Woskerski and the Wall: Colouring Cleethorpes…

Dawid Paradowski is a London-based artist who was recently selected, along with a number of local artists, to take part in a ‘Paint the Town Proud’ initiative which has seen various artworks appear on walls throughout the Grimsby and Cleethorpes conurbation.

Dave, who signs his work Woskerski, is a versatile artist well known for his food illustration and it is no surprise that the main focus of his new mural is ice cream. Painted in a photorealistic style, the two cones that dominate the composition look mouth-wateringly delicious. The artist can now add the east coast resort, Cleethorpes to a long list of places his work can be found: in London and elsewhere in the UK, in the United States, in Europe and beyond.

Woskerski works with cans of spray paint and the control he has over this medium is incredible: I watched him for a while: he was working on a small detail, layering about six different colours, it was fascinating to watch. The artist estimated he had used around 400 cans of paint over the 16 days it took to complete the mural.

The thing I really liked was the way the various textures of the wall were still very apparent on close scrutiny: smooth concrete rendering, brickwork old and new, missing mortar, cracks. Covering this was a challenge for the artist I guess, but adds a lot of interest for me. The overall result is a beautiful thing and I know that the people of Cleethorpes are very grateful to have it.

Grand Crew: vintage rock and those who help put the fizz into the show.

‘If you want to lift yourself up, lift up someone else’

Booker T Washington (1865-1915)

A friend got in touch recently. A tour manager and sound engineer, he wondered if I would be interested in spending a few days documenting the setting up of a stage show with the crew of a well known rock band. The band were due to tour the USA (as I write, they are in Detroit), it would be their fiftieth anniversary (deferred by a year due to the restrictions of the Covid pandemic) and it would be special. Aside from a few shots I would be left to my own devices. I would be transported, accommodated, fed and watered. I said yes.

Production Park is sited within an industrial estate not far from Wakefield, Yorkshire in the UK. The complex is dominated by Studio 001 which stands around six storeys high and which was to be my home for a couple of days. Built in 2005, the only production facility of its kind in Europe, Studio 001 has played host to the cast and crew of some of the biggest names in the entertainment industry. The building is largely a very big, black box with 4 loading bays at one end (floor around 40 metres square, working height around 19 metres): on one side of this and forming the frontage are offices, catering, various recreational facilities and, on the top floor, a hotel comprising 14 rooms. Mine was number 13.

I got the feeling, standing in that space for the first time, that the lighting was not going to be easy to deal with. Once three of the loading bays were opened up to the backs of large Transam vehicles and their cargo of flight cases, light from a bright, sunny morning flooded in and caused me a momentary rethink of my exposure calculations. Later, once those doors were closed, I was to discover that the testing of stage lighting could cause some sudden and unexpected problems. I love difficult light, enough said.

Before unloading began, crew members were busy with tape measures and the riggers were busy on gangways five storeys up. I was fascinated when a great number of chains descended from those lofty heights and even more intrigued by the chalk markings – symbols, letters and numbers – that covered the floor. Once flight cases and gantry parts arrived, the precision of panning became evident: each light, each piece of equipment had its place. This is stuff one doesn’t see at a show….

This was a new show and had never been erected by this crew before. The band, Judas Priest had opted for an industrial theme to celebrate 50 years in the business of ‘heavy metal’ rock. There were some unfamiliar props, notably large inflatables – a towering chimney among them – and a large lighting rig fashioned in the shape of the band’s logo which could be moved up and down during performance. The colossal space offered by Studio 001 provided the chance to get it all up and working and iron out any problems: the next time it would be erected – at a gig – the work needed to run like clockwork within time restraints.

As I noted, this anniversary tour had been delayed by the pandemic. One of the great things I witnessed was the meeting of old friends after a substantial lay off which hasn’t been easy for those in the entertainment business. In the dining room, on the first day, there was much conversation centred around experiences of the past year or so. One story, from a sound technician, particularly interested me: he had begun making and selling pizza from a truck at his hometown in Washington State, western USA. An excellent raconteur, the guy had me hanging onto his every word as he described the trials and tribulations of running a venture which, in the end, became too successful to cope with. He seemed glad to be back.

The crew made me feel welcome without exception, I found them friendly and interesting while their expertise and dedication to getting a job done well with as little fuss as possible was obvious. I tried to ensure I didn’t get in the way – during the unloading I literally needed eyes in the back of my head – and more or less adopted the ‘hiding in plain sight’ role that I have perfected over many years of making photographs in public places.

