Story of Telling on Hope:
Hope impacts our internal narrative acting like the aperture of a camera’s lens controlling the amount of light reaching the film. It makes us more resourceful, fuels our resilience and strengthens our resolve. We might not have the ability to alter the scene but we can change our perspective.via The Power Of Perspective by Story of Telling.
As many of you will know, I have another obsession in my life beyond paddling - Photography.
I started out buying a small digital camera for our Dec 2000 trip to the Cook Islands to visit Jenny and Jo's Meditation teacher, Barbara, who had moved there to help setup a refuge for women . We didn’t know a thing about paddling back then.
I had bought the camera hoping I would be able to capture our memories. It was a tiny digital camera by today’s standards, 1 Mega Pixel and it cost $1600 duty free and a 64 MB compact flash memory cost more than $300.
I did not flinch and I thought it was all worth it, as my credit card was swiped at Ted’s Pitt Street Camera Store the day before we flew out. 15 years later I can tell you here that it was one of the best things I ever did.
My motivation for the camera came from that fact that Jenny had 11 tumours in her lungs and I did not really know how long we would have together. In the end we had just over 9 years of married life. Given Jenny’s condition, a miracle really ..
We were married on 30th April of that Sydney Olympic year and we honeymooned on Lord Howe Island for 10 glorious days in May 2000. Jenny had a film camera and she took many photos.
On our return flight to Sydney, I remember a conversation we had at the Departure Terminal with an older couple from Whyalla who congratulated us on our marriage. We had briefly met them at dinner at one of the small restaurants on the Island.
They told us they had been married for many years and the trip to Lord Howe Island was a way of creating another experience in life and expanding their memories. Better than [running a busy business or] sitting at home and watching the Telly, they said.
This conversation and piece of simple worldly wisdom has stuck with me and I remind myself of it constantly. It was my main motivation to buy that small expensive digital camera for our December 2000 trip to the Cook Islands.
I took many photos that trip to Cook Islands, even of the Outrigger Canoes on the shore of Muri Lagoon - we had no idea what they were – who would guess our future.
Shortly after our return, Jenny and Jo found Dragon Boating. And over the ensuing years many experiences and memories were created, dutifully captured by our cameras.
I documented the many dragon boat campaigns here and abroad, and ensuing holidays that followed each event.
In the process of this documenting I came to realise the power of photography, not only its visual power, but its ability to record our experiences and remind us of things we have done and who we were. We were doing selfies before the term was even invented. We called them “Holdouts” and I think this might be the main cause of Jo’s shoulder injury.
In those last few weeks at St George Hospital in Jun 2009, I captured the last moments of our lives together. They are the best I ever made.
After Jenny’s passing, It took me a while to pick up a camera again. I had lost my purpose and will. I was hurting and numb all at once but paddled through for a year or two – it helped a lot to be busy and in the company of friends. New experiences were created and I even smiled [for] a little [while].
Lost in the enormity of what had happened so quickly, though it was not a surprise, I found my first moments of comfort and hope, when I decided to start looking at some of the photos from our lives together. It made me cry, but it also made me smile. I was so happy that I had this archive of bits and bytes to remind me of Jenny, Joanne, myself and who we were.
It was only after Jo told me to organise my photos and my Mum said I should start making photos again, that I started to move forward. I was completely broken but I took up their advice and kept myself busy again, organising and photographing again. I am still broken but I live with it better now, it is part of me and who I will always be, but I am happy, optimistic, naïve and creating more experiences.
So I guess what I am trying to say is that we have to go out there and make our memories through the experiences we create for ourselves.
In our lives we have loss, grief and bereavement. It is a part of living. You make a choice when it knocks on your door. And we have chosen to live in the Afterglow of our loss of Jenny – to remember and honour and be guided and inspired. Accept it and live with it and make the most of it, even let it inspire and motivate you. And that is what Jo and I have done, I would like to think.
“Believe in Hope” as the graffiti’ed wall in Cleveland Street said for a few weeks in July 2015.
Seven year ago today.
We remember Jenny. She (as they all do) lives on through our memories.
