departure

Farewell to another year. This is the TSS Earnslaw chugging off for its run up Lake Wakatipu from its little harbor mooring in Queenstown. In a couple of years, the Earnslaw will reach its centenary so one perhaps can draw some comfort as 2009 draws to a close that something so majestic can still race off into a stiff wind with such grace and speed that years, like squalls, are quickly left in its wake.

Perched 15 floors above Coolangatta Beach on the Gold Coast, we're being treated to a wondrous and constantly changing view of the Pacific Ocean, beaches, and mountain hinterland around us. But nestled in one corner of the park between our apartment and the beach is a tiny fair that's sprung up to provide some Christmas entertainment. I thought it represented a nice opportunity to test out the new Canon G11 I've added to the photographic arsenal, and so I screwed on a Joby gorilla-pod and clamped the camera to the balcony railing for a long-exposure shot that I think came out nicely. Low noise, low shake, and lovely colors, although I still need to do a little adjustment on the halogen lighting, methinks.

art amidst the trash

Little did I know but Melbourne's street artists could rival those of Barcelona and Madrid for their creativity and style, although their collective canvas is a little less obvious than the main thoroughfares targeted by their Spanish counterparts. In a handful of alleyways in central Melbourne, there are long stretches of anarchistic graffiti, ranging from basic stencils through to elaborate and fantastic painted scenes. It's just the sort of thing I love. These alleyways aren't your pampered and protected tourist showpieces however. They're lined with overflowing dumpsters, characters reclining in doorways with long ashes drooping from cigarettes, and the smell of urine - fresh and historic - pervading the scene. No wonder the city council took some convincing that these were actually worthy of preservation. So there is an entrance price to these galleries, but one well worth paying. This little gem was in the dimmest, trashiest, and most easily-overlooked of the alleyways, and apart from the scrawls, was the only art in this location. Even though some of the other work at locations is more complex, more storied, and perhaps more enjoyable, I found that the solitude and apocalyptic surrounds of its alley lent this one added relevance. Taken with the 5D Mk II and a 24-105mm f/4 at 1/25 sec handheld.

November Sunrise

What can one say to explain this? Just the good fortune, although it didn't seem so at the time, of being woken early. In all fairness, Sylvie saw it first and may well have grabbed an even better picture of this stunning dawn view. ISO 1600 on the 5D Mark II, and given I didn't have the tripod at the ready, it's handheld at f/2.2 and 1/40 sec with a 50mm.

Poolside Precision

A shot taken from the balcony of a sixth floor room at the Royal Sands resort in Cancun. There was something in the combination of colors and shadows that drew me to frame the shot this way. The tongues of shadow from the lounges, the green of the palm tree and the blue of the pool all stood out nicely in the available lighting. I also like the emptiness - it's devoid of people but you can feel the preparedness for the next day's sun-seekers. It's orderliness is nearly clinical and I suppose, given the ubiquity of resort design, that it could actually be a shot from almost any beachside hotel in the world. It's that orderliness that draws my eye to it, especially given what the typical resort pool looks like on an average afternoon - strewn with towels and skewed lounges, with their backrests at various angles, and the detritus of flip flops, hats, clothes, drinks and bags. The 40D with a 50mm at ISO 400 and 1/3 sec.

Meeting Bruno or Eating Bruno?

A quick shot of our new kitten, Bruno, being shadowed by the incumbent feline, Sasso. Sass has actually adapted to the new arrival remarkably well. Some hissing, a lot of jumping around each other. But no malice, just a ton of curiosity. Not that this shot would support that assumption right? It looks like the furry enforcer in the background is having a good roar at the carpetbagger. Of course, it's just the final stages of a yawn, not a scary statement of intent or rejection. Still, looks nice and dramatic all the same. At 800 ISO with a 40D at f/5.0 and 1/60 sec with a 24-105mm f/4.

Fall in DF

Returning to Mexico City Sunday night we found heavy showers and vast pools of standing water laying about the Circuito Interior. Monday brought no change, only a chill to go with the damp. Oddly, this is actually something I enjoy in Mexico City, where you seldom find any hint of the change in season, other than a slowing in the frequency of the wet season's rain bursts. Our altitude can make for some pretty intense cloud formations and when they finally break after a prolonged soaking, you can see some pretty wonderful views thanks to the mountains and volcanoes ringing the city. This shot of the two volcanoes, with Popo to the right steaming away happily, was taken around 4pm Tuesday afternoon and you can see the impact of the chill by the snow that's fallen on the peaks. For a moment, with the old castle in the foreground and the lush green of Chapultepec Park, you could be forgiven this was a border city in France or Spain. Almost! This time the 5D Mk II was on a tripod, with a 100mm attached shooting at 1/40sec and f/16.