Shortly before I was driven back to the railway station I had an opportunity to go out onto the rigger platforms. It was an opportunity for me in the sense of making photographs but, being very scared of heights, my progress was slow as I nervously made my way across to a point where I could make the shot above. On ‘stage’ is Ritchie, guitarist with the band. Today I found out that he has been admitted to hospital with a serious heart condition. The remaining dates of the US tour have been postponed. I didn’t get to meet him but, as a guy who was lucky enough to feel part of the crew for three days, I wish him a speedy recovery.

Walking the dog: freedom during lockdown

I haven’t got away from my hometown, Cleethorpes for some time now. I live a stone’s throw from the sea front and can be found somewhere along the local coastline most days. It’s good to see people out and about during the month-long lockdown but, as a photographer, I confess to running out of ideas. I have projects in mind but have had to shelve them for the time being.

The promenade and the beach are currently the haunts of those who like to excercise, those who simply enjoy walking, beachcombers and lovers enjoying the warmth of each other’s company tempered by the often bitingly cold sea air. And those who walk their dogs.

And so nothing has changed, for this is the scene in Cleethorpes every winter. But I wouldn’t be out and about every day making photographs, many regulars are getting quite well known to me and we exchange hellos, pass the time of day briefly. Halfway through lockdown and I am really feeling a sense of deja-vu every time I put camera to eye. I have started photographing my washing hanging out to dry, the kid’s breakfast, the street from my kitchen window and abstract views of my favourite chair.

I don’t have a dog and, although I am a cat person, I don’t have a pet. I’m happy to watch from a distance as people who do take the opportunity to escape the home and, like me, enjoy as much freedom as the coast can offer.

Camera used was an Olympus OMD EM5 mk II coupled with a Zuiko Digital 12-40 f2.8 lens. Thank you for taking the time to look at my blog.

Diversionary Tactics: Offsetting the Lockdown Blues (and Reds and Yellows)

At the moment it is complicated. For some months prior to the lockdown I have been pursuing some art therapy. Painting. To try and address an issue that arose from a life-changing episode that occurred last summer and which is irrelevant here. It has been a great success, my mental health is slowly improving and it has breached a gap in my photography; I am currently in the planning stages for two big projects and am working on the material from a current project and which is scheduled to be exhibited in the UK in 2021. On top of this I am in the process of relocating back to my home town of Cleethorpes and have already shipped a lot of my resources back there.

The Covid-19 pandemic had another impact. I had booked flights in order to begin one of my projects, which was to compare a port in the UK with one in Europe that shares many similarities. I won’t divulge any more, suffice to say the flights were cancelled. Not only would it have been a start to some work, but also a chance to take a break. Never mind. So I find myself at home. Unable to go out and make photographs as I would like to, I decided to make some pictures with my not-so-great phone. As a further challenge I decided to make them in colour – a real diversion for me.

I started off by noticing little things I had previously not paid a lot of attention to: after all, my office wall is just a wall, the dining table and chairs are just that and anyway, who cares about the relationship between my feet and the front door? Yet in a – for want of a better word – meditative state, I gradually discovered another facet to the familiar world I lived in. And light was the catalyst.

The small garden, in which I sit to smoke, is full of potential too. Not that I have particularly done it justice, but that’s not the point (if, indeed, there is a point). It is high-walled, small. Claustrophobic, sometimes. Depending on the weather.

Since I first began making photographs back in the 1970s, family photographs have always been important to me and, interestingly, I haven’t done much of that recently. My daughter often comes with me on an exercise walk around the block. And she enjoys having her photograph taken.

The streets around me, usually insanely busy with traffic, are oddly quiet at the moment. As I have said elsewhere in this blog, my favourite time of the day is first light. When the streets are empty. But this is different. Just very strange.

And then there is the ‘selfie’ a modern art form in which you can realise yourself the way you want. I haven’t resorted to an app that puts cat’s whiskers on my face…

Ok, the confinement is slowly sapping away my motivation. I admit it. Soon it will be over and I will be hard-pressed to find some peace and quiet. And I will want some. Anyway, I’m going to the garden to smoke a cigarette and check out the shadows…..

Thanks for reading. The phone used is a lower range Vivo model. The selfie was made with my Olympus mirrorless camera….

Where time seems to have stood still: once upon a market in Pathum Thani

Talat Klong Sip Song Hok Wa in the Lam Luk Ka district of Pathum Thani was once a bustling market community established around the intersection of two klongs (canals) from which its name is derived: Sip Song and Hok Wa. The place, which was also home to a small Chinese community, is largely deserted now and the few families that do live there do so among empty, dilapidated buildings whose occupants have long since departed.

