, we come around a bend and are gently encouraged to slow down and give way to three horse-drawn wagons.
We carry on behind them,
overtaking them as soon as possible! Of course! We are modern people… in a hurry!!! LOL.
I ask Paul to stop a bit further down, and jump out of the car, camera at the ready, all exited! I photograph them as they trot towards me,

all too quickly, they pass. One of the travelers has shouted in passing, to please put the images onto Facebook, under Jimbo.
Back into the car, we are now behind them and in a queue, eventually we overtake them again,

, I take shots from the car with now the song firmly in my head, I WAS BORN UNDER A WANDERING STAR!
Another stop, now everyone is ready, we are and so are they, they holler where they are heading for…
Back in the slow queue, we debate what we are going to do… another bend, more uphill, the traffic moves, when suddenly I see one of them at the entrance of a lay-by, wind milling his arms, inviting and guiding us in.
They decided to have a tea-break and we are welcome to photograph them.
I can’t believe my good fortune! I’ve been wanting to do that for years. The occasion just never materialised before. Or when we saw some along the road, either no place to stop or too rushed!
The last Bowtop wagon is Tony’s, by the time we’ve parked the car and taken our gear, he is already tending to his horse, named ‘Cowboy’ so he informs me.
The animal perspired and gets dried…
I see the magical relationship between gypsies and their most treasured possesions, their horses.
After that it is time for his two little dogs, they get watered

and hugged;
Tony takes out a stool, sits down and rolls a cigarette.

A bit further I see all the horses are grazing now from the verge-grass.

The younger guys are making the tea,
Jim comes and tells me that his youngest son is sleeping in his wagon; yes of course I can photograph him. I gently climb into the Bowtop and look back at a very proud, smiling dad. This is definitely the ‘softer’ side!

The camera is in ‘overdrive’, I see image after image!
I drift back to the guys and we exchange email-addresses. They are also willing to sign model-releases. They ask question, we ask questions… There’s laughter and joy.
We leave them to drink their tea in peace and continue the long road ahead.
It’s been a brilliant experience.
In the car, I’m thinking, yet again, how people are ‘judged’, ‘categorised’…
You cannot tar everyone with the same brush! In every culture you have good people and not so good, to the downright bad. . I’m convinced that you do have less savoury characters in their society… then…so do we!

I see travelers as our European Nomads; they have their life-style, religion, habits and rules.
Long ago I decided to trust my instinct; (I’m mostly right) otherwise you could miss out on something good!!!

Thanx, M, (*_*)
For those interested:
(The Gypsy Horse is a hearty little draft horse which was developed by and is currently used by the Gypsies of England and Ireland. They typically stand between 13 and 15.2 hands, and have an unusually quiet and gentle disposition. Their exceptional stamina allows them to go all day at a steady trot while pulling a loaded living wagon with the whole Gypsy family. They are sturdily built with solid bone and have a good deal of feathering and hair. The Gypsy horse comes in all colours, with the most common being the "pinto" patterns, piebald and skewbald. Although they have been bred for a particular type for generations, they are originally descended from several draft horse and pony breeds, namely the Shire and Clydesdale along with Dales, Fell and other native British breeds.)

A BLOG TO MULL OVER...

2010-07-17T17:10:00.005Z

EBB-TIDE at STAITHES

http://www.flickr.com/photos/9550033@N04/4786555803/

‘Envy is the religion of the mediocre.
It comforts them, it responds to the worries that gnaw at them and finally it rots their souls, allowing them to justify their meanness and their greed until they believe these to be virtues.
Such people are convinced that the doors of heaven will be opened only to poor wretches like themselves who go through life without leaving any trace but their threadbare attempts to belittle others and to exclude – and destroy if possible – those who, by the simple fact of their existence, show up their own poorness of spirit, mind and guts.
Blessed be the one at whom the fools bark, because his soul will never belong to them.’

An excerpt from this beautiful book:
“The Angel’s Game” by Carlos Ruiz Zafón.

Nowadays, I encounter it too much.
I speak from my point of view as a photographer:
There are many sites to upload your images. A blessing and a curse, methinks.
It brings out your work; yet, it allows it to be stolen and copied.
We’re all hungry for interesting and meaningful feedback… not all can handle it!
Some people get VERY defensive… and sadly nasty, constructive and ‘kind’ as the advice was.

I have years of learning behind me, wore out many a camera, broke the odd lens… even ‘lost’ a 400mm Nikon at sea, ouch… trashed all types of film, missed hours of sleep over some images, either ‘creating’ or agonizing how to ‘better’ it…
Went digital only 3 years ago, I’m on my third camera there, still use it very much as an analogue camera, quality rather than quantity.
A whole new world opened, a new learning process, a different ‘dark-room’ with so many ‘easy’ facilities and gimmicks. I’m again learning new stuff every day!
I’m a creative and confident photographer, not pretentious, however I feel I can tell the difference between a great, a mediocre and a bad image… objectively, not taking into account personal taste. I’m not above constructive criticism, can’t stand cheap words that clearly reflect ignorance, usually the mark of the absolute beginner or the amateur with the latest and expensive camera, who read somewhere about the rule of thirds in a second-hand book. Learn the rules (preferably not on a so called ‘learning’ site, photography is one skill you do NOT learn on a site, where mostly the blind are leading the blind), practice, practice and practice, so you can break them, in a creative way? That’s how we progress and develop (pardon the pun?) the medium of photography.
Not by over-saturating the colours, nor by over-sharpening, or by making a sky a ‘non-existent’, unnatural blue.
Not by taking a photo of the sea with a skew horizon and call it ART?
We’ve all been there, it is a process we go through, see a quirky doorknob, play with a mirror and immediately think that it has NEVER been done and you are the next Ansel Adams or Robert Mapplethorpe?

Day after day, we and our precious photos are being judged by people who do not have a clue, do not know the basics of photography or composition, some don’t know what ‘negative or positive’ film are anymore, aperture, exposure are alien words to many.
They started with a digital camera. That’s fine! The same principles apply though…
They go and proudly come home with thousands of images, there’s bound to be at least ONE good one?
I often take just one frame; however it can take me a long time before I do, composing and lighting everything correctly.
I’ve been envied, vilified, bullied, plagiarised, and stolen from (both the ideas and images) … daily.
Ultimately it doesn’t get me down anymore. I know my images came out of my brain, not somebody else’s. I have done my utmost; they go out immaculate and up to my personal standards. The moment you bring them out, you open them up to criticism.
People form an opinion, it is theirs!!!
Do I have to accept it and agree? NO.
Do I have to accept negative criticism, foul language, and envious venom? NO.
What I DO accept is that not everybody is going to like your work, just like I 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.

A blog to mull over… All the best and thanx, your constructive comments are welcome LOL, M, (*_*)

WHY KNOT??? To ART or not to ART?

2010-04-27T17:36:00.009Z

WHY KNOT???

PUNCHY

WHAT KNOT???

For an image 'representing' Summer, one of the props was a very colourful skipping-rope (jump-rope).
The moment I saw this out of all the other stuff, my creative juices started to flow...
I photographed it in my own style... Called the first one WHY KNOT??? Uploaded it on Flickr and to my surprise, it did very well. Today I got an interesting comment that I want to share with you, as it provoked a reaction from me...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/9550033@N04/4541566096/page2/

"In a way this photo is everything that is WRONG with Flickr. And, everything that's RIGHT. Some people will say what does a mess of different colored string all placed together and tied into a knot mean? How is that art? Others will say ah, what an excellent metaphor/s that applies to so many themes. What a simple minimilist piece of art. Why didn't I think of that? its been right in front of me a million times. Most people will lie somewhere in the middle, struggling with the image for a second and quickly flipping to the next piece. Isn't art strange? LOL Thanks for sharing,..." Mason Pickholz

I replied by email:

...
You mention the big A... art? I consider myself a creative photographer, not an art photographer. It is such a massive discussion what art is... been there, worn that T-shirt, lol.
Until the day there is a definite and 'plausible' definition of ART, that's when I'll change my mind, in the mean-time, I'll stick to creative...

When not 'dictated' by a client, I take images that come out of my brain, the birth of the idea, the development of it, my vision and the creation, my enjoyment and the challenge, the hype and the anticipation, the playing with light, to me, the ultimate high, I don't need anything else.

Once the image is there, I'm content, and if it 'inspires' others, releases an emotion, that's wonderful!
And I've seen how my photos have 'inspired' many!
I'm not stupid to think that everybody is going to like, let alone understand my image, but I can easily live with that, because I do not have that expectation!
I, in the first place, have to be happy with it, the quality, the composition, EVERYTHING, it has to be immaculate, I have to stand by it 100% or the outside world will NEVER see it!
That goes for my pro AND my free work (what you see on Flickr).
I wouldn't have it any other way.
I hope that you enjoyed my 'rave'?
Take care, all the best and above all... enjoy your photography.
If the day comes I don't enjoy it anymore... I'll GIVE AWAY all my gear (it's a lot, gathered over the years, please don't hold your breath, heeeee), M, (*_*)

I got a lovely reply:

I really like that, "creative photographer." I am always interested in how people see themselves, they're creative process, and how they define themselves. I think its great that you know who you are and I very much enjoyed your "rave" it shows passion for what you do. And that, my friend, is all that matters. It doesn't matter what you are doing or what you are calling it, the passion shows through in the end. The work will be judged as art or not or the debate will continue but its not something that you concern yourself with it. Its like you said if it inspires other they may want to call it art or craft or photography or whatever. At the point you are done, you are done--do with it what you may. Call it what you want I'm going on with my creative process. I'm not going to get bogged down in conversation I have too much creative photography to do to waste my time defining the limits of what I have created. That's a pretty cool attitude and you say it works for you. So, go with it. It was good talking with you. See ya around, Mason Pickholz

All in all an interesting exchange, thanx, M, (*_*)

LIVING DANGEROUSLY!

2010-04-11T23:17:00.011Z

THIS IS WHERE IT HAPPENED

last photo by Paul Indigo

I grew up in Ostend, a great city, with industrial-, fishing- and yachting harbours.
It is situated in the center of the Belgian Coast, with its gorgeous dunes and wide beaches.
I was warned from a very young age about the dangers… the vortexes around the wave-breakers, I learned about the tides and their effects.
I was taught about sand!!! Do not delve deep sandpits or tunnels, they can collapse, and sadly each year they do and take lives… usually children!

