“Don’t Wonder ‘What if?’” is a term Jenny coined for a book , titled A Pocketful of Sequins - Words from the Heart (*), which was published in 2005.
Jenny was asked to attend a workshop organised by the author, Joanne Fedler (*), where a group of Breast Cancer Survivors and Supporters were asked to talk and write various things about their experiences and journey with Breast Cancer.
It is a great little book and each person’s saying was annotated with a small painting made by an artist - Julianne Ward.
I have some photos from the Book Launch that Jenny and Joanne attended in late 2005. When I get a chance I will put them here.
Untitled - George Street / Sydney (Sun 31 Apr 2013)
Larrisa Archer (*) on viewing Garry Wingorand's (*) current Exhibitiion (*) writes On Street Photography (*):
I'm wondering if even street photography (*) can be trusted to tell us anything beyond what is in the photographer's own heart at the moment--
I wonder if it is in fact the most deceptive of all genres, for the very reason that it posits a certain objectivity, not rehearsed and posed but candid and full of accidents, an imprint of a reality that is out there for anyone and everyone to witness together.
I wonder if, regardless of the literal elements of the scene, the tone an image takes on and expresses is due to the photographer's own moods, his own prejudices, enthusiasms, "abortive sorrows and short-winded elations."
And then I wonder if this is in fact any less reliable than the notion that the images can say something objectively true about their over-arching subject (for instance, America) when that subject is itself so complex, many-sided, and open to a seemingly endless range of interpretations.
via 'We Have Not Loved Life': Garry Winogrand at SFMOMA (*) by Larrisa Archer (*).
Joanne and I sent the following message to the Australian Dragon Boat Team on 18 Aug 2009, a few days before we left to participate for Australia at the IDBF World Dragon Boat Championships held in Prague in late Aug 2009. It is now history - an amazing experience for all of us, particular for Joanne and myself.
We just wanted to say thank you to everyone for helping us to celebrate Jenny's Life, and for your kind words and support for Joanne and I over the course of this campaign.
We also thank everyone for the lovely "Name-A-Star" gift that Amanda presented to us, on your behalf, at the 2nd Team Trial at Penrith. We have attached a copy of the documentation that came with the Sydney Observatory "Name-A-Star" catalogue. The star selected is in the constellation of Vela and has been named "In Memory of Jenny Petterson". As part of the gift, we will view the star at the Observatory on Jenny's and Joanne's Birthday, the 24th March 2010.
Jenny was an amazing person and she showed us all how to live life to full, even in the face of a life threatening illness such as advanced breast cancer, something she lived with for 12 years.
Paddling has become a constant in our lives and the irony is that we would not have found it, if Jenny did not have her cancer. Jenny would often say "what would we be doing if we did not start paddling?". We have travelled this state, country and the world as paddlers and wherever we have travelled we have met friendly likeminded people, no matter their culture or background. We feel we are better people because of our paddling experiences.
Jenny's life changed in 2004 when she nervously, yet humbly, co-featured in an episode of the ABC's "Australian Story" titled "In the Pink"
The episode was watched by more than 1 million people and helped expose Dragons Abreast Australia to many women. It told the true story of breast cancer and it did not shy away from the harsh realities of breast cancer. From then on wherever Jenny travelled, she would be "pulled up" by people in the street or at regatta's so they could talk to her about how the Aus Story Episode helped them to make positive changes to their life.
The last talk she gave was on the 1 April 2009 at the Riverview School in Lane Cove. The talk was given to approximately 200 Year 9 and 10 boys. They were mesmerised and inspired by her story of hope, courage and strength. She was also touched by the fact that the guest speaker they had a month earlier was Dr Chris O'Brien (of RPA Fame), a person she felt quite connected with. He made sense to her through his own public journey with cancer.
A copy of Jenny's Riverview Talk is now kindly hosted on the Dragons Abreast Australia Web site. It tells her (and indeed our story) in her own words with the last few pages giving an insight into her approach to life, and how she embraced her cancer and through it, felt empowered to live a wonderful and fulfilling life. The cancer helped to reveal her true inner spirit and character that she was born with.
Initially, unknowingly, and then later, humbly, she helped to inspire many people throughout Australia and the World to follow their hearts and achieve their dreams.
