My Photographic Journey

I had a disaster yesterday. At least what amounts to a disaster in my little world. I went out for the afternoon to try to get some decent photos to use for my course assessment and took two lenses. Now, I hate carrying things and try my best to travel light, but you know how women just have to have certain things with them? So yesterday instead of taking my main handbag that weighs a ton and slides off my shoulder whenever I try to take a picture, I took a tiny little bag that has lots of sections and padded it out to take my zoom lens along with the usual essentials. Going outwards on the walk in Shaldon I used the camera with its standard lens and at the furthest point, frustrated by my crappy shots, I changed to the zoom and put the standard into the camera case. Got some slightly better shots but not really what I was hoping for, the views across the estuary to Teignmouth were invaded by industrial warehouses.

Shaldon was a delight to wander around though, there was a decent butcher and a divine bakery (I’ve just had their tomato bread warmed and filled with cheese for lunch) with lower than supermarket prices. Back at the Ness car park, having snapped all the way, and in too much of a hurry, I rummaged for the zooms lens cap in the camera case. Unfortunately the case was at a funny angle and out fell the lens, landed with a clunk on the tarmac and rolled into the verge. I swore as I bent to pick it up, there was a brief moment before it fully registered and then I burst into tears when I heard the rattle of shattered glass. I cried all the way home and for most of the evening.

If you know me well, you’re probably wondering why I’m making such a fuss about something material that can be replaced. You may be thinking that it must be insured. Well I’ve had it three years and never had a problem before – believe it or not I’m very careful – and when it was due for renewal in June I decided that two hundred pounds to insure the camera and its lenses was more than I could afford. I’ll now have to spend that much to replace it, sometime.

So why the strong reaction? I’ve never been a dropper or breaker of things, been tempted to be a thrower of things at times, but as I have a scar over my left eye from having a stone thrown at me, I never will. It took me a while to work out the cause of my tears, it wasn’t something being broken, it was about a photographic item being broken. I had my first camera when I was about eighteen, a Kodak Instamatic no less, a cheap, simple to operate little thing that produced small square prints. I couldn’t afford to take too many photos, the cost was prohibitive and continued to be for many years. But even then I had a good eye and could see many, many photos crying out to be taken. Being a mum was the priority for many years and I was never in the position to own a camera. Just before the dawn of digital I bought a nice little compact 35mm followed by my first canon digital with just 3.2 megapixels but I took some good shots with it. That was in 2003 and two years later I upgraded to a 5 megapixel Canon and then I was away, teaching myself to use Photoshop 7 and using my photos to make cards, some of which I actually sold!

In 2008 a dream came true when I got an eos 450d with two lenses and the following year a third. I’m still learning to use it and I think I’m getting there because it’s set to manual these days. My ‘eye’ has grown faster than my techie skills could ever keep up with and if I’m honest there’s a limit to how much interest I can drum up in the ‘sciencey’ stuff I’m supposed to be learning on my Open University digital photography course. That’s where I am right now with photography. I wonder how much more skilled I would be by now if I had been allowed to use the equipment that had been in my house for most of my life? But I wasn’t, instead I was always told to leave it alone, don’t touch it you’ll break it, it’s too complex, delicate and expensive, and the  bottom line YOU’RE TOO DAMN STUPID TO USE IT.

And so there I stood yesterday in shock as my expensive, delicate, complex lens crunched to the ground and shattered. Is it any wonder that I cried? Now I’m okay, for the first time ever, I have by my carelessness, allowed something to break, but it really isn’t the end of the world.

Dartington Hall, a photo blog

For many years I have been visiting Dartington Hall in Devon, twenty five miles from home and have often raved about it to my friends. It’s a stunning place held as a trust began by the Elmhursts, a visionary family since the 1920’s. Part of the estate is farmland and woods as well as a landscaped garden. It’s a major centre for education and performance of arts and until last year was  home to Dartington College before its move to Falmouth.  Each summer it hosts a literature festival, Ways With Words, when for two weeks the grounds are filled with people relaxing between events. The festival attracts world class writers from all genres and my only criticism is that perhaps it is becoming increasingly high brow. I’ve photographed the grounds in all seasons, there is always something to see.

