The dangers of a sunny weekend

I am somewhat alarmed to note that the weather this weekend will be what meteorologists describe as "lovely".

Now, there was a time when I was delighted to hear that the weather would be lovely, especially in early spring. I'd get my beloved sea kayak onto the roof rack and head for the Thames and have a lovely, long paddle about 15km upstream and then drift back down nice and leisurely like. Sadly, I no longer have a sea kayak. It was too big for London and my ex secretary type lady grew tired of having it cluttering her garden so I sold it. Bah.

I also used to delight in going cycling on a lovely sunny weekend. I'd get my mountain bike out and go for miles, exploring the countryside or the city. Sadly, my bike is, to use technical jargon, fecked. I need a new rear suspension bearing kit which is as expensive as a decent 50mm lens. Lenses are more important right now. But not as important as my overdraft and my desperately agitated bank manager.

This weekend, whilst the weather is sunny and photographic conditions are bound to be perfect all day, I have to stay at home. My other half's parents are coming. Now, don't get me wrong, I am glad they are coming. I like them. and having done a lot of shoots recently, don't need to go out on yet another one. A nice, salady lunch will be perfect. An inspection of the garden will will feature on the programme and I'm likely to see some post-prandial dozing which I find amusing.

So what is it about a lovely sunny spring day that fills me with dismay? I will tell you:

It is the neighbours. The bloody, bastarding neighbours.

I am still not used to having other people living so close to me and frankly, I do not like their "ways". I try to be tolerant as I have been reminded several times that "this Is London".

I have never been a fan of the Beatles (Much as I'd like to divert into a rant about them, I won't) which means that I'm not necessarily well disposed to their fans either. We have one neighbour, to whom it has quite obviously never occured, that I don't in fact want to hear his stereo belting out beatles songs all afternoon. Nor do I want to hear him singing along. It doesnt make me think of him as a happy, summery soul. It makes me think of him as a legitimate target. He lives about three houses away.

Our next door neighbours upstairs are Jamaican. They like nothing better on a nice day than to throw open their kitchen window and blast a simultaneous mix of the Eastenders Omnibus on their TV-for-the-deaf alongside seventies soul and reggae. Because this aural chaos isn't enough, the lady of the house embellishes it with whistling that is so tuneless that all the creatures of the forest who inhabit our garden run away terrified. When the noise reaches its peak, the man of the house then decides its time to call his buddies in Jamaica. He has a deep and booming voice and a number of forthright opinions that he shares with all of us as well as his friend in Kingston.

Then there is "Little Brazil". I have a number of potato sized rocks - cobbles - if you will, that are gaining enormous value for me. They have been elevated from humble potato sized rocks to the status of (semi)guided missile. Little Brazil likes to treat us to samba/rhumba whatever played at size 11 on the stereo. Little Brazil is a good six houses away. My (semi) guided missiles have the range.

We also have a church 3 houses away that rents its hall out to various small congregations. Now, this hall that they use is not big and the congregations number a maximum of about thirty - I have counted them. Why then, do the preachers need to use a microphone and a PA system to deliver their fire and brimstone messages? I can guarantee you normal conversational pitch would do. Why does the 'band' (and I use the term loosely) need such amplification? The worst thing is, they have band practice on Saturdays and then a succession of services on Sunday afternoons. A never ending stream of incompetent music and unsolicited "ALLAYLOOLYAH! PRAIZALOD!" (in some accents it sounds like "PRAY SALAD") Sometimes, in moments of particular Christian fervour, the drummer will punctuate appropriate milestones in the preacher's message with a ba-da-boom-tish! There are a lot of appropriate milestones, apparently.

Clearly this vexes me. And, after three years of being forbidden to retaliate by my lovely lady, I have sworn that this year I will teach my neighbours a lesson. You see, if they want to assault my eardrums and shatter my peace, I will do the same unto them. Thricefold. I happen to have a son who is a musician. He's in a band whose musical style is in the genre of "Death Metal". He and his bandmates are always looking for somewhere to practice and I have just the place: my garden. I've paced it out and there is enough space for a 20KW concert PA with just enough room left over for the 5 members of the band.

