damofoto

normandy's little suns

2011-08-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

There are many reasons to love France in July. The weather, albeit unpredictable, still doesn't have the harsh heat of August, and in Paris you can feel the anticipation in the population of their August escape from the city. We had planned our first road trip with Jack for the week after our arrival in Paris; a little three-day sojourn in Normandy staying in a chateau that's been family-owned for generations. While the chateau itself was gorgeous and suitably historic (Henry IV slept in our room at one time apparently), and the food and wine suitably sumptuous, we were really there to drive around with the little bloke in our rented Peugeot to see a few of the towns and villages of Normandy. Scooting along a back road between two hamlets, we came across a field of sunflowers that looked all the more startling in the gloom of a rainy afternoon. So we pulled over and took turns scurrying around the field's edge to get a decent vantage while the other minded a sleeping Jack. I've always loved the photos of the Tour de France peloton flashing through fields of sunflowers, and indeed we had missed the Tour's visit to the Le Mans area by just a couple of days, so this was a nice consolation prize. I thought the dark and foreboding tree line in the background accentuated the vibrancy of the flowers, throwing them into even greater relief. I've already printed the shot, and it will be hanging in Casa Milverton inside a week.

goodbye sleep, hello inspiration

2011-06-18T09:20:00.000-07:00

This blog will likely lurch in an entirely new direction given the arrival Jack Felix Milverton on Mother's Day just passed, as the paternal instincts are now in overdrive and the photos are flying thick and fast. But before I get stereotypical in my slavish devotion to the little progeny, I wanted to take a breath and look over some of the photos I've taken for clients in the past couple of years, just to remind me what I saw before fatherhood arrived in all its noisy, messy grandeur. Reviewing the galleries, this is one of my favorites simply because the conversion to monochrome worked so wonderfully. The playfulness of the pose reminds me of how much fun I had during the shoot, and I love the little bloke's hands on his father's shaved head. Hopefully I'll be able to produce some similarly neat photos of our own fella.

ZONA MACO 2011: return of the art show

2011-04-11T07:48:00.000-07:00

The past few days saw the return of the Zona Mexico Arte Contemporaneo exhibition, one of my favorite events of the year. Galleries from Europe, the US, and Latin America show artists' works that, as you would expect, range from the glorious to the truly puzzling. This year there seemed to be so many interesting reactions from the people - mostly young - viewing the works that I found more to photograph among the audience than what was on the walls. Although that was pretty special too. To see the full spread of pics, click here to be taken to the Flickr gallery.

street kamikaze

2011-03-29T14:02:00.000-07:00

I've always been a cycling fan, and one of my great laments in moving to Mexico City from Washington DC was that I was forsaking a great riding locale for one that barely grasped the concept. Mexico City has made some strides toward rectifying this, with new bike lanes springing up and bike rental shacks now spread around the city, but naturally it will take some time for the millions of ordinary commuters to adjust to sharing the roads with the likes of us soft-shelled cyclists. So, up until the past week, I'd resigned myself to taking the road bike down to a former auto racetrack in the south, where the only real daredevil moments come from dodging the influx of roller bladers and pram pushers once the day warmed up.

But a recent visit to the new Common People store in a gorgeously-restored mansion in Polanco has led to a new era of bone-headed risk-taking on the mean streets of the capital. There in the lobby was a conglomeration of black metal tubes, two tiny tires, and a saddle collectively known as a Strida 5.0. It's a British import that has won fans and detractors the world over for its looks and its ride. Being a bit of a design junky, it was love at first sight and within a couple of days a model was residing in our home. Its unusually high riding position - reminiscent of a Penny Farthing - makes for an entirely different center of gravity and so it's far more maneuverable and heck of a lot more comfortable than a standard pushie.

A couple of hours of riding this matt black future museum piece have taught me a few things: it can't be ridden fast; it's no good for jumping gutters; it has the temperament of a rodeo bull; and it may be the most surprising, zen-inspiring bike I've ever ridden. You don't get tired or stiff from huddling over the bars as you might on a road bike. The perforated disc brakes are sure and responsive. It turns on a dime, so navigating the traffic - either wheeled or pedestrian - is a doddle. And the lack of speed means you simply can't rush, so you may as well soak up the sights. Add to this mix the fact that it folds in seconds into a compact package and you've got a bike you can slip into a cafe without attention, or stuff in a bag and take with you anywhere. Tomorrow, the camera will come along into Chapultepec Park, so let's see what this different vantage will lead to.

view from 88 orchard

2011-02-18T16:20:00.000-08:00

A glorious faux Spring day in New York City today and Sylvie and I hauled our cold-riddled selves out of The Thompson Hotel for a late lunch at 88 Orchard, a routinely spectacular cafe in the lowest east side. Out past the jars of vegan choco chip peanut butter cookies and flyers for numerous causes was an apartment building that fascinated me. What caught my eye were the fire escapes, which had beautiful and ornate designs in their ironwork railings but it's doubtful I could have done them justice with an eye clouded by lack of sleep and the haze of a seemingly intractable cold. But what also caught me was that the day itself - a balmy 66 degrees F - had brought out the vibrancy of the city again like a Spring rain on a flower bed. The locals all looked Vogue (pick any month, any year and it will apply. The styles are simply that diverse), the streets suddenly more spacious, and the colors practically bursting forth after a brutal winter. Tomorrow, the winter will return with a vengeance (temp back to mid-20s with a high near 40) but for now, I loved the little glimpse of Spring, when people look up without furrowed brows and a curse on their lips.