It was an amazing effort for Jenny to make the NSW State and Australian Teams this year. She was diagnosed with multiple tumors in her liver in early March and started a fortnightly cycle of chemotherapy and another drug. Through the encouragement of her "Support Team", she trained and paddled through all of her treatment and went on to paddle for her State and Club at the 2009 Nationals DB Championships at Kawana. It was with tears in my eyes that I witnessed Jenny, along with her team mates, paddle to Gold Medals in both 500m finals for her State and Club. The most amazing thing I have ever seen.
Finally, Jenny, Joanne and myself visited Prague in September 2005 after the World DB Championships held in Berlin. It is a beautiful City. Little did we know then that we would have the opportunity to compete for our country there in 2009. Jenny was selected in the Australian Team and was training up until early June. Joanne and I will now compete in Prague, with Jenny as our guiding light and inspiration.
Death may end a life, but our relationship will continue forever.
I have included a couple of photos from our trip to Prague in 2005 in our online photo album.
PRAGUE 2009 – 9TH IDBF WORLD DRAGON BOAT CHAMPIONSHIPS – AUG 2009
Jenny’s Gold Medal
Prague was an amazing experience. Winning a Gold Medal and singing our National Anthem is something I don't think Joanne (Jenny's younger identical twin sister) or I (Jenny's Husband) will ever be able to explain or describe.
World Champs!! – “Thank You Jenny”
Anyway, I should try to find some words about our Prague experience .. The thing I will remember most about Prague is ..
.. We met Mike Haslam (IDBF Executive President) a couple of times and we spoke initially for quite a while at the end of the third day. We thanked him for his ”Tribute to Jenny” and the wonderful article for Jenny in the July 2009 DBI Newsletter. It became apparent in talking to him that he was truly “touched” by Jenny and he spoke quite openly about the positive impact she had had on his own life over the years and in particular since her passing on the 30 June 2009.
Just before we parted, I asked him whether we could have a photo together, as this had become a bit of tradition with Jenny, Joanne and Mike over the years. This time instead of capturing the moment, I would be in the photo, taking the place of Jenny. After the photo was taken, we all became quite emotional and I asked Joanne to give Mike a comforting hug. As we parted, I was happy, we had said “ thank you” and I had the photo of Mike and Joanne, and thought that would be it for the Regatta. Well, maybe not ..
Geoff, Mike and Joanne - Prague/Racice - Day 3 - 28 Aug 2009
Mike and Joanne - Prague/Racice - Day 3 - 28 Aug 2009
The following day, the Australian Senior Mixed Crew, which Joanne and I were team members, won a Gold Medal in the Mixed 500m Event. For all of us, particularly Joanne and I, this was an amazing experience and a “Dream come True”. We all gave it everything we had and we got off the Dragon Boat onto the Lane 1 Pontoon, not “Wondering, ‘What If’?”. Jenny was our “our Guiding Light and Inspiration” and this was just one example of how Joanne and I are trying to live our lives in Jenny’s “Afterglow”.
Senior Mixed 500m Final - Day 4 - 29 Aug 2009 - "Don't Wonder 'What If?'" Jenny P
Australian Senior Mixed 500m Team – Prague/Racice - Day 4 - 29 Aug 2009
On the last day of the Regatta during the lunch break, Mike came over to the Australian tent to handout copies of the latest DBI Newsletter (the one with Jenny's story) and he again spoke to Joanne and I at length.
We talked to him about winning Gold and how everyone in the Mixed Crew and Squad felt that we had a 21st paddler in the boat when we raced the final. I told him about the wristbands we were wearing with Jenny's "Don't wonder ‘What If?’" quote inscribed on the inside (we all raced with the wristbands inside out).
Finally, I told him how we all went into Prague the evening of the day we won” Gold”, to quietly celebrate a truly amazing experience in our lives - as the German Team told us after the Final - "we made the impossible, possible". Everyone, except Joanne and I, wore their medals out that night (indeed, some are still wearing them :-). When asked on numerous occasions where were our medals? - We said “back at the hotel room with Jenny's photo”. I think everyone understood.
Jenny with Joanne and Geoff's Medals – Prague/Hotel Duo - Day 4 - 29 Aug 2009
Just before Mike left the tent, he said to us he felt that we should have a "Special" Gold medal presented to us for Jenny, in her honour, memory and contribution to Dragon Boating. Obviously, we were quite touched by his thoughts and this gesture. As he left he said he would arrange it all, though we were not quite sure how.