The once busy klongs, their waters animated by the passage of traffic, are silent now. There is evidence that fishing is an occupation for some, but the still water is only occasionally disturbed by the splash of ‘the one that got away’ or the silent wake of a water rat. If there is any success story to be told here then the clue is in the odd, well-preserved interior you may come across. For these are very popular with filmmakers.

The ‘talat’ has been used as a location in movies, television shows, advertisements and music videos and goes some way, I guess, to helping provide continuity. For the hour or so I was there I saw no other visitors save a few cyclists who pass through – the area is popular with cycling enthusiasts – and those who attended the few retail establishments weren’t busy.

The appeal for filmmakers is the authenticity of the available properties: particularly the period furniture. I came across two women about to sit down for lunch in a room full of beautiful examples of this. Though the table, with seating for six more, lent an air of poignancy to the scene. I got the impression that they were no strangers to photo requests; once they had posed for a photograph they seamlessly continued with the job in hand. I then made the photograph I wanted.

So what of the future, I thought, once the place has ceased to be useful? Will the wonderful pieces end up on a stall in Chatuchak Market, Bangkok? Or maybe grace the dining rooms of well-heeled tourists? One thing thing is certain: it has all been recorded. Many times over.

The juxtaposition above amused me: the period Thai costume and the nod to one of the most well known of cinematic icons. Looking at the way I framed the image, I am reminded that I owe a great debt to the work of Eugene Atget (1857-1927). A big influence during my time as a student of photography in the 1970s.

I couldn’t make up my mind about the barbershop: certainly the couple watching television in a far corner were not expecting custom, for I went unnoticed as I hovered in the doorway. A film set? The musical, Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007) came to mind. The scene lent itself to the chilling, but in a way that recalled (for me) one of Andy Warhol’s best works: the series ‘Little Electric Chair’ (1964/5). I made my picture and beat a retreat.

Thanks for reading my blog. Camera used was my usual: Olympus OMD EM5 Mk II coupled with a Zuiko Digital short zoom.

The moment of decision: judgement? luck? – I’ll take both…

‘There is nothing in this world that does not have a decisive moment’

When Cardinal de Retz (1613-1679) made this statement he was talking from a political perspective, suggesting that the art of leadership is strengthened by the ability to recognise and seize the ‘moment’. The phrase ‘the decisive moment’ came to the attention of the photographic world when it was used as the title of the English version of Henri Cartier-Bresson’s book, ‘Images à la Sauvette’ (1952). Nowadays it is – particularly in the world of social media groups – a buzzword for countless photography enthusiasts and seems to simply relate to the decision – often misguidedly – to press the shutter button. The original, intended meaning – ‘when the visual and psychological elements of people in a real life scene spontaneously and briefly come together in perfect resonance to express the essence of that situation’ (John Suler, The Psychology of the Decisive Moment) is, to some extent, lost.

Winter, Fifth Avenue (1892) by Alfred Stieglitz

One early photographer who embraced the idea of such a moment was Alfred Stieglitz (1864-1946): he appears to have had the patience of a saint (as well as a strong constitution, lol) in waiting for the above moment: three hours in a snowstorm, reportedly. Here are his own words:

‘On Washington’s birthday in 1893, a great blizzard raged in New York. I stood on a corner of Fifth Avenue, watching the lumbering stagecoaches appear through the blinding snow and move northward on the avenue. The question formed itself: could what I was experiencing, seeing, be put down with the slot plates and lenses available? The light was dim. Knowing that where there is light, one can photograph, I decided to make an exposure. After three hours of standing in the blinding snow, I saw the stagecoach come struggling up the street with the driver lashing his horses onward. At that point, I was nearly out of my head, but I got the exposure I wanted.’

I have always enjoyed the resulting photograph for a variety of reasons, not least because I believe the photographer achieved his intention.

Following the stoicism of Stieglitz, it seems somewhat trite to mention that I waited almost five minutes for the photograph above. On the promenade at Cleethorpes. On a sunny day. I had initially been attracted by the shape of tyre tracks in the sand before I noticed a strolling couple on a course that I believed might coincide with those tracks. The judgement proved accurate; the silhouetted figures in the background were, interestingly, all separate and, because my attention was centred on the woman and child, I feel this is an example of luck. Whatever, I only noticed this once I had downloaded my image.

I had to hold my nerve for the snap of the ice cream vendor, above. Only a minute or so wait, camera to my eye, but on a busy-ish day with several passers-by. I was going on the hunch that sooner or later, someone with their head down and involved with a task will look up. I tried to half hide behind a giant plastic ice cream and the result was that luckily, although I was discovered, it appears (to me, anyway) that the attention of the salesperson is drawn to that giant piece of gimmickry.

