And another

fun evening... they just keep coming... all you have to do is go outside (as George would say)...

Get me out of here

Started a new series today. Unfortunately the rain messed up the plans, and in the end we had only about 10 minutes to do it all... But as Sean relaxed and discovered that a photosession is a tad less painful and less stressful than a visit to the dentist, I guess it was 10 minutes well spent. Anyway, I will continue with the series on Monday (if it does not rain)...

A wild, wild night

I wanted to post a completely different photo, and I had a story to go with it, but in the end, the photo didn't fit the story as it should have, so I decided to post a different photo, with no story whatsoever. Sometimes being a blogger is hard. It makes you all confused early in the morning.

Things women have...

...in their bags. Makes you think about icons.

Bandstands

Don't you just love them? Especially when they are in use. Keep them & use them.

A strange week

After seeing an angel and cupid last Thursday, I saw JC in person today. The funny thing was that he appeared in the middle of a stand up routine and it seems that he has got a bit of a thing for stand up comedy... (unfortunately his sponsors seem to have him pinned down a bit)

Rest day

I took a rest from all the events today. Well, I still went out, I just thought I wouldn't take photographs... But I did take a photo with my phone while cycling... This one is a sort of private blog entry. Not in the sense that only a selected few can see it, but in the sense that only a selected few will understand it. But enjoy it, if you understand it or not... If you don't, make up your own story to go with it... If you want to you can mail it to me, and I promise I will read it...

All the world's a stage

and all the men and women merely players:
they have their exits and their entrances...
(W. Shakespeare: As you like it)

So why are we so far apart?

'I know'

he thought, 'I'll just pop into this photo. From the side and below. Acting as if I just remembered I fogot to turn the oven off, no even better, acting as if I am overcome with emotions. Yes, that will be it. Overcome from emotions, from the bottom corner inwards. That should make a good photo.'

In our own worlds

And they feel totally different.

Pensive angels & suicidal cupids

(Zoé's diary)
Dear diary,

Today was a rather strange day. On my way to work, as I cut through the field, I thought I saw the wings of an angel floating in mid-air. Hovering on the spot, like a dragonfly. A pair of white wings. No body, no golden hair, nothing. Just two shiny white wings. I only caught a glimpse, from the corner of my eye, but I know they were there. I am not mistaken. No way! But, as soon as I turned around to see them, they disappeared. I know it was not a cloud, and it certainly wasn’t my imagination playing tricks on me. Anyway, as they seemed to have disappeared I continued towards the factory, stopping at the café on the way, where I had a quick coffee with Michael. I told him about the wings, but he just laughed. He said I had a vivid imagination and that he likes me because I still believe in fairy tales.

So, anyway, at work I got down to stitching as usual. The sewing machines make an awful racket. You can’t hear yourself think. There are about 120 of us in that hall. Each one with her own sewing machine. Stitching away. I dare you to try and imagine the noise we create. A rock concert sounds like a lullaby to me. And I have to listen to this 10 hours a day. 6 days a week. Anyway, I was stitching those stupid jeans, so that some spoilt teenager will wear them to school or to the mall, or maybe a supermodel will wear them in her free time, or a cute Hollywood actor or a really cool singer… Maybe even somebody I fancy. And when I meet him I will be able to say: I stitched these jeans and he will look me in the eyes and … Ooops, I drifted again. Anyway, I was stitching the jeans as usual and I needed to take a few deep breaths to relax the tension in my muscles and I stretched and looked up, towards the ceiling. And on the ledge, under the ceiling, I saw an angel. At that moment the production hall fell silent. I could not hear a single sewing machine. I know it is a bit of a cliché, especially for the factory in which I work, but it was so silent you could hear a pin drop. I looked around. All of the girls were working, all with their heads down, concentrating on their jeans and their stitches. The angel was sitting on the ledge, with a pensive look on her face. She looked worried, saddened, a young angel with an old face. I wish I knew what she saw…. I am certain she wasn’t watching us, but for a moment I though she might be looking at something ghastly that happened here in the past, or something terrible that is yet to happen. I watched the angel for a few minutes, but then the boss came and told me off. He said I was lazy and that I tend to drift off into my own little secret world too often and that was why he did not like me.

When I returned from my 27 minute lunch break I was convinced I saw the same angel dressed in our jeans, walking down the production hall. When I say down the production hall, what I really mean is, it looked like our production hall, but it was also way different. I mean the walls were there, the windows were there, but there were no sewing machines, no people, no noise, and the walls looked old and the two windows below the high ceiling have been crying and dripping their mascara. It looked as if they had been crying for years. Maybe even for decades. Who knows? Maybe they have been crying ever since the first stitch was made in this factory. Or maybe since whatever the angel saw happened. But this was just a quick flash. A hundredth of a second. Or less. I don’t know. So quick I was uncertain it was really there. I mean, imagine, an angel, a real certified angel, wearing fake Prada jeans, made in a sweatshop in rural England. But at that very moment I heard a soft voice whisper: ‘You know when something unjust is happening and that is why I like you.’ I looked around, but there was nobody to be seen.