During the afternoon Mike came over twice to the Australian Team Tent, from the Official's Tower (a good 10 min return trip). Joanne and I were not around both times - either racing or watching races (my only chance the whole Regatta). When I got back to the tent I had numerous people tell me an IDBF official was looking for Joanne and I - little did they know it was the President of the IDBF.
Since the Senior Women’s Team were racing the 500m Final, I decided not to find Mike until I could "round up" Joanne. Our Women's Team placed a close 4th in the Final and just as they started coming off the water, Mike appeared from behind me (yet another 10 min return trip for him) and said he would wait until Joanne came through. Being a Final, it took some time to get all the Crews off the water and through all the celebrations, back slapping and hand shaking that goes on, particularly for the final race of the Regatta for all the Senior Women’s Teams.
When Joanne was finally free, I grabbed her and then Mike presented us a “Special” Gold Medal in Jenny's Memory and Honour. As you can see from the photo below, Joanne has used Jenny's paddle since she passed away on the 30 June 2009. We all had a few tears in our eyes, including Mike. An amazing gesture and a memory I will never forget.
Geoff, Mike and Joanne with Jenny's Paddle and Gold Medal - Prague/Racice - Day 5 - Sun 30 Aug 2009
Later that evening, as the sun was setting at the Regatta’s “After Party”, which was being held at the Regatta site, Joanne and I scattered some of Jenny's Ashes on the water from the Lane One Pontoon, where we had raced the Final from and celebrated the Victory. Below, you will see some photos of the serene and peaceful sunset as we reflected back on Jenny's life and the whole Prague experience.
Joanne and Geoff scattering Jenny's Ashes - Prague/Racice - Day 5 - Sun 30 Aug 2009
Jenny’s Gold Medal from Lane 1 Pontoon - Prague/Racice - Day 5 - Sun 30 Aug 2009
Death may have ended Jenny’s Life, but our Relationship lives on. Prague has shown us all that.
Thank you Jenny, you would often say that you felt Lucky (more here) to have experienced life with Cancer. However, I consider it us to be the “Lucky Ones”. You have given us the knowledge, strength, hope, guidance and inspiration to continue to live our lives to the full. We live on in your “Afterglow”.
Geoff Eldridge - Jenny’s Loving Husband - 30 October 2009
Postscript: The essence of the above comes from an email I wrote (high in the French Pyrenees just 10km from the famous Col du Tourmalet of Tour De France fame) to Julia Ryall, my Club Dragon Boat Coach at Pacific Dragon’s and a truly Great Friend. I wanted to thank her for all of the effort she has put into me as paddler (four years of hard work actually and still a "work in progress") and as a friend. As I said to her before we left for Prague, she has made me the paddler I am, and indeed has helped make me the person I am. It’s not just about the paddle. Since Jenny’s passing, she has shouldered much of the responsibility for keeping the Dragon Boat community informed and coordinated (as well as her beautiful tribute). Indeed, it was Julia I asked to inform Mike Haslam about Jenny’s passing. She has also provided a “shoulder to cry on” and has helped to keep me “pointing in the right direction”, when it all seems like it has become too much. I am not sure how to really thank her, but maybe her contribution to us as paddlers and people (there were seven PD’s on the boat that day), and as a result this Prague story, will go some way to do just that ..
Julia - Thank You.
"Triple J" - Joanne, Julia and Jenny - AusDBF Nationals - After Party – Kawana/Qld - Sun 26 April 2009
Missed this performance of 'My Island Home' at last years Commonwealth Games Opening Ceremony. Just popped up randomly after listening to an Artificial Intelligence Lecture - thanks YouTube, a machine learning recommendation system algorithm hard at work. The original and the various versions I have heard always give me goose bumps.
Moving around a few times from one end of the state to the other and back somewhere else at the other end, in my youth, I don't really feel I have a home town. Not in the sense that many feel. Somehow 'My Island Home' reminds me, and gives me an identity along with a relationship to the place I feel fortunate to call home - the place I live, share and experience life.
A song, its music and words give it meaning, emotion and feeling. Additionally we have the various performances, be it live, on TV, online or from a playlist on your phone. Again, just like a photo, a performance gives you a sense of time and place (memories I guess) ..