Whenever we visit Flanders, to see family and friends, there is ALWAYS that pull towards the beach and the sea. We love it.
So, this time was no different.
Having some ‘free’ time, we drove to our old hunting grounds, under the tall lighthouse, where the East-pier used to be, it has been demolished, apparently to make the harbour-entrance bigger. It used to be so special! The two piers like two embracing arms, either welcoming you when you came home or loath to let you go when you were leaving…
Whether for pleasure or work…
Getting out of the car, I felt like an animal, ready to go, head and nose towards the sky and sun, snorting the familiar air and smells of tar and salt, my eyes taking in all the old and the changes.
I ran down the slope, onto the beach, it was Easter Sunday; gatherings of family dotted the huge sand planes, with children, dogs…
The top of the Dyke was fenced off, full of cranes and bulldozers, heavy machines, on the beach, it was beautiful, wooden stakes each with their own orange buoy… the tide was out, it was very photogenic… however, they were connected with rope, and at the top, there were not one but two warning signs, NOT TO ENTER the CONSTRUCTION SITE!!! Forbidden!
Now as a photographer, hhhmmmm, often when you want THE shot, you sometimes (OFTEN?) have to take risks?
Plus, I wanted to climb onto the latest ‘wave-breaker’, to make images of the changed harbour view! The main (remaining) pier taken from the other side! With the city behind it! Unique! What an opportunity.
There was silence, judging by the tracks from the trucks they had been working there earlier! The tide was coming in though, so they must have gone home… the path was clear, I composed image upon image, excited and exuberant, it felt like there was not going to be enough time… a photo-frenzy, lol!

I saw three tall guys coming off the rocks, crossing a patch of sand, walking bye…
I neared the huge blocks (some weigh 10 tonnes), came to a sandy patch, after all the rain and probably the type of sand they used to ‘create’ the beach they were working on, I’d felt and seen that my shoes were leaving deeper imprints… so what?
I stood and saw two wet areas, left and right, the middle patch was ‘dry’, THAT was where I was going to cross!
I jumped as far as possible and felt not only my foot but my leg go in, my boot filled up, I put my other foot down for balance, and it also disappeared and filled, I tried to lift my leg, but that did not work, on the contrary, QUICKSAND!!!
I called Paul’s name, and spread my body out as much as possible, holding my cherished camera above my head.
I did not panic, but was well aware of the possible implications. I looked around, the beach was now deserted, no-one to be seen.
Paul came running, quickly, assessed the situation, realising that speed and care were off the utmost importance.
He stayed as far back as he could, we reached out, he grabbed my wrist, his shoes sank away, he yanked me out with one huge pull, I turned sideways, all I did was shout: “ My camera, my camera!!!!”
A little later, after overlooking the ‘damages’, we sat on one of the rocks, the sun and wind already drying the fine sand on my clothes.
We climbed up, somewhat shook up, we nervously joked about, ‘why had Paul not taken a photo first, before pulling me out?’, he’d missed an interesting photo-journalistic shot! Clearly he has his priorities right!
We continued our photo-mission.
It was only later, when we came home that it dawned fully on me, how silly I had been… all the pains and ‘ifs’ came out… what if you were there by yourself, what if it had been Paul, could I have pulled him out? What if he had NOT been able to reach me?

We came home with lots of good images; whenever I’ll see them… they will be a constant reminder of what happened.
I know that next time, I’ll not ‘tread’ so lightly and enthusiastically where it tells me NOT to go.
As a photographer you need to take risks to get THE shot! Also, can you call a life without risk LIVING? I don’t, however each one has to make that out for themselves, how far are you prepared to go.
We now carry an extra bit of kit… rope! Tee hee.
Thanx, take care but have fun! M, (*_*)

VALENTINE'S....

2010-02-12T20:01:00.014Z

THAT'S AMORE

ODE TO LOVE.

AAAHHH... THAT FIRST CARESS!!!

THE LOVE KNOT

OLD FASHIONED VALENTINE.

I COULD HAVE DANCED ALL NIGHT.

ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE.

IT IS LOVE WEEK!

We all want to fall in love.
Why?
Because that experience makes us feel completely alive,
where every sense is heightened, and every emotion is magnified.
Our everyday reality is shattered and we are flung into the heavens.
It may only last a moment, an hour, or an afternoon,
but that doesn't diminish its value, because we are left with memories that we treasure for the rest of our lives.

- From the movie "The Mirror Has Two Faces" -

Where there is love there is life - said Mahatma Gandhi.

A LOVE KNOT has "no beginning, no ending, the continuity of everlasting love and binding together or intertwining of two soul or spirits."

I took quite a few images, was again ‘inspired’.
‘ODE TO LOVE’ is my ultimate Valentine for this year.
When you are in love, you don't want ANYTHING to stop... I could have danced all night.

Remember, LOVE is NOT JUST FOR VALENTINE'S DAY!!!
There are 365 days in the year... LOL.

Sometimes a caress... even more memorable than the first kiss? That gentle, furtive touch?

Each time I think... that's it, there's only so much you can do with flowers... and yet again and again, I'll see something new.

Being creative is not a choice... it is an urge in me.
READ MORE HERE, new Blog: magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2010/01/about-innovative-creativ...
AND HERE:
magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2007/04/at-all-times-love.html

Have a wonderful day, filled with love and thanx for your visit, M, (*_*)

ABOUT INNOVATIVE CREATIVITY.

2010-01-19T16:42:00.015Z

LOVE KNOT

Pietà for HAITI

GIFT OF THE ROSE

SMILE

LILY'S PROFILE

TANGO DI MARE

CAN-CAN DE LOS CALAMARES

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A TEXTILE ARTIST AND A PHOTOGRAPHER MEET?

Just another very personal deliberation and reflection on the matter.

Each time I think... that's it, there's only so much you can do with flowers, (which is only one aspect in my field)... and yet again and again, I'll see something new. I become inspired!
That is the ‘magic’ of the studio and lights, be it with flowers, people or other animals, lol!
Being creative is not a choice... it is an urge in me.

I can even experience it as a NEED?

I just HAVE to try something new... I’m motivated to be innovative once more!

I now have the expertise (technical, procedural & intellectual knowledge).

Let’s rock and roll!

I just read that:” It is often useful to explicitly distinguish between creativity and innovation.

Creativity is typically used to refer to the act of producing new ideas, approaches or actions, while innovation is the process of both generating and applying such creative ideas in some specific context.”

So does that make me an innovative creative? LOL.

I take photographs for self-fulfilment whenever I can. I test and challenge myself.

The lines and colours combined in a particular way, certain forms and relations of forms, I want them to stir the ALL IMPORTANT and often forgotten ingredient: our aesthetic emotions.

The photographer looks frantically for a 'model', because of course you have a creative idea, you are in a fever, a high state of excitement and can only relax... once you have taken the image, " you've got it in the bag!!!"

I forget time, day, night…I know neither hunger nor thirst. I am in my own world, nothing else matters, I WANT to see the end-result, the materialisation of the image I had in my mind’s eye, the creative idea my brain came up with.

It doesn’t always work first time, I have to live with ‘failure’ and review and rethink, sometimes for days… and ahem, patience is not my greatest virtue!

Then, in the silence of the night, that’s my peak time for ‘solutions’, it will come to me, but I have to sleep, work tomorrow, wait for the moment I can go back to it. aaahhh, the trials and tribulations of a photographer!

I use the title on purpose, I am a photographer!

I prefer my portraits and photos straight and 'uncooked', it is a personal preference.

I’ll write it again: Photography comes from the Greek φῶς (phos) "light" and γραφή (graphê) drawing with light", it is about composition, caring for your images!

In my humble view too many good images get destroyed in photoshop or the likes of it, too many gimmicks... Use it sparingly and carefully.

I also find it ‘fun’ to ‘play’ with a photo, try out things, of course, that’s how we learn, how we move on, renovate and innovate.

My problem lies with those who systematically over saturate, under or over contrast a photo, oversoften or oversharpen, plain OVERDO it.

Have a wonderful day and thanx for reading this, M, (*_*)

A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

2010-01-01T18:52:00.014Z

O TANNENBAUM... the tree is up!

The Carol Singers.

HO-HO-HO, HOLLY HOLLY HOLIDAYS, HAPPY HOLIDAYS ARE COMING!

The night the snow fell and the world went whitely quiet.

STEP INSIDE LOVE, WELCOME!

THE INDIGO LADY IS BLUE!

NEW-YEARS EVE 2009.

NEW-YEARS EVE 2009.
Photo by Paul Indigo.

A BIG BEN MIDNIGHT.
Photo taken from TV screen.

A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

REMINISCENCE ABOUT OUR CHRISTMAS AND NEW-YEAR…

This year, my youngest son, his wife, my lovely daughter-in-law and my little granddaughter came over from the Continent for Christmas.
They arrived on the 23rd, late in the evening, and for once, my dream had come true… A WHITE CHRISTMAS!
Exhilarating for me, I had waited so long for this, the world went whitely silent, but not for them, they drove through the storm.
We had a wonderful time, a few days filled with joy, laughter and love... you know how it is, for weeks you live towards it, full of expectation and excitement, preparing and decorating, a bit more than usual for the girl. So beautiful to see her little face, the eyes all lit up, asking how much longer to open the presents... euh, only 5 min less than the previous time you asked? LOL. You remember your own childhood through them.
Then, it is over, you see them driving away, the last glimpse at the corner, they're gone again. You do not know when you'll next meet. You can feel something tearing inside, your heart aches, you hurry inside because you suddenly feel the cold, the empty chairs seem bigger than normal, the decorations less shiny, you hear the silence, you feel the pain of the 'separation’, with every heart-beat they are further away, that is when I become Blue, so very BLUE...
Hours later, you have them on the phone, their voices caress your ears and soul once more, you are touched, they arrived home safely, had a super time, thanx!

Then, you pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again... for the NEW-YEAR.

A quieter affair, just the two of us, all dressed up, nice meal, a glass of Champagne, a bit of reminiscing over the past year, it's been a good one for us.
More joy, laughter and love. We take some fun images.

At midnight we listen to Big Ben as it chimes in the New-Year, we watch the amazing fireworks on the Millennium Wheel, the London Eye, above the Thames, the crowd sing for Auld Lang Syne, TV back off.
We get a few calls from friends and family, after that, some relaxing time, enjoying the moment and already wondering what 2010 will bring.
We go to bed, satisfied and full of hope and good feelings.
Looking forward to the future.
For a moment, we had ‘paused’
I hope 2010 brings only good and prosperity in your and your family's lives!
Love, Magda, (*_*)

LIGHT IN THE DARK SEASON.