when the sun shone

2011-01-14T08:07:00.000-08:00

The horrific flooding in my home state of Queensland was an appalling tragedy to endure from a distance, and the many tales of courage by what the press likes to call ordinary Australians were uplifting but still couldn't obscure the sorrow many families will confront so early in the new year. At the same time, in Brazil, the death toll from flooding passed 340, and yet the coverage didn't seem anywhere near as complete as that from Australia, sadly. But if there is one thing both nations have in common it's the color, spirit and confidence of their people and there will be better times again for both, we know. Watching the remarkable photos on Facebook from friends in Brisbane, chronicling the astounding rise of the Brisbane River (thanks Marius Jansen), it made me terribly homesick for southeast Queensland, where I spent my years at school and university. And so, I flipped back through my pictures of a trip there during 2010 and found a clutch that sort of summed up the material things that I miss so much and that trigger homesickness in a second. (I don't need to elaborate on how much I miss my Mum and brother there, I'll get all misty and fill the blog with typos). All the pics were taken at a pub (or across from it) in Kingscliff and while this is indeed New South Wales, the lines blur at the border and it's all Gold Coast to me. Burger, beer, coffee, and boards. That's home.

rive gauche glam

2010-12-31T07:23:00.000-08:00

Paris, St. Germaine des Pres. We've been holed up in our own neck of the woods in Paris for three weeks but finally ventured across the Seine to revisit the fabulous Rive Gauche. When lounging comfortably in your own arrondissement, you can forget about the flashy, tourist-filled parts of the city and it's fun to dive back and ogle at the window displays and stroll through the little alleys. This display caught my eye because of the style of design as well as the elegant simplicity of the arrangement, with the "bows" so diligently aligned.

riding the rails

2010-12-03T12:32:00.000-08:00

One of the benefits being a repeat visitor to Miami is the chance to explore some off-the-path places that are probably unknown to your typical South Beach dweller. Take the Gold Coast Railroad Museum in the city's south. When I got there, a busload of eight year olds was dutifully absorbing the usual field trip instructions on how not to demolish a public resource while I slipped past to check out the many carriages and engines in repose around the sprawling site. It actually used to be a base for airships toward the end of WWII but it was demolished by a monster hurricane in September 1945. Just how big this storm was can be seen in the massive concrete columns that tower over the Museum gift shop. They used to be supports for a hanger whose size just boggles the imagination. When it came down, it crushed the airships and planes inside, and the demolition was so complete that the Navy (thanks for the correction anonymous, but why so serious?) simply shuttered the entire base.

But today, it's home to a range of locomotives, diesel engines, and passenger and freight cars of the golden eras of rail, including the precursor to Air Force One, the presidential rail car. My personal favorite however was the California Zephyr, which was a shiny steel tube of art deco brilliance with an observation deck on top that afforded the well-heeled traveler glorious views of the mountains and valleys on its run between Chicago and San Francisco fifty years ago. Wandering through the stately cabins and lounges, you can positively feel the Mad Men aura and martini glamor. But for this selection of photos, I went with the sort of polar opposite. Many of the trains and railway cars in the Museum sit outside awaiting restoration, which naturally depends on whatever funds the place can scrape up. So, the ravages of Miami's climate are taking quite a toll on them and for me, I love that the fading colors of their original lives are being replaced by new color schemes of rust, flaking paint, and exposed metal and wood. It was unexpected inspiration.

the green desert

2010-08-12T17:06:00.000-07:00

This is the view from the back of one of the seaside bluffs in San Carlos, on the coast of the Sea of Cortez. It's a favorite retreat for us when we desperately need the ultimate change of scene. This time it wasn't the cacti perched on the side of red rock coves or the many blues of the water that struck us but the verdant greens induced from the desert by summer rains. It was amazing just flying into Hermasillo 90 mins away and seeing the lush ground cover from the air. But up close, it was even better. Give your lens a polarizer and those greens and sky blues fairly burst out. 24-105mm at 32mm and f/7.1 for 1/100sec.

malestrom

2010-08-04T12:15:00.000-07:00

Nicely evil-looking clouds moving into the city, this time from the east. Ten minutes later, you couldn't see this scene for the wind-driven rain and hail.

slick

2010-07-31T18:31:00.000-07:00

Storm week continues (actually, lingers a little longer than a week) with this view of an oil slick on the road outside the apartment during a rainstorm. I was lucky that the light hit the street at such an angle to highlight the oil as it seeped from the road's centerline toward the drain. A little reminiscent perhaps of the famous spill not far from us in the Gulf. You can see the Volvo hatchback slicing through the slick, its tires cutting a line across the oil momentarily, like some kind of chemical mower. The colors are great and it's so rare to get a chance to catch a spectrum like this. A little like the opposite of a rainbow, which to me implies cleanliness, finality after a storm, and a gentle reminder of nature's benevolence. Definitely not the case with this asphalt rainbow.

six flag tormenta

2010-07-22T16:16:00.000-07:00

Another storm pounding the south of the city this week. It's been a cracking week for storms, although I'm sure Sylvie isn't as thrilled, having to experience them from the interior of our car as she wends her way back from campuses around the city. The flash floods that result from the severity of the storms (and the lack of foresight by city planners when it comes to drainage) can pose real threats to commuters across the city and play havoc with an already hopeless traffic environment. This storm was rolling along the foothills in the south and nicely framed the fun park just on the other side of the park from us. I'd love to roller coaster through one of these storms one day, although doubtless the threat posed by lightning strikes would rank you highly for candidacy on the Darwin list for most stupid exits from this mortal coil. f/22 and 0.6 second on a tripod, ISO 100.

la semana de las tormentas

2010-07-19T16:59:00.000-07:00

Time to resort to the breathless "Discovery Channel"-like approach to blog posting. You know, something like: "It's Storm Week at the damofoto blog, time to relish all the chaos that comes with the DF wet season, when vast cloud banks scud in and sudden squalls pummel the capital each afternoon. Torrential downpours. Hail. Flash floods. Skeins of blue and green lightning. All in a single afternoon's "tormenta." Stay tuned for new posts showcasing mother nature's ruthless"...ahhh, you get the idea. This afternoon's sample was taken toward the south, using f/22, a lengthy shutter speed, and a tripod.

another age

2010-07-17T09:39:00.000-07:00

Whenever I get bogged down by the perils of this metropolis - the bustle and battles - I pop back into Lightroom and sift through the travel shots for a little quiet inspiration. More often than not last year's trip to Burgundy furnishes the mental respite I'm hunting for. To look across young vines like these, streaked by lavender and crowned by storm clouds, you're really looking across the centuries. It's an age away from the clogged streets, racetrack sidewalks, and sonic assaults of the city. When gazing at an image like this, I don't even begrudge the French farmers their budget-sapping subsidies, it's all worthwhile even before you get your hands on the fruits of their labor.

the $20 million taste

2010-07-07T17:03:00.000-07:00

Okay, so maybe the wine wasn't worth that much, but the new cellaring and admin facility for the wonderful Williams Selyem winery is. And being treated to a barrel tasting of their pinot noir, I felt a little like a millionaire myself. The assistant wine maker, Phil McGahan, is an Australian hailing from a small town in my own state of Queensland. He gained a degree in wine making in Australia and earned his spurs in the Hunter Valley outside Sydney before coming to Sonoma to join Williams Selyem. He works with wine maker Bob Cabral who has shot to prominence for his fabulous reds. Phil is both your typically laconic Aussie bloke with an added frisson of relentless energy and I wanted to capture this dichotomy, relying on a little shutter drag while he was pouring some pinot from the barrels in the new WS facility. It was a privileged peek behind the scenes at a label that has produced wines for White House dinners in addition to its own select wine club members.

vesper

2010-06-23T09:25:00.000-07:00

This is one hardy feline. Not only does this plump ginger puss choose a classic Vespa seat for its evening nap, it also picks one of the busiest streets in the 9th Arrondissement in Paris as its less-than-private boudoir. According to our host this wonderfully balmy Parisian evening, this is a regular sight. Somehow the cat manages to tune out the boisterousness of the adjacent sidewalk cafes and restaurants and happily naps on this particular scooter, bringing many pedestrians to an abrupt and amazed halt. It might be that this individual takes advantage of a warm seat after the owner's evening commute, or it might purely be a sense of style. This is a Parisian cat, after all.

recycling

2010-06-22T16:36:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since the last blog thanks to a tremendous amount of travel and so there is a wealth of new material for the blog. One of my favorites from the Paris visit was this wonderful chandelier. It's an old brass base that originally must have hosted some other shade fitting, but some bright spark has had the idea of plugging the frame with plastic cutlery. In this case, spoons, but there was another with plastic forks. I found the curvaceous contrast in this irresistible, especially in back and white. The store was in the 9th arrondissement and I think this image nicely sums up the mix of old and new that's prevalent throughout the neighborhood.

rake

2010-04-23T10:02:00.001-07:00

Dashing style while raking it in. Chetewy, aka "Chester", in action. Rarely seen at the table these past weeks sadly, the action is far quieter without his cries of "Come on petit pou!" and singing of "que bonito nimilito". His slashing style of play is as entertaining as the audio accompaniment.

MACOver

2010-04-20T14:54:00.000-07:00

Art in Mexico seems an under-rated feature, lagging behind foreign appreciation for food, history, and kitsch (see Lucha Libre) - in no particular order. But the Zona MACO exhibit has become quite possible my favorite thing above all else here (despite the growing evidence that my preference is actually the food) gathering as it does an astonishing array of wonderful local artists and others from abroad in one champagne-studded place.

MACO is shorthand for the Mexico Contemporary Art exhibition, and it attracts artists, galleries, buyers, and fanciers from all over the world. Works from Dutch artists appear alongside others from Argentina, New York and, naturally, Mexico itself. It's a vibrant array of the bold, bizarre, and boisterous, and the people strolling the floor of the Centro Banamex during the exhibition are as varied and interesting as the art. I've put up a full gallery of shots on my web site at http://www.damofoto.com but here's a little sample to liven up the blog.

run!

2010-04-08T16:34:00.000-07:00

This one definitely didn't come from Banksy but I thought it notable for the same reasons that Banky's work appeals to me. This was painted on a guard rail alongside the small bridge that connects Paddington to Darlinghurst in Sydney. As I ambled toward St. Vincents Hospital from Paddo, I was struck by the small silhouettes in such an incongruous place. I love the sense of movement in the figures as well as the shape of the woman in the pair, as she seems plucked straight out of North by Northwest or a similar classic thriller. The flecks of black paint above and around them seem haphazard - problems with the spray can? - but they also form a nice exclamation point above the couple, which seems wholly in keeping with the theme. Looks stenciled but may not have been, but anyway, I loved it and so it is added to my growing collection of street art. With the 5D Mk II and 24-105mm f/4.

africa or...?

2010-04-02T20:34:00.000-07:00

Mexico. Really? River crocodiles in Jalisco. Really. A drive around the hotel here at Cuixmala can be a little,well, misleading. Deceptive. Zebras graze alongside hearty Eland and you half expect to see giraffe hove into view at any minute. River crocodiles bask with their mouths agape to regulate their temperature, as their cousins do in so many parts of Africa. It's frankly a little weird to be seeing all this on the western coast of Mexico but here they are, thanks to the eccentricities of British billionaires. The hotel here was once a private homestead with game roaming its 25,000 acres but now it caters to those seeking a true escape from the ordinary and its grounds are an enormous nature preserve. Although one thinks some of the local fauna isn't preserved for long around these specimens.

home is where you find it

2010-04-02T14:19:00.000-07:00

Love this one. Especially the afternoon light and the really shallow depth of field, nicely isolating this Hermit Crab. It had been scurrying along the edge of a dune on the beach, and had gone defensive the moment I came within range with the 5D II and a 70-200mm f/2.8.

The eyes are also really captivating, as is the detail on the legs. I find these critters fascinating as they have such personality - at least in my mind - thanks to the shell they choose for their home. Some of the shells have a hole here and there, others are pristine and perfect. Some are colorful and stand out against the dunes, others are lighter and blend perfectly into the background. I guess the choice of a home and how we treat it are universal after all. Taken at Playa Escondida at Cuixmala, Jalisco.

china doll monday

2010-03-22T00:55:00.000-07:00

Before slipping out of Sydney once again, I had a hankering to hunker down at one of the restaurants now part of the old Woolloomooloo passenger terminal and wharf. China Doll grabbed my eye and stoked the taste buds but I had no idea I was in for one of the best Asian meals of my life. I won't go all Trip Advisor here, but the slow-braised Wagyu beef in the Panang curry was so insanely tender I could cut it with the serving spoon. I spent a very happy couple of hours sipping Laroche Petit Chablis and wading through several dishes while also satiating my appetite for more of the current Kindle selection, "After the Deluge." In between reading and watching the chopsticks in action, I noticed the weather-faded and grease-streaked sun awning was doing a pretty neat impression of a tobacco filter on the city skyline, particularly the silhouette it made of the Centerpoint tower. So I dropped the Kindle - for a moment - and picked up the 5.

old haunts

2010-03-21T00:17:00.000-07:00

Revisiting some old stomping grounds in Sydney's Paddington, it was astonishing to see how the pubs along Oxford St. are being transformed into more stylish lounges, employing bistro-like kitchens to update the standard pub fare and placing greater emphasis on individual decor to distinguish themselves. I was most surprised to see how one of my old favorites, The Light Brigade Hotel, has shed its traditional origins and embraced the modern. The rows of polished bar stools arranged neatly around the lounge were wonderfully eye-catching and again I bled the colors to lend a little more atmosphere and highlight the gleaming steel.

alan's blues

2010-03-19T22:30:00.000-07:00

Walking toward Potts Point from the Cross in Sydney early this morning I was amazed to hear the unmistakable sound of a steel guitar over the bursts of traffic noise. It was coming from the Potts Point market, near the doorstep of the infamous "Bourbon and Beefsteak" bar. There, on a bench between a fruit juice stand and a cluster of potted palms and flowers for sale, was a man playing some Robert Johnson blues on a National steel guitar, providing a wonderful soundtrack to the casual wandering of the customers and the happy nattering of the vendors.

After listening to a couple of songs, I wandered over to him and began chatting about the guitar and his playing, as I've long been a fan of the Delta blues. It turned out that the guitarist, Alan, had quite a story to tell of his life with music, which took a turn from rock to blues when he was walking down a street in Adelaide in the early '60s and heard a unique sound coming from one of the pubs. Backtracking and ducking into the bar to investigate, he found the legendary American blues duo Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee. I was stunned when he mentioned them. There aren't many folks these days know of this incredible blues pair, whose harmonica, guitar, and vocals make your feet tap from the first bar. It was amazing to me Alan had heard these two live, in the 60s, in Adelaide of all places.

"I was playing in a sort of Beatles band," Alan said, "but I'd never heard anything like this." He got hooked when Brownie sang a line recounting a conversation he had with a friend about happiness, something he didn't think he'd be able to recognize if he found it, and that sank in for the young Alan.

Years later, he'd moved to Sydney, played Jazz, rock, and folk but he was still devoted to the blues. He bought his third guitar, a used Martin, and his wife, he says, told him three was enough. "She finally walked out after I got to 17," he chuckled.

Talking about the day he bought the National, he sounded as excited as he must have been the day he laid eyes on it. He had just put down $5,000 on a brand new Martin ("A mate looked at it, and he said 'It just looks like a normal guitar'," Alan said, shaking his head at his friend's ignorance) but when he saw the steel guitar glittering in the store, he momentarily forgot the brand-spanking new guitar of his dreams. Minutes later - and despite the store owner mentioning a 25% discount on all items in a couple of weeks - he walked out with the National. He couldn't risk someone else grabbing it up.

That was in 2004. Now, he appreciates how the gorgeous sound of a steel guitar lent an edge to certain blues guitarists back in the States who needed a distinctive sound, an edge, to ensure the coins came to their street corner rather than to the competition at the other end of the block.

We chatted for so long I began to feel guilty for distracting him and for depriving the market of its astonishingly unusual musical attraction. Alan jumped into Dylan's "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" and a couple nibbling their bacon and egg sandwiches began dancing away next to him.

Now I'm listening to Sonny and Brownie on my laptop back in the hotel. "Oh honey, take it easy, 'till I make a little money..."

endangered cats

2010-03-15T18:35:00.001-07:00

While on an automotive theme for a moment, I was thinking this morning after posting the alfa rainbow shot about the sad demise of the hood ornament. One supposes it's likely due to the prevalence of vandalism these days, and perhaps a cost consciousness among manufacturers in a less-than-gilded age, but the little sculptures that used to mark a marquee are now few and far between. Winged Victory on the Rolls Royce, the tri-pointed Mercedes star, even the gnarled ram's head of Dodge. And of course, the lithe and ferocious silvery cat of Jaguar. Makes the sighting of one such as this from a Jag reposing in a Toorak street in Melbourne all the more wistful. With the 5D Mk II at 105mm and f5.6 and 1/250 sec.

alfa rainbow

2010-03-15T10:25:00.000-07:00

I should have taken this as a portent and bought the darn thing. Nearly every day I pass by a Fiat dealership and ogle its trio of Alfa Romeos, all of them Spiders. As we returned from a stroll around Polanco on a warm Sunday afternoon and wound our way back to the corner with the dealership, I noticed the spectrum of light cast on the front fender and lights of the convertible Spider and thought I'd try to capture it. You can never replicate the true intensity or vibrancy of the colors but I still thought the 5D Mk II did a fine job. I still think it's an omen. Must. Own. Spider.

hosteria la bota

2010-03-14T09:42:00.000-07:00

A long weekend in Mexico City is a true gift as many of the city's more than 20 million inhabitants take the opportunity to revisit home towns, head to parties in the surrounds, or simply lay low and exhale. We thought it a good time to go check out the emerging Calle Regina block to see what gives. The New York Times had finally published a piece by a friend of a friend about the bar scene there, giving us a great excuse to head into the center of town for a change. The Times must have had the piece "in the can" as we say for quite some time because we discovered the bar we wanted to meet at, Hosteria la Bota, had actually moved one block into Calle San Jeronimo. It's still a great dive though, with a good mix of odd drinks, including some Spanish mixes, and walls lined with hundreds of little wooden boxes that once housed cigars or other bits and that had been transformed into miniature art galleries of their own. I was thrilled just to be able to relax over a tequila, which arrived with a lime positioned neatly just so. The Canon G11 is the perfect low-light option for these sort of adventures as it seems to retain the feel, especially as you crank up the ISO and introduce a little more grain.

marais marvel

2010-03-13T16:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I've been letting monochrome or its variations get the best of me lately. I attribute it to too many coffee table book purchases and an inexplicable burst of affection for all things Avedon. But recent searches through my photos for a personal project have rekindled my fondness for color and leave it to Paris to furnish an appropriate example. It's a shoe store in the Marais that had a color palette that immediately told you this isn't the place to take your grandma for comfy walking shoes. The store design was perfectly in keeping with the product, which was edgy, fun, and sexy. Yay for color.

chandeliers

2010-03-09T15:30:00.000-08:00

Queenstown Park Hotel, New Zealand, 2009.

old faithful

2010-03-08T18:51:00.000-08:00

Feeling hemmed in today by the ferocity of the noise as the apartment above goes through renovation, so needed to remind myself that tranquility does exist somewhere. New Zealand is still fresh in my mind, and so I finally got around to transferring my shots from my travel laptop to the desktop. Thought this was suitably inspiring, planning to put it onto some Velvet Fine Art paper as soon as I get the chance. This was taken on the road between Queenstown and Glenorchy as we returned from a four-wheel drive trek to the Dart River.

cosas de vaquero

2010-02-27T17:32:00.000-08:00

Back to the Museo de Arte Popular in DF today, this time to introduce Sylvie's parents to the splendors of contemporary Mexican art. Definitely one of our favorite places. One of the displays I didn't really pay close attention to last time was a range of Mexican cowboy (vaquero) staples - pistol holsters, spurs, bridle, and and entire saddle. The leatherwork is intricate but understated and timeless, while the engraving on the metal pieces is ornate and simply gorgeous. It's incongruous seeing such functional beauty in this oft-crumbled and dysfunctional city, and it certainly makes one yearn for the sparseness and minimal life of the cowboy. Taken with the G11, yielding a good bit of noise which I think goes well with the theme - I bled the color out a bit in Lightroom to enhance the country feel - not that there was much other than browns and white to begin with.

testing testing

2010-02-27T09:34:00.000-08:00

Aperture used to be my photo editing program of choice until I returned to pro shooting and tried Lightroom while coming to grips with Photoshop. Now that Apple has released Aperture 3, and given Joe McNally's strong endorsement of it, I went back to see how Aperture compared. I'm usually a big booster of Apple goodies, as my multiple Mac purchases attest, but after some playing with the latest version of Aperture I still think Lightroom is king of the hill, combining as it does great workflow and file management with terrific editing tools. There are some bugs in the current beta version of Lightroom 3 that need to be ironed out (in particular importing and slideshows) but I don't doubt these will be sorted in the production release. As such, I think I'll be sticking with Lightroom for the foreseeable future, not least because of its integration with Photoshop itself, which is invaluable when you're pressed for time. Still, here are a couple of pics from Aperture that turned out quite nicely I think - the colors in the gay pride march photo have real punch and there's good sharpness in the volcano pic - but again, I think Aperture needs to learn from Lightroom's importation, workflow and file handling management if it's really going to cause Adobe any problems.

time travel

2010-02-21T09:01:00.000-08:00

Just getting around to posting past shoots and linking them more effectively. Thanks to the blog-savvy SylvMilv, I've now got Flickr and the blog a little more integrated, which is tres helpful. Yay, SylvMilv.

Sperryville in the Fall, which I've highlighted on the blog before, is one of the true delights in Virginia. A picture postcard town, seemingly trapped in the years of the Eisenhower presidency, with good barbecue to boot. Who could ask for more? This is the first of several galleries I'll be posting that will highlight just 10 pictures of each location or shoot. It's just nice to edit oneself from time-to-time, I find it helps in composing in the first place.

the evolution of bruno

2010-02-19T21:13:00.000-08:00

We're pretty lucky to have a couple of handsome house cats for impromptu shoots in this place, with Bruno definitely being the more challenging in that he's perpetually in motion, and of course completely, wonderfully, silkily black. Even the 5D Mk II has a hard time working out what the heck I'm trying to get it to focus on when he's the target. So good ol'-fashion manual focusing and a wide open aperture usually do the trick. I hadn't grabbed a good picture of the tyke for a while so I used the happy convergence of subject (perched on a couch-bound Sylvie) and camera (handy from snapping snow-capped peaks earlier) to remedy that deficit.

So here he is, about five months of age and getting perkier and more confident each day. Remarkably, the Sassmonster has a ball wrestling and racing him, and both set new records for cuteness each time they curl on or around the napping Sylv's head. That shot to come.

the calavera history of mexico

2010-02-02T19:50:00.000-08:00

We spent the past weekend hiding from the daily calamity that is Mexico City by stealthily hiding away in...Mexico City. We slipped into the new St. Regis Hotel at the Diana fountain on Reforma, and enjoyed the double-glazed, room-serviced serenity within. We decided to become tourists for a long weekend and hit a few museums downtown, including the wondrous Museo del Arte Popular. It's four floors of fun but what really grabbed me was the ground floor exhibition of Mexico's history told in calavera dioramas. Artists had focused on a few of the country's most important milestones on its way to independence and made scenes with the skeletal figures familiar from Day of the Dead celebrations. Some of them were intricate, others just hilarious. I was drawn to this one, recounting the uprising against the French of Cinco de Mayo. It's a shame I don't have a James Cameron camera so you'll just have to believe me that this was a really fetching 3D arrangement made of plastic and cardboard. It gets the point across. Pardon the pun.

the clouds lift

2010-01-18T12:06:00.000-08:00

Alright, so you've seen this view before if you've seen this blog, but maybe not quite like this. We've had a week of dense cloud, occasional rain, and winds of up to 75km/h. I've been waiting expectantly for the clouds to clear to see whether the unseasonal cold temperatures had brought fresh snow to the volcanoes and this is what we're seeing today. I was gawping at the mountains ringing Queenstown in New Zealand a couple of weeks ago, and now Mexico seems intent upon showing its own beautiful vistas. Canon 5D Mk II with the 24-105mm f/4 at f/11 and 1/125 sec.

second act

2010-01-15T12:44:00.000-08:00

Or maybe third? One of the delights of being in Queenstown at the end of 2009 was resuming contact with Darren Lovell, co-owner and chef at Fishbone, one of the town's most popular eateries. Darren and I first encountered each other more than 20 years ago in tiny pre-fab office built next to the printing presses for Time Out magazine in Fortitude Valley, Brisbane. We were both starting our journalism careers fresh out of university and most likely cutting short our lives by a couple of years thanks to the smoke we inhaled from Tony Grant Taylor and Paul Syvret in our fluro-lit hotbed of freelance writing.

We both ended up in Sydney for different organizations before setting off abroad to pursue our careers, and naturally drifted away from regular contact. I received an email out of the blue some time back from Darren saying he was taking over a restaurant in Queenstown and so when Sylvie and I arrived there we tracked him down and took him to lunch at Eichardt's, a hotel with a cosy bar and restaurant where I took this shot with the 5D and available light. Really, he hasn't changed a bit in 20 years. Swine. He and Mark arranged a wonderful dinner, with free champagne, for Sylvie and I and we loved every bite. Talented lads, and a wonderful and inspiring second act by an old friend.

sydney downpour

2010-01-11T09:22:00.000-08:00

Back in beautiful Sydney briefly before returning to Mexico City, the second day of 2010 brought with it a magnificent storm that unleashed a torrent of rain reminiscent of the deluges of the tropical north. Having sifted through bargains at the Glebe market, my companions and I had wandered into Sappho Books and Cafe on Glebe Point Rd for a bite of lunch and we marveled at the fury of the downpour from the perfect table perch on the back patio. The rain cascading from the tin iron roof evoked dim memories of my first years in country Australia and also of the storms that sometimes used to lash the roof of my little townhouse in Brisbane when I worked as a reporter there many years ago. It was also a great time to test out the capabilities of the little G11, which handled the conditions splendidly I thought, although I think the patrons suspected I was some nut who'd never seen rain before, the way I scurried around for the best angle. All in the name of art, of course.

inches

2010-01-05T10:29:00.000-08:00

Queenstown in New Zealand boasts of being the adventure capital of the world thanks to their range of adrenalin-testing pursuits, from heli-skiing to, of course, bungee jumping. One of the most popular and long-lived activities however is the Shotover jet boat ride, which entails donning a life jacket, strapping into a squat and muscular fire-engine-red craft, and losing lunch and sunglasses as it's thrown around on the Shotover River. I caught this one as it was beginning its run up the river and it shows pretty starkly how close the boats come to the rock walls on the riverside. Great fun I reckon, but, er, not this trip. Too much, um, bungee jumping to do. Swear. Even without retouching, the red of the boat shows up beautifully against the pale green of the water and the dark rocks methinks.

departure

2009-12-30T02:58:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-12-22T16:26:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-16T15:03:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-23T09:01:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-17T13:15:00.000-08:00

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?

2009-11-03T09:29:00.000-08:00

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

2009-10-28T11:02:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-27T22:22:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-24T08:00:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-15T16:17:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-23T12:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-14T11:20:00.001-07:00

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

2009-09-12T18:01:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-21T17:50:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-27T09:37:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-07-18T10:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-05T16:00:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-03T09:26:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-06-27T08:40:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-26T16:27:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-22T14:18:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-12T08:45:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-11T17:11:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-05-25T11:16:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-05-22T09:41:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-19T19:15:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-14T10:02:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-07T16:55:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-29T08:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-21T20:06:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-12T10:24:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-02T10:03:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-21T10:18:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-09T19:21:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-02T16:23:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-24T16:00:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-16T11:36:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-30T20:58:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-26T07:14:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-24T10:28:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-22T07:48:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-12T15:10:00.001-08:00

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

2009-01-11T13:28:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-07T20:19:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-01T08:01:00.000-08:00

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.

The Boston Lobster Massacre

2008-12-26T19:08:00.001-08:00

Digital camera sensors sometimes have a hard time dealing with heavily saturated images and this is a pretty good example. This was shot at high ISO without a flash, and the sensor obviously was overwhelmed by the mass of red shell, in a reflective stainless steel dish, with warm interior lights the only illumination. That said, hey, it's the holidays and red is the theme, right? These guys were formerly a gang of Maine lobsters plucked from their watery world and sold to our Boston rellies on their way back from Camden (see earlier post). And so, this was dinner on Christmas eve 2008 - a glowing red mass of crustaceans, accompanied by potato and green salads. And all for about US$4 per pound.

Home of the White Christmas

2008-12-23T18:30:00.000-08:00

Camden is a tiny fishing town in Maine where it seems the prosperity of the eighties (188os) never waned. Gorgeous homes enveloped in snowbanks, weekender cottages clinging lakeside or perched on tiny islands, a town library so grand it would be a fine home for the Magna Carta. Trails wind through numerous state parks and reserves and an outfitter's store on the outskirts of town does a fine trade in renting skates, skies and snow shoes. In short, it's a (Hallmark) photographer's dream. These berries were in a planter outside a store on Main Street, coated in a layer of ice by a steady stream of water melting from the awning above and they seemed to me to to represent the town's entire holiday appeal.

Brunch on a branch

2008-12-20T14:48:00.000-08:00

Snow swept into New York this past Friday in the first true storm of the season, turning the Big Apple into a vast playground for kids of all ages - and for a few of the furrier inhabitants. I was in the East Village visiting friends and dashed out into a nearby park as the downfall intensified. There were plenty of smiles as people - and quite a few of their pets - enjoyed the fresh snow before the plows, salt-spreaders and shoveling turned it into the brown slushy mess that commuters would be cursing a few hours later.

I'm not usually one for the "Hallmark moment" pictures that snow encourages, but the nonchalance of this tyke after swiping a snack and choosing a snowy perch was too hard to resist.

Petals

2008-12-17T11:00:00.000-08:00

Yes, a bit of Photoshop manipulation. But it pops doesn't it? It's one thing about the digital age of photography I've very happily embraced and need to learn so much more about and that's the universe of presentation possibilities. Your perspective and perception can change so much in the way a photo is presented, and in this case a bit of judicious cropping and some creative bordering has - as least I hope! - led the eye to the strip of sharp focus running across the flower. I love playing with depth of field, especially when using a fast lens like a f/1.8, and this is why.

Getting a grip

2008-12-14T14:55:00.000-08:00

One of the most surprising aspects of diving into professional photography has been discovering the fun of family portraits. Kids can often be a handful - one day I'm going to put together a gallery of "pulled-face-photos" that would be a complete riot - but the energy and creativity they inject is a reason to pick up a camera in the first place. But keeping your own mind agile and creative can be a challenge when juggling the logistics of posing the family and constantly moving lights and backdrops. So I'm quietly chuffed when I can capture some small moment amid the hubbub, like the tiny fingers of little Matt, a three-month-old from a shoot this weekend.

Muse in Green

2008-12-12T10:54:00.000-08:00

Sylvie during a stroll around the gardens that surround the San Angel Inn in Mexico City's south. The picture rather shamelessly flouts a few photographic strictures about composition but it's all in a good cause. The colors - well, color - just pop beautifully and really bring out Sylv's gorgeous features; really what a good portrait is all about. I love the errant strand of hair encroaching over Sylv's left eye, and the catchlights in her eyes really sparkle. I'm also enamored of Sylv's flair when wearing any of the pashminas she takes along in chilly weather, and this one blends so nicely with the lush lawn of the gardens. It's beyond me why I'm not trying to take photos of her on an hourly basis, although perhaps for the sake of matrimonial bliss I'm better off with once in a while.

Shooting sounds

2008-12-10T08:59:00.000-08:00

Taking a camera to a live performance by a band has always been one of my favorite aspects of photography - I love trying to capture the intensity on the faces of those on stage. It's actually tremendously challenging, technically and artistically. I never use flash, which can overpower the lighting onstage, and so have to judge my settings very carefully. I often look at the pictures afterward and wonder "Was it really like that?" Here's a few shots from recent outings showing the crazed fun of an eighties cover band playing a corporate gig in Orlando, the horn section of Boston's Giant Kings playing in Cambridge, and Tim Wright of Mexico City's own Los Ajusco Mountain Boys, who played this past weekend at The Black Horse.

Morning has broken

2008-12-06T08:06:00.000-08:00

Being a convert to cat adoration, I'm still often surprised by Sasso's smarts. I had plans to remain under the covers this morning until I'd finished The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler, but with scarcely a dozen pages unread, my plans were thwarted by feline impatience. Sass had watched me weave to the bathroom, throw on a t-shirt and make like the next move would be to the kitchen - the normal routine. The next step is usually a stroll to the cocina for breakfast and the (virtual) morning papers, all accompanied by the skitter of cat claws, kibble crunching and the scratchy violence of kitty litter being cast about in the laundry. But this morning I headed back to the bed, grabbed up Mr. Chandler and was diving back into Marlowe's troubles when an exposed foot received a few polite taps from a furry and padded paw. Just four taps. Not even a tickle. But defined and definitely purposeful. You're running late. This is not good for my schedule. Up. And so I went. Skitter. Crunch. Scatter.

Back to Washington

2008-12-05T08:55:00.000-08:00

My previous life came calling in recent days and I dusted off the suit, rummaged through the closets for an overcoat, and found myself on the old United 822/823 milk run between DF and DC. A little less than three days later I fly out with work in hand, a new camera body (a second Canon 40D - you may have seen the earlier post about my other 40 having "issues"), and renewed fondness for Washington in chilly times. For those who may not be familiar with the World Bank, perhaps a glimpse or two will help. This is a light fixture from the second sub-basement level. It's a good taste of the rest of the structure, which underwent a massive makeover in the nineties and emerged a post-modern edifice of glass, aluminum and polished concrete (often mistaken for marble). I was drawn by the subtleties in tone, and the sharp edges and angles that are so prevalent in the building (and yes, I'm being metaphorical to boot).

The foreign minister

2008-11-24T14:58:00.000-08:00

Last week I had the pleasure - bleary-eyed though it was given a late return from the US - to cover the visit of the Australian Foreign Minister, Stephen Smith, to Mexico City. He was on his way to Peru and was stopping over to talk trade and education with local ministers and business leaders. I used to cover these trips as a reporter at Dow Jones, so it wasn't unfamiliar territory to trail him around. But I had one of my cameras, my Canon 40D, die on me without warning, leaving me with my back-up camera, an old 10D, more than 700 pictures on various CF cards and about two hours to process and deliver the images. I think the experience of following US Treasury Secretaries around on world trips had prepared me well. Deadline made. Client happy.

Bandelier National Monument

2008-11-22T15:28:00.000-08:00

During our break in New Mexico, Sylvie and I popped into the Los Alamos National Laboratory to visit the museum there, and the next day came back to Bandelier National Monument, where Oppenheimer and the rest of the Manhattan Project scientists would come for treks among the pueblo dwellings in the Frijoles Canyon. A little stream winds its way through the canyon and I took advantage of the lack of folks around to leave the trailwith a tripod and grab some photos of the stream - but of course was busted by a Ranger before I could scramble back to the trail.

Santa Fe, and the start of the blog

2008-11-21T16:03:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the the blog site of damfoto. Along with www.damofoto.com, this is the cyber home for me, Damian Milverton, a photographer and communications consultant.

Brevity being the soul of wit, the posts will be short - at least that's what I'm promising myself - and will hopefully expand a little on my photography and on the work I undertake now and again in the world of communications.

I thought I'd accompany my introductory post with a photo of a wind sculpture, one of several to be found in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It's one of our favorite spots to hide away in the US, given its blend of art, Mexican and Spanish colonial influences, stunning scenery and the Japanese spa, 10,000 Waves.

The web probably won't do the colors justice but I love how the burnished metal blades reflect the sunlight with a pinkish hue - an effect it took some practice to capture.