#1622 theoldmortuary ponders.

Hello November. The beginning of the slow, grey, slither towards the shortest day, Winter Solstice, followed by the, equally grey, clamber out of the monotone abyss in January and February.

For a couple of years now I have been fascinated by altering greyish pictures like this using the classic photographic/radiographic physics of image making that I learnt in Darkrooms during the analogue years and then the digital manipulation of the digital, computer generated years. My career was more or less 50/50. All the excitement of the digital age saw dark rooms repurposed, new skills learned and to a degree the old knowledge abandoned. I have moved from wet processing ( chemicals in tanks) to digital and AI assisted image making.

As an aside I do wonder if the initials and concept of AI would seem less threatening if it was called Assisted Information rather than Artificial Information.

But I digress. Thank goodness my brain did not have its head completely turned by the digital age and carefully retained all my hard learned analogue photography/ radiology physics.

Hard earned because I was a reluctant student of all sorts of physics. I really had to knuckle down and learn it.

In my imagination my analogue skills are all neatly stored in my brain like this

This however is probably closer to the truth including the eighties wallpaper.

Now I could bore myself with all the analogue physics skills that take a poor and dull photograph, taken an hour before sunset.

Into a vibrant celebration of a late afternoon in November. Nobody needs to be bored by me on a Monday morning. Although I been asked to give a talk to an art group in the New Year.

Imagine skipping off to an art group for a social gathering with fellow artists and a woman turns up and starts talking about Physics!

This idea is going to need some finessing.

#1619 theoldmortuary ponders.

Share a few recent shots from your camera roll, no context needed.

No contexts.

Blogs do appear out of nowhere quite often. Sometimes, like today, my blog host WordPress drop a prompt that is easy to respond to. Easy for me today, because I had been prepping for today’s blog in advance.

My apologies if anyone spots a context. It will be entirely co-incidental.

October is the month of harvest and as such fruit and vegetables pose, ready to be turned into paintings in the darker months of Winter.

A Friend recently donated, to me, an unwanted photographic umbrella.I was unsure how I would use it, but it is small and doesn’t take up much space. It has a lovely gold reflective surface.

I can pose my models in the yard and catch the sharp angled sun beams in the umbrella.

I had designated this week an art admin week. No dabbling. There was also some Tennis Club admin and life admin. I made a list in order of importance.

Life Admin and Tennis Club Admin are unpredictable and come first. This week Art Admin was not allowed to be all arty and unpredictable.

Frame.

Mount.

Sort physical portfolio

Photograph fruit and vegetables.

Fix broken things.

By the skin of my teeth all arty tasks have been achieved. I am a little in love with the results created by using the relective umbrella. Which made me reflect on my general fascination with umbrellas and how they can be photographed or painted. I trawled my photo archive on my phone and found a gorgeous image from 2019. A complete and happy accident. An illumination festival was being held at the Royal William Yard, an outdoor event, blessed with the very best of West Country weather. 3 days of an after dark art installation, with 3 days of torrential rain that only arrived after dark.We probably attended on the second or third day when the organisers had, prudently, decided to provide attendees with a clear plastic umbrella so that the effects of the illuminations were not lost in the black shadows of peoples regular umbrella’s

This one lucky shot gives me such pleasure.

The No Context rule definately simplified the umbrella blog I was going to write. Another time.

#1600 theoldmortuary ponders.

Breakfasts are very predictable in this house on a Monday. Here we are eating pre-breakfast in the book corner ( left over weekend croissants) while the eggs scramble. But all is not as it seems @theoldmortuary. Breakfast was served early in the yard!

There is a passing resemblance to scrambled egg but we tend not to perch on our breakfast whilst eating.