Sperryville Junction

A lucky coincidence saw Sylvie and I in Washington at the same time and, even better, headed to Virginia for a weekend amid the peak fall colors. Sperryville is a hamlet at the foot of the Shenandoah Mountains in Virginia that mixes the modern with the historic in an ever-changing amalgam. A new rib joint lies across from an Internet cafe in the old town church. The corner store in this photo has been around for decades selling essentials to the local farm folk and city weekenders - hence the Perrier next to the beef jerky. The colors in Fall are almost Hollywood ridiculous - it was still before 9am so the sky was fairly thin here but the early morning sun brought out the colors in the trio of stores and the remarkable tree that dominates Main Street. It about hurts the eyes it's so violently vibrant. Shot with a 24-105mm f/4 at ISO 200, f/6.3 and 1/80 sec on a 5D Mk II.

A welcome return to seasons

Back in Washington DC briefly to attend a photography workshop (Joe McNally on lighting), I went for a wander around Glover Park just to soak up the colors and enjoy being back in the north where you don't need to consult a calendar to spot the change in seasons. It was wonderful to have the time to walk around with a craned neck (drawing the occasional odd look from residents a little more inured to the spectacle) and I was concentrating on trying to capture the beautiful contrast between the hard blue of a fall sky, the thin layer of cloud, and the violent oranges and reds of the trees. Loved every second and was lucky to have taken the chance when I did as the weather turned decidedly more grim afterward.

A little East in the West

Having a bit of a soft spot for Eastern mysticism (and food, landscapes etc etc) my eye was naturally drawn to this statue at a friend's home recently here in Mexico City. The single candle, warm reflected light, and sharp silhouette of the statue seemed to evoke a easy tranquility. I do love a good silhouette too so was very happy to train the camera on this scene and aim for an exposure to really wipe out all detail in the statue. My trusty 50mm at f2.8 and 1/200th sec at ISO400 did the trick nicely - the glow of the shot reminds me of the warmth I soon enjoyed during the rib-fest that followed. Thanks again Steve & Michelle, for dinner and the op.

Red, Yellow, Blue

Awakened by our friendly local traffic police this morning at the stroke of seven - the sound of their whistles caved in my slumber like a Vegas casino implosion. Outrageous. Three of them blasting away to an audience comprising five very unhappy-looking bus commuters standing across from, some pigeons that promptly sought sanctuary elsewhere, and a grand total of six actual vehicles. Six. At 7am. With three police. Each with whistles, florescent green caps, and a desperate desire to look - and worse, sound - busy. Welcome to Hell. So, up and staggering around early - I was about to lock myself in the storage room, where the tottering towers of packing boxes and bubble wrap muffle most noise - when I spied flowers from the weekend. I suddenly became determined that the rattle of rowdy rebels (thank you, Life of Brian) would not crash my karma. And so, a red backdrop, yellow flower, blue vase and a 36mm Extension Tube on a 100mm macro lens later and we have some bright pics to improve the mood.

Vegas Faces

Martini time at the Wynn in Vegas. The much-coveted seats at the outside bar by the fountain afford more than an opportunity to drop wodges of cash on cocktails and nibblies. The hotel also puts on a light show through the evening, with a range of projections onto a screen that towers over the reflecting pool, accompanied by some thumping dance and trance music. It's quite colorful, very creative and, remarkably, free (if you don't include the arm and a leg you drop on the drinks). I thought the most eye-catching performance comprised a series of projections onto a huge blank head that surfaces from below the water, outlined by deep reds and blues or tinted whites on the screen behind it. I thought it would be fun to try to capture some of the displays with the 5D Mk II, and they seemed to turn out remarkably well given no tripod or bracing was involved. Shot with a 50mm, at 1/50 sec and f/3.2 with an ISO of 3200.

Late Night Playa del Carmen

Sylvie and I were dining at the Tides hotel in Playa del Carmen Friday night when the combination of the dim lighting favored by this enviro-friendly resort and a Riedel wine decanter had me reaching for the 5D Mk II. I had seen this kind of decanter before and wondered how to get a nice shot given the usual challenge of shooting glass or crystal but the large candle on our table provided the perfect combination of backdrop and diffused light to bring out shadows in the graceful curves. So I set the ISO to 2500 (one of the things I love about the Mark II is its low-light capability) and shot a few frames at f/2.5 and 1/40 sec using a 50mm f/1.8. I'm quite chuffed with the resulting warmth and simple lines of the shot.

What is missed

A simple bowl of fruit salad but I loved the shot when reviewing recent pictures of Boston because it throbs with freshness. The colors are wonderful, especially set against the gleaming white of the kitchen and the burnished brown of the wicker basket in the background. Sylvie and I were agog at the sight of this breakfast treat prepared by Irene, Sylvie's aunt, as we simply can't get the same plump and fresh blueberries and melons in this part of the world. Still, the photo will at least continue to inspire us to keep looking for produce to rival the Boston fare.

Taken with a Canon 5D Mk II, with a 5omm at 1/40 sec and f/2.5.

Treading the boards

With the threat of swine 'flu rearing its ugly head once more as officials eye the official season for influenza in a short while, the deja vu made me wistful for the peaceful sanctuary of Punta de Mita, a little less than an hour from Puerta Vallarta. Sylvie and I slipped away from the chaos of a shuttered city during the height of the hype in the first week of May and were reveled in the calm and beauty of the little town.

