Pictures in an Exhibition

Just for a change I thought I'd post some of my favourite photos taken over the last few years. 

To be clear, I'm not a photographer, just an amateur interested in snapping occasionally, so I hope you'll forgive any breach of photographic etiquette in these images. I do try and compose pics when opportunity allows - rule of thirds and all that - and I unashamedly crop and enhance for best effect in post-production where necessary; I believe that apps such as Snapseed and Photoshop are there to be used, so why not? These are in no particular order, just randomly thrown together. Anyway, enjoy. 

Windows, Chester, England. Our eye is drawn through the ancient stone work in the foreground by the arches behind and on into the foliage. I liked the greens and browns too.
  

Fence, Chevrière, France. Some days the light just isn't right for photography, so instead of just the landscape I chose to have some fence and flora in the foreground. I enhanced the structure slightly in Snapseed too to give it more depth and drama. 

My home town of Liverpool, England. Taken from the Mersey ferry. Again the light was dull with little contrast so I enhanced the structure of the image. It's still a bit flat but I'm pleased with the overall panorama of the waterfront. 

The Atomium, Brussels. Sod's law that the day I was there the sky was grey. I did take some wide shots of this iconic 1950s structure, but I prefer this tighter shot which I think emphasises the stunning architecture and construction - and draws your attention away from the weather! 

Fiddler's Ferry yacht marina, Merseyside, England. 

Finally some light! And sometimes, when you've got light you don't need anything else.

Here's one from Wellington, New Zealand. 

This 'fern ball' dangles mid-air behind the central library. I shot this through some foliage and stone sculptures to frame the ball itself, which also hid the wires that support it, making it seem to float in mid-air. 

Meanwhile, in the USA... This is a pic of the Grand Canyon taken in 2012. Everyone else there was taking photos of the sunlight playing on the canyon walls, including my mate Shaun. I suggested to him that taking one almost directly into the sun would be a better shot so he handed me his camera and said, 'You take it then'. I did, and these are the mystical layers that resulted. He now claims ownership of the image!!

I also turned it into a poster, which I occasionally do with images that I feel bear some extra exposure...

Such as this 2011 one of Fox Glacier on the west coast of New Zealand's South Island. 

I was almost lying on my stomach to get the reflection in the glacial pool but it was worth it. I think so anyway! 

And sometimes you really have to try hard to compose a picture so that modern life doesn't intervene and spoil it. Before Game of Thrones there was Cruas, on the Rhône in France, a medieval town extremely well-preserved and just begging to be photographed. However, it is bordered by a nuclear power plant to one side, a modern town in front, and a quarry on the other side, so getting this shot involved traipsing around until I could get a view that could have been taken 500 years ago. 

I know, I could have just cropped it, but well...

Meanwhile, in a park in England a few 

autumns ago... this squirrel looks like it's 

ready for a fight, with fists curled in anticipation!

(And yes, I added a vignette so that attention is drawn fully to the subject)

Here's one taken just in the next county, but back in December 1972. Shot on 35mm slide film, I was taken by the trees framing the sunset and wanted to capture the moment. Recently I converted the slide to digital format and discovered it wasn't as good as I'd remembered. I've done what I can in Photoshop but it remains more of a notion than an achievement. 

Unless you believe in heaven maybe!

And now for something completely different: some sand forms. Taken on one day at Otaki Beach in New Zealand, I couldn't stop snapping at the way the wind, waves and wildlife had sculpted the sand. 

I realised later that I'd created a series, so I collated the images into a format which leant itself to hanging on the wall. 

Surprisingly, these aren't black and white images, they are actually in colour - it's just that the sand is a sort of monochrome. 

The feather 'wave' at the top is my favourite, just because it really does look like one of those gigantic waves that surfers from all over the world travel to Portugal to ride.

But also I like that all these images came from within just a few metres of each other - the variety of opportunities on the beach that day was amazing.

