Art in Nantes

This time last week I was looking forward to getting  out with my camera (I’ll let you guess which one) and getting me some art!  The sun was guaranteed, and temperatures were on the up.  I would get my art and go to the pub for a pint or two with friends.  

On the Gram I had seen quite a few photos taken in the Castle Courtyard showing art inspired by French decolonialisation, and the Atlantic Slave Trade, by the Benin artiste Romuald Hazoumé. The Expo is open to the public until the 14th November 2021 in the Castle.  Romual Hazoumé, born in 1962 in Benin, creates sculptures using plastic jerry cans, giving a subtle critique of political figures and political systems in modern Africa.

Hazoumé recycles matter, junk, and objects that have served their purpose, which he uses in the original state, or deformed to represent his vision of society, events, or planet-wide concerns.  The artist revisits History, conserving a present link to the news.  His research is shown in monumental and hard-hitting works of art, showing his militantism against all forms of slavery, corruption, traffic, that are translated into witness of what is happening right now in the world.

The question of migrationary fluxes and their consequences, questions the western world, and the African continent, and asks further questions about egalitarian exchange, has become central to his more recent works.

I therefore think about slavery and our role in it:  the original African slave trade, followed by the Arab slave tribe, followed by the European slave trade, and eventual abolition, in Europe and our Colonies, and taken up again in Africa with migrations due to war and economics.  We hear all kinds of tales about Africans being sold to Libyans so the migrants “can repay their debt,” and then hope for a better life if they survive the crossing of the Mediterranean.  Some don’t make it and are washed up tragically on our shores.  The image of the three-year-old boy who washed up dead, Alan Kurdi, near Bodrum broke all our hearts and brought the war in Syria to the headlines, and especially the human cost of this war.   I’m not saying that the migrant crisis is the same as the slave trade, but there are parallels. 

I was always aware of the salve trade, having been brought up in Hull, where our local MP, William Wilberforce, was responsible for the abolition of slavery in the British Empire with the Slave trade Act in 1807.  This always gave me a real sense of pride of being from Hull!  France was to wait until 1815, with the decree coming into force in 1826.  We would have to wait until 1848 for emancipation in the French colonies. 

The Act created fines for ship captains who continued with the trade. These fines could be up to £100 per enslaved person found on a ship. Captains would sometimes dump captives overboard when they saw Navy ships coming in order to avoid these fines. The Royal Navy, which then controlled the world’s seas, established the West Africa Squadron in 1808 to patrol the coast of West Africa, and between 1808 and 1860 they seized approximately 1,600 slave ships and freed 150,000 Africans who were aboard. The Royal Navy declared that ships transporting slaves would be treated the same as pirates. Action was also taken against African kingdoms which refused to sign treaties to outlaw the trade, such as “the usurping King of Lagos”, who was deposed in 1851. Anti-slavery treaties were signed with over 50 African rulers.

In the 1860s, David Livingstone’s reports of atrocities within the Arab slave trade in East Africa stirred up the interest of the British public, reviving the flagging abolitionist movement. The Royal Navy throughout the 1870s attempted to suppress “this abominable Eastern trade”, at Zanzibar in particular. In 1890 Britain handed control of the strategically important island of Heligoland in the North Sea to Germany in return for control of Zanzibar, in part to help enforce the ban on slave trading.

How sad they would be to see the world today!  The Artists shown in the Expo, created works to show modern slavery, one of the works being based on the story of Alan Kurdi, which is a dice, where people put their faith in their God, and try and make it to a better life in Europe, seen as this Eldorado where they will be free.  Sometimes I think the only difference between them and my own story is that I was born in a different country.  We may worship God in different ways, but when it comes down to it, we all have the same aspirations, a better life for our children, to be able to feed, clothe, and give them a roof over their heads. 

That was a pretty intense introduction and not as comical as some of my other articles, but this is a serious matter, I’ll get less serious in the next paragraph.  We cannot but feel something deep inside us whilst contemplating these works of art.  Put yourself in the position of a Syrian parent and it just comes home to you… 

I will try and get a little less heavy, and continue the story of my day.  I left the castle  and walked up towards the Cathedral, thinking that the Psalter’s Garden would be a lovely place to have a modest picnic, and reflect on what I had just seen.  I didn’t have anything to eat, but knew where I could change that.  There is a lovely bakery that makes really amazing sandwiches.  Trigger warning.  I am about to tell a Dad joke.  Why do you never go hungry in the desert?  Because of all the sand which is there…  You know what?  I’m not even sorry.  So I went back to the Garden, with food this time, which helps a picnic be a picnic.  I found a bench, parked my backside on it.  So relieved that it didn’t make any noise as I sat down.  This garden is one of the favourite places of a friend of mine who has consented to be a guest writer on my blog.  As I ate I transferred the photos from my camera onto my phone so I could create a story of the day for the Gram, which would go on to be a series of reels (short videos for Instagram). 