They have some good surfing beaches there and so we headed out with a couple of local board riders for some lessons. It was a reintroduction for me, a totally new adventure for Sylvie. In a short time, she was riding the nose while I sat on my long board and watched, thrilled for Sylvie but lamenting that a worn rotator cuff and screwy elbow kept me from riding.

When we returned by boat from our surfing expedition I noticed the rental boards stacked and just loved the colors and verticals so had to grab the shot. It's a favorite, not least because of the feeling of escape it imparts whenever I see it on my wall.

Canon 40D, 40mm on a 24-105mm at 1/13 sec, f/4 and ISO400.

In the continuing quest to define a clear answer to the question "what kind of photographer are you" I seem to get the greatest pleasure when people ask another question: "What IS it?"

This whole challenge of categorizing yourself is a little nuts really, and I can see why musicians are wary of being pigeon-holed. I'm satisfied just being a photographer - not a landscape pro, not a portrait specialist, just a shooter.

That said, I love taking photos of elements of a scene or object that capture the whole. One of my favorite images in this regard is one of the ceiling lights in one of our elevators here. A grid of clear plastic cylinders poke down and diffuse the hidden florescent lights and to me suggest the rods inside a nuclear reactor. Similarly, I love this shot of a light fixture taken earlier this year in a Paris jewelry store where Sylvie bought a gorgeous necklace. The little globes around the light create tiny and unique worlds of their own. I love looking closely at each one to see how it differs from its neighbors. It's not fine art photography by any stretch, but I love it nonetheless. I guess, if pressed, I can just say I'm a photographer that sweats the small stuff.

Canon 40D with a 24-105 f/4 at 92mm, f/8 at 1/320 sec and 400 ISO.

Desert Anchorage

Driving through the back-country trails in San Carlos can make you feel like the last person on the planet. The Sonoran desert marches to the waters of the Sea of Cortez and beyond. The little islands just offshore sport the same scrubby look and classic cartoon cacti of the mainland.

The expansive blue sky, blistering sun, and utter silence can make the stretch of land between the mountains and the sea seem utterly hostile. The flock of vultures I passed while driving with Jose Lopez of the local university helped to embellish the theme of desolation.

San Carlos is a fishing village that also evolved (or devolved, depending on your opinion) into a tourism and retirement destination for well-heeled northerners looking for a dry, warm climate, benign beaches, and tremendous fishing and diving. The fishermen and their families now live on the northern edge of town, up a dusty/muddy track that dejectedly trails off from the paved road that used to take tourists to the Club Med. You can stop by the village and buy a fresh seafood lunch from one of the little shanty restaurants alongside the fishing skiffs drawn up on the sand.

Heading a kilometer inland toward the hills that drop down near the village, we encountered this skiff high and dry in the desert but still lashed to a bush, almost as if the owner harbored suspicions that the sea hadn't receded for good.

I washed out the picture a good deal to impart the feeling that day of the mirage-inducing heat, the broad sky, and the incongruity of the battered skiff still tied down despite its desert berth.

Bizarre and Bazaar

Back in Mexico after our little Miami sojourn and sifting through pictures for framing and display here in the house. One of my favorites from a recent outing was this shot of a police truck and its occupant reflected in a mirror on sale at Bazaar Sabado at San Angel.

There are a few qualities about the shot that I think aptly reflect this city. There's the mirror itself, which speaks to the flourishing arts and crafts scene here, one of the most compelling aspects of life in Mexico. There's the cobblestone street, which is a reminder of the history to be found across the city. San Angel has some truly beautiful homes - most hidden behind towering walls that speak to another Mexico City characteristic that I won't dwell on - and the streets around the market remind of Italian mountain villages with their chunkiness and haphazard patterns.

There's the presence of the police truck and officer, and the solitary red traffic cone - witches hats as they're known in Australia - that to me is the most poignant. Why is there? What purpose is it serving? Why just one? Such are the vagaries, and mysteries, of Mexico law enforcement.

Closer. Closer. Just a little closer.

Spotted on the Anhinga Trail in the Everglades National Park. I'd love to say this was an eight foot monster but it really was a touch under five feet long and hence was still living very much under Mum's protective gaze. Would have loved to have seen her.

Samantha, my guide on the trail, had lamented that we likely wouldn't see any gators, or much else in the way of wildlife, given the wet season had begun in earnest and the Everglades' population was happily dispersing across the more than million acres of the park. Leave it to kids to prove the experts wrong though. A group of chattering and bellowing YMCA youngsters spotted this specimen hanging out near the trail, and we managed to catch up to them, and it, before the gator beat retreat into the sawgrass.

Canon 40D with 70-200mm f/2.8, at 200mm, f/4 and 1/320 sec.

America's Got Talons

Okay, so you have to forgive me for punning "America's Got Talent" for this posting, it was just too good to pass up. Besides, LOOK at those talons after all. I'm thinking, based on what the rangers in the Everglades told me, that this splendid individual is an immature Osprey. This critter was enormous, and I would never call it immature to its face - it was pretty intimidating and I was only a few feet from its perch.