And on to ‘the lucky break’, unexpected moments that add to the success of an image rather than, as is more often the case in my experience, ruin it. I had already made one photograph of the scene below – I was attracted by the geometry of it – but felt I needed to slightly reposition myself; just as I made the second photograph a figure appeared into the scene. In white, catching the sunlight and carrying a clipboard which made an interesting shape. The intrusion enhanced the photograph in my opinion; the original intention, the play of line and shape, was still there but now there was some human interest. I can’t claim it. Or can I? As the saying goes: ‘you make your own luck’.

In the course of preparing this blog I came across two very interesting articles. ‘Alfred Stieglitz: The Terminal and Winter, Fifth Avenue’ by Linda Tate (www.thestoryweb.com) and ‘The Psychology of the Decisive Moment’ by John Suler.

My pictures were taken using an Olympus OMD with a Zuiko lens.

Chatuchak, Part 2: Vendors

My last blog took a look at the Chatuchak Weekend Market before the crowds descend. In this blog my interest is directed to those who work at this popular Bangkok tourist attraction.

Business had just begun when I made most of these photographs, the narrow alleys of the central section still quickly and easily negotiable. Some stalls were already trading while in others, vendors waited in anticipation of a successful, busy day.

A Moment of Meditation (Coffee Cup): 2017

Looking at this photograph, one thought always occupies me: ‘I wish that coffee cup had not been there’. And it is true; I toned it down a tad, to lessen the impact, but for me it remains – admitted in my title – and anyway, I only have the one shot. It remains a vendor in refective mood rather than: ‘A mildly irritated man who knows that a farang with a camera has just asked if he could move a coffee cup.’

I waited for some time for the photograph above, but I sometimes get the feeling that something may happen to complete an image. In this case I was spotted, an occupational hazard that either works or doesn’t work. Following the moment I did enjoy some friendly banter – an occupational pleasure.

Speaking of conversations, I was talking to a grand old chap at one stall – his excellent English put my Thai speaking skills to shame – when he remarked as a parting shot: ‘yes, the market has many stories, many secrets’. I was on my way home but the vendor’s words got me thinking: untold stories? Hidden away? I wondered if they would ever reveal themselves.

The thousands of visitors Chatuchak attracts each weekend are well catered for, too. I tried the street food: delicious. Hot work when you consider the climate; well into the nineties usually. The lady above was able to engage with the few basic Thai pleasantries I offered, as was her assistant – also pictured above – sitting by her side.

Street portraiture has always interested me; it offers the chance to be a little in control and it presents the challenge of giving the resulting image relevance. I met a young man (portrayed below) outside a small, glass-fronted unit which was brightly lit to show off some very large paintings. We chatted and established the paintings were his work and he agreed to a photograph. I went outside to make the shot, the unit was too small to achieve the framing I felt I needed. What I didn’t anticipate was getting my hand in; by happy accident, in the right place… at the moment of exposure.

Thanks for visiting my blog. For those who like to know, I used an Olympus OMD with a Zuiko short zoom lems to make the photographs.

Chatuchak, Part 1: before the crowds descend

Rendezvous Point: The clock tower dominates the market, 2017

Covering some 27 acres, Bangkok’s Chatuchak Weekend Market is one of the biggest in the world. The market comprises around 15,000 stalls, the bulk of which are arranged grid-like with crisscrossing alleyways – which barely allow the passage of two people abreast – contained within a broad perimeter ‘avenue’. It is from this circulating walkway that the famous Clock Tower can be seen, offering hope for the lost: it is a popular meeting point for that reason. It is here that you can reunite with friends, sit and reflect on the experience or contemplate the wooden ‘croaking frog’ you just bought because, well, one does. I made the photograph above when things came together for me, contre-jour, a little after sunrise. The market largely dormant.

I like to visit the market early morning – before the latest contingent of the 200,000 who visit the market annually – because I have the place to myself. Nearly. Sometimes among the lifeless mannequins, the piles of books, t-shirts, souvenirs and other items, the well worn tarpaulin stretched across goods yet to be revealed… life pops up unexpectedly and the market wakes up.

A benefit, for me, of having a place like Chatuchak to oneself is the chance to look at things closer. Occasionally I spot a detail that gives me a chance to consider what is before me in a more contemplative way, exploring elements of composition, light and shade. This doesn’t happen often, but here are three examples: lights waiting to be switched on, polythene sheets stretched to cover their brimming contents and parasols waiting to be unfurled.

Naturally, as we are in Bangkok, there are oddities: I came across a bust – a replica of some classical work – sat on a table at an intersection in the artists’ zone. It didn’t appear to be on sale and I was having no luck with it. A farang with a briefcase was hurrying along. I picked my moment; on reflection I got it wrong – not the ‘decisive moment’ – but I like it anyway.