As we all know, some photos are circumstantial, and often turn out to be more interesting for it. Candid photography is one of my favourites. Sadly, today you're likely to be accosted for being a pervert if you try and take pictures of people without their knowledge, even in what's legally a public space. But anyway, back in 2005 I happened to be in a small pub in Ireland. A few of the locals were so riveted on the TV behind the bar they didn't even see me, but I like the outcome. I just call this 'Watching the Game'.

Occasionally I like to get up close and personal with a macro lens. 

This is a koru - an emerging fern frond - often used as a symbol of New Zealand, which is why I took it.

I like the depth of field; there is nothing to distract from the emergence of new growth and life.

While this wee chap obligingly posed for his photoshoot on a canal-side flower in France in 2013...

...along with his friend the praying mantis, who obviously objected to having his likeness taken.

But if we're going to talk about personal, take a look at this monochrome study. 

Zara was a life-drawing model and happy to indulge my whim for what I hoped would be a stark outline photo. It didn't work because I had too much reflected light on the subject, but it works in a different way I think. Moody, erotic, yet tasteful.

Returning outside, and here we are back in France. This is one of my favourite most recent images, taken just last week in the city of Troyes. I like it because of the subdued lighting, and the way everything - the lamps, the curve of the buildings, the tables - leads the eye towards the mid-lower right of frame where the alley curves away into mystery, guarded only by a young man in a Covid mask checking his mobile.

I took this with my Nikon D50 - an oldie but a goodie. With no tripod I had to lean the camera against a convenient drainpipe to keep it steady.

Poignantly I think it captures the age of the virus. Normally an alley such as this would be bustling, with people sitting outside its restaurants and bars enjoying themselves, but France is taking Covid very seriously, and it looks like people are staying at home.

People can make or break an image, and I think the lack of them in the one above is testimony to that. 

But this next one works (IMHO) because the crowds have suddenly parted on what would normally be an extremely busy central Liverpool street to give me a perfect view of this street performer, seemingly sitting on nothing at all.

The image is helped enormously by the position of the sun which, with the performer's shadow, emphasises that he's 'sitting' there with no visible means of support. It makes me smile.

As does this one from Innsbruck in Austria. 

I love the way the bike has become almost fluid; drunk and unable to support itself it leans against its companion.

In a way, because there is nothing in the image other than bikes, it becomes almost anthropomorphic. 

Or maybe I'm the one that's had too much to drink!

My in-laws used to live in a lovely rural area just outside the village of Chatte in France, in the Rhône-Alpes region. Adjacent to their main house was an old barn, and one day as the sun was fairly low in the sky I went with my camera to investigate it.

I liked the way the light streamed inside (illuminating an old and unfinished kit car at the rear that my father-in-law had started many years previously), but I liked even more the view from inside looking out. The wagon's wheel dominates the image but our eye is drawn to the sunlight top left, while the shadows within the barn form their own vignette. I can still hear the lazy buzz of insects, and feel the warmth of the sun.

I know I said these images were random, so forgive me if we suddenly dash back to Liverpool, England.

It's a city built on its shipping and commerce (and yes, it has to be acknowledged, slave trading) but fell onto hard times in the 70s and 80s. Today its status as a major port is recovering, although its status as a tourist destination is perhaps more significant.

Down at the restored and imposing Albert Dock area one day, I snapped some images of a tall ship moored there, with the famous Liver Buildings in the background. I was aiming to capture Liverpool's early 20th century heritage, when - arguably - it was the most important port in the UK outside of London.

To add to the legacy feel I rendered it in monochrome.

(Legend has it that the two Liver Birds atop the building serve a purpose; the one in the picture facing the sea is looking for returning sailors, while the one on the other side looking inland is checking to see if the pubs are open!)

While in Merseyside, I took a photo of the industrial area of Rock Ferry, just because it is evocative of contemporary concerns about climate change etc. This image is heavily cropped and enhanced to emphasise the industry - in the original there was far more river in the foreground and the 'dark satanic mills' were in the distance.

As a gritty panorama it sends more of a message, and perhaps justifies today's options of filters and image manipulation. Or not - you can decide.