It was taking a bath in an enormous puddle that had formed in a rundown former gas station at the Flamingo section of the Everglades National Park, and it headed for a tree limb when I leapt into action with the Canon and the huge zoom. I'm not, however, totally convinced that it is indeed an Osprey given the color of the wings, so anyone who knows better, please let me know. And the answer to the previous posting, for 10 points and a bonus round, was Monk Parakeet.

Canon 40D with a 70-200mm f2/8 at 200mm, f/7.1 and 1/200 sec.

Polly Wants Prada

Halfway down the Lincoln Mall in Miami's South Beach - just a stroll from the Delano - another hotel development is underway. The construction is accompanied by incredible noise, stops tourists and locals alike in their tracks, and is definitely conducted without the usual permits.

Thankfully, the ceaseless work in question is being undertaken by a flock of parakeets, whose chirping elicits stares and quite a few hopeful shots by point-and-shoot wielding tourists who become momentarily distracted from the glitz of the stores and cafes in the mall.

The parakeets seem to have selected a particular clutch of palm trees in the mall for their new homes and don't seem to be concerned that they've chosen one of the most trafficked parts of the city. It might be the promise of food tossed by the besotted pedestrians. Who knows? (And in fact if you're one of those gifted folks who can tell the difference between a Parakeet and its cousins from 40 paces, fire away with the identity of this example).

The new residents are perfect for this part of town. Gregarious, able to produce noise that belies their size, flighty, and colorful almost to the point of garishness.

Canon 40D with a 70-200mm f/2.8 at 200mm, f/4.5 at 1/400th sec.

Spot the 20 Million

The view from Casa Milverton. When we set out from Washington DC in the fall of 2005 to scout out a new home in Mexico City, we had little idea what to expect but vague notions about a secure, modern apartment in Polanco, Condesa or Roma. In two days of frenzied footwork with our former model cum rental agent, Racquel, we had narrowed our options down from 18 to three, all in Polanco.

The place we chose wasn't an obvious selection at first. The place hadn't been lived in for quite some time, meaning a solid layer of dust on the beautiful wood floors, dead house plants scattered around, scuffed walls, and carpet in the bedrooms that looked like something out of "Animal House." But we were taken by the view, and I suspected that with a good overhaul, the place could become the cool pad we had in mind. In fact, the vista reminded me of a stay at the Oberoi Hotel in New Delhi, where I seemed to stare for hours out my window at the lush park that fringed the hotel and gave lie to the fact that a teeming metropolis sprawled outside.

This place in Mexico City feels the same. The expanse of Chapultepec Park that greets you when you walk into the apartment instantly wipes away the stresses of traffic or street hordes and you become lulled by the stretch of green, and absorbed in the change of color in the trees and the sky as the day progresses. It's hard to capture all that but I thought I'd try with a cheap and cheerful pano shot that I want to improve upon in the days ahead.

I stitched together seven or eight photos in Photoshop and used some curves adjustments to touch up the contrast but really, that's it in terms of manipulation. Those hills in the far background are the volcanos Iztaccihuatl and (the still quite active) Popocatepetl. The funny little house in the central foreground with the curved roofs is the giraffe house in the zoo. When I called Sylvie at work during our first day here in Mexico City to tell her I was watching giraffes and ostriches prance around 16 floors below me, she assumed the altitude had already enfeebled my tiny mind. Thankfully, I was able to prove this wasn't case - in this instance - later that day.

Night Swimming

Back to baseball. I went to Nationals Park in Washington DC earlier in June for the series against the Giants, with the big attraction being the chance to see Randy Johnson snare his 300th career win, something only 23 players have achieved in the game before him. 

The first game on a Tuesday night was a surprise win for the Nats against Tim "The Freak" Lincecum, and the next game was to have been the Big Unit's Big Night. Instead, the heavens opened in a truly biblical fashion. A huge storm crashed in, completely drenching the city and putting on a lightning show that sent blue waves of light coursing through a sopping stadium.

There were little scenes to be enjoyed even while we waited an eternity for the game to be postponed (which it was, to the next day when Randy got to his milestone in the first game of a very soggy doubleheader). 

Abandoned beers amid peanut shells under what some fans optimistically thought was covered seating; skeptical security personnel watching amazed as a school group braved the downpour and fork lightning to get to their bus outside the park; bleacher waterfalls; and of course, the boredom-induced and beer-fueled sprint and tarp slide for home. In this case, the fan was shadowed by the black-and-white clad field attendants as he rocketed from second, past third, and dived for home only to meet the yellow-shirted security guard who duly flattened him a few feet short of home in a plume of spray. Great fun. And I can't believe my 40D survived the night, given it was constantly in and out of the bag during the storm. Pretty impressive for a semi-sealed camera.

Mexico? Or Spain? Italy?

Don't worry, I won't keep you in suspense. It's a rooftop panorama of Valle de Bravo, one of the favorite weekend destinations for well-heeled residents of Mexico City. As the name suggests, it sits in a valley by the shores of a man-made lake. This is the view over the center of the town, which of course is characterized by the spires of a colonial-era church alongside the plaza.

