Cameras, video cameras and even projectors were a staple of my childhood – my Dad was always a keen photographer, he took some truly stunning black and white shots of my Mum during the early years of their marriage, way back in the 1970s – some of which I’ve only just seen. And as a kid I always remember there being a heavy camera with a dense a robust lens on many an office or coffee table.

There were also numerous times when the video camera (arguably the size of bazooka at the time) was blinking it’s red light at me, recording various high school Christmas Nativity plays (I was usually a Shepard) or when I was skiing in Europe, clad in an embarrassing puffy shell-suit, comprised entirely of a shocking array of 80’s fluro colours.

I vividly remember Santa giving me one of those fantastic toy cameras (originally called The Viewmaster), where you would click and it clacked a new image in front of your eyes. I honestly thought it was the coolest thing ever, to the point where I deluded myself into believing I was taking a new photo each time (despite the reality of it continuously cycling through the same 10 photos) regardless of what was ACTUALLY in front of me.

The 10 pictures came on a card disc and were rather like the negatives you used to get with your photos using a 35mm camera. Each image was then magnified when you looked through the viewer, so that as a kid they appeared as large as a TV-sized image. It was certainly better than any Kaleidoscope I’d ever had, even if it was limited to a few photos. It made an awesome sound too.

I didn’t get my own “real” camera until middle school, which funnily enough I won in the school raffle. I remember it was painted silver and it looked really expensive, but when I was given it, I was bitterly disappointed because unlike all the cameras I’d seen at home, this one was a light-weight, made of  nasty plastic, with a cheap airbrushed silver look, a no-name brand that didn’t even have a flash.

Fast forward a few decades and I’d gone through a few digital cameras, always handy to capture parties and friends – but nothing that would really capture moments as it were. I use to pull some decent shots from my old Canon IXUS but nothing that I would ever call close to being “professional”.

So in late 2009, I invested in a Canon Digital SLR – several weeks rent, well spent as they say.

Since then, I’ve been putting it to good use and the definition and colour of my photos has come on in leaps and bounds. The difference is quite remarkable at times, even if the photos themselves aren’t always living up to the capabilities of the device itself.

I would never classify myself as a photographer, I’m acutely aware of my technical limitations and utter naivety about what makes a good photo. There are so many truly inspirational photographers out there in the world, who operate on an entirely different level, capturing images that defy logic and take your breath away. Photos that us mere mortals, could only ever dream of taking.

If you read this blog regularly, you’ll know that 2010 has been an incredibly dramatic year for me. But along the way, I’ve had my camera by side – documenting it all, even at some of the most inopportune moments. I think that is what photography should be about, being bold, harnessing a sense of occasion and revealing elements of the world around us, which we are normally blind to or simply take for granted.

With these images below, I hope you’re able to get some insight into the journey I’ve been on thus far, the places I’ve experienced and the emotions I’ve lived through since the start of 2010.

From each of the places I’ve been to, I’ve selected photos of personal significance or simply because I liked the shot.

Simply click on any image to view the rest of the photos in that album, or view the entire collection on my Flickr page.

I hope you enjoy these photos, notice their faults, see their strengths and let the feelings and emotions I tried to convey in each, resonate with you.

Even now, some of these are hard for me to look at, but I think that’s why I took them to begin with.

NORFOLK , UNITED KINGDOM MARCH (2010)

BARCELONA, SPAIN MARCH (2010)

AUTUMN IN SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA (2010)

HOLIDAY IN KIAMA, SYDNEY AUSTRALIA APRIL (2010)

MELBOURNE CITY, AUSTRALIA MAY (2010)

Alex

It was just over a month ago, that I was in the icy realm of the UK celebrating my father’s birthday, wedding and bringing in New Years Eve with him. Three wonderful moments in anyone’s life, sitting alongside one another in perfect unison on December 31st 2009

Already it feels like those dramatic 11 days were so long ago – but they will remain with me, both haunting and comforting me for the rest of my life. 44 hours up in the air, traveling along dark icy roads and celebrating my birthday at 33,000 ft over Eastern Europe admittedly wasn’t much fun, so it’s been an unusual and surreal start to 2010 to say the least.

It was a bitter sweet trip, the friends, family, conversations, laughs and smiles tapered with the unavoidable fact that my Dad is suffering deeply from advanced cancer, the pain of which is at times utterly debilitating and all consuming for him.

It is heartbreaking to see anyone in pain, but when it’s your own father, wincing in his sleep, as you patiently wait for the morphine to kick in and provide some respite, it is one of the most confronting & distressing images I think any child can be faced with.