Finally, some arty and atmospheric shots, and at least one to make you go 'Awww'! 

The first is this spiral staircase from somewhere in Europe - I can't actually remember where - but I was taken by the hypnotic shell-like geometry.

Then there's this one, also a staircase, this time from one of the towers of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris (before the fire). 

Although slightly blurred, it captures the motion of our kids running down the steps, and it's the movement - and colour - that appeals to me.

Speaking of spirals, here's a shell on Ruakaka Beach, New Zealand, on a gorgeously calm late afternoon. 

I turned this into a canvas print which now hangs in our ensuite, complementing the colours of the décor.

This was another occasion when I found myself almost flat on my stomach to get the shot. I sometimes think that a prerequisite to being a photographer is to have a qualification in yoga!

What are we looking at here? The inside of the Large Hadron Collider? A journey through time and space? 

Nope, we're looking up through the transparent ceiling of a lift (elevator) in Brussels...

And finally, from this spring time, well, I don't need to say anything to explain do I?

Thanks for viewing. Feel free to share if you enjoyed the exhibition :-)

Cheers,

Mike

Bordering on Ridiculous

Entering the UK from a dangerous Covid country has never been easier...

A black helicopter is circling our house as I write this. I suspect the pilot and observer are checking to make sure that our car is parked outside and that we haven't driven on an eyesight test to Barnard Castle. Because, you see, we are in quarantine.

Under surveillance...

Not because we have Covid or anything; our self-imposed lockdown is due to having recently returned from France, which is one of the places on 'the list' of Covid-risky destinations, and Liz and I are adhering to the strict confinement requirements for travellers returning from such plague-ridden countries.

I suppose I need to justify why we went there in the first place, as you might see it as irresponsible in these worrying times. In short, my father-in-law Reg, who lives in France, was turning 90, and we wanted to go and celebrate this significant milestone, or kilometrestone as they call them over there. And to do so we were quite prepared to quarantine ourselves for the mandatory fortnight on return.

So far it's not been a hardship as we'd stocked the pantry before we left and brought a whole lot of produce (and wine, of course) back with us, so we will cope for the two weeks' isolation, except perhaps for asking neighbours if they wouldn't mind grabbing us a broccoli and cauliflower next time they go shopping.

While we might sound thoroughly organised, the same cannot be said for the UK government when it comes to promoting or enforcing the need for prudence (as the French would call it, pronouncing it 'proo-darnce') on returning to this land of hope and glory. (You can't say those words out loud any more. Ed.) 

Cases of wine, not Covid

Because, as we discovered, nobody official seemed to give a damn that we might be bringing back two cases of Covid along with our eight cases of wine.

The only bit of officialdom we had to cope with was filling in an online government form - which we were obliged to do no earlier than 48 hours before returning to the UK border - which stipulated our personal details: names, address, contact numbers, so forth, and our travel plans. This then had to be downloaded to our phones, which we did, because - as we were sternly warned - we could face lengthy delays at the border if we didn't have this documentation. And it would be checked by border officials. Ooh, scary.

The form, once downloaded, included a barcode, which we assumed would be scanned upon our return and that we'd be given a lecture to drive straight to our place of quarantine and not stop anywhere along the way, do not go to a service station, or pass Go and do not collect £200.

'Border Force officers will scan the QR code...'

So what happened? Nothing. Nada. Zip. In the whole week-long sojourn, including travelling Folkestone-Calais-Folkestone on the Euroshuttle, there was not a single sign, billboard, announcement or personal reminder from immigration officials or anyone else that we must quarantine ourselves on our return. In fact, so much for needing to download the all-important form to our phones - when we reached Folkestone we drove off the train and straight onto the M20. Not a single person anywhere to scan our barcodes, not a single announcement even while we were on the train in the Eurotunnel, which would have been the ideal time to reinforce the measures as we were all stuck on board for just over half an hour and were the perfect captive audience.

Sacre bleu! Young people wearing masks!

