November, 2008
The sad tale of the missed photograph
So my sister and I were back in our hometown at the weekend to see The Mighty Boosh live (her birthday present to me) and to take photographs along three different stretches of coastline, for a commissioned project I'm doing. The show was noisy and rude and we loved it (though it has to be said that we felt like the oldest people there who weren't accompanying their offspring – the average age of a Boosh fan is apparently 19, so what that says about us I'm not sure). The next day we rocked up to the ferry to discover it was only running at weekends, a serious blow as my project hinged on photographs taken along that stretch of beach. So we raced along the coast to option B, and as it turned out, the light there was magical and I found plenty of inspiration. The next day it was overcast and i feared a trip on the ferry would be pointless, but the weather forecast predicted patches of blue sky around 2pm, so we geared ourselves up for a dash to the beach. With my brother-in-law driving, we played a mean game of Horse* and threw Boosh lines at each other making the half hour drive fly by. We arrived at the car park at exactly 1.50pm, and sure enough, the clouds were breaking up and gorgeous autumnal sun was shining down on the beach across the stretch of water. And then something happened that made me realise that all the weather chasing and ferry disappointment and every little thing that had happened up to that moment had been for a reason. Because at 1.55pm I looked out of the car window and saw that Julian Barratt, one half of the Mighty Boosh, was walking towards us. In a car park. In the middle of nowhere.
And so it was that we spent five minutes chatting to our comedy hero as he stood in the blustery cold, eating cockles bought from the quay-side fish shop, while his five other companions walked ahead to their car, chuckling as they went. He was as droll as you'd expect, and clearly uncomfortable with the attention. And we played it cool, while simultaneously peeing our pants with excitement. If you were standing in front of your comedy hero and had four cameras on you, you'd take a photo, right? It was only after we'd said our goodbyes that i realised a Hasselblad, a Holga, a Polaroid SX-70 and a Fuji point & shoot – hell, even a phone camera – just weren't enough to encourage me to take a photograph of the man. I have been kicking myself for days, people.
Four days after that strange coincidental meeting and I am still pondering the photos we didn't take, the photos we couldn't take and the ones we'll never be able to take again. The people we'll never photograph again. I realise that so many of my memories are tied into the photos i have and so many of my photographs i think are memories but really i'm just describing the image. If i'm taking photos at a family get-together I'll often feel removed from the scene – sometimes it's better to leave the camera in its bag and cut another slice of cake. When we met Julian Barratt i wanted to be present in that car park, even if i didn't consciously realise it. The 35-year-old me didn't want to pull out a camera and break the spell, though the 14-year-old inside me was jumping around like she'd bumped into Simon Le Bon circa 1985. What is it about people off the telly? By being bathed in their limelight for a moment do we hope that some of their charm rubs off on us? Whatever it is, it was still a thrill to be able to say to his face: thank you for making me laugh.
* if you see a horse you shout 'horse', simple as that. The person who sees the most wins. Steve won, but we know he cheated. Some of those horses were cows!
November, 2008
Five Friday things
1. I've teamed up with the lovely Holly at Decor8 to offer her readers a 20% discount on all prints in my Etsy store till the 30th November, so if you were looking for xmas pressies, pop over to her blog to get the code – all orders this month receive a free set of postcards too :)
2. I loved Marisa's latest podcast, an inspiring conversation with Christine Mason Miller, aka Miss Swirly, talking about her book Ordinary Sparkling Moments, and self-publishing in general.
3. I'm in love with this portrait…
4. … and this one!
5. And finally, our new pairing is posted here!
November, 2008
What Karen taught me
The word kindred is bandied around the blogosphere a lot. It's a pretty word and I've no doubt this blog is probably littered with it too - in fact, i know it is because I've had the good fortune to meet a lot of bloggers who I felt instantly at ease with and who have become close friends. And the blogging gods have been smiling on me this week as not only did i get a BB bonanza of a weekend, but i then got to spend the whole of yesterday with a woman who is very definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, a kindred.
