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Military Censorship in Iraq

TPP — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 22:23:51 +0000

“If he takes another photo, shoot him.”

Watch this.

Via the very perceptive David White over at DuckRabbit.Similar Posts:

Family Cookbook [2]

TPP — Fri, 16 Jul 2010 11:26:05 +0000

Festival Salad

Summer is time for long bus or train journeys to Bestival or Latitude, or Port Eliot. This’ll get you through 5 hours on a hot National Express coach or a Cross Country train with no buffet.

1. Bring a pan of water to a rolling boil, add a splash of your favourite olive or locally grown rape seed oil, and a handful of pasta shapes. Cook for the time specified on the packet (maybe 8-10 mins), drain and add lots and lots of ground black pepper. Rinse the pan.

2. Add another dollop of oil, and finely chopped red peppers, celery, carrot You can use any veg, but this combo is less likely to drench the coach and your neighbours with cooking smells. Saute until softened. Set aside to cool.

3. Chop a couple of ripe tomatoes, snip the roots off your rocket thinnings and snip the tops off your windowsill basil.

4. Combine all the ingredients, taste for flavour, add salt & more pepper if you think it’s needed. Go on the strong side flavour-wise. This might have to sit about in your bag and will be better rich than bland. A few walnuts or sunflower seeds will add crunch.

5. Tip into a container, snap the lid tight, wrap in a second bag and tie with an elastic band.

Wrap a few thin slices of crusty bread and some Wensleydale (a big favourite with Jim Nelson) or some Yorkshire Fettle, and maybe since it’s high summer, a couple of nectarines or a bunch of grapes. The obligatory bottle of tap water, and you’re sorted.

If you haven’t got any rocket thinnings:

1. Go anywhere that sells seeds, buy a packet (about 99p) open, and sprinkle about half anywhere in your garden, or just a few in a pot or tray your windowsill. You can even grow micro rocket on kitchen paper towels.

2. Wait for about a week. If it doesn’t rain, add a can of water now and again.

3. Pick.

4. Eat.

Delicious, peppery flavour, handful after handful, almost free.

You are now a market gardener in the best tradition of the Raines and Nelsons in our family. (If you’re following me on Facebook you’ll have seen the pictures. I’ll upload them here, too.)Similar Posts:

Replacing the Jetty

TPP — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 06:11:32 +0000

Way back sometime in 2004, the Swing Bridge on the Tyne opened its engine rooms in a tour part as of what are now annual Heritage Open Days, and, after a deluge of enthusiastic questions, the Chief Engineer offered to tell me more about how this unique piece of engineering works. Many subsequent visits have mapped the survival of this elegant piece of engineering and its battle against the elements, and it’s a great story.

In May 2005, the timbers of the surface of the Bridge’s decks, the jetty, were renewed. Not all of them, just the parts immediately around the central pier, and two narrow walkways along the lateral sections running out in both directions into the course of the river.

The pictures of this Bridge have become markers really, of my development as a photographer, or at least of the conscientious and deliberate application of time and energy and of course, money, to it all. Early pictures were little more than phone quality: 2005 was pretty much the beginning of the digital point-and-shoot revolution so the camera used in the pictures above is a mere 5 megapixel Pentax Optio.

Sadly it would be another year before I started using film. Not that I might have made a better job with film, not then, but if I’d tried, there would be a roll of 36 somewhere, maybe 10 of which might have been half decent, and all of which could have been enlarged to show some detail, some information of use to say, a structural or civil engineer or surveyor.

Most of the photographs taken in those years haven’t survived the impermanence of digital storage. It’s oh, 3 or 4 computers ago, and there are at least 2 storage hard drives dead in their boxes between now and then, and online storage clients behave so badly it’s hard to know who or what to trust. So I choose film for everything important now, and print everything else that I think I might need someday. I urge you to do the same, unless you have a scrupulously rigorous digital workflow and a gazillion Gigabytes of storage. For of course now, each 15 megapixel camera produces whopping big files that you do have to store somewhere, and while memory is comparatively cheap, it isn’t cheap to restore it when it fails.

