Fright night /  by Mario Mirabile

Halloween as we commonly know it today it grew out of the Christian observance of All Saints Eve (or All Hallows Eve), which may have supplanted pagan harvest festivals. It was a time given over to remembering the dead, both saints (hallows) and ordinary folk, from which the morbid modern associations originated. How the Christian practice of remembrance was transformed into the modern secular and commercial observance is unclear, but likely had its roots in the US, although elements - particular the dress-ups - have been known for hundreds of years.

The practice of trick-or-treating, where children go from door to door seeking sweet treats, was largely unknown in Australia till recently, but has now grown into an annual revenue boost for the confectionery industry. In the small country town of Korumburra, the entire historic tourist attraction of Coal Creek is given over to the celebration, with thousands of costumed revellers filling the park. Judging by the queues, the most popular attractions are the trick-or-treat stations, where children wait patiently to collect a few treats. To me, it looks like it all harks back to the ancient harvest festivals, where people feasted after the crops were safely gathered and stored. Looks like we've gone full circle.

Driven to abstraction /  by Mario Mirabile

Our minds are very good at processing what we see. We can take in complex scenes with thousands of individual details and somehow make sense of it. The gestalt theories of visual perception were developed by German psychologists in the 1920s in an attempt to explain how people tend to organise visual elements into groups or a unified whole.

But sometimes, in perceiving the whole, we can miss the fascinating abstract detail to be found in the mundane objects which crowd our vision. Occasionally, I'll go out looking not at the big picture, but at the small. Moisture, plastic wrap and a bit of sun turns a pallet of bricks into art, a brief shower transforms a simple steel table, and blue sky reflected makes a cool counterpoint to warm geometric tiles. Even a stack of take-away coffee cups can confound observers if you get close enough. Seeking details like this helps me unclutter my mind and train my eye. It makes a calming change from trying to make sense of the world.

Waterfront real estate /  by Mario Mirabile

Australians just can't get enough of the beach, and living within earshot of waves breaking on the shore is a popularly held dream. The  bayside suburb of Brighton has easy access to several popular beaches, and also boasts some of the most expensive real estate in Melbourne. The closer to the beach you get, the more it costs to buy into. But perhaps the most desirable properties, and hardest to buy into, are also the smallest.

A row of colourful huts along the beach at Dendy Street are popularly known as the Brighton Bathing Boxes. They have become quite a tourist attraction, and even it winter the beach is swarming with visitors and wedding parties. These tiny gems are so tightly held that on the rare occasion one comes up for sale, it always makes the news, and they change hands for more than whole houses in some suburbs. No doubt, sitting on your front porch on a warm summer night watching the waves lap just a few metres away, is a very attractive prospect. For the lucky few who can do it, the tourists are probably just a minor inconvenience.

Water, water, everywhere /  by Mario Mirabile

Melbourne has notoriously changeable weather, and this spring season has had some pretty dramatic swings in mood. Last week we went from one elusive day of near beach weather to snow flurries and on to destructive gales over the course of four days. Of course, being Melbourne, while it's a topic of conversation, nobody was particularly surprised.

If warm weather has been in short supply, one thing there's been no shortage of  is  rain. While there's been far too much at times, the occasional shower provides some photographic opportunities. Of course there's the standard puddle reflection and umbrella shots, but I've taken something of a liking to rain droplets on steel. It started when I got to the station to catch my morning train and couldn't sit to wait for its arrival, and suddenly I'm seeing interesting patterns everywhere. In fact, it was almost a nuisance when the train arrived on time and dragged me away from my photography. Now there's a first - can't remember ever being annoyed at an on-time train.

Spaced out /  by Mario Mirabile

Occasionally I walk into a building and my first thought is "whatever the architect was smoking, I want some...". Such is the case at 70 Bourke Street. The building is interesting enough from the outside - angular and organic at the same time - but it's only when you get inside that things get really interesting. 

The immediate impression of the main entrance is that it's nothing too far out of the ordinary. But looking up or down tells a completely different story. Up is a soaring atrium taking the eye past a series of curved and coloured balconies to a huge skylight which floods the space with light. Down is a series of interconnected ramps panelled with rich natural timber which snake their way to the lower levels. It's immediately mind-boggling and captivating, and a credit to the owners for hiring an architect with a vivid imagination - and possibly a very good stash.

People you meet /  by Mario Mirabile

People are fascinating subjects, providing endless variety for the photographer in search of an interesting picture. No matter how many portraits we see, the human face's seemingly infinite variability of shape, colour and expression keep the subject fresh. It's one thing to get a professional model into a studio where you have control of  timing, background and lighting, but street portraits are something else entirely.

First you have to work up the nerve to ask. Not easy at any time, but if the person is is engaged in performance, customer service or even just wearing a silly hat, it can be a bit easier. Perhaps even more challenging are the technical aspects of getting the shot. All the things taken for granted in the studio go out the window in the street. Lighting is rarely ideal, backgrounds can be a distracting nightmare, and you don't have the luxury of taking your time - you are after all imposing yourself on peoples busy lives. However, when it comes off, it can be really rewarding, which provides all the encouragement you need to keep trying.