I had eaten, thrown my trash into the bin, and headed off to get on a bus.  Yes, me, on a bus.  For the last 20 years, and country living, public transport has become a rare occurrence.  You know how satisfying a pint of beer that somebody bought for you is?  Or how sweet the pint offered by the pub landlord?  I think you do.  It is always sweeter and finer and so satisfying.  Well, somebody  in the city council here in Nantes had the brilliant idea of making public transport free on a weekend. What a wonderful idea!  Now public transport isn’t beer, which I’m sure you, Dear reader, are well aware of, but there was a certain satisfaction of being able to get on a bus and not have to use a ticket, and knowing that a ticket inspector would not inspect the ticket that you didn’t use.  In my life I have learnt to savour these small mercies offered to us.

I was enjoying the ride so much that I actually missed my stop where I had to change busses.  Normally this would send my anxiety into overdrive, but not today.  I just got on the bus going the other way, and went back two stops.  Changed busses, and arrived at the terminus, which was the Hangar a Bananes, where the big massive crane is, that you might have seen in some of my photos.  As part of the Voyage à Nantes in 2011, the whole place has been given a new lease of life, and in the afternoon and early evening, it’s a great spot.  You might want to avoid it at around 2am to 3am, as it can get a little worrisome.  I, however, was there from about 2pm to 3pm, so unless a rather rotund gentleman wearing a Panama hat, and with a camera around his neck, scares you, then you’re fine!

You will however see the Anneaux de Buren, or the Buren Rings standing to attention in a long line that follows the river.  Do not worry either, about, one ring ruling them all, stray Wizards telling you that you will not pass, or small people with very hairy feet trying to find a place to eat breakfasts…  There will be people enjoying a drink and a bit to eat, or going to the Canteen for lunch or dinner, and if you further enough down you might be able to walk on the moon, visit the very depths of the ocean, and if you’re lucky, you might just be able to spot an elephant!

I was aiming for the HAB Gallerie, which is the Hangar à Bananes Gallerie.  The clue is in the name.  I wanted to go to see the exhibition with works by Gilles Barbier.  Again, I had seen photos on the Gram, and wanted to see what all the fuss was about.  It, too, was free, so why not.  I’m not saying I had spent the day consuming art, but possibly, kind of.  I’m not quite sure.

For the first time, the artist was showing his paintings of the “Pages du Dictionnaire” lifted from the Petit Larousse.  Which is not the same as the Petitblond, but can be equally satisfying.  Did you see that little play on words about beer there?  You might have to speak French to get, so to all non Frenchie people, I apologise.  I thought it was funny, and on a slightly higher level than the desert joke.  Apparently, to get the most out of this blog you have to be a photo geek, into photography, and ever so slightly Francophile.  If that is not you, then I hope you can find something that pleases you.  I’m working with what I’ve got people!

So where was I?  Yes, looking at a slightly surrealist exhibition, including huge paintings of the insides of a dictionary, cum encyclopedia, which for those born this century, is what old people used before Google!  Shit I feel old all of a sudden!  So these massive paintings of the 1966 edition, which are very detailed and as interesting to read as to contemplate.  It’s an ongoing project and he’s got to P.  As any one would after drinking all those Rousse beers!  Hey, I found that funny!

Dear Reader, I am obviously a complete idiot, and because of my idiocy, you are about to get a different ending to this article as I didn’t press save, even though I was convinced that I had. I had even scheduled this article to come out at a certain time and end everything. Jesus saves, and so should I!

I think it was something along the lines of talking about the enigma that is the art of Gilles Barbier. It’s slowly coming back to me so you’ll get the main points. In the early 2000’s a company put out an advert saying that they would pay an obscene amount of money to the person that would get their logo tattooed on their forehead. The deed was done, and I was reminded of that when seeing one of Gille’s very realistic sculptures. It was as if the person had gone full hog and got tattoos of so many logos. The sculpture is of an old lady lying naked on a chaise long, covered in various logos. It was one of the most disturbing things I seen all day, and at the same time so fascinating. It really makes you think about the permanence of a tattoo, and makes you wonder what on earth people were thinking! It was like the ultimate corporate sell out. There were more sculptures of heads spewing forth diatribes, others of melted cheeses with philosophical quotes, and to finish, a sculpture made out of femurs and human hip bones. Talk about stripping ideas down to their very core.