I remember seeing Christine and her partner play 'My Island Home' as buskers in the Pitt Street Mall in the lead up to the Sydney 2000 Olympics. An unforgettable and mesmerising performance by Christine on top of a huge silver globe during the Closing Ceremony of the Sydney Olympics. At the last minute I included a beautiful acoustic version at Jenny's Funeral as the song to mark the end of the service. I will never forget the first notes of the guitar, you could hear a pin drop and there was a clarity of feeling I have never felt before or after - in that moment it marked an end and a difficult but sure beginning. I felt it somehow expressed our new separate physical paths, Jenny's journey giving her a new path and home, as well as Jo and my own first steps in our new journey in life without her. Always brings a small tear to my eye when I think about it for more than a little bit. There was also a sense and clarity that we have to live fulfilling and meaningful lives and not to be burdened by sadness. We owe this to them all and it is a responsibility we all share ..
'My Island Home' gives me the same feelings I experience when flying in over Botany Bay in the rising sun light from the numerous long overseas trips over the last 30 years. You look out and you see the blue of the sky, and down, you see the beautiful blue of the Botany Bay water contrasted with the sand around its edges, the rippled banks and gutters underneath. You are reminded of the clarity of light and colour we take for granted here - you have not seen it anything near it while you were away and somehow it is forgotten until just then looking out the window. With it comes another clarity, the clarity of the feeling that this is my home, a home so far from the rest of the world and my ancestors. In those moments I look down and I wonder how did this place I am looking at become my home. I think of my ancestors, particularly those that made that first 6 month journey here in a leaky boat (another song for another day :-)) in the mid-1800's. I always wonder what made them come here and what they felt when first sighting the Sydney Heads, the gateway to Sydney and a new life. I was lucky enough to paddle around this very point, the entrance to their new home, this morning. We saw the sun rise with a clarity most of us had not seen before and as I paddled I heard various chatter between my friends as we paddled - I knew what they were talking about without hearing the exact words - we all saw and felt it. And in this rising sun I was reminded with clarity of how lucky I am to be living this life, in this time, in this place with my family and friends - 'Our Island Home' ..
[ After 4 years, just bought a new phone. This version of 'My Island Home' (love the hip-hop bit from Mau Power) is the first song on it :-) ]
Ikko Narahara (*) writes in the preface to Tokyo, the 50's (*):
Tokyo, the 50's When I First Roamed the Streets by Ikko Narahara (*)
Photographs arrive suddenly from out of the future. For it me it was always like that. Suddenly I would reach out and grab it in midair - the photographs had appeared by itself in my hand. Whenever I pushed the shutter button, my body seemed to become transparent, as if it were out int the middle of the photograph. And as I continuted to take photographs over the years, I came to feel that the images I took had already buried in matrixes of some sort in the space of the future, where they remainded waiting for the moment when I would one day dig them up. That must surely have been how it was. From that time of the big bang with which the universe started and began its evolution, perhaps even though the will of the universe latent in the fluctuations in the "nothing" preceding the big bang, these experiences had surely been prepared for. I am simply a messenger sent to meet up with the images and rescue them. This is the only way I can reconcile myself to the strangeness and mystery of having brought so many photographs into the world.
Possessed by thoughts like these day after day, I suddenly remembered I'd forgotten something - the photographs I had taken when I first began roaming the streets.
I bought my first camera in 1954. I got it to use for my planned work., "Human Life". At the time I couldn't have imagined that after exhibiting that work my whole life would change course toward photography and toward the person I am today. In the intervals between photographing "Human Land" I used to walk the Tokyo streets with my camera. I didn't have any special or clear purpose in mind. My family had often moved to different locations in western Japan, and since I was a child I'd had the habit of thoroughly exploring each new location. I felt the same interest in my exploring Tokyo, whereI'd lived since I came there as a college student. The only difference was that now I carried a camera with me. I breathed photographs on Tokyo street corners the way I breathed air. In my viewfinder those street corners changed into "streets in my photographs." Whenever I released the shutter, I seemed to hear the beat of modern jazz, which I loved so much. I remember I kept on rambling the streets in this way until I became involved in taking my next work, "Domain" in 1958. I was so lazy that I only printed a few of these photographs. The negatives lay buried their negative case, where I forgot about them. By chance, however, I remembered these negatives from forty years earlier. For the past three years I have again been photographing in the streets of Tokyo, and this brought back the memory of my earlier roamings.