I've seen this band live and they unleash a truly withering thunderstorm of obscene noise. Trees will shed their leaves. Babies several miles away will spontaneously combust. Windows will shatter and the ground will quake. That first Pimms of the season? Forget it. It will explode and sever Mr Summertime Beatles' head.

Of course, I know that death metal is not to everyone's tastes, but neither is the work of messers Lenon and McCartney or Mr Teddy Pendergrass. I also realise that the gentleman in my son's band who does the 'singing' may cause some minor offence when he volunteers to dine upon a living person's liver or to clothe his body in the entrails of someone's daughter, but I'm sure most of my neighbours will understand, after all, "This is London!"

Rudderless on Sunday

Today, after staying in bed till NINE THIRTY, I decided to go and shoot in the Elephant and Castle area of London and then head west-ish to the Brixton/Clapham in search of urban grit.

Well, I got to Elephant and Castle, but when I came out from the underground I was navigationally discombobulated. I couldn't tell my north from my south-south-east. Elephant and Castle is basically a huge traffic roundabout (gyratory for the Americans) and pedestrians get to cross this roundabout by a series of tunnels where no doubt, they keep muggers. Fortunately it was Sunday today so all muggers were off duty.

Weathered
Detail from a derelict shop front, Elephant and Castle
Copyright 2009 Paul Davey. Buy this image here.
Click to enlarge.

After wiggling my way round the roundabout in a roundabout fashion, I ended up roundabout where I thgought would be the best place to proceed west or thereabouts. Don't ask me the name of the road, but I can assure you that it was still a London Road and I had not stepped via the tunnels into a nether world. I think.

I proceeded in a westerly direction, guided by the aeroplanes on their approach to Heathrow. I zigged and zagged through the quiet Sunday streets looking - hunting - for photographic opportunities until I found myself by the arches supporting the railway line into Waterloo.

Stacked Boxes.
An interesting piece of architecture, Lambeth
Copyright 2009 Paul Davey. Buy this and other images here.
Click to enlarge.

I love railway arches but sadly it appears so do many other people and the once grunky arches are now all boringly refurbished with neat roller shutter doors. My quest for urban grit was quashed. Whenever I did find a smidgen of ghetto grime, I attempted to photograph it. Alas, my efforts were not spectacular. And it started raining. I'd left home not ninety minutes before with just a few well art-directed fluffy white clouds in the sky. Now my camera's almost non-existant weather sealing was being challenged by H20 droplets. Yep, its not waterproof. Or showerproof. And neither is my camera bag.

Old Pipes
Detail from a railway arch, Lambeth
Copyright 2009 Paul Davey. Buy this and other images here.
Click to enlarge.

Now, I do love London but: Why, when for many, many centuries it has rained every second day or thereabouts have they not yet passed into law that commercial buildings must have a canopy that covers the pavement? I come from Zimbabwe where senior government officials happily drive through police roadblocks carrying headless torsos. Where stealing a man's hard-built business is considered not to be a problem and where child molesters are looked upon fondly as loveable rogues. But design a building that does not offer the pedestrian shelter from the rain and all hell will break loose. And It only rains for three or four months in Zimbabwe - and even then it has the decency to rain from 4pm sharp till about 4.32pm - and that is it!

Locked
Detail from a railway arch, Lambeth
Copyright 2009 Paul Davey. Buy this and other images here.
Click to enlarge.

I got wet.

Eventually I made my way to Waterloo and got on the tube to go home.

Naturally, by the time I got home, Noah had beeen stood down and the sky was once gain blue with cute, fluffy white clouds. I had a brief look for action on Redbubble but there was not much to be had, so I decided to go on a second shoot, just walking from my house through the Mitre Bridge Industrial Estate and then back along the canal. Not very inspiring, but s usual, I did manage to find a few half opportunities, so I took them.

Linear Security
Mitre Bridge Industrial Estate
Copyright 2009 Paul Davey. Buy this and other images here.
Click to enlarge.

One shot I didn't take was of some "yout's" in silhouette crossing a bridge. They saw me and subjected me to a bit of verbal abuse. "Stop fuckin' abusing my fuckin' human rights!" one of them yelled. "Please God, give me the chance to show that kid what abusing his human rights actually is", I wished. I'll say no more, lest I end up in jail for the crime of wishing kids these days would have some mannners.