If the purpose of Art is to make us question ourselves, or at least mark us in some small way, or even just not to allow us to pass by with indifference, then the Art in Nantes had fulfilled its role admirably. I’m really looking forward to the Voyage à Nantes 2021 and seeing what they have prepared for us! Nantes isn’t a perfect place, but they are good with culture, and free public transport on a weekend! Not sure about free beer though. They might not be ready for that even though quite a few Nantais might…

Right just to finish, as you might have guessed, the camera for the outing was the X100F. Last week I talked about the website FUJI X Weekly, and it’s author Ritchie Roesch, and I decided to try one of the recipes. Kodachrome, just the mere mention of it will make older photographers just get really nostalgic. Well the young Mr Roesch decided to take on a trip to Nostalgieville, and I thought I would give it a go. Most of you know that I am more into black and white photography than colour, but the blues of the sky, and the colours all around me, and the strong sunlight made me want to give it a try. Soooo, I did. I found the recipe to be more akin to Portra 160 and very slightly overexposed, just the way I would do if I were using the film. But I loved the results and will be using it more often during this summer period.

Thank you for humouring me and my quickly rewritten end to this article. See you next week, and we’ll see what I come up with!

 

 

The Fujifilm X100F

I use a Fuji X100F as my every day camera and love it for different reasons.  Firstly, this article is not a collaboration with Fuji or anyone else for that matter.  Will I fan boy on my Fuji camera?  Possibly.  Is that a problem for me?  Nope.  Is that a problem for you?  I haven’t a clue, but if it is you might want to wait for the next article…

Here is a link to the manufacturer’s site, which will give you all the techy stuff.  I don’t really care about that.  It’s part of the camera of course, but not just.  I’ll take you back to 2018 when I bought the camera.  I had a Sony bridge, which was fine, but left me wanting, like a French cup of tea, or an English so called baguette.  I mean they try hard, but it’s not just quite there.  The fact that I could only get jpegs and not raw files was bugging me like a small child who has more patience that I do.

I have never done a review article yet, and after this one and feedback, might not try again.  I’m counting on you Mummy to put me right!  I don’t even have a plan for what I’ll be writing so you might just be reading the edited version of this article which hasn’t even been written yet.

Anyway…  Back to the subject in hand.  I had done a large amount of film photography to get me over my photographic frustrations.  It was really doing it for me too, and I would get a huge amount of pleasure.  The negatives and scans were giving me some beautiful images, and my mother has a huge print of one those images on the wall in their house.  I might have overdone it again.  It’s massive on their wall and is definitely a “statement” piece.   And that statement was even though not my childhood home, it’s still a beautiful part of the world to be able to call home.

Why am I not talking about a Fuji camera yet?  Because I’m doing the groundwork and preparation for my story.  I want you there with me in that strange place called my brain.  So my photography was analogic, without too much logic, but that’s my problem.  I also got into my film funk which was cured thanks to lockdown.  If you’re really keen you can read about it here.

So, I was at the beginning of my film funk, and was wanting to replace film with a digital camera.  I had perused the internet and YouTube looking for reviews and articles and results of said cameras.  I had been into the shops and had looked at the cameras face to face, and was thinking very seriously about either a bridge, but a really nice Lumix one with a Leica lens, and whist in the shop I saw the X100F just sitting there in the display, and I could hear it talking to me, yes this crap does happen in my head, and it was saying, “buy me, you know you want to!”   I answered, “Oooooooh, you are one sexy camera, but just let me have a look at the rest, just in case.”  I mean the price tag alone was saying, “I think you might want to talk to your bank manager about this…”  And I was desperately trying to think how can I explain this to my wife, who was used to various film cameras turning up on our doorstep. 

Well, I had the yearly 13th month bonus.  Look it up of you don’t know about life in France.  And that was what tilted the scale in my favour.  I remember going to the shop with my wife, because this is serious business.  I purchased the camera, ordered the rather sexy leather strap and case on the internet, and took my new baby home. 

It was exactly the same size and weight as my Pentax ME Super, and had the same kind of feel.  When you look at it you can mistake it for a film camera, with the dials for exposure compensation, film speed, and shutter speed.  The aperture is on the lens just like the rest of my film cameras.  It feels just like a film camera in my hands, which, is a great plus.  It has a leaf shutter, so is silent, therefore discreet, and for street photography is perfect.  The lens is a 35mm equivalent F2.0 lens which is great for me and is built into the camera, so you can’t change it, but it simplifies everything, and for somebody used to 50mm F1.7 or f1.8 depending on the camera, the transition was easy.  Another thing that tilted the balance were the film simulations.  Classic Chrome is a wonderful thing and is my “go to” when shooting colour.  It gives a beautiful vintage tone, and even better when you over expose by one stop, but be careful not to blow out those highlights.  I was used to black and white photography and that had become etched in my brain thanks to Ilford and HP5+.  So when I discovered the Acros black and white film simulation with a red filter, I was home.  To be honest it’s what I use nearly all the time.  I still have my RAW files with all the information, but the JPEGS are just amazing, as you will see on my Instagram feed.

