Sea Mist

Right, I’m going to be completely honest with you Dear Reader, and tell you that the next few articles will be about my Summer (sorry 12 days in Summer) whilst in the UK. No novels, just photos. I might tell you a little about the context of the photos, how they happened, and under which circumstances they happened. So basically it’s my holiday snaps and not creative writing. Just thought it fair to warn you in case. You never know.

I mean, I say holiday snaps, but I have tried to keep a certain standard and make the photos look good! I wouldn’t dare do otherwise!

So, let’s get some context. The last time I was in Alnmouth I didn’t have my Canon 6D Mark II with me and I didn’t have my 16-35mm lens. As you might know by now, this is my other favourite set-up and rivals the Fujifilm X100F. Yes, I like to go a little wider when I can!

Now the following conditions were something that I had never seen before here but really knocked me for six. It was suddenly that the beach disappeared. This fog just came from the sea and ate up the entire village, like me, with a piece of cake. Gobbled it up as if it were the last cake on the plate. The whole place became quite eerie and when on the beach, I couldn’t even see the sea. I could only just make out some people sitting on the beach being very English and bloody-minded. Well, we got here. It’s foggy, but we’re still going to have a good time on the beach. It was almost French… Almost…

It was my first morning in the village and I had slipped out saying that I was off to take some photos. I was, of course, but said nothing about going to Scott’s of Alnmouth, which is a rather gorgeous deli, and coffee shop. It used to be the village Grocers, and I love what they’ve done to the place. It looks magnificent, and I also follow the owner on Instagram and was so happy to get there after so much time. I was welcomed as an old friend which always makes me feel special. The coffee was the best coffee that I had ever had in the UK, which is saying something. British people are good at tea. The French are excellent at coffee. The French have traumatised me with what they think of as a cup of tea. Warm tepid water with not enough tea, no milk, and a crappy little biscuit to say sorry. British coffee inspires the same disgust in me. Killian and I, famously, once tried Costa coffee, and said never again! And when I say never, I really mean never. However Scotts of Alnmouth destroyed the myth that the Brits know nothing about coffee, and I was very agreeably surprised. The generous slice of Tiffin that I had with it had nothing to do with my state of happiness. Well, it did, of course, but the coffee was superb!

Facebook went down on me!

Hello Dear Reader, maybe you don’t know what Facebook is, or Instagram, or WhatsApp, but yesterday they went down on the entire world, but not in a sexy way. Facebook is the Face of Social Media, Instagram is the camera of Social Media, and WhatsApp is where we tell everyone what we are doing by private message.  Twitter was where we were all taking the piss out of the aforementioned Social Media outlets last night.

This is a big thing in an ultra-connected world.  At work I listen to the Jeremy Vine show on BBC Radio 2, and they spent 30 minutes talking about it.  It has featured on all the news bulletins that I have heard today.  This is a big thing!  So many of us have mobile phones, and I’m not talking about the indestructible Nokia phones, whose batteries are still working.   I’m talking about “smartphones” that are so smart that they have degrees in smartness from Smarty-pants University.  They are capable of so much more than the computers that sent men to the moon, and they fit into your pocket! 

Some people with depression and social anxiety called in to say how they depend on Social Media to have a manageable contact with the outside world, others who use it to advertise their small businesses to those of us scrolling through, and others of us who are addicted and can’t put our phones down, because of the dreaded FOMO, or fear of missing out.

Whilst at work, my mind can wander, and something that comes back regularly is the desire to go back to my prep-school and tell them what the world is like in 2021, or forty years from now.  Some of my masters were WW2 veterans, others were baby boomers, and some of them weren’t actually that mad, despite appearances.  I remember one Maths lesson where the teacher told us to find arithmetic patterns in our times tables.  I got three and had to find the pattern.  My first algorithm.  Now these algorithms are omnipresent and artificial intelligence is using them and running the world, especially on these platforms.  Think back to Brexit, or the 2016 American elections. 

Smug people came onto the programme saying how we had lost the power of conversation, or how come people just don’t pick up the phone.  Some talked about the wake-up call.  Others were talking about Gen Z, who have lost the power of communication.  However, there is nuance everywhere, which is something these platforms like us to forget.  I see people like my daughter, who is always on her phone, but she is conversing and communicating non-stop with her friends at school or a version of her tribe.  My son does the same thing.  They communicate differently.  I often wonder what my First Form Master, Fr Gerald, would make of it all.  Now we use emoticons to reply to some of our messages.  Have we gone back to using hieroglyphs?  Is that a problem?  They say a picture can be worth a thousand words. 