2009-11-25T14:24:00.009Z

THE LIGHT IN THE DARK SEASON.

Yes, it is that time of year again here in the Northern hemisphere… End of November, in the UK we are on winter time, so it is darker an hour sooner than in most parts of Europe!
This long period stretches in front of us, I know it influences and affects many people’s lives, they have the blues, they become morose, altogether down and even angry. Not enjoying life.
And of course, it seems trendy to be ‘cynical’ about Christmas, New Year, the ‘commercialisation’ of the festivities, the music, the presents, the sending of cards, family gatherings and parties, hats and party-poppers, the cold, dank- and darkness.
I’m different; I love the cold, especially snow, blue skies and crackling fresh air… that is if and when we get it, which is no guarantee nowadays, even in the North of England.
Snow makes everything so beautiful and silent; you see small details, on familiar buildings, you never knew were there.
I love the long evenings, I bring out the candles, they give off such a romantic light, I love the flickering flames, the shadow play on the walls, the smell when you blow them out before bedtime.
When I’m out, the festive lights are on, since last week, they twinkle in the wind, sparkle in the rain.
Shop windows are dressed festively, glittering and enticing.
It is the season of silver and gold, red and green. Everywhere you walk or drive, decorated homes, I agree some over the top, it again makes me smile… each to their own, it is much more pleasurable than driving through dark streets.
For many animals, winter is about hibernation, for me it is about reflection, making up the emotional balance, joy for a good year, hope for a better year? Thinking of people, making contact, touching once more… most of all the lonely ones (some with families!).
I embrace it, accept it, you see, I believe the more you rebel against something, the worst you make it for yourself! It is not going to go away!
Just imagine that whole ‘LIGHT’ period away from the dark months, how would we feel then? Many more people depressed and even more on Anti-Depressants?
The Christmas market is back in town, we are going for a visit next Sunday.
A lot of happy smiles there, blowing on a steaming hot German potato pancake, eating bratwurst fresh from above the glowing coals, drinking a cool beer, children looking wide-eyed at all the wooden toys, spinning toys, glass baubles, candy and sweets.
For many years now, Paul and I celebrated by ourselves, dressed up to the nines, having a real party, just the two of us.
On Christmas day, we saw and heard families arrive in our street… not for us, that is when you miss your loved-ones even more.
Then, one year my one son and his family came, this year, my youngest and his family will join us, coming from the Continent. OOHH the joy! I can’t wait! I’m loving ‘the preparations’ and planning even more now.
And when all is over and the baubles and bling packed away till next year, I’ll have the smile of the memories… and in the meantime, gradually, it will get lighter and brighter again, the soil will break up with the new life and colour of the crocus, followed by the daffodils and tulips… the hope of Spring, then the warmth of Summer, the nostalgia of Autumn, to come full circle to the darkness of Winter.
And so our life goes by…
I dread to think the dark season without the festive season, even with all its ‘trappings’.
Have a great one, be safe and enjoy! And thanx, M, (*_*)

For many of my CHRISTMAS IMAGES , to make you happy, view HERE

11-11-11 THE LAST POST in FLANDERS.

2009-11-11T16:27:00.011Z

On our last Friday in Belgium, we had a 'quiet/free' day, and decided to just drive of into my beloved Flanders and see where the wind and the roads took us.
We came at a crossing where we had to make a decision, when I saw a road sign, which would take us to a place full of memories that we had not seen for ages. As we neared, a helicopter flew over, we saw lots of military vehicles, meandering the narrow road, crossed a small bridge and round the bend... we were stopped by military police, we were very puzzled.
With a smile they waved us into a field full of cars.
We were close to the river IJzer ( ISERE), where so many had fought, had lost life or limb, and eventually won the battle.
This was the place where in 1918 the invader was brought to a halt!
That's what it said on one of the memorial stones...
We arrived in the middle of an important commemoration.
Soldiers from all over ...
It was very moving, you see them, they look forward to these ceremonies, meeting up with old friends, remembering old friends... bringing children, so fitting, being given the opportunity to live in peace and 'freedom'...
They all look so proud.
They are the 'survivors'!
Sometimes there are tears in their eyes, then there's a smile round their lips, afterwards when the ceremony is over, the sound of laughter echoes against the wall of the old tower, drifting off into the rustling of the poplar leaves, the silence returns, another year gone, hope we'll meet again!
It never ceases to amaze me how people come together more in adversity, form bonds and unbreakable friendships for life... great, however somehow sad... nowadays there is such an alienation amongst people. You can live in a street for years, nobody knows or speaks to anybody... let there be a flood or whatever happening and everybody comes out, they all talk, get to know each other... sometimes after years! Western 'civilisation'???

The notes of the Last post were blown hauntingly across the skies, the tradition, from the top of the Tower of O.L.V Hoekje in Stuivekenskerke not far from The Trench of Death (Le Boyau de la Mort).

"All Wars Arise For The Possession Of Wealth" (Plato)

I merged two images for this photo the soldiers and one of a poppy-field.
Thanx, M, (*_*)
Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

FLICKR DEALS SWIFTLY WITH IMAGE THIEF.

2009-10-25T17:10:00.008Z

I see and hear that there are a lot of complaints about Flickr deleting accounts... apparently for no reason????????????

I've been on the site for well over two years, it took me quite a while to get used to the 'MAGNITUTUDE' and the working of it, because each site is different, has its pro's and cons.
Now I love it, the diversity, often also the 'level' of the photography.
What I don't like is their so called highest accolade, to be in their group 'EXPLORE', I see many bad images there, it is 'calculated' by some logarithm. I want NOTHING to do with that, I prefer going on pure merit and a jury of my peers.
This rose that I uploaded was a BIG thank you to all those who were so prompt, helpful and supportive last week.
It meant a lot. I was distraught.
It was a thank you to all the administrators who immediately removed all the images and banned the thief from their group. For all the emails of support and help.
Ok, I lost half a day of my life on the one hand, time I could not afford to lose, on the other hand it reaffirmed my strong belief that there are still many 'caring' people in the world.
Also how much our images mean to us, these, like so many, had started in my brain, my heart, a lot of organising, relaxing the patient model with music, studio not too cold, not too hot and ultimately the creative eye, the anticipation, would it work or was it not such a great idea, some Polaroids taken to adjust the lights exactly to what I wanted and then, the rest of the day, the rest of the shoot with different flowers...

For those who haven't got a clue what went on, here's a quick summary.
By sheer coincidence, I discovered one of my images in a group, with someone else's name under it,
www.flickr.com/photos/9550033@N04/801423070/in/set-721576...

This was MINE!!! I took the photos in my studio on 35mm film, with my Nikon F4, in my studio, 13 years ago, as a series called SECRET GARDEN:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/9550033@N04/sets/72157600588725589/

for an exhibition on the Continent called "Salon des Dames".
It was in several exhibitions since.

The whole sorry matter was quickly dealt with.
I am happy to inform that the THIEF has now been removed from Flickr.
I received this email the same day:

"Dear Mrs Indigo

Thank you for your email. We have now forwarded this matter to the relevant
Flickr team and have requested that the offending photograph be removed from
the Flickr user's account.

We will confirm to you when this has been completed, which can take up to 24
hours.

Kind regards

UK Copyright Team."

The thief's account was completely removed a few hours after my formal complaint and immediate at the time they sent me this email! I do not know if the thief was warned, so she might think, she was kicked off 'without any reason'????? I don't think so!

Be very aware and vigilant, from what I saw, I recognised other photos on her photo stream that were also not from her, actually, I wonder if there was ANYTHING of hers, I did not have the time to research it. It could be one of YOURS!!!

Thank you again, Magda, the REAL CREATIVE BRAIN AND proud maker of the image, (*_*)

AGAIN, 1 HOUR IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER. 2

2009-10-16T17:06:00.029Z

...( see previous)
The rope is tied back, the monk returns, caped, to his place for more prayer and meditation…

On one of the big pillars I see what looks like a very an ‘old’ St Michel statue, with a burning candle, the stones blackened by years of devotive soot.
Suddenly we are approached by an ‘official’ looking lady, she says the church is going to close in a minute, that if we want to stay for prayer, we can, however, if we want to see the rest we have to go now and hurry, still a lot to come!
Along with some other visitors we hurry out into the heat and bright light, we walk down a few steps and arrive in another haven of peace, because alongside the church, on top of the hill is a charming arcaded cloister garden which offers vertiginous views of the bay, and was started in the thirteenth century. Today the garden is planted with herbaceous plants. They would not have been here during the Middle-Ages but they create an unexpectedly soft domestic character to a dramatic place with dramatic views.
We have been warned that there is not much time left… we are so engrossed in what we see that we do not take much attention to it.
The cloister is rectangular, and the one side, there are windows… one almost down to the ground. Apparently, another part was eventually be added and this was to be a doorway… but now, thick safe glass is set in the arches, I can assure you, it is not for the fainthearted or those suffering from fear of height! Even ‘mildly, however the views are stunning, the bay, as far as the eye can see, the tide is out, it is the ‘low season’ that means the sea can be out 12 km!
As I am taking my images, in between the admiring, there is a commotion behind me, a French family, a stout looking mum, a dad and two small children, one in a buggy are in a discussion with the official ladies, the mum is vociferous about the fact that they had to pay so much and were never informed that there was a time-limit, the statement grabs our attention, we were here for the sunset which is still a couple of hours away, there are more rooms, staircases, and vaulted halls that make up the abbey to see.
The official lady seems quite used to this and remains calm, to the frustration of the mum, as we walk out, I approach the lady and tell her our main reason for being there, namely photography, she seems sympathetic and says, go ahead, take your shots, but we move on nevertheless.
We are welcomed in the coolness of what used to be the refectory, two massive fire –places on one wall, a long wall with view on the side of the bay, each blue window a different design. On one of the tables an hour-glass, TEMPUS FUGIT, more true that ever, lol!
Totally surreal!!!