Some have called it the poor man’s Leica, but I refuse to put 10 grand into a camera, because my wife would make my life a living hell, and I wouldn’t be able to take it out in case somebody nicked it.  I like good gear, but I’m not paying silly money despite my desires to own one.  It’s not worth it to me.  But if anybody wants to give me one then I would of course accept with tremendous grace, but as if that’s going to happen!

So I have this beautiful object in my hands and want to get out there trying it out.  And boy did I try it out.    I remember talking about it in one of my first articles on this blog.  There was a whole gang of us that had decided to meet up and you smell the testosterone.  Each camera bigger and larger than the next one.  It was like a penis size contest and I turn up with my discreet X100F.  We went round Nantes taking pictures and you could feel a certain “size matters” feel to the whole thing.  That was until we started comparing pictures!  Yes it’s not huge but I know how to use it!  I definitely felt less intimidated at that moment.

“They” say it’s a street photographer’s camera.  “They” say that due to its small size, it’s a great travel camera.  “They” also tend to say that it is great for documentary photography.  Sometimes “they” are right, but not about everything.  It also works really well in the studio and the auto focus works like a doosey!  And when you show the client those colours, then they get over the discreetness of its size and realise that you don’t always need a massive DSLR to be a serious photographer.

I had also wanted to do some night time photography on the streets in Nantes, and because of it’s smaller size people don’t feel threatened by it.  It is silent, and, as I’ve said before and allows you to get up close. 

But why should you get a new camera?  If you have the money, then why not.  But that’s not the main reason.  I bought my X100 for more than just that.  I had “grown out” of my previous camera and could only see the limitations.  I wanted a camera that would help me develop as a photographer.  With the settings on automatic, and just using exposure compensation I have been able to concentrate on just getting the shot.  Seeing a shot in the street.  Composing.  Putting the camera to my eye, and taking the shot.  It really feels like my old film cameras except that with the EVF (electronic view finder) I know what I will be getting.  This has allowed me to get away from just settings, and concentrating more on my photography.  You soon get very used to seeing the world in 35mm, and it gives me more room to capture a scene than a 50mm.  So, for that reason alone, it is worth getting one.  Even a second hand one.  They’re coming down in price since the latest super duper model was released, the Fujifilm X 100 V.  Do I want one?  Honestly?  Yes , because who doesn’t like a new camera.  Will I get one?  No.  I don’t have the need for one.  My X100F is more than what I need. 

Do you have a camera that just takes you to your happy place when you go out shooting?  I do.  My Mamiya C220.  And when I want to go digital, I have my X100F.  I get happy, by just getting in the car and having it with me.  I know that I will have a good few hours taking photos.  Do I like my Canon DSLR?  Definitely especially with my 16-35mm lens, but it’s heavy, and makes you look like a proper photographer, but it’s like having a Citroen 2CV.  Is it the best car in the world?  Nope.  Is it the fastest car in the world?  Nope.  Does it just have style and makes you feel good?  Damn right people!

They say the proof is in the pudding.  As long as there is chocolate in that pudding then I’m good.  Take note of my love of tea, and cake!  At the top of each article, you can see the tags used.  If you click on the X100f tag, then you will see the photos, which speak louder than words.

Before I conclude this fan boy article I would just like to talk briefly about Fuji X Weekly!  If the X100F is a film shooters digital camera, then this web site will give you “recipes” that will emulate different film stocks, even like Kodachrome, that sadly died in 2009.  RIP Kodachrome.  The geeks will understand me.  So if you have a Fuji, then go and check it out!

So let’s see where we are.  Is the X100F a great camera?  Yes.  Does it look wonderful?  Yes.  Even last Saturday, I got complements about how beautiful my camera is!  Felt elated for ages.  Is it great for street photography?  Yes.  It’s small and not heavy, so having it around your neck all day is fine.  And it still gets the job done, which in the end, is what we’re all after.  Getting that image, without our camera or our own incompetence getting in the way.  Like Marie Kendo, does it inspire joy?  Yes, by the truckload.  And if a camera can inspire you get out and take photographs, then it’s a winner in my eyes.  Thank you Fuji for having created the X100 line of cameras, and thank you for the X100F!

Cassiopée, Queen or Constellation?

The Cassiopée that I will be talking about is neither. She is not a star that looks like the letter W, nor is she an arrogant queen of Aethiopia who annoys the god of the sea. Mine is a barber. She works where I get my beard taken care of was part of the article showing a series of portraits that I did for the salon O Barber, 2 rue de Paré, Nantes.