The buildings in this part of town mainly have sloping red clay tile roofs, giving the impression almost of an Italian or Spanish village. Of course, the mega-houses and villas arranged along the shoreline suggest, well, any wealthy weekend retreat town in any part of the world. Valle is a wonderful place for sailing and a few of the "extreme sports" involving wheels, mud, and the thrill of potential bone fractures. I prefer the sailing myself. You can always bang your head on the boom if scars and contusions are an essential part of a weekend. 

I stitched six photos together in Photoshop, did a little curves adjustment, and took the result back to Lightroom for final retouching. Taken with my 40D - sadly without a tripod - at 24mm, f/9 and 1/160 sec.

 

em ustang!

Poker has been one of my favorite, if occasionally expensive, recreational activities since I went on assignment to South Africa in 1996 and came across some truly serious players, including my continuing poker mentor, Tom Cohen.

There is a tacit etiquette to social poker that is absorbed rather than learned, I guess, and it is particular to each game's host, and the circus of players. It adds that unique feel to every poker night that feeds your appetite and keeps you coming back no matter how many tragic hands you've dropped or how much of your own hard-earned currency walks out with a new owner.

I'm lucky enough to have been adopted into a ring of poker maniacs, all locals, here in Mexico City and our weekly games have become a highlight for me. I brought my little Leica to one of the first games I was invited to and did some tabletop shooting that yielded some really atmospheric pics. I revisited them this week just to practice some Photoshop techniques and thought this one came up well. The title, "em ustang!"is how one of our crew has taken to calling a Hold 'Em variation I imported from my Washington DC games, called Mustang Sally. It's become a favorite with the crew as it gives you the chance to play either the five cards you're dealt or just two with the table cards, as in regular Hold 'Em. I think the cartoon treatment goes well with the outsized behavior during our games.

La Bandida de Tequila

Three years on in Mexico City and I still never hesitate when invited to even the most obvious tourist destinations, as you can never know what potential rewards await. A group of us were having brunch at El Bazaar Sabado in San Angel this past weekend, looking for hangover relief in the desayuno buffet in the market's interior courtyard. On offer was cheap and cheerful breakfast food, accompanied by surprisingly good mariachis on a little raised stage. It takes a moment but you come to realize it's quite the little oasis amid the tide of humanity that courses through the market's narrow passages in search of souvenirs and traditional trinkets. What caught my eye however wasn't the mariachis or the happy bustle of tourists and locals, but a slight figure darting among the tables in the courtyard with a bandolier slung around her hips that contained a clutch of tall shot glasses and a bottle of tequila secured in a holster by a rubber band. Hair of the dog and a picture opportunity in one. I was soon sipping a Tradicional and reviewing a few frames I took of the wonderful tequila bandida. Canon 40D with a 24mm-105mm f/4 at 1/60 sec and f5/6.

Para Llevar

For those who haven't asked for a doggie bag in Spanish, "para llevar" means to carry or take away. Sylvie, my brother and I had just emerged from a gallery in Guanajuato and I literally did a double-take when I caught a glimpse of this scene. A more obvious photo op I've never seen. Guanajuato is a photographer's delight given the architecture and the colors, and I thought the green in the painting was accentuated nicely by the paler green in the wall beyond it. But mostly the Sunday stroll pace of the gent, the jaunty angle of his Panama, and the casual perching of the painting really got me. Canon 40D with 24-105mm f/4, shot at f/6.3 and 1/200 sec.

 

The Bedside Musketeer

Just sifting through the scads of photographs from recent trips, and of course I was drawn toward the selections from our recent trip to France. Having lurched from news assignments in a besieged Mexico City to sunsets and surf in peaceful Punta de Mita, it's a little odd to look back at the Paris pictures and think of this sort of calm-before-the-storm sojourn. 

Sylvie had booked our first night in Paris at L'Hotel on the Left Bank, a ruddy jewel of a place that saw a guest named Byron draw his last breath. The hotel is designed around a narrow, circular atrium and accordingly the rooms have bowed walls and doors, a surreal touch enhanced by the plush decor, all in red, gold and leathery browns. 

Of course it's nearly impossible to capture the feel of the room in a single image but I thought this shot of the bedside lamp might be a good try. That the lamp features the figure of a dashing musketeer examining his rapier is wonderfully representative of the panache of the place, and the leather-bound books bathed in the soft light make for a perfect backdrop. Not to sound like a broken record, but taken handheld with a 50mm on my 40D, at f/2.2 and 1/100 sec.

Of Door-Stops and 'Flu Madness

A call from The Sydney Morning Herald photo desk jolted me awake around 5am Tuesday and within the hour I was sitting with my kit in the silent lobby of the Melia Reforma Hotel. I had an assignment to stakeout a delegation of parliamentarians from Australia, who had the misfortune to arrive in Mexico on the weekend the swine 'flu story erupted in full fury. 

The SMH, or Smaych in local lingo, wanted a pic of the touring party at all costs - including my sleep and potentially my reputation with the Australian embassy, which had the unenviable task of hosting the delegates and managing an itinerary changing by the minute due to event cancellations and restaurant closures.  We had been trying to track down the delegation's whereabouts and schedule but to no avail, there was a gag order from Canberra on their visit. But, in the end, the newspaper got a tip on where they were staying, and so there I was.