Other things that have changed? I no longer take pictures out in the mid-day sun, as we’re all urged so often to do. Flat light, the kind of skies with a low cloud cover, dawn or dusk, the right light is so very important. Critical. If it’s absolutely essential to work in this harsh, contrasty sun, a filter would help, neutral density maybe, and if using digital, exposing for the highlights, so something might be brought out of the shadows in post.

But who would have thought these would be wanted, after all this time? So hey, here they are, as they were shot, small, they may be useful. I hope so.

There’s a slide show that’s survived from this period, shot from above on the Tyne Bridge with the little Pentax on a very useful monopod which is missing. I’ll dig it out and post if I can work out how to play it as an animated .gif. It’s fun. And if it’s you who borrowed my monopod, please can I have it back? Thanks!

These are some pictures made at the last evening swing, in early June. The Bridge was opened for one of the Tyne’s river cruise boats, commissioned by a group of medical doctors, celebrating their graduation exactly 35 years before. There are 40-50 ish pictures from that evening, a bit of a soundtrack to go with them, and an interview or two to do, and that’ll become my first attempt at a photofilm. Recording equipment is on its way. I’m a Duckrabbit trainee, now, learning all the time.

Five years. It’s flown.Similar Posts:

Perivolaris Moves North

TPP — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 14:21:32 +0000

I met John Perivolaris at Redeye’s first Photography Symposium in Manchester in 2009, in the way that one tends to meet people at conferences, briefly and in passing. We were using Twitter for the first time at a major UK photography event, both he and me and Julian from Little Star and Ed Horwich were the first to use the #nps1 hashtag. Twitter is a superb way to engage with someone at a distance. You don’t have to actually communicate, but if someone seems to be doing something interesting, or that connects, you inevitably do, and this is how I first found out about North to North.

Using the Shoot it Application for iPhones, and with real life postcards, people are encouraged to communicate with John on his travels through France to the Magreb. He’s documenting the whole thing, his own thoughts, photographs, itinerary, here at The Cardographer.

I’m sending John a small series of photographs from the deep dark Saddleworth Moor taken during the Redye Symposium while I was staying at a sleepy little hotel under the hillside, away from the cacophany of the city, and with free wifi to boot. This may or may not be one of the pictures: I don’t want to pre-empt the triangulation. The one at the top is an alternative version of the postcard that’s already arrived.

A few other small connections:

Dr Ed Welch , a collaborator in John’s project, is a key instigator in the Durham Centre for Advanced Photography’s seminar series and conferences, many of which I’ve been lucky enough to attend. Ed was in Newcastle, photographing the Tyne Bridges, on the day and in the same minutes that the engineer George Fenwick allowed me to make a series of photographs from the control tower. The Swing Bridge, a favourite personal project (in many ways but also because it has won me some money), is a feat of marketing genius by Armstrong the arms manufacturer: it turns through 360 degrees, just like his gun turrets.

On that same day, June 5th 2010, a woman I first met more than 40 years ago was celebrating the 35th anniversary of her graduation as a medical doctor by charting a boat trip down the Tyne. George was opening the bridge for my friend and her 50 jubilant doctor colleagues.

That picture is the first time we’ve seen each other since then. Here are her photographs of that day on the River. Dr Ed will be in one of those, somewhere. I’ll be publishing the best of mine, soon.

Not long after I first met Dr Baillie, I took a bus and boat trip to Greece, passing the coast of Algeria along the way. There were many whispered tales of marauding bandits toting ancient shotguns, fearsome fellows in dark bandanas twirling moustaches and living in the swirling desert. Sounded terribly romantic, ever sceptical as I am of the stories peddled by those who wish to spread fear. Fear of foreigners, fear of strange lands, of the south, fear of some imagined loss, of control, of a compass, or something. To me, then as now, the Magreb sounds a wondrous and exciting place.

I sent another two postcards today, one to Dr Ed Welch’s office in Durham, another to Dr Perivolaris via his colleague Manchester. If any of this moves you as much as it moves me, you can do the same.

Similar Posts:

Situationism: Layers, Epic, Moment

TPP — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 22:51:21 +0000

Collage or juxtaposition: things just waiting to be picked up, to be assembled. Fragments.