She is part of this generation that is our future and is part of the Instagram experience, where image has become the king as well as a projection of self-image. Back in the day, when I had hair, yes Dear Reader, there was such an age even though it was many many years ago, we expressed ourselves through our clothes, what we smoked, and the kind of beer that we drank. Now they use a little device that lives in your pocket and broardcasts to the world. Scary isn’t it!

Anyway. Cassi was very happy with the photos I took of her in the barbershop, and asked if it were possible to have some new photos. I of course jumped at the chance to add to my “œuvre” and to add to my “répertoire.” Since the barbershop photos, she had changed her look, as you will be able to by checking here. I was very flattered that she asked me. I asked what kind of photos she wanted, studio, or on location, and black and white or colour. She chose location and colour. I remember my son’s ex-girlfriend Elise, who said I should try and do more colour photography as it was something she thought I was good at. Well, for once, she was right about something, so I thought, right matey, let’s get some colour. Cassi suggested the Île de Nantes, with its machines, and the famous Buren Rings, but my mind went back a week to where I had done my last photos. Trentemoult. It’s a village that just breathes colour and I knew I would be able to get something good out of my location.

Like most plans that have been well laid out, things never seem to go to plan. We had already pushed back the rendez-vous by one hour to avoid the rain. Great. I was bang on time, and even managed to find a parking space, which was part of the plan… What wasn’t part of the plan were train delays, replacement bus services, the wind coming off the river, and my model being an hour late. Improvise, adapt and overcome. We ended up chatting on Instagram following her progress, and my need to improvise, nearly lead me to a café terrace, adapting to a beer, and overcoming the wait, but I resisted, and remained patient, getting out of the wind. Even the ferryman had problems sailing up to the quay.

She arrived, apologising with as much gusto as the wind, and I said not to worry, let’s get out of the wind and start shooting. She was very soon at ease and we got on with it. Wondering around the streets using the coloured walls as backdrops, and getting the shot. In my mind I had been wondering about the colour of her outfit, and how to incorporate complimentary colours into the shots. She wore a little black dress with white polka dots. Perfect! I would take my series of shots, show her on the camera screen, and it gave us both confidence in the process. Wandering around I would see a wall, see the colour in my mind and say, could you possibly just put yourself up against this wall please? Which she did with grace. Then can you just crouch down, thinking how lucky I was not to have to do the same. Middle age and arthritic knees do not mix well.

It’s a beautiful little village, and very bohemian chic, or Bo-bo, for the French.  Very stylish, trendy lefties, ecologically aware rich people, who have gentrified what was a fishing village on the Loire, but still allow the hoi polloi like me to come along and use it as a film location.  At every turning, we would get a new colour and new feel to each photo.  I have actually done black and white photography here too and it works just as well, but the colours are amazing.  Did I mention how colourful the place is?  Because it’s really colourful, and makes the rainbow flag look quite boring!

After an hour we had a certain amount of photos and I had something I could work on.I offered to drive her to the station so she less things to worry about, dropped her off and went to the pub!  Because I can, and more so because they’re open!!  I improvised, finding a spot on the terrase, and Simon, Stephanie, and Evan, greeted me with fist bumps, which has become the new handshake.  Simon came over and asked would I like a Guinness, so I decided to adapt and say, yes please.  It was lovely just sitting down watching the world go by, judging it, and looking at pretty women.  I was overcome with joy.  What more do you need.  Well, a couple of friends that I hadn’t seen for eight months whilst the pub was shut due to government Covid restrictions, invited me over to their table.  At last I was able to talk bollocks again and make people laugh.  Pure bliss!

On Monday Cassi was already asking me when she could have her pictures.  Apparently patience is not her forte.  I said that I would start the editing process and the inevitable cull of photos that Monday evening.  By the end of the first night  the cull had been done.  Some because the composition was off, some didn’t turn out the way that I had hoped, others because the auto focus hadn’t focussed they way I thought it had.  By about ten that night she already had some images for the Gram. 

Where it gets surreal is that I put some of the images in my stories on Instagram, and Google, in it’s wisdom suggested some collages for me, that I added on at the end.  So I thought what the heck and why not. Little did I know that Cassi would react.  She asked me very nicely and kindly to remove one of the stories, because she thought her cheeks were too big on the photos proposed by Google.  I of course took the photos down, but it pushed my mind into questions of self worth, self image, the place of the image in this modern world where we are no longer just an image, but ust create a public persona and sell ourselves to the world!

I told her that I thought she looked lovely on each photo that I had taken. I mean we have to love ourselves. To put not too fine a point on it, I entered Dad mode!