The French themselves - at least the ones we came into contact with in the Rhône-Alpes region in the south-east - took their Covid measures very seriously. Masks were obligatoire everywhere, not just in shops but on the streets as well, and everyone wore them, even - gosh - young people. 

Supermarket checkout staff were behind screens, there was plenty of hand sanitizer available, social distancing was observed, and everyone seemed to accept the measures willingly. Since we did likewise we think it's very unlikely that we've brought Covid back with us, and thus far - almost a week after returning - we're showing no symptoms. A few hangovers maybe, but we can blame the wine for that.

We are confined to home for another nine days yet. We have heard anecdotally that one person who returned from overseas was phoned up by the police to ask if she was at home. When she told them she was they asked her to go to her front window and wave to them as they were parked outside. Sneaky, but effective. We've been waiting for a similar phone call asking us to go and wave to two of Surrey's finest since getting back but so far nothing. 

Except for the helicopter circling the house of course.

Postscript, 24 October:

Well, we reached the end of our two-week quarantine on Wednesday 21 October without any obvious Covid symptoms but also a complete absence of any authority checking that we stayed home. Boris owes us one.

Ignorance, Bliss, No News, Good News

To quote CJ, the boss of Sunshine Desserts in The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin: 

Cognitive Distortion.
Image: © Mike Bodnar

'I didn't get where I am today by using clichés,Reggie. I avoid clichés like the plague'.

And while I agree with him about the use of clichés, here are two that have recently reared up and become an important part of my life: No news is good news, and ignorance is bliss. Tell you why...

A few weeks back I started feeling depressed and even slightly angry. It wasn't a one-off one-day thing - I was feeling this way from morning onwards throughout the rest of the day, every day. My usual second coffee didn't help, nor did nice weather. Alcohol might as well have been water, and going for a walk just made me introspective rather than appreciative of my surroundings.

I've had depression before and been on medication for it, quite a long time ago now, but I remember clearly how it felt. The symptoms will vary from person to person, but for me it was a feeling of hopelessness and a sense of 'why bother? And, 'why me?' A real sense of, well, depression and - importantly - helplessness. That was the worst thing, helplessness.

So it worried me to recognise these symptoms again a few weeks ago, and concerned me also that in general I had little or nothing to be depressed about. Lockdown had been relatively easy and not too much of a chore, I don't mind wearing a face mask (most people would be pleased that I am!), and although I missed travelling and we had to rethink journeys and having visitors, it didn't worry me too much. So what was it?

In short, the news. I realised I had got into a daily rut (which is the word 'routine' with some letters missing) where the first thing I would do on waking each morning was go online to read the Guardian and the BBC News, followed by some social media. Later in the day I'd watch the evening news, just to see what had changed or happened since the morning.

And it dawned on me that what was getting me down was that the news in general, week after week - in fact for months if not years - has not been good. The Brexit debacle, Trump, the Amazon rainforest disappearing, climate change,

A dangerous virus

species extinctions, knife crime, police shootings of black people and the resultant BLM protests, Russian conspiracy theories, the Royals divided, a violent reaction to statues connected to slavery or racism, and of course the virus, with the attendant shambolic government responses.

Yes that's a personal selection and yes there has been some good news (cue Captain Sir Tom), but I propose it has been vastly outweighed by the bad. And it vastly imbalanced my mental wellbeing. Turns out I am not alone, and that overexposure to news and the adverse impacts it can have on a person's mental well-being is a thing.

The website verywellmind.com has an article about the negative impact of bad news and Covid-19 in particular. It quotes psychologist, Logan Jones, PsyD, who says, 'Unfortunately, a lot of the news we consume today isn’t so much reporting as it is a way of keeping people addicted to the news cycle'.

He adds that sensational headlines attract more attention, so media outlets frequently focus on disaster reporting at the expense of positive news.

