Fooling around with Dad

At last! A lockdown-lifted chance to visit my Dad. And a chance to put some of the lockdown off camera flash practice to the test. And a bit of acting into the bargain: A calm photo, and then a barmy one. Moses excoriating the unbelievers…

(the calm one…)

Prophet out of the gloom…!

Cage boxing in the living room

This is Steve. He’s a tiler by trade, and he just laid our new kitchen floor. We got to chatting over the obligatory cup of strong tea, and I asked him what he did in his spare time. “MMA” came the answer. I was none the wiser… “You know, cage fighting!” I was slightly stunned, took a moment, and then seized the moment: “we should do some pics.” So, here’s Steve, the Cage Fighter, in my living room. You never know who’s going to walk through the front door!

Taking inspiration from the 60s…

Lockdown hasn’t been easy for a landscape photographer… So I’ve been branching out, and taking on one of those photo areas that I’ve previously shied away from, portrait photography using flash. And it’s been lots of fun! Press-ganging the family into posing. Here’s Immy looking very like Twiggy, make up, pose, expression, the lot. She is quite the actress…

Black & white, and all the tones inbetween

I haven’t posted for a while. I wonder if anyone is still out there? Let me know if you see this post. Here’s my thought: How much do I look like my father…? And if I do, what does that mean about us, both….? Photographically, the removal of colour allows a focus on form, shape, texture. I think it brings us together….

Family in lockdown…

Lockdown. Weeks and weeks of it. Time to learn something new, so I’m learning flash photography. And the family is being press-ganged into posing for me, including the dog…

Intimations of mortality

Looking at oneself is always an odd experience. Not in the fleeting way you glance at yourself in the mirror early morning when you’re brushing your teeth, but more when you really look, stare at yourself… You see things you know are there. And of course a camera makes you look in the most excoriating way. As a photographer, I quite dislike seeing myself in photographs. Too uncomfortable. Intimations of mortality and all that. Better to photograph the next generation, the youngsters. They might dislike being photographed (in Charles’s case, rather intensely), but at least they look good!

 

 

MoonWalk 2017: I wore my bra with pride…

Breast Cancer, it’s horrible, so how could I refuse to do my bit, get my moobs, along with my spare socks, stuffed into a bra , and walk a marathon overnight to raise some dosh for charity? Plus Mrs P has already done 3 (marathons that is, including a running one – she’s a toughie…). Time to man up, stick my chest out and get marching…

I’m not quite sure what black fur bras indicates about my predilections for sexy lingerie, and damned itchy it was too. How do the girls do it every day…? But here we are at the beginning, full of positive energy and slight nerves, given that I had done no training whatsoever apart from walking the dog…

15,000 women on the night (plus some men – not many, but a few plucky ones) Many, many, many bras on show and all of them decorated but functional. That’s a lady queue below – you know what for – one of the distinct advantages I had on the night being a bloke…

 

And we’re off! Decent pace and no rain. All smiles and chatter for the first few miles… (girls gossiping whilst walking, it comes naturally). Lovely support from good friends – Great to see you Sus and Jenny, “wooohoo!” (that was the tone of the evening…)!!! And we are still going strong by mile 10.

 

By mile 16 blisters are arriving, chit chat has faded, and trudge-drudgery has set in. Thank heavens for hot chocolate at Sloane Square plus a few swigs from my hip flask. The restorative powers of Brandy mixed with Grand Marnier are remarkable…

OK, I look a bit knackered at mile 25. But full of joy at mile 26! The end in sight, and an overwhelming feeling of relief… that I could get that damned itchy bra off at last!

So that was my first marathon: 8 hours of blister inducing walking, trussed up in a bra, surrounded by gaggles of women who didn’t stop chattering until the dawn chorus took over. Not bad for a Saturday night!

(I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who sponsored Mrs P and me. Your generosity helped push us over the line. If you read this and you would like to contribute – we all know someone who’s suffered from this cancer – then don’t hesitate to click on the link and do your bit. Thank you!)

Dog walking with Rufus…

Rufus has been with us almost a year. Difficult to imagine the home without him now. He’s been the best in what has been a tough year…

He is either a very intelligent dog, who decides to ignore the pathetic goings-on of the humans around him, or else he is very thick and simply doesn’t understand our commands. Either way, he is clearly very happy.

Early morning walks are good – for me as well as the dog! And we’ve been treated to some superb sunrises over the past few days. Here’s my local Caspar David Friedrich tree, just next to the Lizzie Bennet lane…

Rufus is very bound-y, just like Tigger, and chasing a ball is absolutely what Rufus does best. Or licking the dishes in the dishwasher – perhaps that is what he does best; or maybe the challenge of a big stick on an early morning walk? No…, I have it, best of all is the chance to go for a swim in water, the smellier the better.

(I do like that tree – very CDF for sure.)

So long may our dog-master, master-dog morning walks continue. Great fun for us both, and a chance to go hunting for sticks…

 

 

 

A beach, a dog, and a race…

Autumn is here, my favourite season! The colours are muted but saturated, the weather still not too cold. Mists and mellow fruitfulness and all that. A good time to get out with the camera. This last week the Isle of Wight has been positively glowing and I’ve been having some fun with my tripod plus tilt and shift lens…

 

Dusk isn’t too late, so I can photograph The Needles and don’t miss out on dinner with the family, and dawn isn’t too early, so it’s not too hard to haul my botski out of bed and shoot the misty sunrise.

 

But what about the beach, the dog and the race…? Well, when the kids were young beaches were for sandcastles and paddling, but now we have a dog a beach is of course for races! Below is Charles puffing away whilst Rufus ambles past him. Rufus wins easily. And then me! a sprightly 42, giving the hound a run for his money. (Rufus still won…)

 

Ah, the inner child will out…

Dawn, dusk, beaches, racing. A cracking week on the Isle of Wight. Loved it.

 

Faces of the future

I did a shoot at a theatre company the other day. I loved the eagerness of the actors – the faces of the future. Here they are, blimey they look so young!