“Right, you know I’m a Dad, and strangely enough I see the world through the eyes of a Dad. I will therefore talk to like a Dad. You will listen, and listen well. We are allowed to have complexes concerning our physical aspect, especially with al the images that are on Instagram, Facebook, on on the more traditional media. We live in an age where “Image” is king. Well you have to put it in its place. There are men who like arses, some boobies, some like skinny girls, some like girls with a bit more body. But that only counts in physical and sexual attraction. You can’t base a long-term and durable relationship on just being pretty. If you boyfriend just stops at your physical appearance, it might be time to change boyfriends. There is already so much hate in this world, and enough people to hate us, why waste time hating ourselves, when others can do it perfectly well for us. Shouldn’t we love ourselves the way we are already? With an unconditional love? And here’s something else, we are more than just our good looks! We are our own person! we have so many facets that shine in this world. Sometimes it’s hard to see ourselves shine, but we still shine despite that! There I’ve said it!!! Think what you may. You’re a great girl. You are pretty. You have beauty. Please let yourself shine. The world needs it!”

Sometimes this world that we live in is so perverse. The media fills us with all our complexes. The say we are too thin, so bulk up, or we are too big, so slim down. You have long hair, then cut it. You have short hair, then let it grow. You have curly hair, then straighten it, you have straight hair, then curl it. The day we can accept ourselves the way we are, the world will become an easier place to live in.

I’m fat. There, you might have already guessed it. Do I look like Brad Pitt? Nope. But then again, Brad doesn’t look like me. His loss. Do I love my body and do I have issues with it? Yup. Will that stop me living? Nope. Will I ever be a top model? Probably not. Do I care? Not in the slightest. I am me. My body helps me move around, to love, to work, to hug my wife and children. That’s a damned good start.

Anyway. Let us leave the stage for Cassi and the colours of Trentemoult! Canon 6D Mark ii, and the 85mm f1.8 Canon lens.

CYSO City Youth Symphony Orchestra (Hull)

Right, this post might be a little introspective and even border on the nostalgic.  Mother, you have been warned, read on at your own peril. 

This week has been a good one.  In fact, it’s been a really good one.  Last weekend I was on holiday and it seems to have been nothing less than a Godsend!  For those of you who know nothing of me outside photography, you will now learn that I work in a factory in France that makes doors.  Yes, I work in a French Doors factory, even if that corny gag might get me shot at dawn.  Every Summer we would get four weeks holiday during August.  The whole factory just shut down for the month.  For those of you who have just got over the initial shock from that statement I will continue.  We’ll pick the others up later on.  We shut down for the month of August as do our clients, and the majority of country. Now we only get three weeks. Ah well… August is probably one of the best times to visit Paris.  They’re all on holiday and visiting their families in the provinces or following the latest holiday trend darling! 

That was the status quo and we all know it and it was good.  But, little did we know, Covid was just around the corner getting ready to bitch slap us all.  As a result of the first lockdown, the management thought, well, we need to work the first week of August “to be there for our clients” and the remaining week would be taken at a later date.  That later date was last week, for the week of the Ascension.  For those of you who aren’t Catholic or even Christian, the Ascension is when Jesus went back to heaven and said “I’ll be back,” but not “Hasta la vista Baby.”  That was somebody else.

Anyway, back to the subject in hand.  I have had my week’s holiday and it was very lovely.  Just what I needed.  This last week has been just as good.  The time at work has flown by, and yes I’m up to date on everything.  What has changed?  I have started walking my son’s dog.  1, because I can.  2.  Because I think she enjoys it, and seeing her getting all excited when she sees me putting on my shoes is a real ego boost.  We get into the car and I drive off to our local forest where we walk and take in Mother Nature.  Well kind of, because it’s a managed forest and the trees were planted mostly by man, but who cares, it gets me outside.  The dog is called Molly, and she’s a cross between a Spaniel and a Teckel, which means she loves sniffing everything and following trails. 

I used to identify uniquely as a “cat person” and today I am deciding to do my “coming out” as bi-petual.  I like both cats and dogs.  Yes another horrifying shock for my poor parents.  I’m really getting into this dog walking thing.  We have a few circuits that we enjoy.  The Forêt de Grasla, the Mare aux Canards, which, when I first heard my daughter talking about going first sounded like to my deaf ears Maracena, which I always thought was in Brazil, and behind the village in the vines.

The number of paces that I do a day has gone up from 7000 to a peak of 16000 yesterday.  Could this be a sneaky way of that dog telling me that I’m fat, that I shouldn’t eat as much, that I should give her some of my food instead, and move my booty?  Who cares?  It seems to be doing me good!

Where was I?  Ah yes.  Those of you who have eagle eyes, and who read the titles of my articles will be wondering what do France, dogs, holidays, and fat people have to do with a Youth Orchestra, or Hull even?  And you’d be right.  You might argue that the title was nothing more than pure click bait, and you will want to assassinate me on Twitter.  I’m not on Twitter, so unlucky you! 