How did I manage?  Not too badly.  To begin with, I was worried that my Internet might not be working. But I soon found out what was happening.  It wasn’t much of a hinderance.  I still had my music on Amazon Music, and I was scanning negatives for my son.  They were from 2016, and he shocked to see how he looked just 5 years ago.  I think he used the word cringe.  I missed putting them on Facebook to share them with the rest of my French family.  Maybe Facebook has its uses after all, and shouldn’t the rule be able about moderation?  Use it by all means, but don’t let it become your master.  I’m still glad that they’re online again…

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 prefer 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 know well that not a tremendous 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 enormous 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? 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 afterthought, 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.

Cloé in front of my lens

It was last Friday, and we were only doing 36 hours this week at work, so I was free on Friday afternoon. I like to go and visit my son, and his girlfriend, as I know I’ll be allowed to have a nice cup of tea and be able to talk photography without being told how boring I am. My daughter-in-law asked if I would like to come round as she was doing a photoshoot with somebody from Instagram. There was a friend to do make up and hair, and we would take it in turns being made up and photographed. Sounds like a deal right?

I of course turned up to early as they were getting the other girl from Nantes. I was asked if I could get pizza and off I went to get pizza; It’s easier like that. I got back and everyone was there. Elise, my ex-daughter-in-law, Maureen, to do the make up, and Cloé the girl from Instagram who was along for the ride. That morning I had piled up all my gear and put it in the boot ready for the off. I had a couple of lights and some modifiers for speedlights. It was going to be a good day. Tea, and pizza in the same phrase has to be a good omen.

Elise does a bit of YouTube and has a three light set up for her videos. Fine for video but not so good for photography. As you might have seen I have been exploring the use of artificial light in photography and seem to be on the, if not right path, then certainly a path that is taking me somewhere. So, I wasn’t a fan of these video lights and thereofre set up my own. A flash, that would flash into an umbrella and the light would come back through an translucent white diffuser giving off a nice soft light. Yes I’m a big softy! I had a new led light to act as a hairlight, and was able to turn the power down so it wasn’t too harsh.

Elise started off and it interests me immensely to see somebody else start working and see how they interact with the model. The model being Cloé already made up by Maureen. I would take the occasional “behind the scenes” for Elise. I wasn’t happy with the light, so when it was my turn I turned everything off and just allowed my lights to work their magic. i’m becoming a fan of this soft light and seem to have understood the basics of how it might work and what it might do for me.

Cloé wa already “warmed up” if you can say that, and we started talking about her complexes about the way she looks. I showed her the first photos that we were getting and she seemed happy with the way it was going. I shoot RAW and JPEG at the same time. It means that I can see my black and white image on the screen and it gives me an idea of what I will achieve later whilst editing. I will however only edit my RAW file, as each pixel contains so much more information than a JPEG file, and although less destrucive than back in the day, it is still a feature of JPEG files even though they have progressed immensely over the last 15 years.

We kept talking and caught her laughing at some of my Dad jokes that she hadn’t heard before. I would see a picture I like and then activate the shutter. The first few reminded me of Anne Frank, and what she might have looked like had she have survived the war. Now I’m feeling sad about all that suffering in the camps. What an utter waste of human life.

Anay, we kept going and the feeling of the photos changed and looked slightly more modern. It is 2021after all. I switched to the X100F which is usually for street photography but holds it’s own in a studio environment, and the 35mm equivalent lense was great for getting some full body shots. The fact that Cloé was sitting on the floor gave a very flattering angle and I think I might just have to do it more often.

Before showing you the photos I would like to say a huge thank you to the three girls for putting up with me and the very generous feed they gave me. It gives one such a boost, and at the moment it’s a wonderfull thing to have. Covid is getting right on my wick, and although I know that this situation is temporary, it feels slightly less temporary.

So the tools used for this shoot… Canon 6D Mark 2 with a 50mm F1.8 lens, a Fujifilm X100F with a converter so I could go from a 35mm equivalent to a 50mm equivalent. The fash was a GODOX TT600 speedlight with GODOX X1T triggers.

My old friend

My old friend melancholy is back with avengeance. She’s a bitch and knows exactly what you don’t want to hear. She reminds you that you are in a sexless marriage, that you are useless to everyone, and that you would be better off dead.

If I look for sex somewhere then I’m the shit, but it’s not the “done thing” to impose oneself. And sex is not just the only thing lacking in my life.

I want out. I want to die. That’s why I’m slowly killing myself. When I’m not good I eat, which will only bring me closer to death, and yet, in an ironic twist of fate, if I don’t eat the same fate awaits me.

At least as a fat guy, society has decided that I’m not allowed to be a sexual being. Who would to have sex with me anyway? Not even my wife does, so why would anybody else?

It’s not just about sex despite what society might say. It’s the connection that sex can give its protagonists, or even the intimacy. Since the advent of Covid we have been told to be wary of everyone else. We all have masks on. We are told that we have to socially isolate. We are social animals and this lack of physical contact is ruining all of us. It will leave scars on all of us for years to come. The problem is that I love my wife deeply but it’s as if there’s a gulf between us. Maybe through death I will be able to set her free.