But the tour goes on, we pass through a small anti-chambre, blink at the strong sunlight when we come outside to walk down more stairs and come in the darkness and cool of one of the oldest parts, Romanesque architecture, heavy pillars and a strange pool of water…
Once more the raised voices get louder and resound under the lower vaults; I continue to take shots… no flash… no tripod… ahhemmm, a recipe for disaster, I know!!! Eventually the official ladies come to me apologetically; she tells me something that indeed we did not know prior!
There is a day tour and an evening tour, which is more expensive, she furtively looks around, no… the other bunch have left, still grumbling and reluctant, I remain polite and shrug, she turns and whispers” venez, come with me” we are quickly rushed through a door and arrive by miracle, this place really is a maze, in the anti-chambre then I will come and fetch you and you can join the evening tour and stay as long as you like, she winks and adds… take sunset shots! “
I profusely thank her and say we are more than willing to pay more; she gives a pursed lipped tchutt and disappears, locking the massive door with the huge key, Paul and I look at each other, smiling, wondering, laughing…
We wait, I take a photo of Paul staring out over the bay, we look through the beautiful stain glass windows, see the tide coming in the other island/rock called Tombelaine, towards Avranches.
The key is turned and people stream in, we arrive back in the refectory, transformed into a music-room, red carpet on the floor, a clavecimble in place and a young musician tuning it, we hang around, she starts to play, it is brilliant!
Very beautiful, you get ‘enveloped’ by the sounds…
We decide to continue, we hear other instruments in the distance, we are curious. Via another way, we arrive back in the church, the monks and nuns have left, the familiar scent and smoke of the incense lingers heavily in bands across the high vaulted ceiling, off-setting the rays of incoming sunlight, it is awesome!
Feverishly I take more images, the sun might go… the incense is thinning.
A young cello player plays a hauntingly melancholic melody, the music tumbles and slaloms between the pillars. We wait until it’s finished, applaud and walk out onto the big terrace overlooking the bay, the heat from the flagstones hits us, we sit on the steps, first in silence, then, with a big contented smile, we agree that once more, kindness and politeness have won!
There is a morality here, you, often, will get much further with tolerance and understanding, the people who work there have their orders, they get paid to do their duties, that’s their job… and the lady remained calm and composed which also made a difference.
I do not know if it was written anywhere about the regulations, if it wasn’t… I think it should!
Another hour in the life of a photographer…

(… a suivre… more to follow)
THANX, M, (*_*)
Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

FOR THE WHOLE STORY:
http://magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/10/again-1-hour-in-life-of-photographer.html

WHILST YOU ARE READING, WHY NOT LISTEN TO THIS? Food for the soul!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9fpmgpNDwc&feature=related

Bach's Cello Suite No. 6 - Rostropovich plays the Prélude

AGAIN, 1 HOUR IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER. 1

2009-10-07T17:02:00.029Z

On the MONT ST MICHEL.
(why not listen to this while you read?)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=drU7ESj4HvY&feature=related

There are many special moments in your life, of many different kinds… but some just surpass everything.
Often unexpected, and yet so intense that they stay with you like it happened yesterday, etched in the front-room (lol) of your brain.
You know when it happens, it alters your state of mind, your are in a HYPER mode, alert, you’ll remember the sounds, the smells… and record the ‘visual’, because you are a photographer!
Such an experience happened to me on the Mont St Michel.

It was getting later but not cooler, we decided to linger on in the church a while longer, we’d been around, so we sat on the benches, soaking up the atmosphere, admiring this in history-seeped monument.
Suddenly amongst the lazy crowds, I saw a fast movement, a nun dressed in a pale blue habit, a white veil… and a pair of boots!
My camera was up before I realised it, lol. I must be the fastest ‘shooter’ in the West?
Then she was gone, through another door I saw another, she walked reverently, went and stood for a moment in front of the
Madonna. And left.
More activity, I saw a young monk dressed all in black, there was a coming and going, I waited with a real sense of expectation; the ropes had been removed from around the beautifully ceramic-tiled floor in front of the altar.
A silence has descended, people whisper, the odd child cries, hushed quickly by the parents…
Another nun appears, she is wearing a white cape, carrying books and what seems like a small stool.
We watch as she enters the center of the church, she bows and greats the holy cross, then takes her place, kneels down, puts the stool under her thighs and bends forward for quite some time, while others prepare, one of her sisters comes and arranges the flowers.
A young monk, dressed all in black, brings and dons his white cape with great flair.
Eventually the nun straightens and reads, forgetful of the world around her; this all happens in an eerie silence, except for the shuffling of feet, the clicking of cameras, some coughing, overheated children whimpering, it seems like the stage is set…
More nuns arrive and follow the same ritual as the first, a few more monks, they are the oldest. One carries a small chair; he is too old to kneel, he is allowed to sit.
A gold leafed book was carried in and put on a lectern, the light from the windows falls on the few ‘decorations’ in this church, (as most of it was lost over all the years for many reasons), the small, delicate cross and the top edge of the missal.
It is a magic moment, as they all sit in deep prayer.
I am not a religious person; I respect the religions and their followers.
So here I sit, this cannot leave one indifferent, I find it emotional and almost ‘envy’ them for their belief, their apparent peace, their silent devotion and commitment.
I dare not move to take shots from a different angle, my camera, otherwise so quiet, now seems to go off with a huge ‘clack’ whenever I push the shutter.
Paul and I sit in the front
The young monk gets up, disappears behind one of the huge pillars, to return without his white cape, he smiles at us, half winks and nods like to say, “ now’s your moment, get ready…”, he walks towards the rope I photographed earlier, carries it till it is straight under the spire, where it disappears, high up.
He takes a deep breath, a good grip, looks up and with all his force pulls it down, and then up, at last we hear the solemn tolling of the bell.
The sound reverberates through everything; you hear it in- and outside, you feel it in your body.
After about 3 minutes, he starts to slow the bell down, he‘s skilled at this, handles that rope expertly till the silence returns.
The rope is tied back, the monk returns caped, to his place…

(… a suivre… more to follow)
THANX, M, (*_*)
Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights
reserved

For the story of Day 1:

magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/start-of-our-adventures-...

For the story of Day 2, part 1:

http://magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/day-2-of-our-adventures-in-france.html

For the story of Day 2, part 2:

http://magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/10/day-2-of-our-adventures-in-france-part.html

DAY 2 of OUR ADVENTURES IN FRANCE. PART 2: Le MONT St MICHEL

2009-10-06T14:39:00.015Z

DAY 2 of OUR ADVENTURES IN FRANCE.

PART 2: Le MONT St MICHEL

The island of MONT ST-MICHEL was once known as the "Mount in Peril from the Sea", as many pilgrims in medieval times drowned or were sucked under by quicksand while trying to cross the bay to the 84m high rocky islet.

The Archangel Michael was its vigorous protector, the most militant spirit of the Church Militant, with a marked tendency to leap from rock to rock in titanic struggles against Paganism and Evil. The abbey dates back to the eighth century, when the archangel supposedly appeared to a bishop of Avranches, Aubert, who duly founded a monastery on the island poking out of the Baie du Mont St-Michel. Since the eleventh century – when work on the sturdy church at the peak commenced – new buildings have been grafted onto the island to produce a fortified mix of Romanesque and Gothic buildings clambering to the pinnacle of the graceful church, forming probably the most recognizable silhouette in France after the Eiffel Tower.

The skies were high, it was after 4, people were still arriving, some were leaving and... IT WAS HOT!!!

Little did we know all the 'adventures' that were awaiting us.

The skies were high, it was after 4, people were still arriving, some were leaving and... IT WAS HOT!!!

Little did we know all the 'adventures' that were awaiting us.

Perched on a 264 feet high rock formation sits Mont St. Michel. During the seasons' highest tides the abbey is surrounded by water. During low tide the flats provide food for the world's only herd of salt water plant eating sheep ( Les agneaux des prés salés, the meat tastes salty). Mont St. Michel's tides can rush in at incredible speeds. The tides in the area shift quickly, and has been described by Victor Hugo as à la vitesse d'un cheval au galop, "as swiftly as a galloping horse." The tide actually comes in at 1 meter per second. Popularly nicknamed "St. Michael in Peril of the Sea" by medieval pilgrims making their way across the tidal flats, the mount can still pose dangers for visitors who avoid the causeway and attempt the hazardous walk across the sands from the neighbouring coast. The dangers from the tides and quick sands continue to claim lives.

Mont Saint Michel is a small rocky island about 1 km from the north coast of France at the mouth of the Couesnon River in Normandy.

The mount is best known for the medieval Benedictine Abbey and steepled church that occupies most of the 1km-diameter clump of rocks jutting out of the waters of the English Channel.

As we enter the thick walls of this fortified place, there is a streaming river of people. We get bumped, shoved, pushed, it is unpleasantly touristy.

Paul and I look at each other, hidden in a doorway. It is almost 5 in the afternoon, we thought people coming in coaches would by now head back to Paris and wherever they were staying, that it would be ‘quieter’, but then… the car park was very full, so what were we going to do, continue or fold back? We had come this far… people from all over the world were here, judging from the shouting and screaming…

We decide to go on, walking up the one street… (GRANDE RUE, lol), which is narrow and claustrophobic, full of souvenir-shops and ‘Crêperies’, we battle our way through till we get to the stairs, where we take a break.

The climb to the abbey is hard -- by the time you have mounted the celebrated Escalier de Dentelle (Lace Staircase) to the gallery around the roof of the abbey church, you will have climbed no fewer than 900 steps -- but it's worth it…

Just over halfway, we saw that you had to pay to visit the Abbey, church and the other I interesting rooms…

Paul goes and moves slowly along with the huge waiting queue. I decide, hiding in the shade, to concentrate on some interesting detail. I must say it is all very clean and looks very ‘cared-for’!

Eventually we are able to take the rest of the climb, ticket in hand. The higher we climb, the better the light gets, it is also more ‘open’, we see the lovely architecture, we see the spire with Saint Michel, slaying the dragon, on the top, glistening in the sun, in full glory…

I find it too hot on the huge terrace in front of the church, decide to go in, and enjoy the views later.

I enter a haven of peace and silence, the light shining through the stain-glass windows give the old stones a special glow. The ceiling is high and made out of wood. Again, I see details that interest me, another boat hanging up, just like in the other chapel, only bigger.

The coat of arms of the Mont St Michel is three fleurs-de-Lys and 10 Scallops (Coquilles St Jacques), it is incorporated in one of the walls, on the pillars I see interesting hooks, and then, of course a rope, leading high up into the spire…

(… a suivre… more to follow)

THANX, M, (*_*)

For the story of Day 1:

magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/start-of-our-adventures-...