Karen and I both lurk around each other's blog, and it was purely by chance that a quick email exchange a few weeks ago uncovered that not only was she leaving her home in Houston to visit the UK for two weeks but she would be staying with her in-laws, an hour away from Bath. We only knew each other from our blogs, and we all know how they're the polite PR versions at the best of times, but within ten minutes of meeting her i knew i was about to enter into a full-on girl crush.
I could list a bunch of words to describe her - smart, warm, funny, sassy, beautiful - but they aren't multi-dimensional enough. We talked about our creative paths, our lives and secrets, and laughed and gossiped as we strolled around Bath, grabbing scenic shots where we could, but preferring to talk talk talk. I was delighted to discover that we are different but the same - having a (very handsome) English husband and a shared love of (swear) words and photography probably helps too :) Marcus and their daughter Alex joined us late afternoon, and oh my, what a gorgeous little bunny she is!
Karen recently left her job as a lawyer to write and photograph full-time, and a month into her new adventure I can already tell that this inspiring woman is going to be a phenomenal success. You've probably come across her blog, Chookooloonks, by now, and she also contributes to the fab collaborative photo blog Shutter Sisters.
So it was photography that had brought us together and after much cooing over the Hasselblad, it was time to face up to what we both wanted to do: take some portraits. i'm at my most comfortable behind the camera and my LEAST comfortable in front of it. It's not easy to take a flattering picture of me, a fact that i have just about accepted but it doesn't mean i want it to be explored. Self portraits i can edit and control, but having someone else do it is excrutiating, quite frankly. And boy, did i get a taste of my own medicine yesterday!
I'd already asked Karen if i could take her portrait, thinking ahead to a new project i'm working on, and blogger meet-ups always have an element of picture-taking, so i knew it was coming. It was like being on a runaway train, my whole face magnified so that everything i hate was naked and on display. I felt completely vulnerable and out of control, a feeling that intensified when she emailed me the results. If she was irritated (or amused) by my over-the-top reactions to the pictures she was kind enough not to show it.
And of course i can see the double standard, how i expect that whoever i find myself with should let me snap away but when it comes to me i won't allow it. It reminds me yet again how vulnerable you make yourself when you open up to a camera, and how my models and clients might be feeling when the camera looms in front of them. How some lucky souls feel relaxed in front of a camera, but how the majority feel tense and exposed.
I'm also reminded that when we look at a photograph we generally take in the whole image, but when we see photos of ourselves we only see what we choose to see - usually our perceived flaws. It's a timely reminder that feedback on portraits from the sitter is rarely anything to do with the photo - and certainly not a comment on our abilities as a photographer. You can't take it personally, because they are taking it personally, if that makes sense.
I still don't want to have my picture taken, but by putting me in front of a camera Karen has gifted me with a new empathy with the people i photograph, something that will stand me in good stead when i embark on this new project: portraits of total strangers. She's also taught me that i need to relax my need to be in control of every little thing in my life.
She's an amazing woman, that Karen Walrond.
November, 2008
My witness
She arrived with a bag full of peppermint tea, chocolate and fudge and cooked us the most delicious vegetarian dinners – the most delicious food I've eaten in ages, actually (doesn't it always taste better when you haven't cooked it yourself?). It had been over eighteen months since we'd last seen each other, but we picked up where we'd left off, and discovered that even though our lives are the very opposite of each others, our creative journeys are paralleling. So Beebs arrived in the nick of time; after a couple of days of sharing, brainstorming and reassessing, we've both gained a bit more clarity about what we're doing, where we're going and how the heck we're going to get there. Sometimes you just need a witness.
The last time I photographed Beebs I was surfing the learning curves of Photoshop and the digital world; comparing my portraits of her now with then, I am so thrilled to see that the ideas I had back then are finally being realised. I'm reminded yet again that you can't rush this – can't rush anything – that it will take its own time, and that is exactly as it should be. It's in the quiet times, the seemingly fallow periods, that the biggest strides are taken, so even when I think i'm not moving, i'll eventually look back and see that I never stopped.