This is my 2000th post here at eljeiffel.
I always try to write something for the Annual Presentation of the Inspire Award. Most times it is just for me, but sometimes I share it with a few people. So here it is, unedited from the time it was written on the evening of Fri 27 Aug 2015. I think it is a pretty good way to mark the milestone.
I started out buying a small digital camera for our Dec 2000 trip to the Cook Islands to visit Jenny and Jo's Meditation teacher, Barbara, who had moved there to help setup a refuge for women . We didn’t know a thing about paddling back then.
I had bought the camera hoping I would be able to capture our memories. It was a tiny digital camera by today’s standards, 1 Mega Pixel and it cost $1600 duty free and a 64 MB compact flash memory cost more than $300.
I did not flinch and I thought it was all worth it, as my credit card was swiped at Ted’s Camera Store the day before we flew out. 15 years later I can tell you here that it was one of the best things I ever did.
My motivation for the camera came from that fact that Jenny had 11 tumours in her lungs and I did not really know how long we would have together. In the end we had just over 9 years of married life. Given Jenny’s condition, a miracle really ..
We were married on 30th April of that Sydney Olympic year and we honeymooned on Lord Howe Island for 10 glorious days in May 2000. Jenny had a film camera and she took many photos.
On our return flight to Sydney, I remember a conversation we had at the Departure Terminal with an older couple from Whyalla who congratulated us on our marriage. We had briefly met them at dinner at one of the small restaurants on the Island.
They told us they had been married for many years and the trip to Lord Howe Island was a way of creating another experience in life and expanding their memories. Better than [running a busy business or] sitting at home and watching the Telly, they said.
This conversation and piece of simple worldly wisdom has stuck with me and I remind myself of it constantly. It was my main motivation to buy that small expensive digital camera for our December 2000 trip to the Cook Islands.
I took many photos that trip to Cook Islands, even of the Outrigger Canoes in the lagoon at Aitutaka, we had no idea what they were – who would guess our future.
Shortly after our return, Jenny and Jo found Dragon Boating. And over the ensuing years many experiences and memories were created, dutifully captured by our cameras.
I documented the many dragon boat campaigns here and abroad, and ensuing holidays that followed each event.
In the process of this documenting I came to realise the power of photography, not only its visual power, but its ability to record our experiences and remind us of things we have done and who we were. We were doing selfies before the term was even invented. We called them “Holdouts” and I think this might be the main cause of Jo’s shoulder injury.
In those last few weeks at St George Hospital in Jun 2009, I captured the last moments of our lives together. They are the best I ever made.
After Jenny’s passing, It took me a while to pick up a camera again. I had lost my purpose and will. I was hurting and numb all at once but paddled through for a year or two – it helped a lot to be busy and in the company of friends. New experiences were created and I even smiled [for] a little [while].
Lost in the enormity of what had happened so quickly, though it was not a surprise, I found my first moments of comfort and hope, when I decided to start looking at some of the photos from our lives together. It made me cry, but it also made me smile. I was so happy that I had this archive of bits and bytes to remind me of Jenny, Joanne, myself and who we were.
It was only after Jo told me to organise my photos and my Mum said I should start making photos again, that I started to move forward. I was completely broken but I took up their advice and kept myself busy again, organising and photographing again. I am still broken but I live with it better now, it is part of me and who I will always be, but I am happy, optimistic, naïve and creating more experiences.
So I guess what I am trying to say is that we have to go out there and make our memories through the experiences we create for ourselves. And this is what I love about PD’s, we are always out there doing something. This time last year we were in Bologna on our way to Ravena, this year we are heading to Hawaii in the next week and month, next year Adelaide and who knows where after that.
Finally, in our lives we have loss, grief and bereavement. It is a part of living. You make a choice when it knocks on your door. And we have chosen to live in the Afterglow of our loss of Jenny – to remember and honour and be guided and inspired. Accept it and live with it and make the most of it, even let it inspire and motivate you. And that is what Jo and I have done, I would like to think.
“Believe in Hope” as the graffiti’ed wall in Cleveland Street said for a few weeks in July 2015.As many will know, I have another obsession in my life - Photography.