"I'd really to see them .. I wonder what photos I took back then?" I couldn't even remember most of the images, and very few of the contact prints remained. But the moment I realized I wanted to see them, I was overcome with the strange feeling of being faced with the all too obvious and simple fact that photographs have to be printed in order to be viewed. After all these years I'd become thoroughly accustomed to the life of taking photographs, and yet here I was suddenly realizing that all too easily I'd vaguely assumed that once I'd pushed the shutter the things I'd taken simply continued to exist by themselves. But even for me, they were actually nothing more than events lying latent in my mind. As mere negatives there were like inverted ghosts; they had to no reality as photographs. I was shocked to realize that those negatives still lacked real existence, and then I had to laugh at my own blindness.
Before long, from what seemed to be the negatives, I made new contact prints and began to look through them.
As I put them into the enlarge, I could hardly wait to see how they would turn out. Unrecognizable images of which I had almost no memory began to appear before my eyes. Were these really my photographs? The photographs came into being like starlight arriving from forty light years away.
Past time buried in the time of the future - a sleeping time with with its eyes suddenly wide open. Through this small astonishment I was also tasting the strangeness and wonder of photographs. As that time my darkroom was filled with the paradoxes of time travel.
I've come to see that these photographs, which excavated the light and wind of the 1950's, were unmistakably the first steps in my travels through cities which would turn into the rest of my life. [..]
I bought this book following this Review (*) by Jesse Freeman (*). The preface is one of the most amazing pieces of writing on photography I have read, and I have read a lot. A beautiful book, both in words and photos, and I am so glad I took the risk to buy it on a whim.
And in the weight of it the life long goal just hit me, and I broke down in tears (*) just before uncontrollably.
You can’t control (*) what other people do. Medals and Championships are about how you compete (*) against others. But in this big wide world all the stuff that goes on both good and bad, you can’t control (*) what other people do.
But the last few races and then especially this one its been about what can I do irrelevant (*) to what others (do).
via Chasing Wow Through Hope and Wonder! (*) by Patrick McHugh (*).
While I have shed a tear just about everyday for what has been lost - a life, a love, a relationship and a future - I have only shed them to myself. There have only been two times since Jenny died that this has not been the case.
The first time was at the end of the day of Jenny's Funeral. The others headed upstairs when we arrived home that cold winter's evening. I stayed downstairs and went into one of the rooms, closed the door and in the darkness curled up on the floor under the desk and let out a howl that I had not heard before or since. The others came down and comforted me. I had broken down after a week of being brave and doing what I had to do. The other time is for another day but would happen a few months later in a small town in the south of France.
You go through stages and when you stop shedding tears for a time, you wonder if you are forgetting or your heart has just turned to stone. Invariably, something happens - a person, an event, an anniversary but mostly a song - and the tears flow again and you feel better. There is no need to be comforted. I am strong enough to shed them on my own. They are mine only and I find comfort in them because that's what they are for, to make you feel better.
Thomas, Grant, Betty, Lynn and Grace - Manahattan bound - I don't know who was more excited - Grace or me (and I was not even going along) - Departure Gate / Sydney International Airport (Sun 19 Dec 2010)
Look at this. That is wild. What a sight. Wow look at that. [Bono pointing to the Brooklyn Bridge]
Sometimes you forget why it was that you wanted to be in a band. So going into this we reminded ourselves of why we wanted to be in a band.
We listened to the albums that excited us when we wanted to be in a band [..] the music and what it felt like to arrive here in the United States. To come over the [Brooklyn] Bridge into Manhattan. Snow was on the ground. It was:
"an amazing magical time in our lives when we did not know how powerful it was not to know".
This is a song about innocence, naivety and it is called "City of Blinding Lights".
The chorus is set in New York City looking at Brooklyn.
I feel that these words are quite profound and the feelings he is trying to describe are universal and generic. They can be applied to not only rock and roll superstars, but mere mortals like myself who progress through life little steps at a time.
I have always recognised the importance of acknowledging your past and to reflect on your past (though it might be painful at times) - it is something I have spent a bit of time on lately. It will help you understand who you have been, who you are now and where you are heading.
Bono's words make me think of some similar words that have captured my imagination, these words coming from Ken Burns (e) a little bit earlier in that year of 2004 at his 2004 Yale Commencement Speech:
As you pursue your goals in life, that is to say your future, pursue your past. Let it be your guide. Insist on having a past and then you will have a future. [..]