Derelict Office Block
A 1970s office block that's been abandoned by the Grand Union Canal in Harlesden
Copyright 2009 Paul Davey. Buy this and other images here.
Click to enlarge.

I had a wander around the grounds of the derelict office block I have visited before, amazed at the amount of shoes left lying around... I took a few more broken window pics and yet again chickened out of actualy entering the building. Its spooky.

Mast
Willesden, London
Copyright 2009 Paul Davey. Buy this and other images here.
Click to enlarge.

Well, as happens in this modern world, the sun lowered in the sky and I walked slowly along the canal, stopping to see whether what I thought might make a shot actually would (it seldom did). Unfortunately there wasn't much by way of quality in the evening light, thanks to a distant bank of clouds weakening the sun's rays, but the stroll along the canal towpath was good anyway as I calmed down from being yelled at by the "yout's".

Not my best day's shooting, but there are a couple of 'interesting' images...

The Ghosts in the Tunnel, the Poet and the Boxer

Self Portrait
A shot of my shadow, tweaked in Lightroom and Photoshop. Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

Sunday was one of those perfect winter days when the sky is crystal clear and the deepest possible blue, especially in the north. It was cold, so suited and booted in my arctic gear, (that's my normal clothes with an extra jersey) I decided to pop out for a day's shooting.

The plan was to head for Hackney Wick which looked splendidly grungy when I passed through on Saturday on my way to a client shoot. However, the North London Overground line was not operating so I headed by bus for Baker Street where I then picked up the Jubilee Line for Stratford. At the last minute however, I decided to get off at Greenwich North (North Greenwich?), the stop for the O2 Dome.

Skip.
Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

I thought it would be cool to walk back up river, photographing whatever came my way. So that's what I did.

The Thames turns through almost 180 degrees, wrapping round the dome before heading down to the barrier and and beyond. I started on the east side of the arc and wandered round towards the west. The tide was out and there was not a breath of wind. The foreshore looked very inviting, with streams of water meandering through exposed sandbanks where gulls picked through the debris for tasty morsels. The light was silvery and I felt immensely happy just to be there.

Wave Dance
I like exposing for harsh highlights, almost killing the other tones.
It strips the image of unnecessary detail and allows simple visual purity. Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

For whatever reasons, I very often find myself alone. I tend to do so many things on my own and have, to be honest, often felt lonely. However, I have come to value my time on my own. I set the pace. I set the topic. I do what I want. And, you know what? I quite like having myself for company. I can, if I choose, spend ages in one place fiddling with lenses, composition etc without worrying about whether I'm boring anyone who is in my company. It allows me to be a photographer rather than a companion. It allows me to focus ('scuse the pun) on each image; to distill what I see in the viewfinder. To take my time - although I still think I rush my photographs. No, I know I rush them.

Couple.
Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

Continuing round the Dome, I was stopped by two ladies. They had been peering through the security fencing into the Dome and were I could tell, pretty fascinated. They asked me if I knew what entrance the stars used. "I have no idea", I replied. "I presume they come by bus". They looked a little taken aback at this and one said "Oh don't be silly!"

"Tour Bus", I replied. "Or Limo"

"Ohhhh! Do you know what entrance they use?"

"No Idea. Who are you wanting to see?"

"Barry Manilow." (they said this in unison). I smirked.

"We've seen him on all three nights, but whenever we go to see him, we like to wave him off at the end."

Fans. Gotta love 'em.

Rope.
Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

Continuing along the river, I came to a slipway covered in frosty driftwood and slippery green algae, leading to the river's foreshore. I skied/skated down the concrete ramp and the picked my way through the debris and finally made it to the 'beach'. The low angle light and the textures of the sand, the pebbles, boulder and the debris were all in perfect combination and I spent a while there, taking less shots than I should have.

The Thames Path then continued upstream through some derelict docks (well, construction sites now) with Canary wharf slightly obscured by haze on the other side of the river. I noted that many of the puddles still had a thin layer of ice on them (it was getting on for 2pm) and that there were the occasional bits of black ice on the pavement. I was wearing my expensive (75 quid) "UK Running" cross country running (no, I don't) shoes which, naturally, have bugger-all grip. (Quick! Call the Design Police!!!) Fortunately, I managed to beat Gravity & Slippery 1-0.