Four hours after settling into a chair in the lobby and watching the glass elevators zip up and down like a mesmerized golden retriever, I saw the Australian ambassador emerge with the six delegates, who were busily putting on the familiar flu-be-gone face masks.

I grabbed the camera but resisted the urge to begin blazing away immediately, as I felt that to try to get a broad group shot in a very dimly-lit lobby would look decidedly unimpressive and most likely result in me being bounced down the stairs by the security staff, most of whom had being eying me warily all morning anyway.

So I headed straight to the masked Ambassador, explained my mission and asked if we could work something out. "Not here!" barked Senator John Hogg, the delegation leader and winner of the ironic name of the year award. I calmly explained I wasn't after a "gotcha" pic, that I wanted a good shot of the whole delegation. The Ambassador and I agreed to a shot on the stairs of the Mexican Senate on the other side of the Alameda park outside the hotel. One glitch though. I was on my own, no driver, and would have no time to retrieve my car from the adjacent parking garage to make the Senate in time (let alone find parking) for the promised photo op. Dick Adams, the affable Labor member for Tasmania, saved the day by declaring I should ride with the delegation, which I heartily seconded and snapped up my gear before Senator Hogg could object. 

Into the minibus and away we went for the 10 minute drive. While Adams and I exchanged pleasantries about the wonders of Tasmania (having been there just over a year ago, I could actually do this with great earnestness), I kept an ear cocked to the chatter in the bus and chuckled to myself as the Honorable Senator Hogg (from my own electorate back home) sounded off about the proper way to deal with pesky press intrusions, such as the SMH's insistence upon seeing what our elected officials were doing. 

"Take the air out of 'em" he explained, "that's the way to deal with it. If you don't give them anything, there's no story." 

Six years of dealing with the press - from the Village Voice through to BBC World Service - at the World Bank in Washington taught me a little about media relations (not to mention the 14 years of being a reporter) and this advice always strikes me funny. There are so many examples ("I am not a crook!" - Richard Milhouse Nixon) to bear out that this simply doesn't work IF there is actually something there. Besides, this wasn't investigative journalism, the Smaych just wanted a picture and maybe 15 minutes with the delegates to get their impressions of having arrived in the world's hottest story. Not much "there" there really. In the end, despite the unwillingness of Canberra to even let us know where the delegates were, we found them, spoke with them, and got the pic. So the "take the air out" approach didn't even work in this instance, as my presence on the bus surely indicated.

The story, written by the lovely Tara Fitzgerald, is here on the SMH web site, which used a cropped version of the picture on the home page alongside the story blurb. I'll be checking with friends in Sydney to see if the full picture, above, got a run. 

But overall, I was happy with the experience. I got the shot, didn't put any noses out of joint (other than Hogg's, and please, no puns about hogs' noses), and made the paper, which by the way quoted me in a brief piece Monday about expat reactions to the alleged swine 'flu outbreak (story here).

As for the kit, I wielded my Canon 40D with a 24-70mm f/2.8 and a 580 EX II flash with battery booster pack.

History of the Marais

We were walking through the Marais during our recent visit to Paris and I noticed this old sign above a closed store front. I can count at least six fonts in the lettering, though there might be more. It seems to me the cursive style visible in the center might be the oldest of the bunch. I made a direct-positive treatment to bring out the depth in the sign, which I think worked quite well. The Marais has such a remarkable history and to me this sign seemed to offer a snapshot to the neighborhood's many eras, but only if you took the time to peer closely enough. Shot with a 24-105mm IS f/4 at 65mm, f/4 and 1/80 sec at ISO400.

Sweet Relief

What else does one do in Paris? One of the great joys of being here is to just dash over to the local store - whether a gorgeous boulangerie or a tiny supermarket - and load up on pate, foie gras, fromage, wine and a baguette and simply share them with like-minded individuals. This was the humble spread for Sylvie's parents and aunt when they popped in to visit us in our quaint rental in the 10th this week and it was superb. 

The Adventures of Catboy

Catboy is one of the many monikers I use for Sasso, the stealthy feline ankle assassin. Prepping for our trip to France this morning made me wistful for the little fella, who I always miss terribly when on the road. This pic was taken before our recent visit to Guanajuato, with Sass making good use of a map to create a hideout from which he believed he could strike with total surprise. I thought the green of the map brought out his eyes so nicely that I had to get down and take a shot, heedless of the danger. Taken with the 40D and a 50mm f/1.4 in natural light.

 

Strike a Pose

Sometimes it's a treat to see the impact the presence of a camera can have, especially in a town like Guanajuato that is pure photographers' bait. It was a struggle to decide what to post on the blog that's representative of the place but then I thought about the moment I took this one and it became a cinch. There was a wedding in the Basilica de Nuestra Senora de Guanajuato as we walked up from the Jardin de la Union and some of the party were spilling out of the church. The gold of the young lady's dress caught my eye and I started to snap a couple of pictures, eliciting the usual sort of look I've  seen many times in tourist towns in Mexico (indeed, the world over). A mix of suspicion and mild annoyance - I call it the zoo lion look. But when the gent trailing the girl and her father started to vogue a little, I egged him on in my Aussie-inflected Spanish and suddenly the smiles came out and the vogue got even more fun. I think the picture evokes a lot of what I love about Guanuajuato - the color, the vibrancy, and the surprises seemingly around every corner. Using a 24-105mm f/4 at about 90mm.