Insist on heroes. And be one. [..]
Travel. Do not get stuck in one place. [..] Whatever you do, walk over the Brooklyn Bridge.
I drift back a little back into my past - 1990. Jenny and I had been going out for about six months and she encouraged and inspired me to achieve one of my Dream's - to run the New York City Marathon ..
Geoff - New York City Marathon - Nov 1990 - Brooklyn (picasa)
I look into my eyes above and I see an innocence, naivety, wonder and hope that Bono talks about above through his own experiences as musician. It all seemed to be in front of us back then and it was.
Jenny and I (and of course Joanne) had an amazing life together and though Jenny is not a part of our physical lives anymore, I would like to think that Jo and I have continued to live an amazing, wonderful and fulfilling life in Jenny's absence. It is my hope that I still have a touch of the same innocence and naivety, that I can see above, as I move forward in my life.
This post is dedicated to my niece Grace and nephew Thomas. To travel and spend time in Manhattan as you did for Christmas 2010 will be a formative experience for you. Use the experience to help guide you as you progress through your life.
Now that's a Snowball - Grace and Thomas (my niece and nephew) - Central Park / Manhattan (Mon 27 Dec 2010)
Knowing you, knowing me - Urbanbites / King Street / Newtown (Sun 29 Nov 2015)
Up early for a big day. Decide to go get a coffee, but the local coffee shops wont be open until 8am, so decide to go up to the coffee shop you lived in for the first six months after Jenny's passing. It was frequented many times in the subsequent years and many fond memories with family, friends and mostly, myself, in my thoughts that the place nurtured. If I could write, I could write a book about the place and what I felt and experienced there. Many of the early blog posts implicitly encapsulate this, so I am glad to have made the effort.
It is over 12 months since I have been here and when I arrived just after 7 this morning, I sat and noticed the small changes that a prolonged separation facilitates and makes so obvious. I noticed the staff. Many were the same, which says a lot for the place which becomes incredibly busy later in the day and night.
I am served by a young waiter I know by face. He has been here for as long as I can remember. We don't know each others names but we know each enough to know each other even after 12 months of not seeing or even thinking each other.
You are touched when he remembers to ask before I can say what he is just about to say "large flat white?". "Thanks, that would be perfect" I said, "you remembered". He smiled and then proceeded on his way to make sure my coffee arrived to please me as best he could.
This is the second time in a week you have experienced something like this. And you wonder how and why?
You've walked through life trying your hardest not to be noticed, for that is where a shy person finds refuge and comfort. However, it's moments like this that make you realise that you do exist and in some ways touch people. Maybe it is because you touch people by just being there in the corner, trying your hardest to not be noticed ...
"Knowing you, knowing me" as the ABBA Classic goes ..
Entered this photo in the Art and About 2016, Australian Life Competition. A great quote about portraits and it is what inspired me to enter a portrait this year.
Photography is one of the seductive means of making memories. So I wonder why many aren’t aware that they are making memories. [..]
What’s really going on is that you are making memories and maybe just maybe those photos will have importance to someone. [..]
[during the Vietnam War] I became acutely aware that photography is about memories. It’s about other shit too, but memories are the main source of image information transference.[..]
See, they are not just my memories. [..] All will be forgotten of the pain that still hurts 45 years later.
The very reason I bought a small digital camera in Dec 2000. And just as important as recording memories, you need to make the memories happen. You have to live while you can. And we did just that. Thanks Jenny and Jo.
Bloody Gum - Royal National Park (Sun 28 Jan 2001)
I took this photo 10 years to the minute (Blogger's time is 19 hours behind Sydney time). It was the first photo that I took with my little IXUS that I thought was more than just a record of an event or a place (and BTW there is nothing the matter with that).
It was a Sunday, the last day of a long weekend (Australia Day was Friday). Jenny and I decided to do a Sunday afternoon drive down into the Royal National Park and end up at Stanwell Top to watch the hang gliders and to have an ice cream.
Along the way we stopped to look at various features and land marks, mainly the coast line.
For some reason I randomly pulled up into a small dirt parking area along the road in a forested area of the Park. I was drawn to the large Gum Trees at the edge of the parking area and noticed the sap oozing from the bark.
