Thursday, 17 July 2014

Friday, 11 July 2014

Just to mess

with you, a second post from the same day...

The moon was full

but as it was a cloudy night nobody would have known if it was not for the howling of the warewolves.

Monday, 7 July 2014

This time I will

borrow somebody else's text to go with my photo (which for a change was not taken with a camera, but with a phone - I know! Imagine somebody from the past (let’s say Alexander Graham Bell) falling through a wormhole and reading this and wondering how can you possibly take a photo with a phone, or somebody coming through an entirely different wormhole and wondering what is a camera and what is a phone?).

Anyway, every time I cycle through this village this poem pops into my head:

Rappelle-toi Barbara
Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour-là
Et tu marchais souriante
Épanouie ravie ruisselante
Sous la pluie
Rappelle-toi Barbara
Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest
Et je t'ai croisée rue de Siam
Tu souriais
Et moi je souriais de même
Rappelle-toi Barbara
Toi que je ne connaissais pas
Toi qui ne me connaissais pas
Rappelle-toi
Rappelle-toi quand même ce jour-là
N'oublie pas
Un homme sous un porche s'abritait
Et il a crié ton nom
Barbara
Et tu as couru vers lui sous la pluie
Ruisselante ravie épanouie
Et tu t'es jetée dans ses bras
Rappelle-toi cela Barbara
Et ne m'en veux pas si je te tutoie
Je dis tu à tous ceux que j'aime
Même si je ne les ai vus qu'une seule fois
Je dis tu à tous ceux qui s'aiment
Même si je ne les connais pas
Rappelle-toi Barbara
N'oublie pas
Cette pluie sage et heureuse
Sur ton visage heureux
Sur cette ville heureuse
Cette pluie sur la mer
Sur l'arsenal
Sur le bateau d'Ouessant
Oh Barbara
Quelle connerie la guerre
Qu'es-tu devenue maintenant
Sous cette pluie de fer
De feu d'acier de sang
Et celui qui te serrait dans ses bras
Amoureusement
Est-il mort disparu ou bien encore vivant
Oh Barbara
Il pleut sans cesse sur Brest
Comme il pleuvait avant
Mais ce n'est plus pareil et tout est abimé
C'est une pluie de deuil terrible et désolée
Ce n'est même plus l'orage
De fer d'acier de sang
Tout simplement des nuages
Qui crèvent comme des chiens
Des chiens qui disparaissent
Au fil de l'eau sur Brest
Et vont pourrir au loin
Au loin très loin de Brest
Dont il ne reste rien.

(Jacques Prévert) 

Saturday, 5 July 2014

I have been

somewhere I have not been for a very very long time... and this means things are getting better (even though it is hard to say this as I am totally and utterly convinced that anything good will be taken away)

Thursday, 3 July 2014

Dance photo

It is always hard to chose a dance photo, as they are so different even when they were taken during the same performance. But this one seemed a bit different from the ones I did before so I went with this one... When chosing a photo you behave similar as when you are taking them - you just go with your gut feeling.

Monday, 30 June 2014

The young rhymes festival



was back with a vengeance and I just about managed to catch the very last day of the festival, which was invaded by young American poets.

Thursday, 12 June 2014

My quick photo session

with Zoran Srdić Janežič at his exhibition.

Artist spanking the politician



Artist slaying the system

 Artist saving his friend

Death of the artist

 Death of the artist II




Tuesday, 10 June 2014

My good friend Cat

seems to have become worried that my daily blog has become way too erratic and that it sees new updates on rare occasions (I think my dad also shares this opinion, and I completely agree with them both), so I thought I better post something before my blog is officially (but way prematurely, for it hopefully still has a bit of oomph in it) declared dead, a stiffy, a gonner, a has been that has is forever visiting its 2TB cloud and is riding the great shiny binary code in the sky  (yes, I know you have not failed to notice the great Monthy Python influence here). And I ask you, could there be a better day to do this than a day in which I have successfully proven (once again, and in a matter of hours) to be a true hard core culture whore (without even planning to do so).
First of all I bumped into Lolita


They were in the middle of their soundcheck for their evening gig, but that surely could not (and did not) stop me from taking my camera out and taking a few photos. Unfortunately, they told me that they will start with the gig at 8, and by that time this man with the camera in his backpack had to be elsewhere. So I bid them farewell and dropped in on an opening on the way:

 

where I was glad to see (alongside the art and the two artist of course) a painter (not one of the ones exhibiting) showing and discussing the paintings with his daughter (yes, I definitely decided to go with this interpretation of events). After this I had to whiz off to do some work (which you might notice from the next photo does not differ greatly from the things I tend to do for fun, with the one single great difference, that it pays some of the bills (which, even though I might come across as a care free photographer roaming the streets and having fun, I do have (unfortunately)), which makes my bank happy - at least I think they are by far the happiest when I get some money into my account as they have second dibs to it - right after the government - oh, have I mentioned recently how really great it is?):



I definitely tried to do my best here (but then again, I guess I always try to do my best) even though I was slightly distracted by the commotion going on just a few meters away. Of course, I went to take a closer look, and took with me my little camera. And there they were, a punk band (apparently) from Argentina (I think?) singing a Motorhead song and wearing a Metallica T-shirt (?). Oh well, you live and learn, said the photographer in an old fogey's manner:



Of course, I returned to my work post after a few songs and took some more photos, but afterwards I went to listen to a bit of ska, to get some of that happy music (and even though I did not grow up in the ska era as such (well maybe, at the end of the second wave and during the third wave), I associate ska with the days in London as a child - fuzzy memories, but I remember hearing songs by the Specials and Madness, and I remember the black and white cover of the specials LP, and being in a record shop with my dad where there were some black and white ska posters or badges or something - my oh my, have I strayed...). Anyroad, I think I better end this short report with a black and white photo of the new guy (trying to make his way up in the band, and I am sure that he will soon take over the entire photo) in the ska band Void Union: