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

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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.

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.

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 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.

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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.

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

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

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

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, (*_*)