Posted on January 25, 2021
A few photographs from 2013 as I can’t get out today. These were taken at Clumber Park in 2013.
The temperature was a chilly -10, colder than I would be willing to endure now.
Posted on January 21, 2021
This is Ticket to Ride, one of my more successful images in my early days of competing. It was accepted into Salons in twelve different countries and won a Gold Medal, a Silver Medal and an Honourable Mention. It’s a composite image; nearly every element in it was placed there by me, including the ticket in her hat. I worked hard on the final overlays to blend the tones. I should be very proud of it, but it makes my eyes bleed to look at it.
Why? Because the perspective is completely wrong.
I shot the model at a group night, in the days before I hired my own model, where you had to dive in for a few minutes to take your turn, no input into pose, costume etc. I was happy enough at the time. The model, Kelli Smith, knew what she was doing and the studio owner excelled at lighting.
It was only when I came to put it all together that I fell flat on my face. I had the photographs of the railway station already, so
all I had to do was cut out Kelli from the stool she’d been sitting on and pop her on the bench. Right?
I couldn’t have been more wrong. If you look closely, it appears that Kelli’s legs would have been about six feet long to have been in that position. And it’s all down to perspective.
I was looking down on Kelli when I photographed her, using (probably) an 85mm portrait lens. I shot the railway station at eye level with a 50mm lens. To get the perspective right, I should have shot both pictures in exactly the same circumstances – bent knee, same distance, same lens, same lighting etc. OK, same lighting can be difficult but that’s adjustable in Photoshop.
And, finally, shadows – they’re all over the place. I’ve learnt a lot since then and still learning all the time.
But, hey, two medals and an HM – I’ll take that.
Posted on January 18, 2021
Up, Up and Away was one of those whimsical pictures that ‘just appears’. I was keen to do something lighthearted and with a bit of colour, as a lot of my pictures can be, shall we say, a bit on the sombre side. Vicky May, the model and a talented actress who has appeared in the West End of London, had brought along this patterned dress and the umbrella was leaning on the wall in the corner of the studio. Along with Vicky’s hairstyle and shoes, the whole thing was taking on a decidedly upbeat and quirky feel.
I felt a ‘Mary Poppins’ coming on and dug the red ribbon out of my props box, quickly shooting the dangling foot.
It wasn’t until I was assembling the whole thing a bit later that I remembered the squawking gulls (a little bit of faffing required on their beaks) and so they were added in, looking suitably shocked at this strange creature floating in their air space.
The only thing left to do was add a cheerful sky and there it was – one of the quickest composites I’ve ever done and it still makes me smile.
Posted on January 17, 2021
As we’re still confined to barracks with not much hope of any bird photography on the horizon, I’ve collected a few winter birds taken in the East Midlands (UK) over the last few years. We can only hope that one day we’ll be out in the sunshine again listening to birdsong.
Hope is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all …
Posted on January 14, 2021
NOT MUCH, TO BE HONEST, MAYBE IT’S A COUPLE OF INCHES, IF THAT. BUT IT’S ENOUGH FOR WARNINGS NOT TO TRAVEL UNLESS IT’S ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.
SORRY, BUT BORIS GOT THERE BEFORE YOU!
HERE ARE A COUPLE OF GREYLAG GEESE WHO OBVIOUSLY DIDN’T GET THE WARNING.
Posted on January 9, 2021
Heaven, Saturday morning
Angel number 4501 is summoned to His Presence, or HP, as he likes to be called.
“I have an important job for you, 4501. There’s a music festival tomorrow in Everyman’s Park.”
HP’s magnificent voice rolls out, setting clouds, cherubim and seraphim a-tremble. A few feathers shiver and fall off 4501’s wings.
“I was very upset at the amount of sin that went on at the last one – drugs, blasphemy and …” HP lowers his voice and the Heavens still. “… you know, s-e-x that went on.”
4501’s heart leapt in anticipation.
The celestial voice rumbles on. “It will be your mission to point out the error of their ways to these young people, put their feet on a new and better path.”
OK. So it’s Mission Impossible, but I’m going to a music festival.
“Of course, HP. An honour to be chosen. In what guise shall I descend?”
A rock star? A Hell’s Angel? Oh please, not a groupie.
“You will temporarily take over the body of an ice cream salesman called Kevin.”
HP taps his foot and watches as 4501 plummets to earth, his heavenly raiment already changing to jeans and a Nirvana tee-shirt.
Hell, Saturday morning
His Satanic Highness kneels on the backs of two recently arrived politicians, his backside bare and pulsating with inner evil. A ring of hellfire encircles them, holding back a legion of imps and fiends with singed hair and blistered skin.
“Kiss my arse!” roars HSH. “A day back on earth for whoever braves the flames and kisses my royal arse.”
None are brave enough to risk self imolation until Black Bart steps forward. Seven feet tall, once a grave robber and now an upper level demon, he’s been a thorn in HSH’s side ever since he fell into an open grave and drowned in the seepage.
One almighty leap and he’s through the hellfire, skin smouldering and bubbling, smoke seeping from all his orifices.
Bending at the knee, he kisses the putrefying buttocks before him.
Beelzebub, as he likes to be called when dealing with the Damned, rears up and points upwards, searing a hole through the charcoal-blackened vaults.
“Go, Lulu, enjoy your day.”
Black Bart only has time to say, “Lulu? What the f–” before he vanishes in a swirl of silk and Chanel No 5.
His Presence watches the materialisation of the ravishing young woman, her modesty barely covered in wisps of green silk.
“You’ve outdone yourself this week, Lucifer.” He prefers the old names to all this high-falutin’ Royal Highness stuff.
The Devil laughs. “Kevin the ice cream seller won’t stand a chance. Shall I make the first move?”
The two deities settle down to their weekly game of Celestial Chess.
Lulu basks under the hot sun and a thought pops into her mind.
I’d kill for an ice cream.
Posted on January 4, 2021
After listening to Boris on the television tonight I think it’s time for a little light relief and these pictures have always brought a smile to my face.
It was very much a family affair which meant everyone was relaxed. Martyn (left) is Hannah’s dad and Mason (right) is Hannah’s partner.
Posted on January 3, 2021
Over the Christmas and New Year period, we watched a lot of old films on television, including Sunset Boulevard, starring the wonderful Gloria Swanson. It’s one of my all-time favourites and I had it firmly in mind while making the photograph below. The model, who I only ever knew as Peaches, was perfect for what I wanted and this somewhat unconventional portrait – Faded Dreams – became one of my favourites.
Posted on November 28, 2020
I’ve been doing a bit of archiving / cataloguing while watching the rain run down the window. I found a little batch of florals I’d shot with my lens baby. It was a few years ago and I can’t remember which lens it was, but I remember it was a lot of fun. The lens now languishes forgotten in a cupboard somewhere, so I think it’s time I found it and learnt how to use it properly.
Posted on November 26, 2020
It’s been a long time since I did any work in Photoshop and Lightroom, so I spent a pleasant afternoon yesterday on this studio portrait from just over a year ago at Studio 3 by Severn. It helped that the sun was shining briefly and for a short period of time I could imagine I was indoors by choice.
Circles of Confusion
Published June 2020
Ashes on the Tongue
To be published
The Five Faces of Hannah
A Successful Failure
Practice, Practice, Practice
Up. Up and Away
Up,Up and Away
Mike the Model
A Little Bit of Ballet
The Red Dress
In Black and White
Lens Baby Tulips
Clowns to the Left of Me
As the Crow Flies