I think one of my favourite times to visit is February when the scent of witch hazel assails you before you can find it – unless like me you know just where it is.

But of course I’m really fond of snowdrops

Followed by the crocus

While I’m here, this is my dream office,                                                                                           it has the most amazing view of the valley                                                                                 and I’m sure I could be incredibly creative                                                                                    here if only they would let me have it                                                                                    instead of filling it with garden tools.

No prizes for guessing the sculptor!

It’s a permanent feature

unlike this one,  resident for a few months and that I took lots of photos of.

Dartington has plenty of space for performance rehearsal

and quiet contemplation

The planting is elegant and striking

There’s a restaurant and bar,The White Hart, it’s name may have been inspired by this detail on the ceiling of the hall itself.

Places to climb 

 Abundant summer flowers

Sunny benches

Shady walks where who knows what you may find.

But don’t let the gardener catch you doing this!

unless you can think of an excuse very quickly!

Dartington is special, I’ve loved sharing it with you and hope that you get to visit one day.

 Shady walks

Weekly Photo Challenge: Possibility

It’s been a busy summer of craft fairs and shows. Before we shut down for the winter my friend Lindy and I have a final few manic weeks and have been busy making jewellery. As usual Lindy has made most of the beads, my role is designing and making necklaces – and I like to think that I’m pretty good convincing people that they need to treat themselves!

So for the possibility challenge I thought I’d show you the raw materials,

Could this possibly turn into anything useful?

A stage along the way,

Some of the ingredients,

From possibility land to a beautiful result,

Which I hope you like!

 

A Summer of Boats, England and Turkey

For someone who doesn’t do boats and knows nothing about them, this has been a boaty summer. It began on a glorious April day with a short trip across the Tamar River in Plymouth, Devon on the Cremyll ferry with my lovely daughter in law and granddaughter.

One of the best things that Plymouth has ever done was to buy the Cremyll along with Cornwall Council, for fifteen minutes you have the most wonderful view of the Sound, Royal William yard and the spectacular coastline.

The boat was full of day trippers who like us were heading for Mount Edgecumbe Country Park, on the Rame peninsula that’s actually in that foreign land of Kernow.

Plymouth is a bustling city with little charm having been badly hit in the blitz, but stepping onto the ferry really is another world.

Everyone is excited to be going on a mini holiday to the countryside, the ferry ride is less than five pounds for a family of four and the destination has acres of grounds and gardens to walk, picnic and relax for free!

My next boat experience was crossing the Dardanelle straits, which both connect the Aegean to the Sea of Marmara and also separate Asian turkey from European Turkey. The Dardanelles have been an important stretch of water throughout history and strategically relevant in the Crimean and First World War After an emotionally moving time in Gallipoli I crossed to Canakkale on a large boat where I’d foolishly chosen to sit upstairs for the best view and nearly froze in the draft for an hour. Soon after landing my travelling friends and I reached the site of the ancient city of Troy but that’s for another blog.

Ten days and around eighteen hundred miles and I’m back at another ferry port, this one takes me back to the European side of Istanbul. It’s a large ferry this time with lots of strange chunks of metal, cables, ropes and good strong coffee. The view in all directions is amazing and it’s a real thrill to arrive in a cosmopolitan city I have waited so long to visit.

Later in the day it’s time for a cruise on the Bosphorus, we are just a few on Edim, a posh boat that had the capacity for fifty people with a bar and café. We cruised along one bank beside painted wooden houses, stylish restaurants and clubs frequented by Istanbul’s’ glitterati.

Pootling along for what seemed like hours, the waterway was busy but with space enough for everyone it was quiet and relaxing. The size of the city became apparent from the perspective that the water gave, I lost count of the number of domed mosques and minarets.

Some of the grandest buildings were foreign embassies, palaces and military colleges. The Bosphorus was a lovely place for a relaxing cruise, next time I’ll go by night.

