Desert Beetle: Mad Max Was Here

WE DON'T NEED ANOTHER HERO (THUNDERDOME)


Out of the ruins
Out from the wreckage
Can't make the same mistake this time
We are the children
the last generation
We are the ones they left behind
And I wonder when we are ever gonna change
Living under the fear till nothing else remains

We don't need another hero
We don't need to know the way home
All we want is life beyond the thunderdome

Looking for something we can rely on
There's got to be something better out there
Love and compassion, their day is coming
All else are castles built in the air
And I wonder when we are ever gonna change
Living under the fear till nothing else remains
All the children say

We don't need another hero
We don't need to know the way home
All we want is life beyond the thunderdome

So, what do we do with our lives
We leave only a mark
Will our story shine like a light
Or end in the dark
Give it all or nothing

A Homage to the Desert Where I have travelled

Come on People, Get in the Groove ... Please

All the world over, so easy to see
People everywhere just wanna be free
Listen, please listen, that's the way it should be
Peace in the valley, people got to be free
You should see, what a lovely, lovely world this would be
If everyone learned to live together
It seems to me such an easy, easy thing this would be
Why can't you and me learn to love one another
All the world over, so easy to see
People everywhere just wanna be free
I can't understand it, so simple to me
People everywhere just got to be free
Ah, ah, yeah . . . ah, ah, yeah

My deepest gratitude to the Young Rascals for this terrific song

Spilling Wine

I was once, I was strolling one very hot, summer's day
When I thought I'd lay myself down to rest
In a big field of tall grass.
I lay there in the sun
And felt it caressing my face
As I fell asleep
And dreamed.
I dreamed I was in a Hollywood movie
And that I was the star of the movie.
This really blew my mind,
The fact that me,
An overfed, long-haired, leaping gnome,
Should be the star of a Hollywood movie.
Hmm, but there I was.
I was taken to a place,
The hall of the mountain king.
I stood high upon a mountain top,
Naked to the world,
In front of every kind of girl.
There was long ones, tall ones, short ones, brown ones,
Black ones, round ones, big ones, crazy ones.
Out of the middle
Came a lady.
She whispered in my ear
Something crazy.
She said,

"Spill the wine, take that pearl.
Spill the wine, take that pearl.
Spill the wine, take that pearl.
Spill the wine, take that pearl."

I could feel hot flames of fire roaring at my back
As she disappeared,
But soon she returned.
In her hand was a bottle of wine,
In the other, a glass.
She poured some of the wine from the bottle into the glass
And raised it to her lips
And, just before she drank it,
She said,

"Take the wine, take that girl.
Spill the wine, take that pearl.
Spill the wine, take that pearl.
Spill the wine, take that pearl."

Take that pearl, yeah.
It's on girl, all you gotta do is spill that wine, spill that wine.
Let me feel, let me feel fine, yeah, yeah.
Spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine, take that pearl.

With huge acknowledgement of Eric Burdon. Thank you for the music, man

I Shot the Buddha: He 'Ain't No Garden Gnome!

This is one of those 'accidental' self portraits that sometimes result from the photographer's carelessness in checking before shooting. The original intention was to highlight the Buddha sitting on the ground in a garden shop, as if he is just another garden gnome.

For many many millions of people, The Buddha is of course much more than that. He is a revered teacher; not a god as such, but certianly an enlightenned being with much to teach us all and whose teachings have not only influenced the course of history, but have informed and enriched the lives of people in many parts of the world for more than three thousand years.

For people who do revere the man and/or his teachings, the sight of his statue being used to decorate a lawn or a flowerbed by people who do not know or care about his importance, is highly offensive. In this particular garden shop there are "buddhas" of all shapes and sizes and colours, which are treated with the same regard (ie as products to be sold to fashion conscious, image obsesssed gardenners with no consciousness of who the Buddha was) as the other cement and plaster baubles and decorative pots in the place.

I have yet to see a statue of Jesus, or any other holy entity in a garden shop; only 'buddhas'. I often wonder what would the reaction be if a life size statue of Jesus suddenly popped out of the shrubbery alongside the gnomes and gargoyles of garden shop land?

OM MANE PADME HUM

Wearin' the Green? Well it 'Ain't So Simple You Know

So many "Celtic Festivals", St Patrick's Day celebrations, such popularity for "Celtic music". We adorn ourselves and our entertainment with the green tinge of the Irish and give it not another thought. Even those of us of Irish descent, are prone to the trivialisation of the culture, the symbols, the history of that island that, for most, is really only a place of dreams.

