My photos - Sounds like wish

13 July, 2013

Weekly photo challenge: The Golden Hour

When I read the weekly photo challenge to take a photo at the golden hour of sunrise or sunset, I thought, well, I already know about sunset light, so why not make an effort to study the light of sunrise. But to do that I’d have to get up at sunrise on Sunday. I had no intention of doing that.

Then, this morning at ten to seven, after six hours’ sleep, I woke to see my room suffused with pink. At first I ignored it. Too tired. But I dared to open my eyes again a few minutes later and the light in the room was tinged with reddish purple. I jumped out of bed and raced to find my camera, knowing that coloured light is fleeting. You can see that I took the first photo at three minutes past seven – it took me that long to get ready for my cold back yard.

The official sunrise time was 7:10am, but Canberra was pretty in pink before that moment. Not really a ‘golden hour’; more of a ‘rosy hour’. When the actual moment came at 7:10, the pink glow had mostly gone, faded to grey. It’s mid-winter here; the temperature was about 6 degrees, a few degrees warmer than usual for this time of morning; the sky today is completely covered. I know the sun was behind these rosy photos but I never saw it.

Sunrise, Canberra, 14th July 2013, three minutes past seven — Seven minutes before sunrise, Canberra, 14th July 2013, three past seven

Five minutes before sunrise, Canberra, 14th July 2013, five past seven

Exact official moment of sunrise, Canberra, 14 July 2013, ten minutes past seven — Exact official moment of sunrise, Canberra, 14 July 2013, ten past seven

11 July, 2013

I spy with my little eye

Marianne from East of Málaga asks
what can I spy
and what is my point of view?
I spy with my little eye
a window I can’t see through:

One of the stained glass windows by Leonard French in the National Library of Australia — One of 16 stained glass windows by Leonard French in the National Library of Australia

Bottom panel of a stained glass window by Leonard French, National Library of Australia

The glass is about 20cm thick, hand-chiselled and set into pewter-coloured concrete. The artist is an amazing Australian, Leonard French, who made 16 of these windows for the National Library in 1967. They are all visible from the foyer of the library through the interior plain glass walls of the café and the bookshop. The windows on the side of the building receiving the morning sun are in warm colours, those you see here decorating the walls of the café. On the other side of the foyer, the afternoon sun side, the colours are cool blues and purples filling two walls of the bookshop. French had a philosophy that art should be accessible to the masses and not just for viewing, a philosophy which makes me happy every time I sit at a window table in the café (I’m a little less happy when they’re all taken.). The chiselled edges of the glass are not sharp. I know this because I like to stroke it. The sun shining on the glass makes it glow and makes it warm to touch, but not hot. A spirit-lifter.

As part of the photo challenge, Marianne suggests we recommend two blogs. Two come to mind immediately: The Wanderlust Gene and Covetotop. Their blogs don’t just have interesting photos of faraway places, but more importantly for me they are well-written. I’m always on the lookout for readable writers.

30 June, 2013

Ailsa's photo challenge: Sculpture

For a couple of hours every afternoon in the sculpture garden at the National Gallery of Australia, an artistic mist drifts over a pond, hiding the water and reeds and reflections and ducks and sixty-six sculpted heads.

Heads from the North and duck, Sculpture Garden, National Gallery of Australia (NGA)

When the mist clears it’s an uncomfortable experience to circle the pond, looking at the heads facing in many directions.

Dadang Christanto, an Indonesian-born sculptor now living in Australia, created Heads from the North in 2004 as a memorial to an Indonesian military coup in which his father died.

Beside the pond there’s a restaurant in a marquis. I couldn’t eat there.

Sculpture Garden restaurant, National Gallery of Australia — Sculpture Garden restaurant, NGA

Though I frequent the sculpture garden, I have, until today, always skipped quickly past this pond and over to the sculptures I understand, those I would have in my own garden (if I could), like Rodin’s Burghers of Calais. But this afternoon I twisted my own arm and stopped to look into the eyes of these drowning men. Now I see, in a small way, what a task it must have been for Dadang Christanto to create this work of art to honour his father.

Ailsa came up with this great theme of Sculpture. Take a look at her photos here.