Boris Johnson

The same article quotes Annie Miller, who has a string of letters after her name stolen from the Polish alphabet: MSW, LCSW-C, LICSW. She says, 'It can be damaging to constantly be reading the news because constant exposure to negative information can impact our brain'. She adds that our brain then activates the 'fight or flight' response, and the systems in our body react accordingly.

And it turns out there's a chemical equation to all this; watching or being exposed to a lot of negative news can release stress hormones such as cortisol and adrenaline. The likelihood of this happening increases during a crisis (e.g. every time Trump opens his mouth, Covid-19 in particular, Boris Johnson failing to get to grips with the virus, and the complete omnishambles of mixed messaging from government in general) to the extent that we can develop physical symptoms. Some of the most common are: fatigue, anxiety, trouble sleeping, and - guess what? - depression.

Time magazine, in a report in May this year, quoted Graham Davey, Professor Emeritus of

Prof. Davey. Image: Psychology Today

Psychology at Sussex University and editor-in-chief of the Journal of Experimental Psychopathology as saying, 'The way that news is presented and the way that we access news has changed significantly over the last 15 to 20 years', adding that: “These changes have often been detrimental to general mental health'.

The changes he refers to are that news reports are 'increasingly visual and shocking', but also of course it's to do with how we get our news; mainstream media, social media, even celebrity and influencer gossip - all bombard us on an all-too-frequent basis. Never has there been such omnipresent and widespread 'news', opinion or comment; it's available 24/7.

So it's not just how I was consuming the news, it was the news media itself and the way it was being presented. Turns out I'm a victim. Okay, poor Mike you say, why can't you just look the other way and shrug off the negativity? 

Loretta Breuning.
Image: psychologytoday.com

Because, says Loretta Breuning, a former professor of management at California State University who unknowingly rushes to my defence, the human brain is actually attracted to troubling information since 'we are programmed to detect threats rather than overlook them'. In the Time article she says, 'This can make it hard for us to ignore the negatives and seek out the positives around us... our brain is predisposed to go negative, and the news we consume reflects this'.

Whoa! So now we're in a situation where our brains are predisposed to 'go negative' while at the same time we are exposed to an increasing amount of negative news coverage presented in sensational and don't-look-away styles, and our bodies react chemically resulting in actual imbalance of our physical and mental states. Vicious circle. Fact! Nobody knows more about vicious circles than me.

But all is not lost; there is an answer, there is hope. The solution, the experts say - as with alcohol, fast foods, sugar and other things that can be bad for you in

extreme doses - is to practise moderation in your news consumption. Supporting this, the World Health Organization (WHO) recommends for example searching news about Covid-19 largely so that 'you can take practical steps to prepare your plans and protect yourself and your loved ones'. Once you have that information, WHO says, it’s time to turn the news off.

The same approach applies therefore to all negative impactful news, and as we all know we've got no shortage of it. But I arrived at these answers myself before I read any of this, and I'm here to share it with you. It's fine, you're welcome.

About a month ago I changed my routine, and for weeks now I have not read any news, nor watched TV news bulletins. Stories that try and attract my attention on Twitter or Instagram go ignored, unless they're of particular interest to me. I will click on any news of archaeological finds, space travel, astronomy, resurgence of wildlife, or amazing photography from National Geographic. (Note to friends: photos on Facebook of food, pets or grandchildren still don't do it for me so don't even try). My wife Liz lets me know if there's anything really important that I need to know about, and that's an acceptable answer too - rely on a trusted companion for your news.

Do I feel any better? You bet I do; I have more energy, I am more relaxed, certainly more optimistic, and all my depression symptoms have dissipated. I feel like a million dollars, and no medication was required, so I've eased pressure on the NHS at the same time.

I know you're going to say, 'That's all very well, but it doesn't stop bad news happening, and you could be missing out on important events'. True, bad news will always happen, as will major events, but nothing I can do will change or in any way influence them if they've happened, certainly not just by knowing about them. So I am happy (literally) to be ignorant, and I now realise that ignorance really can be bliss. I know Covid-19 is still rearing its ugly head, but then, I avoid clichés like the plague.