Canon in a Cave

A Canon 40D can take far more punishment - thank goodness - than I would have imagined. I took one through the cave complex at Calcehtok in the Yucatan this past weekend, a trip that has obliterated many cameras before. Our intrepid trio, led by a third generation guide to the caves, scrambled up muddy walls, slithered along rock ledges 20 meters above the cave floors, and slid down from these perches on our butts. Elegant, we were not. The 40D, with a 50mm 1.4 attached, bounced off every outcrop, slammed against walls we abseiled, and was covered in grime and mud. And never missed a shot. Here, my brother Anthony dips into a Mayan water bowl, which has been collecting water drops for more than four hundred years at the cave entrance.

Automotively Challenged

As a red-blooded Australian male, car lust is firmly planted in the DNA strand, right alongside barbecuing, beer and fleeing the homeland. So when a friend pierced the haze of cigar smoke and Spanish slang of a recent poker game to ask if I would be interested in shooting his new ride, a 2009 Dodge Challenger, I leapt at the chance (actually, I bluffed, got called, bluffed some more,got called again, folded, shot the rest of my Scotch and tried to relight my cigar. Still, it was a reaction). On Saturday the Challenger duly arrived at my friend's apartment with a trio of car dealers who were understandably a touch fretful in handing over the keys to a 6.1 liter, V8 Hemi monster delivering 425 horsepower. The challenge, if you'll pardon the pun, is to reflect that kind of energy and power in a still photograph. As my pie-eyed pedal-pounding chum turned out of the parking area, I snapped a quick shot because I liked the angle and had a thought in mind that a little neon outlining in Photoshop would add flair - and reduce the cluttered background. With the sidewalk reflection coming out in oranges, yellows, blues and reds, I think it worked far better than I expected. And the client was sold. On the car, and the image.

Signs

There are are sometimes barely discernible signs of the ebb and flow of life in Mexico City. Window washers are one of them. One of the many stereotypes attaching to this place is that it's a tropical city, with balmy temperatures, palm trees and sunset margaritas. The latter is the closest to being true. There are only two seasons here - wet and dry, and neither is remotely tropical. As we get near to the end of the dry season, window washers emerge and glide down the facades of Mexico City buildings like remoras on a school of sharks. You usually only know they're above you as you walk the street because of the dark drops of water on the parched sidewalk. Safety cones and warning tape are rarities around here. Walking out of my building last week, I heard the patter of rain drops and saw a few hitting the sidewalk to my left. Looking up, I saw the window washer at work and thought, rain - real rain - can't be far off. That night, and all the next day, it did.

The Zone System at Work

Sometimes getting out of bed in the morning can fill one with inspiration and verve. Then there's a day like today. Looking out the window brought a reminder that yes, Mexico City is one of the most pollution-wracked places on the planet. That the days when you can see the volcanos 80 miles south are likely outnumbered by the days you struggle to see the castle in the park less than 800 meters away. Call it "An Inconvenient View."

Still, reading through Ansel Adams' autobiography and reviewing some of his incredible work got me thinking about the zone system of tonal values and despite the health-threatening haze, I was inspired once again to pick up the camera and record what I was seeing. From the beauty of the Colima countryside, to the curse of urban life. In just two blog posts.

Amidst the coffee beans

Colima, or more specifically, the Hacienda San Antonio on its outskirts, is a photographer's paradise. It's hard to know just what to post from the pictures I've taken today, and we've only been here 10 hours. There's the steaming volcano, puffing out a steady vapor trail that's punctuated with a massive billow of cloud-like steam, appearing so suddenly in a perfectly blue sky. There's the hacienda itself, built 120 years ago by German settlers hoping to make a fortune from growing Aribca beans in a remote plantation. The post-dinner espresso I had tonight was a direct descendant of that dream. There are the grounds. The wildlife. The art. Even the fireplace glowing in front of me now, with a flue that tapers beautifully to the ceiling beams 18 feet above. But really, this one picture of Sylvie returning from the pool sums it up for me - the cool shadows within, the bright sun outside, the colors, the hints of the hacienda's past.

In the eye

No pic this time, just a link because I wanted to have this for my own future use as much as anyone reading my blog. This is a link to a New York Times-hosted discussion about photography during the previous presidency and I thought it was interesting to read insights from the photo editors who direct and support the White House press photographers. Personally, one photo from the past presidency that has always leapt to mind is of him looking out the window of Air Force One at the devastation of New Orleans. It touched a nerve. Of course, that was the point of selecting that photo to run (two versions are shown and discussed). However, after two decades of being in or working with the media, I should have really thought more about the image, why it was picked, how it was set up. I was surprised to see one of the photo editors agree with the White House view that landing the President in the disaster area would have diverted urgently-needed resources from the police and emergency services, which is of course fair enough. But again, as with "Mission Accomplished" or the shots of a solitary President returning to the Oval Office, you have to ask, what were his handlers thinking? 