With this post it is time to let go of a lot things, including the photos of another time and life. I have shed my life here (and Facebook more recently) like a snake sheds it skin and there is nothing left but to start over again. Time to move on, but it is hard to let go .. but I will.
Trying to make a new start here (arotlt.com) with photos from this point onwards. There will be the occasional post at eljeiffel to mark the odd moment in our lives that are relevant, but for now thanks for coming along for the ride these last, almost, 7 years.
Take fifteen minutes and rejuvenate yourself by watching this short film. I did and it was more than worth it. At the least, you’ll see some really pretty photography and filmmaking, but I hope you find some inspiration along with it. Maybe you’ll be motivated to explore the belly of the beast in your own city and wait for those moments to make order out of the chaos yourself.via Into the Belly of the Beast: Rob Norton's Gorgeous Documentary on Australian Photographer Markus Andersen Will Bring out the Street Photographer in You by Aaron Brown.Trying to find out more about Markus. Surprised I don't more about him. A fantastic video and I learnt a lot from it. I know I think the same way as he does when photographing on the street. Just have to get out there more often.
Yet he found ways to circumvent these restrictions - exploiting the color distortions in outdated film stock and embracing the unpredictable color rendition in emulsions available from some of the smaller manufacturers. His openness to the accidental, and willingness to forgo the photographer's legendary control, are crucial components of Leiter's ethos, anticipating precepts that remained exceptional, even among photography's avante-garde, until the advent of postmodernism in the 1970's.via SAUL LEITER Early Color (*) by Martin Harrison (*).
how we see is less important than what is seen. The former are questions for a machine: which lens? Which film? Which speed? The latter includes the most severe and gut-wrenching choices for a dedicated, free-thinking artist.via Michael David Murphy on The Americans (*) by Michael David Murphy (*).
The main character shows hope, he develops and grows quite a bit through the course of the film, and there is a very uplifting message, from Walt Disney himself, to keep moving forward.Made me think of this post from a year:
photography has changed drastically over the years, becoming more and more ingrained in everyday life through the Internet and Photoshop, smartphones and devices like iPads.via The Lens Rises in Stature (*) by Carol Vogel (*).
Now everyone’s a photographer, [..] It’s part of the language of what we do. All you have to do is walk down the street. And with Facebook or Tumblr there are infinite possibilities. But museums should be devoted to the original thing. That will continue to give the public a reason to see what’s here.Julian Cox (*):
There’s a hungry audience of people who want to see photography shows”and he adds, the reason for photography’s popularity is simple:
It’s accessible.”Quentin Bajac (*) notes a new direction in Photography Curation:
I’m thinking of photography within a far broader context - with film and painting, architecture and drawing - making connections that show it to be equal in status with all the arts.Katherine Bussard (*) concludes:
It’s an interesting moment, [..] Earlier generations were struggling to have photography taken seriously. We’re way past that now.
It is not so much about the medium, as it is about the message.The above quote came from a question relating to his preferences to shoot film or digital, where he responded:
Since three years I am using either film or digital. So I am not much concerned about the ways of the digital camera. Depending on the theme of what I would shoot.. if I feel like I want to shoot in film, I shoot in film. If I want to shoot digitally, I will do that.
Regrets of missed opportunities have plagued me, but also helped me greatly. I can lament a missed shot for a very long time, if I think it may have been epic. Those type of shots are far and few between.Having just returned from Matt's hometown of New York (*) and reading his story (*) inspired me to post the DGK series of photos (*) and explain what I was thinking as I took the photos. It is great when someone like Matt talks about and shares their photography insights as well as their own photographic trials and tribulations.
In order to spare myself the self inflicted torture which follows missing a potentially great photograph, I’ve learned three things from my mistakes.Fear and or embarrassment, has cost me a handful of images which I’m certain would have been very important to me. It’s hard to block out emotions sometimes, but if you want to be a “Nice Guy” and never upset a soul, you’ll be better off doing something else.
- Never leave home without your camera. Never do it!