Looking at the photos I took that day, most were of the trees from a distance. The above photo was the only one I took up close to the trees. I set the camera to macro mode and I am pretty sure I would have held the camera about 15 to 20 cm from the side of the tree. I remember getting back to Sylvania and looking through the photos from that day and this was the one that caught my eye. It was beyond anything I had captured up til then.
Around the same time I found photo.net and this was one of the first photo's I submitted to my portfolio. Amazingly, I received a number of critiques which were very helpful and they helped guide me along my photographic journey, particularly this one:
this is a great piece. My only complaint is it's on digital. It would make a wonderful Ilfochrome if it were on film -- gallery quality. Matthew Kees (22 Sep 2001).
In many ways the photo and the positive feedback I received help me explore photography in a way I had never expected when I first bought the little camera a few months earlier.
I have tagged many of the photos I have taken with the little IXUS, here. Many have become my Favourite Photo's, which I have randomly rambled about on this blog over the last year or so.
Makes me wonder where the last 10 years have gone.
Finally, if I have added up correctly this should be my 300th post.
Sometimes photography seems abstract, but then something happens that makes it concrete.
Colin Pantall (Tue 06 Nov 2012)
Sometimes you read an almost random post by someone you don't even know - you it find so pertinent and you are deeply touched and you learn something about life and yourself. Today is one such day ..
Colin Pantall (*) writes (*) on the passing of his Mother-in-Law, Elizabeth, last weekend:
I think it was a relief in some ways that she died, because she wasn't independent and it wasn't the way she wanted to live, but at the same time it was a massive shock. Not because of the death, but because of the passing of an era, the end of a living history. You can keep history alive in various ways, but when the person who witnessed it goes, it does spell the end of a chapter. It doesn't mean we should forget it, but there is still some part of a time that has gone. Things have moved on.
He also talks about how someone is remembered through photographs and our memories.
On Photography, he writes:
things are also preserved and the family album does this admirably. It's a shorthand of memory, of history, of an edited and at times idealised past, where certain things are hidden and certain things taken away - sometimes in retrospect. Even so, we still look at it quite objectively as something quite factual.
However, complementing the photos (if they were made and are available), there are the memories to draw upon and the cues (*) that inspire them:
But Elizabeth didn't have those old photos, so I wonder how she will be remembered. Just as words are sometimes better than photographs, so is food. I remember her Slovenian cooking, her gingerbread, her puddings, her cakes and so does my wife.
I have learnt that it is important to remember and in some ways this has become my life purpose (*). As Colin reminds us, there are photos as well as our memories - what we remember.
eljeiffel (*) for me is all these elements of remembering, remembering not only Jenny (*) and those that have gone before us, but my own legacy (*) - the scratches and fractures (even if it is just a couple of photographs of the colours orange and blue, and the hidden memories they evoked in me) I will leave on this world when I am gone.
Blue - Asakusa Kannon Temple / Tokyo (Fri 21 Sep 2012)
Saint Patrick's Day Parade 2003 - Town Hall / Sydney 2003 - Sun 16 Mar 2003 (picasa and photo.net)
This is a photo from the Saint Patrick's Day Parade in Sydney in 2003. The parade was held on the Sunday 16 Mar 2003 (7 years ago today - time does fly!!), being a few days before the actual day. I had gone into work for the day as Jenny and Joanne were in New Zealand on a Dragons Abreast Dragon Boat Tour which took place on consecutive weekends for Regattas in Auckland and then Wellington. I remember the time well as they were away when George Bush declared War on Iraq and was concerned that they were away from Australia.
I had just came across the early stages of the Saint Patrick's Day parade in Sydney. I like this photo for the following reasons:
I like how I captured how the scene unfolded (see below).
How I was able to photograph the photographer. I wonder how his photo turned out and whether they ever look at it. I just assumed, from the medal around the neck of one of the men, that they were official visitors from Ireland - who knows ?
I particularly liked the lady in the Green Dress and Hat. It was a little bit amusing that she is looking at my camera and not the one for which she is supposed to be posing for :-)
For the photo below I wrote the following on photo.net:
Moments before - Saint Patrick's Day Parade 2003 - Town Hall / Sydney 2003 - Sun 16 Mar 2003 (picasa and photo.net)
I just took a quick look at this photo again and then decided to look at the originals from that day. Interestingly enough a crop (see image with this comment) of my first photo from the five I took in the minute or so I waited for the lights to change, gives an insight as to how the scene unfolded. Has made me realise how difficult street photography is, or maybe there is a bit of luck involved?