I have a wooden frog somewhere, consigned to a box and hidden away. Perhaps I’ll find it one day and be able to tell someone, ‘look, it croaks!’.

Written off, but not forgotten: crashed cars, spare parts and untold stories

Top of the heap, the latest acquisition: 2015

I paid a short visit to a dismantling firm – spur of the moment decision really – in Scunthorpe, Lincolnshire during July of 2015. I had arrived in the town on an early morning train and made my way to the outskirts where once stood the vast buildings and blast furnaces of steelworks.

I was looking for something I could not find: the new warehousing depots and characterless industrial units, some still waiting for occupation, were not it. The weather was deteriorating fast and my getaway toward the town centre took me past a dismantlers’ yard: I remembered finding parts here for my first car – an old Renault 5 – over 40 years previously.

What an odd beauty destruction may bring: 2015

The guy in the office gave me the ‘once’ over – twice – before allowing me in to make photographs. After I’d had a good look around – making shots later to be ignored – I began to look a little closer. Occasionally, among the clutter and chaos, I’d find a few interesting arrangements of distorted metal and displaced parts. Then I made a photograph of an interior and things got a little more philosophical.

The door of this car was missing and I didn’t resist the temptation. I crouched in the passenger side – the seats had been removed – and considered the scene; ‘what were your thoughts at the moment of impact?’, ‘did you have time to have a thought?’. The dashboard was intact; maybe, on the premise that cars are replaceable, this story had a happy ending.

I recalled JG Ballard, whose book, Crash I had enjoyed:

‘A car crash harnesses elements of eroticism, aggression, desire, speed, drama, kinesthetic factors, the stylizing of motion, consumer goods, status – all these in one event.’

I noticed a redundant church that overlooked the scene and found this connection appropriate. As I made the short walk into the town – and shelter – the drizzle had become rain.

For those who like to know, the camera was an Olympus OMD coupled with a Zuiko short zoom lens. Thanks for visiting my blog.

Diversions: Photography and How I Enjoy Playing…

Sometimes, while reviewing files, I come across an image that fails to work for me but which, on closer scrutiny, offers the possibility of a crop and the chance to ‘play around’ with it. More often than not, interestingly, this is a colour image and therefore ‘out of my comfort zone’. My ‘notes in passing’ are predominantly monochrome and that is the setting I use on my camera by default.

Both the above images were made one the same day, at a car park that overlooks the Gulf of Thailand. I was waiting for the sun to rise fully and had a walk around to kill some time. The first was part of an image that I simply flipped upside down because the shapes, for me, worked better as a composition. The second was taken on a raised pavement that ran alongside the parking spaces; it had rained during the night and a large pool of water had formed at the point where the footpath turned a corner, catching the early light. It was a reasonably simple job, using Photoshop, to turn the photograph into something I could live with.

Talat Noi, one of Bangkok’s oldest communities, is one of my favourite districts and is the subject of an ongoing project (there is a blog on this page about it). The image above was made through the doorway of a building that was being renovated. The main change I made was to shorten the broom handle until it, in my opinion, worked with the composition. Artistic license…

I don’t have a macro lens, but my lens will focus very closely and on occasion I have experimented with very close up images. The two photos above were made using this and on these I specifically went out to make colour photographs as a little project. The tendrils in the first were barely a millimetre wide. The close focus and low light combined to give me only a couple of points were the image is sharp and I brightened the highlights at those points. I removed most of the background, leaving a little detail which I felt complemented the design. Likewise, the highlights were selectively brightened in the second image. It’s about the colour red.

I was sat outside the house one early morning when I noticed the intense shadows on the wall caused by a tree bathed in the warm light of the sun, which had just risen above the rooftops of surrounding houses. The was a gentle breeze and the shadows moved, almost imperceptibly, as I watched them. I thought: ‘how great it would be if you could capture that as a painting’. So I tried to realise what that may look like and this was the result.

Finally a crop from a photograph that I would normally have made in black and white. The complementary colours used by the artist produced a stunning effect, however, and I didn’t resist the temptation to alter my settings for a moment. On review, I thought there was an almost collage effect, that the window looked disassociated from the wall. It was a simple task to mask the image – window frames are easy, with their straight lines – and attempt to emphasise this effect. Whatever, there is a lot going on in this picture.

Interestingly, I note that all of these images were taken in 2017. I’m still playing.

Thanks for visiting my blog. Usual Olympus OMD and Zuiko short zoom used for all, for those who are interested.