Ninja Photoshopping

We had a couple of friends around for dinner last night and as I had been in the mood to get back to my Asian culinary ways, I chose some Indonesian and Malaysian dishes that are both straightforward to prepare and dynamite to taste. A little chocolate temptation from Ms. Lawson - she of the dark tresses and no-nonsense demeanor - and we had a proper menu. Left with a little time between course prep, I thought it would be fun to whip up a menu that would reflect the oriental roots of the meal, and so came up with the idea of the utensil-brandishing ninja. A half hour later, I had completed a quick shoot of myself clad in the closest thing to ninja attire I could find (my old Washington winter cycling kit) and was playing with the image in Lightroom and Photoshop. The fiery orange background came from OnOne's great PhotoFrame 4 plug-in, and the posterized look is the result of some Photoshop dabbling. I printed the resulting menu out as 6x4 prints on Velvet Fine Art paper and propped a couple on the table with little crocodile clip picture holders. I was asked to reproduce the maniacal look in the ninja's eyes while brandishing a soup spoon to entertain our guests' five-year-old, who delighted by duly taking cover. Great fun.

Willow & Leather

No, these are not the names of New Jersey exotic dancers (actually, no doubt they are, but not in this context), this time they refer to cricket, another one of my passions. 

As with my interest in photography, I've been able to indulge my love of the old game rather late thanks to our having come to Mexico. Nestled in the lee of a hillside in the city's northwest is a patch of ground that each Sunday afternoon trades the raucous bellowing of "Gol!!!!" for the plaintive cries of "catch!" and "howzat?!" The football players who trudge off the two soccer fields at the Reforma Athletic Club watch over their beers as their field is transformed into a cricket ground, replete with sight screens, boundary markers, and a rare real grass wicket that, while in need of a closer shave, would not look out of place in county England. Games are played usually in bright sunshine (unless the season is fresh or nearing an end, when downpours send cricketers scurrying) and end with beers under a new pavilion that looks a little like the drunken inspiration of a homesick Swiss architect. The games are tremendous fun, being a little dangerous (my count is the loss of a toenail, thumbnail, and an assortment of bruises) and filled with characters from India, Australia, England, Pakistan, Mexico and even the U.S. 

I've shot hundreds of pics at the games but this is one of my favorites. Tarun Sharma (responsible for my loss of aforementioned toenail) has just glanced a ball to the leg boundary and the shot captures the poise, grace and power with which he plays. Thankfully, for my team.

Modelita

The past few days had me prepping and shooting a fashion collection for a friend who imports from India. He needed a few large posters of his Spring outfits for a fashion expo in Guadalajara and so I went scouting around for models, locations, and a good printer with ultra-quick turnaround times. Having secured them all, the shoot took place in Chapultepec park (you can see the previous post for more on this little slice of DF) with an Aztec-themed fountain as the backdrop. Worked beautifully too, as the grey/brown of the stone really offset the Spring colors of the clothes and the faces of the models. Still, the whole shoot was upstaged by the perky daughter of the client, who happily pranced around like a model before going off to get her face painted. The shoot was truncated by the intervention of the local braided constabulary who took issue with the absence of a park permit. Oops. Always check the formalities, even (more so) in a public place.

El Lago Verde

Crossing the fluid insanity that is Paseo de la Reforma outside our apartment puts you into Chapultepec park, one of our favorite places in DF. As Sylvie remarked to me on a walk up to the old French castle in its midst, Chapultepec park can absorb tens of thousands of "Chilangos" and yet you can still walk through its flower-dotted avenues without feeling the press of humanity. There are couples snuggling safe from parental gaze, children having their faces painted, kung fu students bowing before their sensei, and even bullfighters dodging wheeled facsimiles of their foes. In a city and country pitied for the brutality of its crime, the only violence in the park is in lime-green color of the lake beneath the castle, which seems so choked with algae you could walk across it. 

Workhorse

Walking around the Penn Valley neighborhood of Philadelphia, home to Sylvie's parents, I spied this old Chevy pickup in someone's driveway. It was surprising to come across such a terrific relic of Detroit's heyday in quite an unlikely suburban setting. The light was just wonderful, and I loved the way it backlit the indicator light on the left fairing and the trees alongside the drive. The truck isn't a primped collector item for this owner obviously - the registration sticker in its window is valid until June 2009 and I can only guess how many miles are already on the speedo. I wonder if any of today's Chevy Impalas or Tahoes will be giving such solid service after four decades?

Indoor Fireworks

Welcome to 2009. We're beginning the new year in Philadelphia with Sylvie's family and we've awoken to a very chilly but beautifully bright morning. Certainly a great start to another year if you're into omens. As we headed toward the champagne toast last night, Sylvie's father, Jean-Marc, switched on the antique french light that takes pride of place in one corner of the family living room. It's an incredible piece, adorned as it is with faux gems in ornate settings. Who needs fireworks when you've got such a dazzling bit of lighting on hand? The good ol' 50mm at f/1.4 captures its warmth and presence nicely. Best wishes to everyone for a wonderful 2009, let's hope it's as bright and bejeweled.