For the story of Day 2, part 1:

http://magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/day-2-of-our-adventures-in-france.html

DAY 2 of OUR ADVENTURES IN FRANCE. Part 1.

2009-09-25T19:15:00.020Z

After a good night’s sleep we get ready, have a good breakfast and leave an already overcrowded Honfleur behind.
The sky is blue, the sun is out, it looks like a glorious day.
I remember from over 30 years ago that there was a small area called La Côte Fleurie, just up the Coast, South of the mouth of the Seine.
Up winds the narrow road, we squeal with joy, we found it, well, blink and you miss it… a strip of field filled with flowers. Surrounded by a natural hedge of brambles and ‘wild’ roses, it is almost impossible to access, Paul finds a gap…
I photograph from the verge of the road, camera zoomed into the max.
Le Havre is ‘sunning’ on the other side.
Paul is having a great time, it is beautiful, I catch him with the dappled light that I love so much…

Full of excitement, we continue our trek, the road winds on, along the Coast, soon, we see a sign towards another ‘must-see’ place that I remember from my youth… the Côte de Grâce… another ‘blink’ and you’ve missed it…
We drive past big, beautiful old house set in their proper land-settings of orchards and gardens.
This is part of La Côte Fleurie, on the hill some 1,5 km from the town centre of Honfleur, with spectacular views of the Seine estuary, the harbour and Le Havre.
Now shaded by 300-year-old elms, La "Chapelle Notre-Dame de Grâce" is one of the region’s oldest sanctuary chapels and a gem built between 1600 and 1615 on the steep hilltop west of town.
Here it gets a little confusing, some say Notre Dame de Grâce, was founded by Richard II and rebuilt between 1600 and 1615, others claim it to have been founded in 1034 by Robert the Magnificent of Normandy and rebuilt in 1606.
One thing is certain, quickly, the site became a point of pilgrimage for sailors about to embark on transatlantic journeys.
One such sailor-pilgrim, Samuel de Champlain, set sail from Honfleur and founded the colony of Quebec in 1608.
And also somewhere in history it was used by royalty…. (Say no more, hihi.)
Pilgrims still arrive for an annual Seaman's Festival and blessing of the sea each spring.
The sky is almost white from the heat; the trees give a welcoming relative coolness. I seek refuge inside. As soon as I enter, I am enveloped with the strangest feeling of sadness, I cannot explain it, not something I normally experience, hhmm.
The small church is full of plaques for thanks everywhere, some very old some more recent, devote candles flicker, the silence is tangible, some people come in and light another candle, a prayer and gone again. France is still a very Catholic country…
The sun warmly brightens the stained-glass windows, statues and bas-reliefs tracing the usual biblical themes, but alongside them are images and models of elaborately rigged ships from centuries past. (There are also a few pairs of cast-off crutches, leaning in a dark corner, whose stories are not offered.)
Outside, very peculiar, a huge stand with the bells, chiming every 15 minutes…
Their sonorous sound carried far and wide… resounding in your ears long after they stopped...

In the welcoming coolness of our car, we continue, trying to find our way towards Pont-l'Évêque, where I want to buy the famous cheese.
We drive in the shade of tree lined lanes, when it suddenly opens into a clearing with a stunning panoramic view, it is the Mont Joli, and about 50 meters along the road there is a steep, but well made footpath down to the old town.
We don’t seem to be able to get away from Honfleur, beautiful and interesting as it is… it reminds me of a Jacques Brel song, Vesoul , where he sings:
T'as voulu voir Honfleur et on a vu Honfleur
(You wanted to see Honfleur and we saw Honfleur)
… ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8T1n7TPF8As )

From where we stand is a great view across the top of the town, the river Seine and on to the Pont de Normandie.
There is a plaque, and it reads:

Honfleur seen from the Mont Joli.

The chapel and the plateau, although situated on the commune of Equemauville, belong to the town of Honfleur since the revolution. The Mont Joli, also belongs to Honfleur since the beginning of the 19th century.

From where you are standing, do not forget to view the monument next to you. It was erected to the glory Of Notre dame de Grâce, as thanks for her protection of Honfleur, Lieuvin, Roumas and the Ouche, during the Battle of Normandy in 1944.

Here also the view to Honfleur, The Côte Vassal, the commune of Riviere Saint Sauveur and the upper valley of the Seine is one of the most interesting you will find.

You can measure the importance of the harbour of Honfleur, as the third biggest import harbour of wood and wood products, you can admire Le Pont de Normandie, the longest cable-stayed bridge in the world ((at that time, not anymore), inaugurated 22nd of January 1995, the ‘connection' between Haute and Basse-Normandie, with a length of 2.141m, resting on two pylons of 214m.
The span, 23.60 m wide, is divided into 2x2 lanes for traffic.

From here, at one glance, you penetrate the heart itself of our old town of Honfleur. At your feet, huddled together, the fishermen's houses forming alleys and narrow streets.
Behind these old 'cottages’ you’ll often find hidden, small gardens.

The inhabitants of Honfleur (Honleurais), live in the shadow of the Sainte Catherine, Saint Etienne and Saint Leonard churches.
Their lives in rhythm with the tides, close to the old bassin. They nostalgically dream about the great discoveries, navigators, painters, writers and poets who were always so inspired by this magical place.

The 'Honleurais' are very attached to their town. They are proud of it.
They continue to protect it for generations to come, so that they also will always be able to enjoy this highly privileged corner of France.

We take it all in, photograph a few scenes and realise we have to push on again if we want to get to the Mont St Michel, find a place to stay…
We have to cut across Basse-Normandie, decide against the motorways, so the routes Nationales, which takes you from village through village, through small town to small town…
We stop in Pont-l'Évêque, see one of the few shops open… this is inland, and the French HOLIDAY in August!!!
The lady behind the counter is most friendly, ‘vacuums’ our cheese, to keep it cooler, well, stop it from ‘running’?
I also buy a special Cidre vinegar. (which I haven’t tried yet).

Pont-l'Évêque is a French cheese, originally manufactured in the area around the commune of Pont-l'Évêque, between Deauville and Lisieux in the Calvados département of Basse-Normandie, and probably the oldest Norman cheese still in production.

Pont-l'Évêque is an uncooked, unpressed cow's-milk cheese, square in shape usually at around 10cm square and around 3cm high, weighing around 400g. The central pâte is soft, creamy pale yellow in colour with a smooth, fine texture and has a pungent aroma. This is surrounded by a washed rind that is white with a gentle orange-brown coloration. The whole is soft when pressed but lacks elasticity. It is generally ranked alongside Brie, Camembert, and Roquefort as one of the most popular cheeses in France.
The cheese has been made in Normandy since at least the 12th century, and local legend claims that it was first made in a Norman abbey. A manuscript from the time writes that a fine meal should always end with some "angelot", the name used for the cheese at the time.
The cheese became popular across the country from the 16th century onwards, when it obtained the name of the village around which its production was centered.

After that it is straight on, we pass ALL the Saints, Saint Georges de …
Saint Hymer, Saint Pierre de…, St Martin…, Sainte Marguerite, Saint Sylvain, even St Samson…, St Rémy, if we do not pass them, we see signs for them…
The architecture is so typical with the wood and the stones, flowers and orchards everywhere, beautiful hills. Our progress is too slow, so we do take the motorway once past Caen, the capital city of the département du Calvados.
We pass places with wonderful names, I photograph from the car again, passing by more Châteaux and history…
France is so big and we are now in a hurry, when suddenly, I look to my right and I have my first glace of the Mont St Michel… in a haze, it looks like a giant wedding cake, yummy, can’t wait…

Pass another board, Avranches.
World War II was great ordeal for Avranches: after 4 years of German occupation, the American bombings destroyed the vast majority of the town. However in succeeding the "breakthrough of Avranches", General Patton's tanks delivered the town on the 31 July 1944 and this became the prelude to the liberation of the country.
The town was founded on high ground overlooking the dunes and coastal marshes along the bay forming the corner between the peninsulas of the Cotentin and Brittany. From Avranches, it is possible to see the Mont Saint Michel, which was founded by Saint Aubert, Bishop of Avranches in the 8th century.
I visited it years ago, not this time we HAVE to reach our goal… it is a very winding road, we get closer, then further away again till suddenly… there she is, La Merveille, Le Mont St Michel!

(… a suivre… more to follow)
THANX, M, (*_*)
Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved
For the whole story of Day 1:
magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/start-of-our-adventures-...

THE START of our adventures in FRANCE. Day 1.

2009-09-17T14:14:00.046Z

1. The North of France.
2. Blériot Plage
3. Cap Blanc Nez
4. The White Cliffs of Dover.
5. Cap Gris Nez.
6. On Cap Gris Nez.

7. Remnants of War.
8. Road-signs,
9. The Lone Poppy.
10. Vallée de la Seine.
11. Honfleur, Coat of Arms.
12. Paul in Honfleur.
13. The Lieutenancy.
14.Quai St Catherine, vieilles façades.
15. Vive La France, reflections.
16. More reflections towards le Quai St Etienne
17. Eglise St Etienne, now a museum.
18. Le quai St Etienne. Le vieux Bassin. Eglise St Etienne.
19. The outer docks.
20. l'Eglise St Catherine (with 2 roofs), the Lieutenancy and the carousel.
21. The carousel. With image of the Mont St Michel.
22. Advert for Cidre.
23. Fasionista dog.
24. Patriotic Fasionista.
25. Taken through the window, a bronze by Bruno Catalano.
26. Taken through the window, another bronze by Bruno Catalano.
27. At the Jazz Café.
28. Of Art and Old buildings.
29. Vieilles façades.
30. Produits du Pays.
31. Produits du Pays.
32. The Carousel, it shows half past nine on the Town Hall.
33. Produits du Pays. Shops are still open.
34. Chapelerie.
35. Les Amoureux...
36. Old street in Honfleur

THE START of our adventures in FRANCE.

Day 1

We have our basis in Flanders, the ‘FLAT COUNTRY’ when we go to visit the Continent…

Mostly we stay for 8/10 days. It is a mad rush from family to friends… doing our lovely round, it is NEVER enough, so this Summer we decided on 18 days, and the promise that we would have not just a ‘visit’ but also a proper holiday.

France was the chosen destination, we were going to visit Burgundy, however, the weather was very hot, so we changed our plans and headed for Normandy and Brittany, the ‘cooler’ Coast.