Modifications, overpaintings, calling into question ah, everything.

Malcolm McClaren’s talk about his new film (segments of advertising film cut and recut with the music from his album Paris) at Baltic last month, and the film itself was by far the best thing to happen in the region’s art world in December. And there were an awful lot of things happening in December 2009. A shorter set of cuts Shallow has just finished its run. Hope you saw at least one of them.

This isn’t it. Rather lovely though.

All of this material in many, many ways begin to enfold some of the teeming, tumbling thoughts and ideas falling around the Deep Sea Diving Project. That definitely needs a progress report. Similar Posts:

Volunteers and The Lumleys

TPP — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 21:41:15 +0000

Arthur COATES, born 27 Jun 1904 in Willington Co. Durham, died 21 Oct 1969 in Willington. He married Cora Lina LONGSTAFF, married 1925 in Durham District, born 1902 in Co. Durham, died 10 Aug 1981. They had 12 or so children, the eldest my father. Arthur and both oldest boys were coal miners, but that is only part of this story.

Arthur’s parents were George William COATES, born cir 1881 in possibly Crook, died ?. and Margaret Hannah LUMLEY. They were married 1901 in Lanchester District. Margaret was born 1883 in Darlington.

Margaret’s parents were Christopher LUMLEY, born cir 1845 in Burnley Lancashire, died ?, occupation carpenter. He married Ellen MOSES, on 27 Dec 1864 at St. John’s in Darlington. The 1871 census has them in Seaham Harbour, Durham, and the 1891 Census at 22, Chapel Street Darlington, and the 1901 Census at 49, Durham Road, Esh.

Ellen and Christopher’s Children:

i Eliza LUMLEY, born cir 1866 in Seaham Harbour, Durham, died ?.

ii Mary LUMLEY, born cir 1867 in Stockton Durham, died ?.

iii John LUMLEY, born cir 1869 in Stockton, Durham, died ?.

iv Frances Ellen LUMLEY, born cir 1872 in Seaham Harbour, Durham, died ?.

v James Christopher LUMLEY, born cir 1874 in Seaham Harbour, died ?.

vi Thomas LUMLEY, born cir 1878 in Darlington Durham, died ?.

vii Louisa LUMLEY, born cir 1881 in Darlington Durham, died ?.

viii Margaret Hannah LUMLEY, born 1883 in Darlington Durham, died ?. (She married George William COATES, married 1901 in Lanchester District.)

ix Robert LUMLEY, born cir 1885 in Darlington Durham, died ?.

The barely readable Census listings for Christopher and Ellen Lumley’s family has them living in Frances Street while they were in Seaham Harbour. According to baby Eliza’s date of birth, they were there from at least 1866 to 1874, so possibly a mere 8 years, maybe a year or so either side, but probably not earlier than 1864 or later than 1878. During this time, Seaham Harbour was at the beginning of its own industrial revolution. However:

The decade from 1871 to 1881 was one of almost continuous disaster for the ordinary people of Greater Seaham. It seems that no sooner was one tragedy over than another began. The Seaham Colliery explosion of Wednesday October 25 1871 occurred at 11.30 pm, otherwise the death-toll of 26 would have been much higher – by now the pit was employing 1100 men and boys. The shock was felt at Seaham Harbour. John Clark, aged 9, sitting on the surface in a cabin near the pit shaft, was blown 10 yards by the explosion. The force of the blast was such that many ponies were killed in their underground stables 1.5 miles away from the epicentre.

And:

A terrible storm occurred on December 17 1872. Newspapers of the time reported that six Seaham-based ships were lost with all hands but unfortunately they gave no names. It may be that dozens of Seaham men went to a watery grave but there is no record of who they were. The sea had not finished yet. On Tuesday June 26 1873 a dreadful boat accident took the lives of five men within hailing distance of the end of the pier…….

Both of those extracts are from one of the pages at Durham Records Online, a magnificent resource, thank you. It’s quite possible that by the mid 1870s the Lumleys had seen enough of all this tragedy. [Look who else was living in Frances Street around the same time? A Judson master mariner.]