As I was returning home, I heard a loud thump behind me. I was in the middle of the field, so I had no idea what it could be. I jumped and shrieked because it was so sudden and unexpected. You know, dear diary, that there is nothing in the fields but Red-breasted Robins, and it was impossible for a Robin to make such a loud noise. At first I did not turn around, I didn’t dare to, I just ran… fast, as fast as I could. After a minute or so I realised nothing (or nobody) was chasing me, so I slowed down and glanced back. I couldn’t see anything unusual. Just the field. I didn’t see a huge hungry wolf chasing me. Nor did I see the local madman. I stopped and decided to go back and see what made that loud thump. I walked slowly, and soon I saw something in the grass. I couldn’t recognise what it was, but it was not moving, so I dared to come closer. When I came right next to it, I saw it. It was an angel. The same one I have been seeing throughout the day. Not moving. Not breathing (do angels breathe, diary?) Dead. With an arrow sticking from her back. I could see a note wrapped around the arrow, just below the feathers. I wondered if it was alright for me to take the note and read it. I mean, after all this was an angel. But after sitting next to the angel for a while my curiosity won. I took the note and read: For Zoé, with love.

Comedy night

As I can't pass on to you the gags from last night, I hope this photo will put a smile on your face.

It's been a hard day's night

and I've been working like a dog (as The Beatles would say).
But when I pick up my camera
you know I feel OK :)

Photographers can't (and won't) sleep at night

And why should we? (Well yes, I can hear some of your muffled screams emerging from the deep, deep depths of the abyss in the far backloops of my mind yelling: Don't forget your day job! You know the one that makes it possible to earn all those bundles of money you have to pay your financially (but more importantly morally) bankrupt government.) Of course, there is no way we can forget that... until somebody puts a camera in our hands, when the whole perspective changes. I mean, really, who would think about all the crap going on when you got a camera in your hand. And two fellow photographers at your side. And suddenly the night is young, the world is pink, everything is in super high definition technicolour, the town is painted red, Wordsworth's daffodils are yellow, and the Muddy Waters' blues that has ridden your troubles bareback all day long suddenly turns a lively aquamarine blue and you dive into it, head first, leaving the black thoughts behind, diving deep, until you hit the cloud's silver lining and skip over the rainbow, take a black & white photo and go home, still unwilling to sleep, but certain that tomorrow is another photo opportunity and let's not forget: tomorrow is just a day away (even though it seems much closer at 3 am).

The Englishman

who went up a hill, listened to some jazz under the moonlight and cycled down the mountain.

Female poetry

disguised in a performance for one. Similar to the Specials who went out on Friday night and came home on Saturday morning, I went out on a Saturday evening and enjoyed a Sunday night.

To be or not to be...

...a tad different post. Obviously to be. It has to be. A bit different. A photo I took while waiting. For something else. If I was not waiting it would not be here. I wonder how many things are merely a result of waiting. Maybe even lives... Creating the spark to fill the gap while waiting for the tea to brew. Or a better offer to come. Or the car to be serviced. Or Godot ('We wait. We are bored. (He throws up his hand.) No, don't protest, we are bored to death, there's no denying it. Good. A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste... In an instant all will vanish and we'll be alone once more, in the midst of nothingness!' S. Beckett, Waiting for Godot). Or a better system to come along. (ooops I have a feeling I could just go on and on into territories unknown)

Easy

& relaxing jazz with friends, a drink, trying to cool down as the full moon replaced the hot hot sun.

Koffin

Kats. Or at least one of them. On double bass, played like a bass guitar.

After all, it is ska...

You know the moment when someone from the band yells: We need more beer on stage! Usually this polite request is answered by a few bottles or cans of beer being teleported onto the stage. But then, if it was always the same it would just be boring (and no, saying we need more wine/whisky/water/coke/a helicopter... is just a variation on the same theme). So yesterday, instead of getting beer they got a whole bunch of ska crazy people on stage instead, but not a single one wanted to share their beer with the band ...
(Oh yeah, and as the band said:Don't let the bastards grind you down)

Multitasking

Who said men can't do it? While working on a children's book down by the river, I also managed to discuss all the important things in life with the co-author of the book, have a beer, breathe in the slightly cooler air and take this photo for my blog.

The photographer's...

... favourite drummer. He is a bit like the Animal from the muppet show (in a good way). Always extremely energetic with a myriad of facial expressions just waiting to burst out and pose in the spotlight...