In half an hour we drove across the border into the North of France, French Flanders.

Already the landscape started to change, hills beginning to roll…

Everywhere the fields had been ‘shaved’, the bales waiting to be collected, scattered over the golden fields…

I spotted this image nr 1, probably owned by a more ‘meticulous’ farmer?

As we did not want to continue on the autostrade (motorway), which takes you places fast but are never very exciting and I always wonder what ‘beauty’ we are flying past and missing…

Once passed Calais we took the exit and headed for the Route Nationale along the spectacular Côte d'Opale,which stretches from Calais to Boulogne along the Strait of Dover or Pas de Calais, the narrowest bit of the English channel of ‘La Manche’ (lit. The sleeve), better known as the CHANNEL, a part of the North Sea and the narrow strait between France and England.

We arrived in Blériot Plage, (On the 25th July 1909, Louis Blériot was the first to fly across the English Channel, from the beach at Sangatte, to claim the prize offered by the Daily Mail. The crossing took 37 minutes in his aeroplane, Blériot XI, built in collaboration with Raymond Saulnier. It was powered by a 3 cylinder 25 horsepower (19 kW) engine.)

Not very big, but with beautiful sandy beaches, quite a lot of wind, hence favoured by surfers and 'kiters'!

It still looked very much like the Belgium, even the beach-huts... albeit with a bit of the French 'nonchalance' flavour.

We had a lovely and quiet moment there, took a few shots and moved on.

The further South we drive, the more the land undulates, the late morning-sun plays with the clouds and gives us spectacular scenes, painting with light on the patch-work fields, but we can’t stop, the roads are narrow and winding, there’s nowhere to stop, so I try my hardest to get some good images from the car as we drive along, (our car windows have a slight tint, so I had to take that out of the photo, the colour cast!)

The scenes change by the second, lots of people are on the route with bicycles, caravans, Mobil-Homes, tandems, we get a taste of what is to come… It is one of the ‘high-lights’ of summer…

We follow the blue sea, as blue as the Mediterranean, there’s also a lot of traffic, ferries, sailing boats, speedboats, fishing- and pleasure boats dotted all over.

We pass Cap Blanc Nez ("Cape White Nose") a cape on the Côte d'Opale, in the Pas-de-Calais département.

The chalky cliffs are very similar to the white cliffs of Dover on the other side of the Channel in England. Cap Blanc Nez is no longer a cape but a cliff that is topped by an obelisk commemorating the Dover Patrol which kept the Channel free from U-boats during World War I.

We see too many people, coaches parked, cars waiting to park…

Onwards we go, surround the bay that divides the 2 Caps, we want to stop and explore Cap Gris Nez (Cape Gray Nose)

This Cap is the closest point of France to England - 34 km (20 miles) from their English counterparts at Dover. The cliffs are a perfect vantage point to see hundreds of ships from oil tankers to little fishing trawlers plying the waters below. On a clear day, the emblematic white cliffs of Dover on the English shore can be seen.

And sure enough, suddenly an opening in the landscape, the road close to the edge, we see England, The White Cliffs, my heart jumps, this is our ‘adopted country’, there stands our home… it seems so close like you can almost touch it, well it is only one hour on the Ferry …

We find a small clearing to park, amongst the dense and thorny wild-roses and dune thistles, I do something I never did before in this special way (not divided by barbed wire, but a boundary of Nature, the sea), I photograph 2 countries in one image. I stand in France and photograph England, across the Channel!

I’m thrilled, I feel with the happiness of a child. Another great moment!

The sun is slowly burning away the haze and clouds…

At last we get to Cap Gris Nez, a huge parking at the bottom of the hill, people still arriving, eager for the unusual view, to see England from France, looking across the 34 km stretch of the Channel, this is the narrowest point.

The wind blows my hair around; I can’t photograph like that so I put it up with a clip.

We begin the long walk, stop and view.

The memories come flooding back, I was first here when I was little young girl, on a school-trip, so excited to be out, how we played on the dunes, the bunkers, we were quite used to them, they were everywhere.

Later I returned with my grand-parents, very strict, a lesson in history and respect.

Now it has been made into well organised, barbed wired and guided paths to protect the delicate plant-life... Some sheep graze in the closed off meadows, maintaining the grass.

We follow the stream of people and get to a platform.

Crowded, we hear Spanish Italian, French, Dutch, German; it is a very international affair! People do come from all over.

We don’t linger very long, we’ve spotted another path, a bit lower, when we get there, we are alone, a clear view, another platform, as I look over I am confronted with remnants of war. After all these years, you still have so many signs of the dreadful battles this part of the world has seen.

“Sep 10, 1940 - The Dover area shook tonight when German guns, seemingly located near the Cap Gris Nez lighthouse across a narrow stretch of the Channel waters. Watchers in the Dover area saw orange tongues of flame spurting along the French coast illuminating the Cap Gris Nez lighthouse.”

For the invader it must have been frustrating… so tantalising close and yet…

I see poppies across the fence, melancholic reminders of sadness, horror and brotherhood.

We walk back in silence.

Our goal now is to reach Honfleur, in Normandy.

We push on South and in Boulogne shoot on to the motorway, it is not the most exciting way of seeing a country, but it gets you fast where you want to go.

I keep myself busy with taking shots ‘on the fly’… We pass Boards advertising the delights du pays, Chateaux, artisanales, we fly past the area of the Somme… the terrible battlegrounds, and see nothing of it…

I photograph farmers working on their fields; on a roundabout, I see ‘cows’, well, Normandy is famous for its butter and cheese.

Parts of Normandy consist of rolling countryside typified by pasture for dairy cattle and apple orchards. A wide range of dairy products are produced and exported. Normand cheeses include Camembert, Livarot, Pont l'Évêque, Brillat-Savarin, Neufchâtel, Petit Suisse and Boursin.

Normandy butter and Normandy cream are lavishly used in gastronomic specialties.

Then I see a Board for the Vallée de la Seine, which means we are nearing our destination of the day, Honfleur, a commune in the Normand département of Calvados in France, located on the southern bank of the estuary of the Seine, very close to the exit of the Pont de Normandie.

We miss a turn-off and because of it, also the famous bridge!

Eventually we arrive in Honfleur, and ooohh help, it is hectic…

We do find a hotel that can still accommodate us… after many tries and the dreaded words ‘COMPLET’…

We freshen up and hurry to the center of this beauty spot, that is :

HONFLEUR.

Honfleur is a small commune (around 10 000 inhabitants and 3 million visitors a year) in the Normand département of Calvados in France, located on the southern bank of the estuary of the Seine, very close to the exit of the Pont de Normandie.

A visit to Honfleur is in itself a complete history lesson, a ‘settlement’ of the Vikings around the year 900, from the 100 years war, through the voyages of discovery to the New World, as expeditions to Quebec from this harbour led to its foundation, during the 17th century, to the art of the impressionists.

It was a fortified town during the second half of the 14th century.

The old "Caen Gate", the last remaining piece of the original fortifications, most of which were demolished as the town and port were being expanded in the 17th century.

The Lieutenance, formerly House of the King's Lieutenant in Honfleur, used to be part of the ramparts surrounding the city and is now almost the only remaining part.

In the medieval part of the town, known as the "Quartier de l'Enclos", you can see the "Rue de la Ville", the old main commercial and trading street in the town, still showing its medieval architecture and buildings from a bygone era.

As you go around this area you can go back in time as you walk along Prison Street and step onto Little Butchers Street making your way to the Eglise Saint Etienne.

The most symbolic place of Honfleur with the very typical high houses all around the dock is the Old Dock, "le Vieux Bassin" in the heart of the city.

The port is bordered on three sides, by buildings of two distinct styles; large stone houses on the South side (Quai Saint-Etienne), amongst which we see the EGLISE St ETIENNE, dating from the 14th century, making it the oldest church in the town, which is now a Maritime museum.

On the North side (Quai Sainte Catherine) , characterized by the high and narrow wooden houses with slate-covered frontages, painted many times by artists, including in particular Gustave Courbet, Claude Monet and Johan Jongkind, forming the école de Honfleur which contributed to the appearance of the Impressionist movement. That doesn’t surprise me, the light is GLORIOUS indeed!

Both quays are named after the churches that stand on their grounds.

Behind the quarters of the Quay St Catherine, rises the Eglise Sainte Catherine, the largest wooden church in France, built by the ship carpenters of Honfleur shortly after the 100 years war.

AAHHH, les belles, vieilles façades!!!

A law required that the first houses built could not exceed 7.62 metres on the ground floor and not be more than 3 stories tall.

Yet a few decades later, because of its economic and demographic development, Honfleur was facing a serious housing crisis. For lack of space, houses were then built one on top of the other. In fact, these buildings were essentially like two adjoining ones, only instead of being built side by side; they were built on top of one another: the base house had its first floor on the bank, while the second one also had a first floor but it gave onto the opposite hill. On one side, St. Catherine Quay, they rise to narrow slate-and-timber heights of five to seven stories, housing restaurants or galleries in the ground floors. Reflected in the dock waters, they look even taller. On the facing side, St. Etienne Quay, the facades are stone, and most rise only two stories.

I was surprised to learn that one of my favourite composers Erik Satie ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Xe2Rft62Kg&feature=fvw) was born in Honfleur in 1866.

An old carrousel stands in front of l'Hôtel de Ville (the town Hall), its fluty melodies floating over the rippling reflections.

We enjoy the gentle warmth of the sun, the soft water-breeze and atmosphere, people come up to us asking if we please can take a photograph on their camera, so that they are ALL in the picture, we laugh, maybe another ‘photographic’ career in Honfleur?

I don’t think so; the place is overfull with Art Galleries… as we discover even more later in the evening!

Later, we decide to join all the diners and have something to eat, all the menus offer virtually the same, also in price, so it is just a matter of finding a (cramped) table for 2.

A little ‘disappointed’, after all we are in France? The ‘cradle’ of great European food? And this is THE place for seafood?

Moving on along the Quay St Catherine, we see the ‘crooked’ façades, the little shops selling the ‘produce’ of Normandie, cidre, pommeau, poireau, Calvados…

We take a long walk, photographing till dusk and beyond.