Frances Street is named after Frances Anne Vane Tempest, who was married to the 3rd Marquess of Londonderry and recovered her wealth and her Seaham estate after ‘the old tyrant’ her husband died in 1854. Benjamin Disraeli visited her at Seaham Hall in 1861. He wrote:

…on the shores of the German Ocean, surrounded by her collieries and her blast furnaces and her railroads and the unceasing telegraphs, with a port hewn out of the solid rock, screw steamers and four thousand pitmen under her control…she has a regular office…and here she transacts, with innumerable agents, immense business – and I remember her five-and-twenty years ago a mere fine lady; nay, the finest in London! But one must find excitement if one has brains.

Frances Anne died on January 20 1865, well within the time that the Lumleys were in Seaham. Maybe baby Frances Ellen Lumley, born in 1872 in Frances Street was named after this major celebrity of the day, everyone’s paymaster.

So. One of my big projects of 2009 has been St John’s Square and its redevelopment. The Volunteer Arms (in the photograph above) is the only building that remains of Frances Street, the rest having been knocked down to make the library, bus station, Magistrate’s Court, Health Centre in the 1960s, all of which is now being demolished and rebuilt. There are some inspection contacts: the work has mostly been in 35mm. These night photographs taken in the snow are taken from what would have been the top of Frances Street.

And the Volunteer Arms’ gable end, the line of Frances Street:

The teens posed for the camera. Great spot for skateboarding, bmx-ing, rollerblading.

Of course, until today I didn’t know that I’d been standing in what once was the street where my great-great grandparents lived.

And on a completely different note, a Reading newspaper reports a photographer given an ASBO for photographing graffiti.

More St John’s Square from the contact sheets, and a new set in MF when this amazing weather clears and we get back to the diffused northern light we all know and love.

Please do let me know if you think you’re connected to any of these Coates/Lumley/Moses/Longstaff people. The full tree is on the internet somewhere. Or if you know any more about Frances Street and goings on around there in the 1860-70s. We’ll meet for a pint in the Volunteer’s Arms if you do.

Similar Posts:

So Much To Photograph, So Little Time

TPP — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 02:19:10 +0000

Not for me the glossy ballrooms of Wynyard Hall, oh no. These are a few from the day of the last wedding, the one with the four miniature flower girls, live as jumping beans, and the groom who cried while making his vows. Wonderful day. And here, the other rooms of this vast venue, where there’s a proper theatre, bars galore, dog clubs and toddler clubs. Must go back with a big camera when the light lifts a little.Similar Posts:

On Blizzards

TPP — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 05:28:21 +0000

Earlier:

#uksnow SR7 10/10Similar Posts:

Follow Duckrabbit

TPP — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 18:11:02 +0000

duckrabbit

I met one of them at an academic conference in the summer. He was the sanest person there, but sure enough by damn gadnabbit ruffled more than a few fluffed up peacock feathers.

The video above is just one of many unforgettable nuggets regularly flowing from the duckrabbit blog. It was posted by Ciara Leeming, who I didn’t meet, but would like to. The intensity of duckrabbit’s content makes complaining about the cropping/squishing (or whatever they did) of my marine stone photo by the Heritage Coast calendar lot seem more than insignificant, though I’m going to do it all the same.

I wrote When Is It Better Not To Take The Photograph back in Jan 2008. It was contentious then, and I haven’t changed my mind.

@duckrabbitblogif you want to also follow them on Twitter. You do, don’t you?Similar Posts:

Guess The Gizmo [2]

TPP — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 08:55:05 +0000

Three different sized holes in the middle, a ridged rubber mat across one surface, two screws with threads of the same size running freely, and underneath are handly thumbwheels presumably for tightening them.

This is a terribly easy one. I’m sure most people will have one of these in a drawer somewhere, yes?

No?

Guess The Gizmo [1] was soon identified by the incredible all-seeing Murdoch, and was much harder. I give this one 24 hours: it’s the weekend.

Probably need to paint that windowsill.

Update

Pete Ashton using a very similar gizmo to make a film and take photographs at the same time. Remarkable man.Similar Posts: