I like crested terns. With their swept back hairstyles and raffish good looks, they're the Fonzies of Ricketts Point. A leather jacket would complete the picture, but they'e really got enough cool factor without it. They sit around shooting the breeze, dispensing advice to anyone who cares to ask for it - not unlike the Fonz in that respect. Their friends the pelicans have heard it all before, so they take off to find a quiet corner. With the morning's searing heat dissipated by a stiff cool breeze off the bay, people come out to pick their way among the rock pools - and perhaps seek advice from the terns - as the Spirit of Tasmania steams up to its Melbourne home at Station Pier.
Looking for some good advice? /
I seem to have become the go-to guy for photographic advice among my local group at work - probably because I spend far too much time reading photography related sites and blogs. While I’d be happy to sit around and dispense my wisdom all day, this is not as simple a proposition as it sounds. Everyone’s goals, budget, current equipment base, level of expertise and actual needs vary so widely that the simple answer sought is rarely forthcoming. If someone says they want to take photos of their kids with blurry backgrounds, the simple answer - that they buy a large aperture lens for their camera and shoot it wide open - is merely the start of the conversation. From there the discussion moves into the realms of aperture, focal length, subject distance, the relative merits of the 50mm f/1.8 vs the 50mm f/1.4 and so on.
I figured that what these guys needed more than advice was a dose of practical education, so I offered (perhaps foolishly) to lead them on lunchtime photo walks. Hopefully in the process they’re learning something about what all those arcane settings on their cameras mean and how to use them to improve their photos.
Given the constraints imposed by time and being on foot, the range of subjects and areas we can tackle will be limited. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be able to keep the walks interesting, both for myself and the participants. The basic aim to visit somewhere of photographic interest or explore some aspect of photographic technique each week. This time the goal was to examine some old pilings in the Yarra which have been converted into a sculpture. We didn't get that far as we stopped and spent a fair bit of time exploring various aspects and angles of this sculpture instead. We'll get to the pilings another day.
Paris on Collins /
Collins Street has long been regarded as the premier street in central Melbourne. Before being extended into the new Docklands precinct, it stretched exactly one mile along the east-west axis of the central Melbourne grid laid out by Robert Hoddle in the 1830's. Following the gold rushes of the 1850's and the subsequent land booms, Melbourne grew into one of the richest cities in the world.
This was reflected in the Paris end of Collins Street - the two blocks perched on the hill at the eastern end. It was site of some of the finest residences in the city, the most prestigious gentleman's clubs (in the traditional sense, please) and the swankiest retailers. While many classic buildings fell to the wreckers’ ball during the re-development craze of the 60's and 70's, many fine architectural examples managed to survive.
Take the short stroll from Spring to Russell Street and you'll find plenty of reminders of the wealth that was channeled through Melbourne. The north side has many fine examples of Victorian architecture, however few, if any, still serve their original purpose. Portland House - a wedding present from a doting father to his daughter - has gone from townhouse to the office of a financial services company. Others residences have become retail outlets, cafes or boutique hotels. Georges department store - where the staff was not above hinting that perhaps you should be shopping elsewhere if you didn't look cashed up - went broke years ago and has been carved up into smaller retail spaces. The south side of the street has a stronger art-deco flavour, with many of the buildings housing flagship stores for prestigious retail brands.
It can be easy to miss some of these gems amid the modern retail signage and clutter of modern buildings. It's well worth the effort to take a slow walk from Spring Street to Russell Street and back just to observe the beautifully preserved detail of a bygone era.
Back to school /
I don’t know what this plant is called. It might be barley grass, but I’m not sure. In any case, it's a common grass and can be found everywhere at this time of year as kids return to school. It may be only a weed, but every time I see it I'm reminded of my school days.
Boys of my generation found an odd use for it which I'm sure has died out as kids now have phones to play with. This only worked if you were wearing your uniform pullover, which were always woolen and made with a fairly tight knit. The trick was to hold your forearm horizontal in front of you and place a plucked seed head on it with the point facing away from you. Pinching a bit of pullover sleeve between thumb and index finger, you pulled the sleeve back like a bow string and let go, propelling the seed head forward like an arrow. I don't recall how far they used to fly, but I'm sure the distances were prodigious.
Needless to say the practice was strictly banned at school for the danger it posed to life and limb. However, we persisted in fighting running battles with our dangerous weapons, and I'm certain no-one was pierced through the heart by an errant projectile or lost an eye in the process. And I don't think I ever had to recharge the battery in my school pullover.
Taking it to the streets /
Melbourne's street art scene has taken off. Not so long ago (when it was graffiti, not art) it was done in the dead of night lest the perpetrator be hauled off by the police. Dawn in the city would reveal a new crop of murals in Melbourne's many laneways and alleys. The practice is now not only tolerated, but actively encouraged. It has grown into a tourist drawcard and organised tours will save you the trouble of finding the best galleries.