During one of his better days, I sat there in his office, as it snowed outside, the world on mute as he stared out to the white horizon and calmly said, “I’ll be lucky to see out another Christmas like this”. There was a pause. And then silence.

He said it not with fear in his voice but with a calm air of resignation, as if he had accepted the reality he may very well face. I on the other hand couldn’t and still can’t. It was a chilling premonition to reconcile and it’s an even harder memory to now revisit.

I don’t think any amount of words can’t accurately do justice to the way it makes you feel hearing an admission of such gravity. The words hang in the air like dense thick soup. It’s even more saddening when deep down, despite your best attempts, part of you is inclined to agree with that assertion.

I am truly a believer in the advances, power and resolve of science, I have a tremendous amount of faith and admiration for doctors. They helped him overcome the illness 10 years ago, but when you’re privy to terms like “quality of life” being banded around, it’s a sobering realization that there might not be a repeat performance.

But one thing I do know, with absolute certainty, is that December 31st 2009 will go down as one of the happiest days in his life, his wife Jules’ and mine.

From the church to the reception, to the dinner and the celebrations – I watched with my camera from the sidelines, trying to capture moments, the real essence of the occassion, its wealth of emotions, the warmth of the day and the hopefulness which permeated all four corners of it.

And what I saw above all was my real Dad shining through, with his new wife and sweet-natured daughter (and my sister) by his side.

He was utterly and thoroughly in the moment, to the point where I don’t think he even realized he was in pain. He reminded me of the man I had seen 6 years ago on my trip previously – larger than life, looking a little older but still as charismatic, bold and magnanimous as ever.

The distractions of well-wishers, outrageous stories, refills of red wine and unanimous bursts of laughter from the whole room utterly eclipsed whatever doom and gloom the previous days had brought.

The look of anguish and frustration, which had been riddled across his face since I arrive a few days before, was replaced that booming laugh, his eyes often tightly shut in fits of giggles and his trademark smile sat squarely touching ear to ear.

Mind over matter say they say.

It was a day filled with endless smiles, heartfelt tears and recollections of wonderful stories – the likes of which even the most brilliant imagination couldn’t conjure up.

What was almost instantly highlighted to me was just how much of an impact my Dad’s life, his generosity, support, advice and the experiences that he shared had genuinely had on others.

I was deeply proud to be his son that day. I saw another side to one of the most important individuals in my life and it was a side, which I had all too frequently underestimated all my life I think.

And I knew deep down, that even if this was to be his final public appearance before his illness became too overwhelming, he couldn’t have asked for a better finale, it was a graceful, dignified, compassionate and deeply moving end to just one of the chapters in his life.

I can only hope that when I get to his age, that I too am surrounded by such fantastic company with so many true and genuine characters.

It was as if we all existed in another place, a happier time, willing to leave our fears and preconceived ideas at the door and simply embrace each other – a genuine camaraderie brought and bound together by his legacy, love and friendship.

Getting married is suppose to be the happiest day of your life and I think the events of that day, with family and friends reunited, birthdays and New Years Eve celebrations entwined, all served as a rock solid signed, sealed and delivered declaration that everyone was utterly lost in the magic and memories of it all.

I can only hope, that at least some of my photos managed to capture even the faintest hint, of such a truly magnificent time in all our lives.

I love you Dad.

Your son

Alex

I’m sitting here in my Dad’s office in the heart of Nofolk in the United Kingdom, overlooking the field beyond, with snow gently falling all around. It’s peacefully calm, bitingly crisp and it feels like the world has been temporarily muted – to the point where I’m not even sure what time of the day it is.

Just to show you that I’m not some whimsical writer with a habit of embelishment, here’s a video I literally just shot from being outside. This is the view from my window.

There is something really comforting and clarifying about spending a few days here in the countryside, huddled away from distractions and the general buzz of any metropolitan city.

It’s quite a therapeutic, if obviously cold experience – there’s this vast space for your thoughts, fears, hopes and dreams to run free amongst. I know that for some, it might be a bleak picture, but here, in the moment, you can smell the scent of damp leaves in the air, burning wood on log fires and hear the sound of  frosty grass crunching under your feet.

My step-brother Oliver thought it would be fun to take me into the woods and show me a camp site he built, several summers ago deep in the forest. It was a place he said “Where I could do my own thing and not have to worry about anything else.” So with trepidation and quiet excitement I ventured out with him, in search of those long lost childhood memories of the unexpected and carefree kind.

Now to give you an insight, as to what it was like –  you can see a quick video below, which I shot in the depths of the wintry forest itself.

As you can see from the clip, it was like being lost in the land of Narnia! To be perfectly, honest I was half expecting Mr Tumnas to appear next to me and ask me in for tea and biscuits.

Instead foxes, deer and Jackalope scattered past, black blurry shapes scuttling off into the distance, their footprints etched in the snow. I fought my way through the razor sharp brambles and wire fences, a little spooked and certainly overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. And I’m not ashamed to admit it, I even fell over, sliding down a ditch onto my ass.

Snow plus ditch = the perfect slide.

It really is worlds apart from my life back home in Sydney, physically and especially mentally – 22 hours to get here, but many more years between my childhood home and current dwelling. I’ve been capturing lots of photos and images, to document my 11 days here, including my trip to London.

Click on the slide show below, to see the images I’ve taken so far, I hope you like them, I’d like to think they’re an accurate portrayal of this moment.

I think it’s always nice to have photos, after all they serve as the perfect fuel to reignite lost memories don’t you think?

Hope you’re having a great start to the New Year

Alex

This particular blog entry, however, is about the second part of my holiday in Melbourne (not my most recent trip) and if I don’t write it down now, I think it will fade from the annuals of my memory entirely (especially as the past few weeks have become nothing more than a frenetic blur.) So I’m going to just dive straight in (Alzheimer’s permitting), from where I left off last time.

So, day number two in Melbourne commence with a brisk and vigorous search for breakfast in the city. As I’m sure you’ve been told, Melbourne has a wealth of cafes dotted between various side streets and alleys, perfect for that mid morning brekkie urge, when you’ve woken up with the munchies and an intoxicating need for bacon.

After looking at the menu at Hairy Canary (I don’t know why you’d name a cafe that either, but there you go) it instantly got our seal of approval. Their menu laid out a utopian breakfast in such yummy and intricate detail, that it actually made you MORE hungry as you were reading it.

Perfect way to start, what would become a busy Sunday.

(Or so I thought.)

I sat there, partially drooling, my mind clouded with thoughts of the wondrous gourmet feast about to make love to my eyes, the sizzling bacon, the warm fluffy scrambled eggs & the crunchy sourdough toast.

And then, without warning,  I was suddenly hauled back to reality, with a stiff and firm clunk. My ‘breakfast’ had finally decided to emerge from its former home, the clattering & quarrelsome kitchen.

I’d chosen the “Big Brekkie”, which essentially is bacon, roasted tomato, sausages and eggs – a heart-attack on a plate I’m well aware, but so utterly amazing you’re willing to run the risk.

Well, usually.

However, the big brekkie that half-heartedly stared back at me, wasn’t ANYTHING like I’d imagined. Served in a mini frying pan, everything was literally fused together, in a sort of pan-fried vomit ensemble.

The eggs were poached (not scrambled) the bacon was mere strips of fat in disguise, the tomato looked like it had been microwaved to within an inch of it’s life and the sausages took the form of some strange phallic-shaped Spanish salami.

W.T.F indeed.

Apparently, at least for the chef’s at Hairy Canary, this is gourmet breakfast Melbourne style. But as I nervously poked and prodded at it, my stomach rumbled with the almost instant realization, that it was going to have to go on being hungry for a little while longer.

I left the Hairy Canary feeling almost as empty, as when I went in. Not the ideal start to the day I’m sure you’ll agree.

Along with it’s cafe culture and boutique fashion stores, Melbourne is also predominantly known for embracing of all things arty. If you’re an artist (in whatever form) in Melbourne, you will get numerous fuzzy hugs from the arts council and even more opportunities to display your wares.

There are galleries, live venues and stand-up clubs all scattered around the city – infinitely  more than there is in Sydney. In fact,  even graffiti is promoted as a tourist feature and in the case of Melbourne at least, with good reason.

There’s the famous ACDC Lane (named after the band) which showcases some of the cities upcoming graffiti artists, but there’s several other lane-ways and passages nearby which are home to hundreds of vastly more intricate and interesting characters. Each have been spray painted with care, ablaze in colour with many of them peaking from behind recently pasted band posters.

You can tell many of these wonderful and often mischievous characters are the result of a generation who’s youth was spent watching trippy 80’s cartoons, daily doses of  Seseme Street and endless hours spent playing Mario Brothers, Pac-Man, Sonic The Hedgehog, Alex Kidd and Donkey King.

You can see more images from the streets of Melbourne, in the slideshow at the bottom of this blog and here

Now we’ve covered ’static’ art in Melbourne, it seems only appropriate that I shed a bit of light on some ‘moving’ art we took in as well. Centrally located, the Australian Center For The Moving Image (more commonly know as ACMI) really was a highlight of the trip.