Not even on the worst days of table manners

#1528 theoldmortuary ponders

Every picture tells a story. Yesterday any pretence that Summer was still with us slipped away. An autumnal greige day with rain and grunginess, marked that a line has finally been crossed. Another line that was crossed, was the image storage provided by my blog hosts. Time for me to take some immediate action. 10 years of images to go through, clearing out duplicates and images that had been stored, but never used. A job much more pleasant than clearing out the garage, that had held a five year archive of 18 years of my arty, but no longer relevant stuff. But clearing the garage taught me that arty clear ups are a good thing. A digital clear up involved no dirt, no trips to the tip and no spiders. Just an hour or so with a cup of coffee and some digestive biscuits, and some lovely memories, not all of them the smiley sort of memories, some were sad as memories can be. But life is a blend of happy and sad which every sentient being has to navigate. Going through the pictures was a record of where I have been, which has put me on the path of where I am now, and ultimately where I am heading off to. Although that of course is somewhat unknown and I like that about life. One picture I retrieved does accurately reflect the end point of all of our journeys.

Clearing out the garage was such a good thing. My whole creative life feels lighter without all the stuff that was, at times, essential to getting a Fine Art degree as a mature student. Sometimes I just go in,look at the empty space, and enjoy the almost nothingness of it. It also attracts envious gentleman callers who would do all sorts of things in there if they had the opportunity.

Nobody is going to stroll into my more spacious digital archive and have fantasies about sprockets, lathes and vices. But I know there is now ample space for more pondering illustration and that feels good.

Sunday’s blog will be a trip through the cleared out archive in no particular order. But if a picture of a pre-paid grave ( not mine) is a low point, then the sign outside a Chicago Church is surely a brightener for a Saturday morning.

#1263 theoldmortuary ponders.

Does every picture tell a story?

I think most do.

This one tells of the late summer clear up. All family guests have moved on to different holiday destinations and our home has eased back from peak occupation. The crocs belonging to three small girls are gathered in a bucket by the back door while the girls themselves are away on different holiday adventures.

Using a similar colour scheme I am trying to tell the story of a set of swimming steps that are much quieter this week now the heatwave has moved on.

I am at heart a story teller either with words or pictures.

A regular blog reader, who is familiar with these steps, said yesterday that I had made them look very posh. That was not the intention, but I agree. They may have been posh once upon a time but shabby shic is a better description now. Most of the time they are entirely tolerable and are regularly washed by incoming very high tides.

At night they can be a gathering place for  smokers of weed and men who like to do a wee. Not so posh then. Not so great as a swim destination either. Not  so great a picture.

But I don’t need to tell that story about these steps.

Years ago a little pair of discarded crocs by the back door of the actual Old Mortuary used to break my heart.   A small person and her family  had left us to live abroad. That would not have made a great story or a great picture.

3 pairs of crocs in a bucket is a much better story.

However in the interests of story telling I also wanted to show the earlier set of steps at the peak of the August heatwave. I am not interested in the crowds of people who used these steps recently just the steps as a metaphor for extreme atmospheric and radiated heat. Just too much heat.

The heat blistered out of the rocks at night. And the sea languidly lapping the steps, warmer than we have ever known. Not quite cooling enough perhaps. Oleaginous even.

A different colour scheme. A completely different story.

#1194 the oldmortuary ponders

I picked up this postcard at The Archaeology Museum (Acropolis)  of Athens in early autumn.

I’ve added the heart because it has become a favourite image. A girl standing with her dad.

I am fairly certain I don’t have a similar image of myself with my dad. Not for any estrangement or complex family dynamics, but because in our family my dad was the photographer and therefore never in pictures.

This is an almost unimaginable concept in a world where smartphones allow everyone to be a photographer.

In our spare room there is a big blue Ikea bag of family albums to be gone through before I put them back up in the roof. I can’t say I hold out much hope of finding a father-daughter picture   of us together until I was in my teens.