This is so much more than crude tagging. Watching a good artist at work reveals imagination, a high level of skill, a fine eye for detail and the co-ordination required to work on canvasses measured in metres. The maestros are not restricted to those who can handle a paintcan. Working in chalk, the pavement artists faithfully recreate old masters that anyone can marvel at, or even walk all over if they wish. They all have one thing in common though - their transient nature. A mural is only a only a few cans of paint away from being yesterday's masterpiece. A shower of rain or a thousand footsteps will turn a footpath old master into nothing but a memory. Some have more staying power than others, such as those attributed to the famous Banksy, but each masterpiece is regularly replaced by another.
If you live in Melbourne, it's easy to become somewhat immune to the charms of this riot of color. An entire laneway can be transformed and and for me the only giveaway is the freshness of the paint. Personally, I find the people around the artworks far more interesting. The artists, the chef stealing a quiet moment and of course the galley patrons
A splash of color /
A scene will draw your attention for any number of reasons. Action or movement of some sort, an interesting or pretty face, a dramatic shape, something that doesn't belong. However, the thing that's sure to catch your eye will be an out of place patch of color.
The bright hues of a row stools in a drab lane or a riot of orange in a busy city street draw the eye like magnets. It's not enough just to capture the color though. A puzzled expression begs the question of what is puzzling the subject. Perhaps he's just been told he has to bring in all the oranges at the end of the day. A faded reminder of years past makes you wonder what the penalty was for parking beyond the line. A blank doorway adds mystery and balance to a composition. Look for the color, but try to weave bit of a story around it as well.
You can cheat a little and use the old trick of desaturating all except the object of interest, but it's an effect that is often used without much thought and can lose its impact if you do it too often. I believe an image will have more impact an object can stand out in its environment without resorting too much manipulation.
Lights, camera... /
My Christmas present to myself last year was my first pieces of studio lighting gear. Nothing fancy though - just two light stands, a couple of umbrellas and a few cheap radio triggers. Together with the flashes I already had, it's possible to create quite sophisticated lighting effects on a budget. The obvious advantage of the cheap and cheerful umbrella is the soft spread of light it produces and the corresponding softening of shadows. It also has it's limitations though, particularly in the way it spills light into the background of the image. If you want to get really serious, there's an almost endless array of equipment (just try Googling "studio lighting equipment") to help you get the perfect shot if you have the money, space and inclination. As I'm not about to leap headlong into studio portraiture I'll just have to make do with what I've got.
I'd been itching to give the gear a good workout out for since I got it. I have a request from friends to do some family portraits soon, so I wanted to make sure I understand how everything works. I've been doing some reading, but for me the information doesn't jell until I've actually put it into practice. The other members of my household are always reluctant - at best - to let me use them as guinea pigs for my photographic experiments, but my friend Rob is always a willing subject.
Rob suffers from Stinson Syndrome. For those not familiar with the sitcom "How I Met Your Mother", one of the characters - Barney Stinson - is imbued with such awsomeness that it's impossible to take a bad photo of him. Rob seems to have the same problem. He has a naturally relaxed manner that just seems to come through in any photo of him. I'm really pleased with the results, and surprised at how little fuss was required to get them. Of course there's a downside. As a photographer himself, Rob's payback was that I had to pose for him. Unfortunately, I don't share Rob's affliction, so I won't be showing any of those shots here.
Timing is everything /
Street photography as a genre involves the observation and capture of people in public places. Because it's not staged it requires a keen eye - or a good dose of luck - to capture an interesting and transient moment in time. Henri Cartier-Bresson, perhaps the greatest exponent of this art, called it the "decisive moment", the fraction of a second which captured and expressed the significance of an event.
Like comedy then, timing is everything in street photography. We can't all be Cartier-Bresson, but we can keep our eyes open, our wits about us and hope for a dose of luck. You could perhaps set your camera on high speed multi-shot mode to improve your chances of getting the shot, but I think that's cheating and not faithful to the traditions of the craft.
You have to be prepared for the fact that it won't always come off. The first shot demonstrates a shot that was nearly sensational. I was watching the young man on my favorite steps and saw the girl approaching, but wasn't quick enough to adjust my zoom, framing and focus. Even so, had I hit the shutter just a second later, the juxtaposition of the boy, girl and the direction of his furtive gaze would have resulted in what I'm certain would have become an iconic image of the genre. Instead I have a shot just like the ones taken by your aunt which always had peoples heads cut off.
In the second photo, what caught my eye was the window and the way it framed the interaction of the two men. The woman inside the cafe, who was clearly not part of the conversation, gave a secondary point of interest to the scene. I got off a couple of shots, but as I was focusing on the men, I didn't notice the woman had hidden behind the magazine until I reviewed the images on my computer. I don't really know why - perhaps it's the implied indifference of the magazine reading woman or expression of the boy on the cover - but I think it's a more interesting image that the shots where she's visible. A a bit of observation, a bit of timing, a bit of luck. It all works.