- Always keep at least one extra roll of film, or these days an extra battery and CF card I suppose.
- Lastly, don’t hesitate when you see something fantastic.
A sheet of contacts. 36 exposures. 6 strips of 6 photographs, taken one after the other. You read them from left to right like a text. It the diary of a photographer. You see what he sees through the viewfinder. His hesitations. His hits. His misses. His choices. He choses one moment. One angle. Another moment. Another angle. He insists. He stops.Found the Klein clip from a Jonathan Walker (*) post (*). Always lots of good information on photography (*) there. Thanks Jonathan.
You rarely see the contacts of a photographer. You only see the picture chosen. You don't see the before or the after like you do on proof sheet. [..]
Ok, the contacts. You see the before and after. Why one picture is taken rather than the other. And then why one is chosen rather than another. [..]
A wall in New York 20 years ago. Ciaro. Probably the name of a gang. Torn paper. A ready made photo. A kind of ??. All you have do is frame and click. You can do a hundread on that wall no sweat. It's there for the taking. There are pictures like that all over, you just have to look.
This picture is maybe better than that one. Or this one. Or that one.
From: Geoff Eldridge
To: Lexie
7:37am Fri 01 Jul 2011
Hi Lexie. Thanks for your kind message and thoughts. Jo and I really appreciate them and your friendship.
We had a nice day yesterday as we honored Jenny's memory and reflected on her Life.
Sounds like you are having a fantastic time and it was great to have had those moments at Niagara Falls to remember your Dad there and for his parting words to come to you strongly.
Jenny and Jo visited Niagara Falls in 1987 and Jo and I were only talking about this the other day. I can remember Jenny telling me about their visit the first night we went out way back on Fri 30 March 1989. She showed me photos that were rescued from a water logged film camera (it was drenched from their Maidens of the Mist Tour in and around the Falls.
Last week I have moved back to Kirrawee where I lived with Jenny. It has been hard in many ways, but it is something I need to do. The house is exactly the same as it was when I took her to the St George Private Hospital on Tue 16 Jun 2009 (*)).
Yesterday morning as I got up and prepared myself so that I could meet Jo and my Mother at the St George Private Hospital (so we could be at the place and time where she left us (*) - we do this each year), I found flip-book of sayings on the bookshelf. She turned it each day and would put a different saying up. The one she left it on and I take it as her parting message (because we did not have a chance to say our farewells):
"If you can Dream it, you can do it!"
I would like to think that Jo and I have done this since Jenny left us, afterall as we now know, it was her parting wish for us all..
"engine" is a Nike film about LIVESTRONG.
The film finds Lance Armstrong climbing a mountain on a training ride.
Around him, fuelling him, are a peloton of voices.
These voices are the words of people all over the world making efforts in the spirit of LIVESTRONG.
As Lance Armstrong rides, the voices tell of people facing challenges, facing cancer, coming to grips with what's next, getting up and improving their lives, inspiring others and making amazing goals come to life all over the world.
In the end, the "engine" in the film is both Lance Armstrong and the meaning of LIVESTRONG in all these people's lives.
It's what can be accomplished together with the idea of living better and supporting each other all summed up with Nike and its message of human potential:Just do it.
Change is part of the grief process too.Had kind of worked this out for myself (i.e. in order to move forward, you need to adapt, otherwise you can get stuck) and was actually going to write about it to mark the 2nd anniversary of this little Blog, which passed quietly while I was in Auckland for the Takapuna Cup. In the end I did not get around to posting (happens a lot - only a fraction of what I would like to post makes it here - have started so many posts that never quite get finished).
Grief changes us.
We are never the same after a major loss.
In fact, part of the process of grief is to find one’s “new normal.”
Conversely, as we change, our grief changes.
As Leah’s mother eloquently describes it, grief is like a brick in one’s pocket – we always feel it, but over time it feels less heavy. After some time, we can actually forget that it’s there sometimes, but memories come back, and we feel the brick again.
Write: write letters. Keep journals. Besides your children, there is no surer way of achieving immortality. Remember, too, there is nothing more incredible than being a witness to history.Keep on Blogging.