In August I had a brilliant day out with friends in Gloucestershire, a couple of hours on the train. Gloucester Dock, a very ‘Gentrified’ area has the prettiest of canal barges,  well   maintained with shiny bright paint jobs. I’m very curious about who lives here and just what they are like inside. I imagine it’s like being in a wobbly caravan,lovely in summer but a bit bleak in winter especially if the canal froze.

A complete contrast for my last boats of the summer, on Exeter quay where there is a working boatyard. It’s one of those places that look out of bounds and until last year I had only stood at the gate to peep, until one day a man said that it’s public and okay to go in. It looks like a very male environment until you see pots of geraniums flowering their little heads off. A very sensory place with smells of engine oil mixed with oily fry-up, sounds of oars, hammers, rap and classics and boats of all shapes and sizes. I’ve watched this one

develop and now it’s nearly completed it may be gone next time I go down. I’d love to see it hit the water.

This one saddens me, the council have deemed it rubbish and an eyesore.

An official letter is pinned to it stating that they will dispose of it unless the owner removes it by a date that has now passed, and they will charge for doing so. Someone has been working on its restoration, just not as quickly as the council would like, it’s a massive money pit of a project. I talked to one of the boat owners and he said that the mooring fees had been paid and apparently it’s a trawler, obviously very old. Who knows what its history is?I believe it would be beautiful once done, surely the purpose of a boat yard is to mend and build boats? Bureaucracy drives me mad.

Virtual Stress

I’m feeling overwhelmed and I’m only at the beginning of a ten week, ten point, OU photography course. As always with the OU there are forums and because I’m looking out for locals and trying to get the best learning experience I’m reading most of the entries. We all strive to slot ourselves into place in groups, in this case to find where we are on the scale of photo duffer to Cartier-Bresson and having looked at lots of other students work, I feel comfortable enough with my abilities at least.

The course hasn’t even really started yet and already there are 2300 photos on the website and so I’ve given with the national community to concentrate instead on the group of eight that I’ve been placed in, in theory only around eighty photos. We’re all supposed to comment on a few and as there are about fifteen comments on mine I’ll have to try to return the favour. In between that there is a Facebook group for this course, one for a mixed arts group and one for the course I begin in February.

I should, no I hope, to be able to learn how to use the software they sent me instead of my usual bumbling around, guessing how things work and then never being able to repeat a particular way of editing a photo. And these ten weeks are my best hope.

Guess what I’d really like to be doing? I want to be writing my blog, I want to write Lake, Music, Boat as prescribed by Denny Lesniak, and I want to write up a travelogue of Ephesus and another of Cappadocia, to say nothing of reading the blogs I’m subscribed to.

My inbox is groaning under the virtual weight of unread mail and an hour of tonight was wasted on internet banking trivia. It’s 21.07 and I think I’ll have to crawl into my nest (still no time for eyebrow tweezing) and hope that not too much happens in my virtual world before I get home from my real world at 8pm tomorrow!

Weekly Photo Challenge: Faces

I’ve decided to post some animals I’ve met in various places for this weeks photo challenge, hope you like them!

She was the ‘beauty queen’ at a camel sanctuary.

Closer to home, in the New Forest, Hampshire UK.

A baby at Kuala Gandah orphanage.

Mole national park, funky beastie!

I’ll never like them but I suppose they’ve earned their place on this planet, Paga, where they are seen as sacred.

If you want your children’s children to be able to see me please don’t destroy any more of my habitat.

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Textured

I found this weeks challenge really tough. I decided not to go the route of bark/shell/natural stuff and kept getting texture and textile mixed up in my head! I came close to posting a bunch of alpacas with different states of hairiness though. Anyway I’ve decided on this sculpture that I edited a little. The original is a bronze, about a metre high,  that has been created to look like wood and was at Dartington Hall in Devon, UK.

Okay I’ve decided to add two more photos, the first, alpacas because I love their wool/fur/coat? which has mixed textures of silk, fluff and slightly rough.

and then this one, taken on Dartmoor in the UK. It’s a huge slab of granite with the ten Commandments carved into it.