I feel lonely every day. I am on my own every day at work and work on my own, and it’s the same at home. Solitude can be a blessing, but it can very quickly become a great burden. I even feel resentment every time that people ring me at work. I have my work to do and it’s as people are just interrupting my day. How inconsiderate of them.

I will not be missed. There may be slightly fewer photos on Instagram but people get on with their lives. Life continues despite death of one the protagonists. Eventually people cope and “get over it” and the person really is “laid to rest.”

I just don’t fancy dying in France. I want to die at home. It might have been a fashion in 1914 to 1918, And my grandfather had a couple of brothers eho were killed and buried over here. I want to die at home. I’ve been here for 26 years and I’m fed up of it all. Boris may have ruined my country’s future, but it’s still home.

As a Catholic I try and offer my suffering up as a sacrifice for my many sins. That’s what Ste Thérèse de l’enfant Jésus told us. She was dead by the age of 30 and was a Doctor of the church.

I’m not suffering from despair, I just want this situation to end. I know I should just suck it up buttercup, man up, and stop feeling sorry for myself. Easier said than done. That’s what I was told by my form master when I was at prep school. My mother would say the same.

Some would go and offer sympathy on Facebook, as if a message on a virtual notice board would help. I’m not putting down peoples’ intentions, but you have to get real. It’s like putting a black square on social media. It doesn’t help.

Some would say, go and consult. That doesn’t help either. The head shrinkers are madder than me, except they know they are. I just have a small inkling that they’re even more full of shit than my intestines after eating a whole load of fiber.

I don’t hate any of you. I just hate myself. I am told that God loves me. I am trying to believe that, but it’s not easy every day.

Time flies like an arrow and fruit flies like a banana. This is why I hide myself in my bedroom as soon as I get home. It’s why I do photography. At least when I’m out with a camera I’m doing something instead of thinking. That helps sometimes. Anyway. I’m not dead yet so you’re going to have to out up with for a little while longer.

Here is a selection of photos from last Saturday. Long exposure, shitty weather. I was going for minimalism and maybe a couple of shots I managed it. In some I caught ghost figures due to people not caring and wondering into shot.

Please have a better time of it than me. I’ll get slightly better with a little more time. As I said, I’m not looking for sympathy, or for help. I’m just sharing what is on my mind. Thank the Lord that Adele isn’t singing on the radio…

Friends and Social

Social Media is a thing. It exists. Some hate it, others love it, some are simply addicted. It is in its essence very much much like the internet. It is a tool. It is the perfect reflection of humanity. Of all that is bad about humanity with trolling, bullying, abuse, etc, but it also a reflection of all that is good, offering information, a source for learning, a tool used to raise awareness, or money for various good causes. Social media allows us to connect in a way that was impossible when I was a child, and even as a young man.

With Facebook, I can keep in touch with family back home, exchanging news and photos. I can keep in touch with people that I knew 30 years ago at school. I have made friends online and have even met some in real life.

The other Saturday was one such occasion. Those who don’t know me might not realise that I am half English, half Irish, living in France since 1994. When I arrived I was immersed in my wife’s French family life and didn’t really get into the Expat thing. As time has gone on, I have changed and really appreciate the support that fellow immigrants from the mother country, or Empire, can give you. This has been centred around the John McByrne Irish Pub in Nantes. However Instagram has introduced me to people in Nantes, and allows me to talk to people about photography and won’t fall asleep in the first five seconds…

Whilst on Instagram I started following a guy from South Africa and his family who life a little further south in the Vendée. We would chat and I would follow how the renovations in their French house were going. I am in admiration of somebody who can do that, as experience and a smidgen of wisdom, has shown me to be totally incompetent in this domain. I have sufficient insight to realise when I should leave something to the experts.

Anyway, we chatted and everything, and then one day they say that they are going up to Nantes to visit one of the museums and I suggested immediately that we meet up, and that I would probably be in town anyway.

As is turned out I was. We exchanged numbers and whilst I was waiting for them I was next to the Sainte Croix church, and thought what a good idea it might be to take a couple of photos. Strangely enough (irony) I had my camera with me. Canon 6D Mark ii, with the 16-35mm lens. I know that with this setup I can usually get a few keepers that allow me to capture Nantes in a way that you don’t see everyday.

They arrived and I offered to show them the pub. You never know when it might come in handy. We ordered our drinks and talked some more. About our different experiences in work, with the children, with schools etc. Then the match began. Wales vs France in the Six Nations.

They talked about wanting to see the Castle in Nantes, and oh what a surprise, it wasn’t too far away from the pub. We walked there, walked up onto the battlements, and walked right the way round. By then the children were hungry, so I offered to introduce them to PitaPit and they loved it.

We parted ways and wished eachother good luck getting home. It was a good day!