Spring has sprung /  by Mario Mirabile

I download and listen to a handful of podcasts each week, mostly involving photography. There was one - the name of which escapes me - which I haven't listened to for a couple of years, but which nevertheless left me with a quote I still remember. "There are photographers who are famous for their portraits, and photographers who are famous for their landscapes, but none who are famous for photographing flowers." Which is not to say great photographers haven't photographed flowers, just that it was probably more of a pleasant sideline than the reason they became great.

I used to photograph lots of flowers. They are, after all, attractive subjects and you can generally snap their portrait without any complaints. I tend not to do it so much these days - it's a combination of been there, done that and the search for more challenging subjects. But it's spring Down Under, and new growth is bursting out all over. A visit to the beautiful Garden of St. Erth at Blackwood provided ample opportunity to enjoy and photograph beautiful blooms. It took me a while to get into it, but in the end I had to be dragged away.

Saw it coming /  by Mario Mirabile

Driving home from the country recently, the sky had that peculiar look that said it was likely to put on a performance at sunset. Nothing I could accurately put my finger on or describe, just something about the clarity of the air and the way the clouds were forming up said "showtime". We got home and unpacked the car and I headed off for a bayside vantage point at Half Moon Bay about an hour before sunset. The sun wasn't quite setting in an ideal position behind the wreck of the Cerberus, but it was near enough so I settled down on the jetty and waited.

The sky became redder and redder, and the clouds formed up on the horizon providing plenty of drama. But when a couple of girls paddled out of the harbour on their stand-up boards, I sensed something even better was coming. For a few minutes they obstinately paddled around in the shadows of the Cerberus while I willed them to move into line with setting sun. They finally obliged and I snapped away as they moved back and forth across the tranquil bay. When they finally reached out and touched hands, I knew I'd struck gold as rich as the sky. The sun soon faded and I headed for home, happy to have seen it coming.

What's for lunch? /  by Mario Mirabile

Melbourne's CBD has been the beating heart of Melbourne for for more than 170 years. Not only was it the retail and financial and entertainment hub of the city, but it was also home to significant manufacturing enterprises. Flinders lane, for example, was the center of Melbourne's garment industry. Of course, all the people involved in making Melbourne tick had to eat, but eating establishments, with the exception of a few rare fine dining restaurants, were almost an afterthought.

That has long since changed. I read three or four years ago the startling statistic that the number of food related businesses had grown to the point that they outnumbered every other business combined. From hip little coffee shops built in impossibly cramped nooks up back alleys, to the swankiest restaurants, they're everywhere. And, of course, they all have to have a menu. From the artfully chalked specials board to the oh-so-cute recycled Little Golden Books, the bill of fare is almost as endlessly varied as the dishes they describe.

I'll have the fried chicken donuts with a side of blue cheese macaroons, thanks.

Paralysis through analysis /  by Mario Mirabile

Three years ago when I first started posting pictures to this site, I was happy to put anything out just to get a couple of posts up per week. Not that I'm saying the work was necessarily bad, just that I didn't spend a lot of time thinking about it. Whatever I'd shot that day would go up with a few choice words. These days, I'll go out shooting and come back with what I consider good images, but I'll spend a lot of time wondering if they're good enough. The question of course, is "Good enough for what?". Good enough for me, good enough for you, good enough for the world? 

Part of the problem is no doubt is that I feel that much of what I'm doing has been done before. By me or by others doesn't really enter into it. While I was overseas, everything was new and fresh - to me at least - and it didn't matter that everything I saw and photographed had been seen and photographed by innumerable eyes. Now that I'm mostly treading the worn paths of inner Melbourne, it's hard to see it through anything but jaded eyes. And yet I'm constantly finding new ways to see it, so I just need to take a breath and stop thinking about it so hard. A case in point are the innumerable arrows painted on roads and driveways that I seem to keep finding ways to incorporate into pictures. Perhaps there's a project in there somewhere.

Stairing into space /  by Mario Mirabile

I've recently noticed a couple of recurring themes (other than people of course) in my street work. The first is stairways. I suspect that something in their regularity of shape and repetition of patterns speaks to some deeply buried part of my brain. The patterns aren't enough on their own though - one or more human figures appears to be an essential part of the recipe. The theme has popped up often enough that I've decided to turn it into a sort of semi-ongoing project. It's not something I'll pursue with purpose, but I'll certainly be keeping my eyes open a bit wider for opportunities. Stairing into space, I suppose.

Walk on by /  by Mario Mirabile

Occasionally on my lunchtime wanderings, a scene presents itself which just cries out to be photographed. Such was the case when I spotted this bicycle propped enticingly at the corner of Ridgway Place and Little Collins Street. The colours leaped out at me despite the day being cold, wet and dreary. Mind you, it was not all good news. A large white sign on the bikes rack advertising a cafe down the lane was a visual irritant which just had to be removed. Unfortunately though, I didn't have a pair of wire cutters or knife with me to cut through the cable ties which secured it in place, so the removal had to be postponed. 

The other thing the scene needed to complete it was a human figure or two. It was only a matter of time, so I set my camera and propped next to a nearby post and waited. A few passers-by obliged, but I didn't quite get the image I wanted. The bike was still there a few days later, so I expect I'll get more chances to get what I'm after. Unless, of course, the cafe changes its marketing strategy.