In pondering and googling this thought I found a really interesting article which I have shared below.

https://www.itstartswithadam.com/blog/what-smartphones-have-done-to-photography-and-our-capacity-to-look#:~:text=Smartphones%20have%20made%20photographs%20fluid,does%20the%20remembering%20for%20us

And just like that I have found a long form blog about artiness that I really enjoy. I like New World art writing for the same reason that New World wines are so interesting. No snobbishness, less entitled twattery.

Pondering and googling and a day walking in the sun.

It makes me think and that is always a good thing.

#754 theoldmortuary ponders

I love a mirror selfie. The one above was entirely accidental. I was photographing a card design on my workbench and accidentally flipped to the actual selfie mode and photographed myself in the mirror ball that hangs in the window of my studio. I am the pixelated orange blob in the centre of the mirrorball.

In Venice recently, my feet put in an appearance on an Arnaldo Pomodoro , Sphere Within a Sphere, sculpture. The rest of me is lost in a dark crevice.

And in Dublin I embellished the same sculptors work a year ago

Back in Venice I doubled myself onto an unnamed sculpture by Anish Kapoor.

Yesterday I had to remove myself from my own painting to include it in the blog. Here is the original, a highly glossy resin piece.

I dressed the part to visit a Yayoi Kusama installation in Hong Kong

But most times the reflection is unavoidable. Here I am hanging with Mick, as you do.

Helmut Newton

The serendipity of this blog is that it is two years since the last blog course I attended. The final piece of advice given by my chosen mentor was to put more of myself in the blogs. He absolutely did not mean visually. He wanted to hear my voice in my writing. Any sort of self exposure feels a bit awkward, written or visual but I have tried to take his advice and after two years I am finding the whole thing a bit easier. She says, pulling a quizzical face.

#734 theoldmortuary ponders

One moment in a busy Rome street led us to a retrospective Exhibition of Helmut Newton’s High Fashion photography.

Helmut Newton (born Helmut Neustädter; 31 October 1920 – 23 January 2004) was a German-Australian photographer. The New York Times described him as a “prolific, widely imitated fashion photographer whose provocative, erotically charged black-and-white photos were a mainstay of Vogue and other publications.

Most of us only glimpse the pages of Vogue but his photographs escaped the rarified pages of Fashion magazines and became iconic images of their eras.

He also photographed icons

Loving art and photography is a funny old habit. Under normal circumstances my head and heart would have looked forward to seeing this exhibition, possibly for many months. As it was we spotted the poster less than 24 hours before we were due to leave Rome. We had to squeeze our visit into the journey from hotel to train station. There was already serendipity built into the exhibition even being there during our visit as it had been scheduled to open during the first dreadful months of Covid, when Italy was particularly affected. The reschedule was our good fortune.

But when serendipity strikes it is always a good idea to grasp it. So even though there was only 1 1/2 hours between the exhibition opening and our train leaving we made the most of our moment.

Next stop Venice.

#376 theoldmortuary ponders

@theoldmortuary we are still in some sort of crazy autumnal clear out. Domestically rather satisfying but not exactly blog worthy. One other job today was to find a photograph of my daughter as a four year old artist. Digging around in my digital archive I found some old favourite photographs. The one above was taken at Petersham Nurseries in Surrey. A garden centre that has a wonderful cafe. The next photo is a very superior sheep at The Royal Cornwall Show.

Since a small artist inspired this blog it would be an error to not include some actual art in this random trip through my photographs.

Yayoi Kusama at Victoria Miro Gallery London. These silver balls we’re floating in a pond and were an unexpected surprise. We were actually there to see the work of Grayson Perry.

Another London picture taken whilst I was doing Jury Service in Southwark,this image ticks all the boxes. London bricks and a message that all the miscreants in court would have done well to pay attention to.

And then on to some Spanish bricks and a pigeon posing perfectly.

I think my little cache of favourite pictures could run for two days if we are still in domestic mode tomorrow, but here is the photograph I searched for. A small artist in Montana, 26 years ago.

And her niece in Hong Kong this week.