Is where you are now your end game, or are you simply not stepping up?via When you hit the wall by Beate Chelette.
Just a few random quotes to keep myself motivated.
Don't Wonder "What if?" - Jenny P
Is where you are now your end game, or are you simply not stepping up?via When you hit the wall by Beate Chelette.
Just a few random quotes to keep myself motivated.
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.
Walk past these most days on the way to work. They are just in the main entrance hall of the UTS Main Campus Building. Just hanging on the wall there - together. Flight is a common theme but they juxtapose each other by their compostion - one with no central focus and the other couldn't be more so. I love them both, but Matthew's Untitled #66 is just brilliant because it breaks all the rules of convential photography. And, works brilliantly because of it.
More on Art - The Art of the Street ..
It's everywhere if you take the time to look. Some more glaringly obvious than others. And some of amazing skill, talent, aesthetics and colour coordination, while others less so, just like the Art of the Gallary Wall. And some more engaging and meaningful than others. I see something new everyday on my walk to and from work through The Gallery of Street. Price of admission is a pair of shoes, an open mind, and good senses of observation and curiosity.
It is a global phenomena and the Art of the Street is everywhere I have travelled. It is no doubt a human instinct deeply embedded in us from the dawn of mankind, starting with the primitive scratchings on the cave wall. What makes it so engaging is its immediacy and the ability to address the issues of our lives in the here and now.
Ransom Riggs on Art and Street Art:
[Art can be] what’s painted on the outside of the museum wall that reflects what [we] - at least the ones wielding cans of spray-paint - are thinking now.via Photos: Venice Graffiti (Thu 17 Sep 2009) by eljeiffel.
Tim Winton on Looking and Stories:
It was a picture you fell into. You could look at it for the rest of your life and still wonder what the story was.
What you don't know you can feel it somehow. [..] Was a beautiful day.via Beautiful Day (*) by U2 (*). With a fantastic Letterman Live performance here (*)
Light (*) is essential to photography (*). [..]via Chasing Light (*) by Rinzi Ruiz (*).
I purposefully (*) and consciously see the light and chase it. [..]
It brought depth and mood to my images. It brought out the vivid colors (to some), and added shapes and geometry to my images. I search for light and also look for the shapes the shadows (*) make. [..]
I love (*) how light (*) reveals and how shadow (*) hides elements in the photograph.
it’s very easy to adapt (*) the frame (*) to make a photo by moving but it’s more important to be where you are supposed to be and be using what you are supposed to be using because you want what your INTENT (*) wants to be as true to the EYE, HEART and MIND (*) as possible.via May 8th, 2014 … Fuji X-Pro1 and 23mm May Be as Good as it Gets (*) by StreetShooter (*).
I think the human animal is amazingly adaptable (*).via Still serving the people (*) by Andrew Taylor (*).
I really like the last inscription.Remember that neither riches nor fame, beauty nor age can save you from death, that takes all
(On the south side of the fishpond)
Remember what will come after
(On the north side of the fishpond)
Know thou what thou art then why art thou proud?
(On the lavatory wall)
It’s OK to fail.where she adds:
You learn more from failure, than from success.
It becomes a time to take stock and reassess.
Success is fleeting anyway...it’s all about being true to yourself and making the best work possible.
And often, your best work rises from the ashes of failure, when you change directions.
It’s OK not to show up [..] to every opportunity.via it’s ok to step back from the roar of the crowd (*) by Aline Smithson (*).
Moriyama [..] treats each moment with absolute equality.This quote goes well with Trent Parke's (*) approach to viewing a photograph (*).
He neither makes any judgment himself, nor expects you as his viewer to make any.
The photograph is a moment experienced, nothing more and nothing less.
Moriyama is capable of something approaching documentary, [..] and he is capable of the lyrical .
But I don’t think he ever asks us to understand anything.
Graffiti is the perfect opportunity to find a voice. Otherwise you would never find a voiceReminded me of one of my earlier posts (*) about Graffiti in Venice:
While the oil-and-canvas masterworks hanging in the city’s galleries may reflect of Venice the Renaissance era, it’s what’s painted on the outside of the museum wall that reflects what Venetians — at least the ones wielding cans of spray-paint — are thinking now.