So music…  Some of you who only know me with a camera in my hand and do not read all my posts, might not know that I lead a double life.  I dabble a bit in music.  Another contender for Understatement of the Year 2021.  I’ll try and go through as quickly as I can prepare the terrain for the main bit of this article and not the waffle at the beginning and my mind wandering and wondering.

When I was 6 years old I saw the guards parading on Horseguards Parade in London, and declared that one day I would do that.  I was in awe of the music, and I was hooked.  I started learning the horn at boarding school, and when boarding school was no longer the best place for me, I came home to Hull (the last word in the title).  You see, I’m getting there…

Well just a couple of days ago I was added to a Facebook Group by an old teacher of mine.  The Group is called “City of Hull Youth Symphony Orchestra (CYSO) Memories” which is for those of us fortunate enough to have played in the orchestra or one the City Youth Ensembles, and who went through the musical education system in Hull.  You end up seeing some familiar names spring up as do the flowers in the hedgerows on the way to work.  Recollections of concerts, and above all the hard work that went into them.  The work that non-musicians don’t get too see.  People talking about the well known character, GHS.  Geoffrey Heald Smith who managed to achieve legend status in many ways, not all good, but for music he was amazing.  He had this passion for music that he was able to “distil” in us.  The individual instrument teachers would come into your school and give you lesson whilst you were at school.   I have heard him described as a bully, an amazing musician, a legend, a source of fear, a drunk, a teacher, a conductor, an inspiration, a man of his time.  Take your pick, he was all of the above and more, and had a great impact on a whole generation of musicians in my home city.  He made an orchestra out of the teachers and would visit the schools to play for the pupils and try and get us interested in music.  These were like a breath of fresh air for me, but depending on his sobriety of lack thereof, things could be “difficult”.

When I was 11 I was in a new school in Hull after three years of boarding school.  My main preoccupations were, avoiding getting my head kicked in, avoiding being bullied, being accepted, and living through the general shitstorm that was going on around me.  1984.  Crap year for the miners, but not just the miners.  I was fed up of everything and let’s say that my early tutorage from my new horn teacher wasn’t going the way I wanted it to go.  Luckily, that changed.  I was about to give up, and my mother was distraught.  She called in GHS to speak some sense into me and to convince me to carry on.  He came to the school and we sat down and talked.  I seem to remember him telling me that sure, I could give up, and another child would take my instrument and my place, or I could continue and be part of something bigger than myself. Those 15 minutes changed my life, and I will be forever grateful to the man.

I would continue with my teacher, and I would like to thank Mr Oglesby for his patience, and his dedication to turning me into a horn player.  I joined the system and as I learnt my craft, I moved from training orchestra, to junior orchestra, and the junior wind band.   I passed my Grade V and became eligible to try and audition for the City Youth Orchestra.  It was a very good school for me as a musician and helped install a discipline that I carry with me to this day.  Practice, practice, practice.  No passengers allowed, somebody can always take your place.  Of course, egos were made and broken.  I remember one concert where the principal trumpet was replaced by a pro, as he hadn’t turned up for enough rehearsals.  It was no nonsense, and you learned not to talk or fidget during rehearsals.  The City youth Concerts took place in the City Hall, which was one of those Concert halls from the beginning of the century, built in 1909, and as a child was very awe-inspiring.  It was massive to me, and I remember being told to sell tickets for each concert, as we had to fill the place. It has a capacity of 1200 seats!

During my days in the orchestra, symphony orchestra, which became the concert orchestra, the symphonic wind band, and the Swing band, in the late 80’s I would be in the music centre about 5 days a week, be it for Aural and music theory training, orchestra or ensemble rehearsals.  There was so much talent in those orchestras that as an unsure and awkward teenager trying to deal with my childhood, I felt so inadequate.  There were people that would go on to become professional teachers, musicians, orchestrators, who all just seemed to ooze talent.  I was probably that weird kid who played the horn, that meant well, but was on the periphery.  Sure, I had mates that I would talk with but was by no means as talented as some. They are, however, whom I think of when I think about my musical youth.

I remember concerts, tours, getting up to no good in Switzerland but managing to be OK despite my turbulent youth.  There were rites of passage, which contributed to make me the musician I am today.  I no longer live in Hull, as all the French photography may indicate, and I now live over here in France and have done since 1994.  That’ll teach me!  I remember my first rehearsals in the local orchestra in Noisy Le Sec, and the professional horn players who would teach us and guide us, said they knew that I was English in the way that I approached music.  I did it without an ego, and knew my role in the section and was a section member and not and frustrated soloist.  I knew that I was there to serve the music, and not for the music to serve me.  I was also a lot more disciplined that my French counterparts, who are always talking, fidgeting etc, but are not as bad as the Italians are.  Even my present musical director seems to see me as the pillar on which the horn section can rely on.  I’m still not a fan of being principal horn and generally play second horn.  My favourite position will always be 4th horn which is the bass of the section, the motor, and gives a base on which to carry the other three.