For me, it is a place of ancestors. My father was born there, only to become part of the Irish Diaspora; my great grandfather according to family tradition was executed by the English as a rebel/freedom fighter/terrorist. And me? I spent a long weekend in Dublin and surrounds a long time ago, and have yet to visit to explore and discover ancestors, ghosts, the truth of that part of my story.

On May 6 1981 I heard on the radio that IRA soldier Bobby Sands died after a long hunger strike in what I was then calling an English concentration camp. My horror and anger came out in a small and not especially good poem.

At first the juxtaposition of the image above and this little tribute to a dead "terrorist" might seem odd. But, for me, it in a real sense illustrates and points to the obscenity of a blind donning of colours, the superficial adopting of culture for fun or entertainment. It also highlights that there was once a son (my grandfather) whose father was lost to a fight for freedom as so many have been lost before, are now being lost and will forever be lost to such fights in an unknowable, but often predictable future

Lest We Forget

FOR BOBBY SANDS

Ireland.

Home of ancestors.

Defiled by British guns

For centuries

Too long.

British go home.
Let my people go.
How many more will die
For your greed?
Your arrogance?


You have no right.

Harking Back to the Age of Reason (1)

Daddy Don’t Go

 

Never been to the park

with me Dad before.

But we’re goin’ now.

He’s made me a kite!

It’s a funny thing,

made outta brown paper and sticks

We’re in the park now

and Dad’s got the kite thing.

It’s got a long string.

‘Okay mate, you hold the kite. Got it?’

Wow! I never knew he’d let me

hold it.

Reckon he loves me lots.

‘Okay Dad’. It feels real good

hanging onto this kite thing.

Dad says he’ll walk away a bit,

and then we both have

to run to make the kite go

up in the sky.

He’s far away now;

I can hardly see him;

and he’s takin’ ages...

‘Okay boy, you start running now’

Why do I have to run?

 I think Dad told me

but I can’t remember.

Well, he’s me Dad,

so I’ll do what he says.

But I hate running:

I feel stupid.

Dad’s running too.

Very fast.

So am I, but...

‘Let it go!’ He’s yelling now.

What? I don’t get it.

‘Let it go!’

So I let it go, but it just falls

and I’m tripping on it, and

now I’ve broken Daddy’s kite.

All the paper’s ripped

and the sticks are all busted.

I’m so stupid.

I think Dad’s mad with me.

He’s walking away real fast.

I hate this kite thing.

‘Daddy!’

I’m yelling and crying and running

‘Daddy, don’t go!’

Looks like we're in for nasty weather (with thanks to Credence Clearwater Revival)

As you cross that bridge that spans this day and the ones to come, be sure to keep your eye on the eye of the storm.

Last But Not Least: A Man and a Bike: A Multi-Part Review of Henri Cartier-Bresson Part 5

So, we have reached the last part of my small and woefully incomplete review of Henri Cartier-Bresson. In this final part, there is only one image discussed.

Tight framing and precise timing deliver the decisive moment envisaged by the photographer in this photograph of a cyclist in a Paris street. He is captured as he is about to leave the frame. We see this compositional strategy, which adds tension and drama, in the puddle jumper who is also about to leave the frame, and the peeking man who is looking out of the frame. 

This image differs from the others in that it is shot from above, which adds to the sense of motion in the scene.

These images capture glimpses of people going about their ‘normal lives’. This is the power of Cartier-Bresson’s photography: we are treated to moments (albeit ones the artist has chosen for us) in the everyday world that we usually fail to see—and do not give significance to.

 
His ideas and images have inspired many photographers who have sought ways to capture the mundane as well as the profound moments in the human story.

It has been a pleasure to post this little series, as incomplete and inexpert as it may be. I thank you my friends for taking the time to visit and read this series. I hope it has been enjoyable and some use to you.
Peace

Hey, I'm Lookin' At You: A Multi-Part Review of Henri Cartier-Bresson Part 3 AND Part 4

There are two Cartier-Bresson images discussed in this post. In a strange way, not designed, they seem to be a complimentary pair. However, now let us return to the text of this review.

 

Again, in the image of two men peeking through a screen, precise composition is key. Strong verticals contrasting with the horizontal line of the screen, lead the eye to the man on the right as he realises he has been caught peeking: the decisive moment.

In Alicante, the second image above, we see another private moment occurring in a public place. Again, tight framing focuses attention on the body language of the subjects, which, along with the camera’s close range, draws us into the scene.

This photo, too, clearly demonstrates the capture of the decisive moment: Anticipation of a precise moment in time, and an intuitive grasp of when all spatial elements are ‘just right’

There is one final part to this review, which will be in a future post.

Thank you.