Admittedly, it’s name is rather pretentious, but once you get inside the center itself, it all begins to make sense. Throughout the entire exhibit, the history of “the moving image” is showcased. From its initial incarnation of shadows and puppets, through to the arrival of TV, its expansion into movies, strobe lights, delay effects all of which which lead onto video games, personal computers, the birth of the Internet, wireless devices and motion capture technology.

And far from being one of those tedious galleries where there are simply pictures and information heavy wall mounted plaques everywhere, the ACMI has models you could touch, twist, turn, rotate, pull, press and interact with.

ACMI – Matrix Stop Motion

Alex | MySpace Video

We even shamelessly played a few rounds of Pong, danced in front of a screen as giant Godzilla shaped shadow (complete with sound effects) and jumped very briefly into a starring role in The Matrix movie.

It’s the type of place where as a kid, you’d be unable to contain yourself, destined to walk around with your eyes wide open and a huge smile swept across your face and in fact, even as an adult, you’d be hard pressed not be impressed by the sheer fun and trip down memory lane on offer.

Next door was an exhibition by NZ artist Len Lye. Now I freely admit I’d never heard of the chap, indeed when I walked into the first room featuring his work, I rashly came to that conclusion as to why that was.

Projected onto the walls, was a collection of video displays featuring various coloured slides and shapes, in random patterns. It was tedious, directionless and incredibly uninspiring all at that same time. “I could have done that.” I thought and judging by the disappointed and weary looks from everyone else in the room, they all collectively agreed.

But how silly I was judge Len Lye with such flippant disregard, because as I rounded the corner into the second room, I was greeted with a spectacle that really did make change my opinion of him a complete 180 degrees.

The room was covered in dark grey carpet surrounded by even darker walls, 6 or so high intensity spotlights projected downwards onto 6 metal sculptures, all of which moved with a calm kinetic energy entirely of their own accord.

Sheets of metal that waved violently as you walked past, tiny strands of steels the width of your hair that shimmed as the air flow changed direction – it was as if every object had a personality, a mood and energy of its own. Beautifully done, crafted to perfection and mesmerising at the same time. The inanimate, literally coming to life.

The final part of the day, was spent under the band of a blurry rainbow, as we traversed some small market stalls, saw a lifesized cardboard castle / art installation (sounds exciting but it wasn’t lol) and then headed back late afternoon for a seriously yummy Mexican dinner in South Yarra.

Later that night we went and saw the second Marilyn Manson show in Melbourne (we had seats this time) and I have to stay it was a marked improved from the night previously. The band seemed to put more effort in and the sound was noticeably better. ( Still not a patch on the Sydney shows though.)

After the show, we found ourselves back at the Crown Casino (the only thing centrally located that was open past 11.30pm on a Sunday) having the few drinks in the lobby, surrounded by the constant whirring of machines and squeals of delight as people hit numerous jackpots.

There was even a famous b-grade actor floating around, I have no idea what his name was, but his ADDIDAS tracksuit and Brooklyn accent lead me to believe he was probably in The Soprano’s or another mafia / gangster affair. But probably the funniest part of the evening, was reserved for the food court at the casino.

Imagine the type of people you’d get in there at 2am, ties all loose, bloodshot eyes, empty wallets, high heels in hand, ordering kebabs and a chips whilst wearing suits and sequins! If I tried to remember all the wonderful characters that were stumbling around at that hour, I would be here forever – but the stand outs in my mind, would have to be the guy in the baby blue, one piece suit with trainers on and SERIOUSLY a cougar version of the lovable Vicky Pollard from Little Britain. I can’t tell how upset I was, that I didn’t have my camera on me

And then, Monday, quick breakfast in the city (yes, it was MUCH better than Hairy Canary I’m please to report) before leaping on the SkyBus and heading back to the airport.

It had a been a quick holiday, but a much needed break. I think looking back on it all, Yummy Yasmin and I really crammed in a lot of things during such a short stay, I only really went down to see Marilyn Manson, so it was great that we got to do all that extra stuff in between.

Melbourne then….would I live there? Probably not. But do I think it’s a great place to visit? Absolutely

Alex

You can see more photos from the trip here, or by hitting play on the slideshow below

I don’t profess to be the greatest photographer ever, but when it comes to taking  photos, I try to do so, first with my heart and then my head. 

I hope you find a little bit of Sydney in them like I do. If you can’t see the slideshow below, click here 

Enjoy,
Alex

So before I went back to work, on the 6th of January I did the Coogee to Bondi Beach walk along the cliffs. if you haven’t done it yet, you really should it’s beautiful. Also a really good way to clear your mind, get away from the city and just stare out in the vast expansion of the Pacific Ocean.

I took some photos whilst I was there, here’s a preview of one of them.

You can view more at the bottom of this blog, or on my official Flickr profile.

Hope you like

Alex