23 June, 201327 August, 2018

Ailsa’s travel photo challenge: Ripples

Ailsa is looking for photos of ripples.

Yesterday I was on Hyams Beach in Jervis Bay, NSW, when I was taken aback by this rippling rock erosion that resembles skulls:

And the ripples led to a flow, crossing Hyams Beach, one of the whitest beaches in the world; its fine white grains are mostly composed of quartz. In the distance that’s my husband again, as he was in my last post:

And this morning in the icy atmosphere of a highland reserve, I saw the rippling Yarrunga Creek rushing through heavy fog towards Fitzroy Falls:

Again, the ripples led to a flow and then a plummet a short distance further on where the water tumbled over the edge; there was just enough visibility around the waterfall to take this photo. The rest of the space was white, like standing in cloud.

I remembered seeing a recent photo of these falls on another blog, where Christopher captured the water in sunlight. : http://christopheryardin.com/2013/06/17/travel-theme-flow/

It’s worth a look!

22 June, 2013

Weekly photo challenge: the world through my eyes

Through my eyes this weekend I’m seeing a lot of rocks, surf, sand and seaweed. And a lot of my husband.

While I dally along looking at every rock pool …

Red seaweed in rock pool, Huskisson — Nature imitating Aboriginal art: red seaweed and creature trails in a rock pool, Huskisson, NSW

stopped in my tracks by the beauty of a shell heap …

studying the red seaweed washing in and gathering in wavy edges, he keeps going, so that when I snap a general view he’s often there at its edge.

Huskisson Beach, Jervis Bay, NSW — Huskisson Beach, NSW

This rock platform seems to have eroded with the ebb tide. I was totally amazed by it, but he wasn’t.

Rocks, Huskisson Beach — Rock shelf, Huskisson Beach

But then, he’s an Ebook kind of guy and I prefer paper. He’s happy to read first then eat his banana. I like to do both at once.

7 June, 2013

Same subject, different time: East of Málaga's photo challenge

Marianne of East of Málaga had the idea of finding a subject worthy of an impressionist painter’s interest. For me it’s this view, one I reckon Monet would have painted if he had been on my balcony. And he could very well have stood on it – the building has been there for a century or two!

Two views from the same spot; different days, different hours:

Marianne proposes we recommend two blogs worth commenting on. I found these two which show amazing wedding photography though neither of the bloggers is a professional photographer (yet); have a look at what’s possible when you love what you do:

Ramblings: http://monahoward.com/2013/05/31/a-story-of-love-and-courage/

therebeccapapers: http://therebeccapapers.wordpress.com/2013/05/20/texture-and-light/

31 May, 2013

Weekly photo challenge: The sign says…

In the photo below there are two signs. I’m guessing you can read the sign on the right, Mister Tacos Sandwicherie. But as for the other one, since this week’s photo challenge is “The signs says…”, the photo gives me the opportunity to tell you what the sign says:

“This home was built by the Lyonnais magistrate, Claude Paterin, under the reign of François 1^st. Its name was later changed to the House of Henri IV after the monarch had a short stay here in December 1600.”

A bust of Henri IV sits in a niche above the sign. However, it was not his property but a private mansion. He stayed here for a short while after his marriage to Marie de Médicis in the Cathédrale Saint Jean, a few streets away, which was when and where they met. The marriage produced issue, ancestors of some of the present European royal families including Prince William through his mother’s family. But apart from this, the marriage was an unpleasant affair for Marie who shared her husband with several of his mistresses until it all ended when Henri was assassinated ten years later.

The house is at 4 rue Juiverie in old Lyon where most of the Renaissance buildings have been restored and receive constant attention. Unfortunately, while someone occupies the upper floors of the building, judging by the pot plants and the open window, the Hotel Paterin has been sorely neglected on the lower levels and now houses Mister Tacos, though even this shop looks like it has closed down. I was shocked by the two signs, visible together in one glance and disturbing enough to make me look back.

27 May, 2013

Weekly Photo Challenge: In the Background

The photo challenge this week is to take a photo of myself, perhaps as a reflection, so that the background is more interesting than the subject.

Today I found this piece of reflective metal at the bottom of a whole-wall fresco here in Lyon, France. So, I took the hint, took my camera and photographed myself on the street with the fresco. My mind never quite accepted that these people were painted onto a two-dimensional surface. Even now, looking at my photos, my eye is fooled into thinking they are real.