Man Jumps Puddle: A Multi-Part Review of Henri Cartier-Bresson Part 2

This is the second part of my little review on Henri Cartier-Bresson. It is not meant to be a long lecture, description or analysis; it is designed to provide a quick analysis of the image and to thus provide inspiration or food for thought on the issues or ideas covered briefly in the text. The review takes off exactly where it left off after Part One.

The four images in this review illustrate the photographer’s strong emphasis on composition and his ability to capture the decisive moment.

In the image of a man jumping a puddle (1932), we see the photographer’s knack of knowing precisely when that moment is coming. The image is tightly framed, drawing our eye to the decisive moment: the leap.

You see? Short and to the point. Here the image is the thing that speaks volumes and is allowed to speak loudest and unencumbered with my words.
Thank you.

The Decisive Moment That Lead to the Decisive Moment: A Multi-Part Review of Henri Cartier-Bresson Part 1

Three Boys at Lake Tanganyika

 

Henri Cartier-Bresson (1908 – 2004), is considered a pioneer of photojournalism. Initially a painter, he turned to photography in order to ‘testify with a quicker instrument than a brush’ 

Seeing Three Boys at Lake Tanganyika (1930) by Hungarian photographer Martin Munkaski, Cartier-Bresson understood that, ‘photography could reach eternity through the moment’. He realised the potential of the camera to capture the ‘decisive moment’.

Using a 35mm camera with standard lens, allowed Cartier-Bresson to work quickly and unobtrusively.  The title of his book, Images à la Sauvette ( Changed for US publication to The Decisive Moment) means images on the sly; in other words, candid photography.

Cartier-Bresson insisted on strong composition. He used the viewfinder to frame subjects precisely, preferring to crop the image in the camera.

He shot in Black and White because he regarded the camera as simply a ‘sketchbook’. It's as simple as this. In a sense this lays to rest the black and white versus colour debate to a degree: For this "master" the choice was not one of aesthetics; it was merely practical choicefor this photographer.

This is the first in a several post series which together make up a small review of a great artist and a personal role model.

Even a Pushbike Needs to Rest Sometimes

Ridin' along on my pushbike, honey.

When I noticed you.

Ridin' downtown in a hurry, honey,

Down South Avenue.


You looked so pretty as you were ridin' along.

You looked so pretty as you were singing this song.


Well, I put on the speed,

And I tried catching up,

But you were pedaling harder too.

Ridin' along like a hurricane, honey,

Spinning out of view.


You looked so pretty as you were ridin' along.

You looked so pretty as you were singing this song.

Sing a song!


A-round, round, wheels goin' round round round.

Down up pedals, down up down.

But I gotta get across to the other side of town,

Before the sun goes down. Hey, hey!


Now we're riding along on the bicycle, honey.

That's a bicycle built for two.

A-lookin' at my honey in the rearview mirror;

Now I got a better view.


You looked so pretty as you were ridin' along.

You looked so pretty as you were singing this song.

Sing a song!


A-round, round, wheels goin' round round round.

Down up pedals, down up down.

But I gotta get across to the other side of town,

Before the sun goes down. Hey, hey



A Much Loved View of Hobart

I once lived in Hobart, not far from where this photo was taken. I no longer live there, but it still lives within me. At least from time to time.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps, I Also Weep. To George Harrison with Love

I look at the world and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps


My respect and appreciation to one of the greatest artists, George Harrison

I Just Act Like I Don't Remember and Mary Acts Like She Don't Care

I come from down in the valley where mister when you're young
They bring you up to do like your daddy done
Me and mary we met in high school when she was just seventeen
Wed ride out of that valley down to where the fields were green

Wed go down to the river
And into the river wed dive
Oh down to the river wed ride

Then I got mary pregnant and man that was all she wrote
And for my nineteen birthday I got a union card and a wedding coat
We went down to the courthouse and the judge put it all to rest
No wedding day smiles no walk down the aisle
No flowers no wedding dress
That night we went down to the river
And into the river wed dive
On down to the river we did ride

I got a job working construction for the johnstown company
But lately there aint been much work on account of the economy
Now all them things that seemed so important
Well mister they vanished right into the air
Now I just act like I don't remember, mary acts like she don't care
But I remember us riding in my brothers car
Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir
At night on them banks I'd lie awake
And pull her close just to feel each breath she'd take
Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse
Is a dream a lie if it don't come true
Or is it something worse that sends me
Down to the river though I know the river is dry
Down to the river, my baby and I
Oh down to the river we ride


Thanks Bruce, for the music and the lyrics that are truly poetry

Let Me Go to the Spirit in the Sky



When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that's the best
When I lay me down to die
Goin' up to the spirit in the sky