So…. Off to Paris tomorrow with my son for an epic Ian and Killian day. I might even take a camera along and get some photos.

Why do I bother taking photos?

Sometimes you read an article, or watch a YouTube video that makes you sit up and think, yeah, that person’s right about that. Why do I even bother? Is it about self-validation through the Gram? Is it the process? Is it to provide a document?

Watch the video first and then we’ll come back and have a chat. OK?

So why do I bother taking photos? Well? Have I slipped into the “selling myself” on the Gram, and also trying to find a social acceptation and validation through my photography? Quite possibly, but not solely, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t give a damn about the likes. I love it, but despite that I would still continue. This past week I have been on holiday. I have been looking at the weather to see what kind of light I could get, but more importantly to see if I would get rained on! Sgt Gilbert once told me dinnae worry Petal, your skin’s waterproof. And he was of course right. But I do have a preference for being dry, the way I like my Martini.

So why do I do I bother? I could go on about my fascination with cameras that started at an early age and developed as time went on. You can read about all that on my About Me page. I still get off when I go into a camera store, but strangely more when I go into a film camera store and see all the historical models and stuff from another era, que les moins de vingt ans, pourraient jamais connaître, as Aznavour said in one of his songs. But it’s not just the kit, despite having spent a certain amount of money collecting. I have to justify each thing I buy and it has to allow me to progress. Sure I’d love a Leica, and maybe one day I might acquire one, but I don’t need one to progress. But above all, I love the process. I love the process of going somewhere, getting my camera out, and just taking a photo. It’s amazing. My OCD loves doing film photography, because there are more steps to getting the photo and you have to go through more hoops to get there. Choosing the film you’re going to use, putting it into the camera which will shape the photographs you will take, and winding on the film after each shot. I also love the sound that the camera makes. The click and hearing the mirror going up and smacking back down telling you that you have just created and image. I don’t get that with digital cameras, but I still love Digital. It really is getting out, and just seeing what you’ll get. If I want more control over the outcome, then I’ll be in my studio where I can control everything. But isn’t leaving it to chance so much more exciting?

So does this still mean that I’m an amateur photographer? Can I still take photographs just for me? Yes, but I do like sharing them with you. But as I’m not selling my photography as a professional, I have this freedom to take photographs on my own terms. I can choose to go where I want to go. I can choose what is important to me especially when I’m out. This is what I did in that first outing of my holidays. Showing them here is like my Latrigue albums. Sure I share the hell out my articles, but it’s not like putting everything on the gram, and I’m well aware that not a huge amount of people will see them. Here people generally look just at the album at the end of each article. And you know what, that’s great!

Social Media will change, and so will Instagram. Some would say it has changed hugely from its inception. Facebook, has morphed into this huge monster too. But they are only temporary. Art, if I can be as bold to call what I do, art, has been around for centuries. Photography, is starting to get established after 150 years. People did it before Instagram, and will still do it when Instagram no longer exists. Will I still be doing it? Quite possibly. I have this need to create images. I have this desire to record the world around me. If people didn’t see them would it stop me? Probably not. Is it part of leaving a legacy for my children’s children, sharing events and places from my relatively short time on God’s earth? Definitely. A picture can tell a thousand words. I can see one of my photos, and remember what was going through my wind when I took it. It brings me right back to that instant.

The question raised in this video for me was about the process of photography, and would I still do it if nobody was to see any pf my photographs? Yes I definitely would. This photography lark has provided me with a kind of therapy which allows me to stand back from the world and observe it. I am no longer an actor, but merely an observer and I can press record if I want to. It gets me out of the house and outside trying to find new places and visit old places too. It has given me an opportunity to learn new techniques and offer myself different options to allow my creativity to manifest itself. There is still something so magical about creating an image that excites, and enthrals me. Yes I will keep going.

Thank you for perusing moments that no longer exist. Just as an after thought, I should probably tell you where these photos were taken. Trentemoult, just opposite Nantes, on the south bank of the Loire river. And taken on my Canon 6D Mark II, with the 16-35mm lens.

Beauty of the mundane update

I have been busy with my camera trying to find some beauty in the mundane and here is a little video showing my efforts for this week…

There are other photos and they will gradually be added to the Instagram feed so they’re off. It’s still a project and might change over time in the same way that this blog has. But at least it’s started.

PS. Strangely I have had a view from Russia and six people have downloaded my video…. weird.