This mural covers the entire blind wall of the building at the corner of 49 Quai Saint-Vincent and 2 rue de la Martinière. There are 24 historical Lyonnais characters on their balconies, going back further in time as they rise up the wall. At ground level there are 6 contemporary personalities (not including me). The fresco was produced in 1994/95.

La Fresque des Lyonnais and me, street level and first floor

Here’s another view which I liked so much that I’ve attempted to blot out a nasty dark mark made by an idiot dragging a black pen or brush through all the faces. I think I’ve improved the photo but unfortunately it’s not easy to remove the real mark from the fresco without retouching the artwork. Isn’t it fantastic, though? All the people to my left are painted, they don’t exist, nor does the brickwork or the doorway.

La Fresque des Lyonnais et moi, street level

And one more, just because I’ve bought some important books in the bookshop, Gibert Joseph.

La Fresque des Lyonnais, bookshop on the corner — La Fresque des Lyonnais. A painted Bernard Pivot leaving a painted bookshop, Gibert Joseph.

25 May, 2013

Ailsa's travel photography challenge: Pathways

I’ve walked a million miles in the past few weeks, many of them on sealed surfaces and others on dirt paths. The following photos were taken on two difficult climbs. The first two show the path up to the Abbey of St Martin of Canigou in France; I walked up the 3 kms and down again which was steep but not TOO harsh because the path is sealed. But some older people in our group took the optional jeep ride which apparently is not always better; some said they had vertigo looking at the edges.

Jeep doing 3-point turn on a hairpin bend; straight drop down at the edge. — Jeep doing 3-point turn on a hairpin bend; at the edge, straight drop down!

Abbey of St Martin of Canigou at the top of the 3 km path — L’Abbaye de Saint Martin du Canigou at the top of the 3 km path (check out the cloud!)

This next photo was taken from half-way up a steep dirt track on my way to Cap Béar, though I never got there. When I reached this point my heart was pounding and I was breathing heavily, absolutely alone and a wee bit scared, so I made the decision to descend. The track is grazed out of the hillside and sometimes supported by improvised stone steps. Very steep but not frightening for genuine hikers. And on the subject of pathways, from up on the hill there’s a great view of the pathway to the lighthouse, that is, the jetty.

Half way up the hill on the path to Cap Béar, France; looking over the jetty and lighthouse — Half-way up the hill on the path to Cap Béar, France; looking over the jetty and lighthouse

This post was inspired by Ailsa’s Pathways: have a look at the awesome paths she has trod.

18 May, 2013

Weekly photo challenge: Escape

When I walked up over this hill in the early morning and looked back at the village, I was completely alone on a small part of the Mediterranean coast. No one knew where I was.

Village from top of the hill — Port-Vendres from top of the hill

Turning round to see the sea, I looked down over this cove, and, on the far side, a fort and war ruins, French and German, that remain on the cape.

Cove between Port-Vendres and Collioure, France

Having escaped from civilisation for a brief hour, I walked down to take a closer look at the ruins and saw why this point had been chosen for a fort; it’s ideal for shooting and blowing up shipping way out on the horizon. No escape for them.

This is one of two arches through which cannons were pointed, with holes for thinner weapons. Unfortunately, with the arch and holes positioned as they are, it resembles a face.

Gun and cannon slots, Fort Mauresque, Vermilion Coast, France

It was horrible, seeing this war junk lying all along the cliff edges.

War junk, coastline between Collioure and Port-Vendres, France

What struck me was the ugliness of concrete, while the nineteenth-century stone fort has that element of beauty found in stone construction all around this region, whether it be houses, barriers, walls, steps or forts. Here’s some more ugly concrete, a piece of German war litter, a base for a revolving cannon.

Base of revolving German cannon, leftover from WWII, between Collioure and Port-Vendres, France

Fortunately, wars end, and life is good again. But if you need to take a break from the troubles of ordinary peacetime life, I recommend this coastline where surprises make every day special. I found this beautiful Bottlebrush tree, which I didn’t know grew outside of Australia, growing on a hill with red roses, grapevines and palm trees, all overlooking the blue Mediterranean.