For the next photo I wrote the following on photo.net:
Smiling Faces of Ireland - Saint Patrick's Day Parade 2003 - Town Hall / Sydney 2003 - Sun 16 Mar 2003 (picasa and photo.net)
As the two men swapped places, I was foiled by a passing pedestrain in getting a clear shot. Anyway, I think their smiling faces say it all ..
This photo was taken 7 years ago today. Time flys.
There seemed to be so much hope as I took this photo.
For me, it was the hope that we could take her home (she had negotiated it to be Wed, so Jo and I could go to our Aus Dragon Boat training session that Tue night) and care for her until she quietly left us, like Jenny and Jo had done with Margaret, their mother, 10 years earlier.
It was not meant to be and it is amazing how quickly things can change and how you need to accept, adapt and let go to the circumstances which we are confronted with as we move through life.
It is in these moments that I came to fully understand the following words from Paulo Coehlo's novel, The Fifth Mountain (which I would read 6 months later):
Fear reaches only to the point where the unavoidable begins; from there on, it loses its meaning. And all we have left is the hope that we are making the right decision.
A story for another day.
For now, I remember Jenny and the final week of her life, that she spent in Intensive Care Unit of St George Private Hospital, before she left us on Tue 30 Jun 2009.
Postscript
Amazingly, about an hour after posting the above (maybe about the time Jenny's heart failed two years earlier), a post titled Regrets came through from Paulo Coelho. It is based on this post:
It touchs on the time I had hoped for at home with Jenny and things we might have been able to talk about.
In the end, she left us very suddenly (and with much trauma - unlike her Mothers passing which was very peaceful and serene, if you can understand that) and we were not able to say goodbye.
I carry some of the regrets Bronnie mentions, but in the end I would like to think we lived a good life that allowed us to make the most of the time we had together.
The Cancer made us better people and we did live life to full - Do what you can, when you can. I would say. For Jenny, it was Don't Wonder 'What If?'. Every time we parted, I would say I love you and often many times in between.
One thing I know for sure, it is that through Jenny's life and passing, I have become a better person - I feel guilty about this in many ways, but at the same time I draw some comfort.
A favourite quote, from the many I've collected here over the years. I like it because it is so true in Art and Photography, but also Paddling and Life.
I am reminded of it every now and then in my own life, through my photography and paddling experiences. And today was one of those days ...
The Sun rose over the City skyline as we did our Thursday morning high intensity session in two, six person outrigger canoes. We do short interval efforts (level 4, level 4+) over repeat efforts of 8, 4, 2 and 1 minute. It's at a pace and intensity that can be maintained for these short time periods which is a bit higher than our race pace intensity (level 3) which we maintain for much longer periods.
We are pushing ourselves at Level 4 and the rhythm in the canoe is often not quite as nice as it would be at level 3 or 2. Our effort and technique is on the edge, on "the verge of failure or breaking down".
As I reflect over a 10 year paddling career, I have found that the best Training Sessions and Races have been the ones where everything is just a little out of control and uncomfortable. It's like a being on a knife edge or the edge of a precipices. It's that boundary between the known and unknown, good and bad, success and failure, and courage and fear (thanks Kayleene).
And ultimately, the fault line between our past and future (thanks for that one
Chantel).
It can be stressful and can feel like a feisty prickly relationship. A disonnance. And often questions and self-doubts rise to the surface.
When you are on the edge, you are pushing yourself to the limit of your abilities and beyond. And, with that comes the risk that you push too far and fail, or you just find that easy comfort zone and also fail through a lost effort and opportunity.
Disappointment may come with the failure, but if you reflect and abstract a learning, then you are more experienced and capable for the next effort. And often, as Trent Parke succinctly notes:
mistakes and accidents usually lead to the best discoveries.
You are learning, broadening your experiences and creating the future opportunity for "successful art", if you keep caring and trying.
I love that feeling of "being on the edge of failure". Instead of fighting it, try to find it and some comfort in the uncomfort, and in the knowledge that this is, as Spencer Lum astutely notes:
where all the good stuff happens
As Jenny said, Give it a try, step outside of your comfort zone. You might be surprised where it can take you ...