Honfleur has many harbours and docks, the one in town is the most 'attractive' and touristic, probably one of the oldest, however outside that womb is a whole network, for fishing, industry... yacht lie waiting for the next opening of the bridge to le Vieux Bassin, you can see the surrounding hills, thee is a long, lovely walk to where sluices were built to regulate and control the water-levels.
I remember when I was there over 30 years ago, with my parents, that growing up in a fishing harbour in Belgium, how different things were, we had boats with sharp hulls, there's were 'flat... We dredged our harbours... they didn't so they had to wait for the tide to come in, till they were' afloat' again...
Go literally with the flow, aahhh, that French Art de Vivre!

I like to ‘travel light’, I do not like tripods, I use some flash and otherwise just ‘go for it’ on high iso!! LOL.

Pass a jazz café; see the church St Catherine in darkness and all the galleries around there, together with where we 'should have eaten', because that's where the French are eating! All very romantic...

I discover the work of Bruno Catalano (http://www.france-art-realisation.com/artists_createurs/catalano_bronze/catalano_bronze_8/catalano_bronze_8.php) and LOVE it!

Saturated, happy and content… tired we head back to our hotel, where we still quickly download and view the images of the day ONE.

We fall asleep with a smile, looking forward to the next day…

Goal: The Mont St Michel.

(… a suivre… more to follow)

THANX, M, (*_*)

THE STORY WITHIN THE STORY of Le Tour du Monde d'un Gamin De Paris by WILLEM VERMANDERE

2009-09-04T18:31:00.010Z

Let me tell you a story…
Once upon a time, there was a young man and he was a teacher, a teacher who started to sing, he sang songs that he had written himself, the lyrics pure poetry.
He played many different instruments, from the clarinet to the guitar, the cither to the flute.
He sang in his dialect, of his land and of its people.
Soon he captured the hearts of many, they all wanted to hear and see him. What joy one of these evenings was, he narrated from one song to the next, anecdotes, a few jokes, and also some philosophical profundities!
The years went bye, he grew in popularity, in wisdom, his hair and beard a bit greyer.
I heard he was also a good sculptor, he wrote and recorded more songs… always remained the fine, ‘simple’ and genuine man, who enjoyed life and what he was doing.
I often wondered if he realized the pleasure he gave to so many?
My life also changed I became a mother, my boys grew up with his music, they thought it was fantastic to hear someone sing in the language they spoke.
I still see them, after a bath, in their pyjamas, lying on their belly, head on elbowed hands, listening intently as the vinyl record turned out the beautiful words, their eyes big and full of imagination...
As came the new song, Le Tour du Monde d’un Gamin de Paris… (The tour of the world of a boy from Paris)
It is the story of a boy from Paris, who creeps up into the attic of his home and discovers an old book, it was written in a language he could not understand yet for hours he’d lie looking at the beautiful and interesting prints, Le Tour du Monde d’un Gamin de Paris ( by Louis Boussenard, 1847-1910, Illustrations/etchings by D. Dumont), he loves the adventures of the ship filled with treasure, being wrecked on the cliff in a faraway country, the boy (Friquet) and a few survived.
The trek through jungles with wild animals, the torrid deserts that have to be traversed with all their dangers, eventually they get horses, gallop up mountains and down into lovely villages filled with music and song… he would have loved to stay there, but they had to carry on, through blinding snow, fighting wolves and the biting, bitter winds.
They were guest to emperors and kings, indigenous people examined them filled with curiosity, they slept in palaces or just on the ground, welcomed as princes or chased as dogs.
They became quiet, skinny and tired… the eternal quest and not knowing where you’re going?
Is there no end to it and why, who and what had he been looking for?

The years have passed and the book lost in fire but the story continues; now I’m here, it taught me to carry on, where to… I still am none the wiser…

In 't hus van me voader op de zolder vergeten
lagt er en oed boek van de wörms half opgevreten
en meer dan ne kêe êk musstil op m'n kniên
de zolder opgekropen om dat boek te beziên

Al was in een toale die 'k nie en verstond
toch lag ik uren met dat boek ep de grond
want surtout de prenten verwonderden mie
le tour du monde d'un gamin de paris

't schip dat us voerde vol schatten an boord
sloeg ep de klippen alleman was versmoord
nee 'k zoe liegen, zes matrozen me nen board
overleefden de rampe en bleven gespaard

We liepen deur bössen ne knuppel in d'hand
weken en moanden deur een onbekend land
wilde bêesten en mensen sprongen overal ut 't groen
mor me zeven sterke mann'n moesten we niee veel moeite doên

Eindloze woestijnen me nie anders dan zand
oltied ep en nere en de zönne die brandt
achter iederen heuvel bandieten ep de loêr
doar deure geroaken was nen duvelschen toêr

Wat later hadde me peirden, zeven peirden in galop
in nog vreemder streken bergaf en bergoop
langs witte dörptjes vol muziek en zang
doar had ek willen blijven, me leven lang

Moar nen onmeugelijken drift dreef us vôort
nen dag van ruste werd al gauwe verstôord
doar zag j'ons strompelen door de sneeuw verblind
vechtend me de wolven in den bitende wind

Bi keizers en keuningen waoren me te gast
van negers en indianen bekeurd en betast
we sliepen in paleizen of gewoon ep de grond
lijk prinsen begroet of verjoagd lijk en hond

we wieren heel stille moager en moe
van 't eeuwig tjolen nie meer weten waar naartoe
komt er dan nooit geen einde aan dien tocht
waarom en voor wie en wat had ik gezocht

de jaren zijn gevlogen en 't boek is verbrand
maar d'historie duurt vôort nu ben ik hier beland
en 't hê mi geleerd oltied verder te goan
mor woar noartoe, dat heb ik nog nooit nie verstoan

The singer/writer of this song (my boys loved it!) and the lyrics is our friend Willem Vermandere.

A few weeks ago, on our way home in the car, after a pleasant meal and afternoon we spent together with Willem; it suddenly emerged that the story of the boy in the attic was true… except… the book had survived!
In his home, it was brought down and in awe we leafed through it, admiring the drawings. I was amazed; it brought back so many memories.
Listened to the melody and words so often and here Willem sat, holding it, hugging it.
Red and gold, the spine and corners a little frayed, the pages somewhat yellowed, but for a book that was printed in 1876, it looked beautiful!
What a GOLDEN moment.
Hope you have enjoyed this.
Thanx, M, (*_*)

A PREVIOUS STORY HERE

A FUN GARDEN ANECDOTE.

2009-06-05T18:06:00.008Z

This is the story.

Of flowers that have ambitions to be little lampshades or a chandelier?

I grew up in the city, always loved flowers, later in life, moved to the country-side and developed a passion for gardening and 'growing' things.
Wintertime I spent learning and reading more, couldn't wait for the next Spring.
I was 'organic' looooong before it became trendy!
I was given a tiny book by someone, "Old wife's tales", it was full of fun advice of how to improve on plants, fruit and veg with little 'house' remedies.
For example, if you grow strawberries, alternate them with a row of marigolds, they will taste even better!
I also found in the booklet, that if you have roses, and they suffer from greenfly, put some garlic at the root of the rose plant!
Last year, we moved house, I transplanted most of my roses (successfully), also, in the kitchen I'd had a plait of braided garlic, it looked quite dry, and although I do use and enjoy garlic in certain dishes, not the fresh stuff, my system cannot handle it very well. It did look decorative in the kitchen!
So, I thought, right! I won't throw it away, I will put them with the roses.
No greenfly, however, when it rains.... there is a definite garlic 'fragrance' in the air! Tee hee.
You can imagine my astonishment when I saw green coming up, and total surprise when I saw buds, now they developed into flowers!!! And it IS RAINING HEAVILY!!! LOL.
I mean, how could there still be life in them after all this time?
AAAAHHH, Nature! And to think that 'proper' plants often struggle or just plain die on you, pfffttt.
I looked it up, they are Allium bulgaricum (synonym of Nectaroscordium bulgaricum) : Bulgarian Onion...
Thanx for your time and comments, ALWAYS!
M, (*_*)

METAPHOR OF LIFE, of knots and ropes and hooks.

2009-04-27T19:00:00.014Z

It never ceases to amaze me, how rope works!
Tiny strands of different materials, bound together, more and more, getting thicker, intertwined, becoming stronger and stronger! It has a beginning and an end, can twist, get into knots, form firm links, carry heavy loads, help guide us, cutting some slack or be stretched to the limit or be just a piece of string to bind love letters...
Some are thin, others are thick.
Some are short, others are long.
Some are solitaire, some are a 'bunch'.
Some are stronger than others.
Some are more colourful, others more bland.
It reminds me so much of LIFE.
A great metaphor for it?
I will first tell you that I’m not a mystic person and only believe in reality.
I respect everybody’s view and you’ll all have your own, just sharing mine here, my very personal philosophical interpretation,.

All through our lives, we form bonds, friendships, partnerships; some last… some don’t...
I like to think of myself as very individualistic, but have wisely decided that we all need each other.
I have always been fascinated by 'links', ropes, hooks and knots (have a whole collection of photos), they illustrate that phenomenon very well, there might sometimes be the possible 'tension' here, but it's definitely holding, and in doing so, getting stronger and more difficult to undo! Lol.
Wonderful rope… I also see it as a symbol of how, in a good relationship, you as a person, together with your partner, your lives become 'intertwined' and therefore so much stronger...
Soul mates will feel themselves bonded together for a lifetime.
Having no permanent links, the denizen of our liquid modern society must tie whatever bonds they can to engage with others, using their wits, skill and dedication. But none of these links are guaranteed to last. Moreover, they must be tied loosely so that they can be untied again, quickly and as effortlessly as possible, when circumstances change - as they surely will, over and over again.
The frailty of human links, the feeling of insecurity that frailty inspires, and the conflicting desires to tighten the bonds yet keep them loose, all make us more vulnerable.
Some of us are ‘loners’ either through choice or circumstances, but I don’t think that we were ever meant to be by ourselves, that we ‘operate’ better in a social context if we are not without any links.
When you have found the right person to form your ‘permanent’ link with, HOLD TIGHT, because it means STRENGTH!
And it goes further… after the sad, senseless loss of a young friend, killed in Afghanistan, something we are still coming to terms with, after his funeral, we have once more realised how intertwined our lives all are, how we can touch the lives of many, some we do not even know… especially nowadays, with internet, phones AND the wonderful medium that is PHOTOGRAPHY! Many people can be touched by an image, we heard again...