Iced tea /
The stairs at the Bourke Street entrance to Southern Cross Station make a great photographic location. The symmetry of the steps and the bold lines created by the handrails create a strong backdrop which can transform relatively simple subjects.
I was outraged last week when I saw that my subtle studio backdrop had been transformed into a garish advertising hoarding. After staring in disgust at the brightly colored stickers that had been applied to the stair risers for a while, I figured I might as well go with the flow. Every subject I've shot on these stairs till now has come up really well in black and white, but the real in your face effect of the new color scheme screams out for a full blown dose of high saturation.
I suspect that having discovered this new source of income, the station authorities won't allow the stairs to return to their pristine unpolluted state. Anyone for iced tea?
Quick change /
Melbourne is renowned for its changeable weather. An old joke suggests that if you're not happy with the weather, just wait ten minutes. While that's a slight exaggeration, when the weather does change, the changes can be rapid and quite dramatic, particularly in summer. Days of searing heat can be ended by a south-westerly wind change which will drop the temperature 20° in 15 minutes. Storm fronts can dump flooding rain and whip up destructive winds and be gone in 15 minutes.
Modern weather radar can give advance warning of some of the more dramatic and photogenic weather events. Sunday's forecast warned of a windy change about the middle of the day, so I kept an eye on the radar with the intention of going down to a bayside location I'd scouted a couple of months earlier to catch the action. I could see a rain band approaching mid afternoon so I took off with my gear. It didn't look too severe, but I was still hoping for some dramatic shots.
Red Bluff is an aptly named feature on Port Phillip near Black Rock. At around 30 metres high it's not very big, but very prominent due to its color which makes it stand out from the surrounding cliffs. This was the first time I'd been to the base and I scrambled around getting some shots before the show started. Within half an hour, the blue skies and fluffy clouds were replaced by leaden overcast, strong winds and threat of rain. I was hoping the front would roll in at a good angle to allow a good composition of both rocks and weather, but it came in over the bay to the west and I couldn't get a position from which the juxtaposition was possible. The line of ragged low cloud made for good shooting in any case, so I grabbed a few shots before retreating up the beach in time to avoid being soaked.
A tale of two stations /
Melbourne has an extensive suburban rail system, and despite the best efforts of a string of governments to corporatise, privatise and generally run the system into the ground, it remains a pivotal part of Melbourne life. The network radiates from central Melbourne like a giant octopus spreading it's tentacles to the outer suburbs, and at the centre of the beast lies Flinders Street Station.
A railway station has existed on the site at the corner of Flinders and Swanston Streets since the 1850's, although the current building was completed in 1910. A classically decorative building adorned with elaborate facades and domes and a clock tower at it's main entrances, it quickly became a Melbourne icon. Successive renovations, the addition of modern technology and the invasion of retail outlets have eroded it's classic appeal, but it retains many fine features such as the portico at the Swanston Street entrance. For more than 100 years, Melburnians have arranged to meet "under the clocks" at this entrance, and although the clocks are no longer an accurate indication of train departure times, they still make a fine meeting place.
At the other end of the style scale sits Parliament Station. Constructed in the 1970's as part of the underground loop built to extend the rail service to other parts of the central city, it's style could best be described as utilitarian. It works well enough, but I've never heard anyone express any affection for it, and certainly no one meets there unless they absolutely have to.
Room service /
I've been doing longer walks as part of my hip rehab, and I'm determined to try to get in at least a 2 or 3 kilometer walk each day. Now that I'm back at work after the Christmas/new year break, I'll be looking for back streets I haven't explored yet, however even familiar paths can turn up interesting sights if you keep your eyes open.
I spotted the guy showing off on his new mountain bike but wasn't ready to get the shot. Fortunately he obliged by doing another loop just to make sure his suspension was properly dialed in. At 333 Collins St, an eatery I haven't noticed before occupies the portico, and looks a very nice place to enjoy a meal on a fine day.
The strangest thing that caught my eye however was a dilapidated pair of shoes outside a building in Little Bourke St. It used to house a power station, and while the front of the building has been redeveloped while retaining parts of the original structure, I don't know the current purpose of the rear part where these shoes were. This section presents an imposing, if odd face to the street. There are several sets of tall basalt columns, each supporting a short flight of steps leading to a portico with a blank steel door. There's nothing unusual about a discarded pair of old shoes, but these were place neatly together, the laces undone, just next to one of the entrances. They seemed so carefully placed that my first thought was that they were a permanent part of the grill on which they sat, some sort of bronze street art.
They were, however, just shoes, left perhaps in the hope that room service would collect, clean and return them pristine for the owner's first meeting of the day.