A lot of my photographs evoke the metaphor for life.
Circles, ties, knots, rope, scarred background…
You have the circle, example; I took my granddaughter to a place where I had taken my boys and my parents and grand-parents had taken me.
We are surrounded by circles, sun, moon; we LIVE on a ‘circle’
Lots of things come in cycles.
There are bonds that always remain, you cannot divorce a child, it’s ALWAYS a part of you. Same the other way around.
You have the ropes= attachment, friendships, ties with your chosen partner, it is beautifully tight.
The other rope, to me represents the freedom to remain you, free and individual.
Lighter and darker areas, scars underneath, I’m sure that will echo for most of you…
BUT, THE SUN MAKES THE METAL SHINING, THE ROPES ARE COLOURFUL.
LIFE IS GOOD.

Have a wonderful day and thanx for your visit, Magda, (*_*)

MY VISIT TO THE MOSQUE.

2009-04-21T16:51:00.024Z

I had the privilege to be invited by a neighbour to visit the Mosque, it has a beautiful green dome which unfortunately I could not get from this angle, as the building is situated on a hill and I was standing in the parking yard.(1)

I was interested and eager, always have been about different cultures.

I am a very liberal person, with respect for other people’s religion, a great believer of Freedom and an enemy of -ISMS.

I know the Islamic population has had a lot of bad press, and some extremist have indeed committed the most atrocious acts, but can ANYBODY say, NOT MY PEOPLE?

I do not want to upset anybody or condone anything, I'm hoping for some plain non-prejudicial viewing of something that is part of a huge group within our population and not often seen by 'outsiders'.

I only had to cover my head and take off my shoes inside. All the people I met were very inviting, polite and also very proud to show me around. All in all, another great experience added to my wonderful collection.

The entrance doors are huge and massive, these are the outside panels. Beautiful wood and great carvings also on the inside.
(2&3)

It is in their habits to wash hands and feet before you enter the 'proper' mosque area, a washroom for the men and one for the women.(4)

A glorious entrance hall, with lights and a fountain, they promised that next time it would be on for me, there were works going on as you will see in the rest of the images.
The gent was also the librarian.(5)

The main prayer hall with in the middle the place of the Imam, which is an Islamic leadership position. He is often the leader of a mosque and the community. Similar to spiritual leaders, the imam is the one who leads the prayer during Islamic gatherings. More often the community turns to the mosque imam, if they have an Islamic question.

(6)

This gent came in for prayer, he stood there, composed himself for some time... (7)

Then he got down and started his prayer, it was a very moving moment. I was happy that digital cameras do not make that beautiful 'shutter' noise an analogue used to make, well, my Nikon F4 I could put on whisper mode, but still, and the typical 'clack' of the Hasselblad... would have been most disturbing!(8)

After his prayer, he just sat there, reflective and composed.(9)
I am not a 'believer', and yet always so in awe of people who are...

The tour went on, we moved up the stairs where the scholar area is for the youngsters, where they study the Koran.

(10, 11, 12)

Up again we came into the new Prayer Hall, under the dome, works still very ongoing.

(13)
A huge chandelier is going to be hoisted up and will adorn and fill the inside Dome.

Through the 'windows' in the dome I could see people were working and cleaning outside the Dome, there was great hilarity...

(14, 15, 16, 17, 18)

Hope you enjoy this as much as I did, thanx, M, (*_*)

Click on the image to see it LARGER.

THE IMPORTANCE of HANDS in PORTRAIT PHOTOGRAPHY.

2009-01-15T19:34:00.017Z

1. GENETICS.

2. LONDON SCENE.

3. YVAN, le romantic.

4. Paul, with his favourite camera.

5.DADDYYYYYYYYYYY?????????

6. La Tendresse.

I am not writing a ‘rule’ here, just a personal observation and conclusion.

I must tell you that I am one of these people who also … ‘talk’ with their hands!

Maybe that influenced my feelings towards the matter. One of my fascinations in life.

In a portrait, for me, they are either in or out, no half measures!

Since they are so expressive, almost as much as a face (?), a means of body language and non-verbal communication, we ‘say’ so much with our hands.

We touch, feel, handle, build and destroy, hurt and caress, kill and heal, make music (noise) and command or pray for silence, our hands can be rough or smooth.

Only Man has hands. We use them as a tool, to make tools, and as a weapon, they serve as eyes for the visually impaired, we can 'talk' with them, they have become a symbol of salutation, supplication, and condemnation.

They are used as units of measure!

The hand has played a part in the creative life of every known society, and it has come to be symbolic or representative of the whole person in art, in drama, and in the dance.

Although prehension (the ability to grip) is the major function of the hand, however, at the same time, it is one of man's primary sense organs.

Hands have the perception of levels of heat and cold. In folk society, a normal hand placed upon the forehead is used to determine the presence of fever.

It was also discovered that vibratory impulses generated by finger percussion can be felt even when the auditory sense is eliminated.

Is that how Beethoven was able to write his great music?

Vibratory sensations, as perceived by the hand, are of importance in teaching the auditory impaired to speak. By placing one hand on the larynx of a speaker and the other hand on his own larynx, they learn the vibration patterns of speech sounds. When the patterns "heard" by his left and right hand are identical, the student has succeeded in imitating the sound.

In the creative arts, the hands speak, and one senses the tremendous power of the hand

to convey human emotions.

They are the organs of the body which, except for the face, have been used most often in the various art forms to express human feeling. The hands point or lead or command; the hands cry out in agony or they lie quietly sleeping; the hands have moods, character, and, in a wider sense, their own particular beauty. From prehistoric

times to our own day, in every society known to science, the hands symbolize cultural behaviours, values, and beliefs.

The hands are, as Kant is reported to have said, "Man’s outer brain."

That is why I find them so important in portrait photography; it can mean the difference between a ‘mug’ shot/boring face image and a portrait with emotion and substance!

THANX, M, (*_*)

1, GENETICS.

I got this lovely family with 3 children in the studio.
The two youngest looked very much like the dad, but her eldest son was just the spitting image of her.
AAAhhh, the Art of genetics.

I placed their hands like that in this portrait because often I find they play such a vital role and say so much.

Taken on the Hasselblad, which has square negs, so it is slightly cropped.
Scanned from the print.
The 80mm lens and the film Ilford Delta 100.

2. LONDON SCENE.
This gent took a moment's rest from selling his hats... along the Thames, to have an animated chat with one of the street cleaners.

3. YVAN, le romantic.

This is my long time friend, Ivan and his lovely partner. During a long studio shoot, I finally was able to convince her to join him in front of the camera, that pleased him, he grabbed her hand, held it over his heart and said something a bit naughty...?

4. PAUL, with his favourite camera.
Paul, my dear husband and soul mate.
A man of principle, loved by his friends, family and me. A man you can count on.

5. DADDYYYYYYYYYYY?????????
The toddler was demanding daddy's attention, I love the contrast, the tiny hand, the strong hands, the interlaced fingers. The 'link'...
To understand this image you really have to view the previous.

Talk about emotion in a photo, do you agree?
6. LA TENDRESSE.
The strength of a father's arm and hands carries that lovely burden with such ease, the baby feels totally relaxed, her head cupped in this big warm hand with great tenderness.

A lifelong commitment, that's being a parent, to care about smaller and bigger things, the being there, we have a duty, the morals that we teach them... that's what will (ideally) shape them, let's not underestimate the impact we have on our nearest and dearest.
The 'father' figure is one of strength and discipline, never forget that bit of tenderness, so needed in all our lives.

An unforgettable moment in my youngest son's life, shortly after his little girl was born, she is the apple of his eye... not every child is that lucky...

For more on hands click here.

GOOD-BYE 2008, HELLO 2009

2009-01-01T18:18:00.004Z

A more meditative note.
On this the first day of the year, it is not a bad thing to look back... all the good times, the lesser times, be realistic about life, that is how it is, sunshine and rain, blue skies and heavy clouds, pondering the New year ahead, believing that it is going to be NOTHING but blue skies, a blank canvas that we can still fill with all our dreams and wishes.
And yet accepting day by day what life has in store for us...
Ever the optimist... 2009 will see some of my hopes fulfilled, I'm sure, if not, there's always next year? LOL.

Charles Delporte (born in 1928 in Marcinelle, Belgium) is a painter, sculptor, poet and composer. His creative imagination is unlimited.

His work is that of a visionary who reinvented alchemy, basing his work on scientific information. There are four tendencies in his work: realistic, genetic, geophysical and nuclear. There are over 300 works in museums, foundations, abbeys, churches, towns and universities all over the world. Charles Delporte donated an extensive collection to the Community of Damme, near Bruges, the capital of the province of West-Flanders.

Hope ALL your dreams come true, thanx for your visits, greatly appreciated, M, (*_*)

SEASON'S GREETINGS

2008-12-24T18:10:00.008Z

I'd like to wish you ALL a very MERRY CHRISTMAS, thank you for reading my blog, hope you enjoy my writings. More next year.
Have a LOVELY time!
M, (*_*)

ONE AFTERNOON IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER.

2008-11-22T19:36:00.003Z

Yvan, the man, the ARTIST.

Yvan and I have been friends since the sixties.
Yvan is an Artist, started painting in oils, was successful, then, moved on to copper etchings, still not satisfied, he finally came to glass, went and studied all over Europe with the best.
Now he is content, he loves what he creates.

We met Yvan regularly and each time he was wearing some other headgear.
I remarked he must have quite a collection and that we should have a photo session.
Always game, he agreed, a date was set and he arrived with a whole suitcase and a bag full of props.
He completely got into the different characters, depending on each hat. Amazing!
It was the most hilarious shoot I ever did.
I'm still surprised no shots suffered from camera shake, we were laughing so much.
He is a very lovely man, with a great sense of humour, which I let you discover with the this particular part of the series: "Ex- and impressions."

See previous for most of this series and a great story of friendship!

The studio set-up was mostly two huge softboxes, a black bg in a darkened environment, often a honeycomb for some rim-light, reflectors mostly black to deepen the shadows.

When taking portraits, make your 'sitters' as comfortable as possible, except for pro models, very few people are not nervous!
Be relaxed and calm yourself. Prepare everything before, get your gear together, know more or less what you are going to do... if possible.
I always see to it that there's some nice bg music, some refreshments, and depending on the season... cool or warm, always in moderation, otherwise... it WILL show, lol.

Taken with my favourite camera, Nikon F4, scanned the negs, retouched (dust, no matter how well one stores them!!!) with great care and lots of TLC...

Have fun! M, (*_*)