Concrete.
Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

As I got nearer Greenwich the riverside becomes more industrial and the Thames path passes large grain elevator (or sugar?) past what I think might be a Tate & Lyle factory. There were several fine opportunities to shoot nice 'industrial decay' type shots which I grabbed with both hands. Eventually the path ended up at the Cutty Sark, which I just managed to avoid going into, lured as I was by the smell of hot chips... The sun was getting low and across the river, Canary Wharf was shining like burnished gold. Once again, as I have previously done, I radically underexposed and got a pretty dramatic shot of Docklands.

Cormorant.
Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

Ballast Quay.
Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

Anxious to find a Nurofen purveyor, I decided to cross the river via the Greenwich foot tunnel and then take the DLR to the Land of Plenty. Once inside the tunnel, I knew it was essential that I took some photographs, so I had a bit of a play with time exposures and post-sync flash, getting some nice, ghostly images of people walking towards me.

Ghosts in Greenwich Foot Tunnel.

Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

Took the DLR from Island Gardens to Shadwell. It was packed and I stood amongst a bushel of New Zealand kids on a school trip, listening to them discussing the names of various stops on the line: Mudchute, Heron Quays etc. Quite amusing. The teachers chaperoning them looked exhausted.

I Got off the DLR and walked through the sunset towards The Captain Kidd to meet my buddy Ian for a small pint of fizzy beer. On the way I got in some fine shots of vapour trails scratched across the sky, lit by the last rays of the sun.

Vapour.
Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

On arriving at the Captain Kidd, I saw a large table at which was seated only one man, so I chose that to dump my gear on and to strip down and pack away my camera. The gentleman sitting there was very friendly (and a bit pissed) and we struck up a conversation. He was, it turned out, a commercial eel fisherman - an Eeler - who fished the river from Tower Bridge all the way down to the barrier. Now that was enough for me. I was fascinated immediately. I asked him if I can accompany him when he goes eeling and he said any time.

Bruce Pope.
Bruce is a poet,. And he catches eels for a living. Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

He 's a fascinating character. Apart from being an eel catching person, he's a poet, a painter and a sculptor too. Amazing! I'd say something and he'd reply with poetry. Proper poetry, not just rhyming words. He thinks in poems. And he wrote me a poem too, in his lovely semi calligraphic long hand.

His name is Bruce Pope and he is a fine person! The kind of person I always hope I will meet.

With my head ramping up for a mighty headache, I thought it best that I get on my way home and so headed for Tower Bridge tube station. Unable to resist, I diverted the quay where I photographed the benches a few weeks back. There was a dude shadow boxing. So I shot him. With my camera. He was a Lithuanian and was training for a tournament. He told me his name, but its slipped my mind.

Boxer.
Click to enlarge.
Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.

Passing through St Katherine's Dock I got a few time exposures of Tower Bridge and the river before being overcome by my need to find Nurofen. I'd left it too late. The headache arrived with suitable fanfare and I spent a grim (KIP 7-8) journey on the tube to Embankment where I got off to try and find an open chemist. No such luck. I got on the Bakerloo and headed for Queens Park where I managed to find a corner shop that actually sold the Migraine Strength Nurofen, that I MUST take every four hours. I nearly wept with relief.

How Bright the Light?

How Bright the light?
The glow that has no flame,
The colours yet,
That have no name
Where rigid mode
Yet still it will remain

Bruce Pope

Photograph Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative. All rights reserved.
Poem by kind permission of Bruce Pope, Copyright Bruce Pope 2008

Oh, did I tell you I got a new battery (£69.99) for my camera? It lasted the whole day. Bee-yoo-ti-ful!

Shameful

Another Saturday and another walk with my camera: I set off much later than I intended to thanks to a hangover that interfered with the fairly simple design job that I had to do for a client. I then decided I’d mark up a website design that I’d done and now thoroughly late, realized that my phone’s battery was just about flat and had to be charged.

Eventually I managed to set off down the Bakerloo Line to Embankment, intending then to take the circle line to Tower Hill to meet Ian and go to the fine craft butcher he’s discovered in the area. Well, after waiting for a Circle line tube and not even attempting to board the packed train, I decided to walk along Embankment to meet Ian and his girlfriend who were walking back from Docklands. Needless to say, I started dawdling stopping to take pictures.

Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative

It was one of those walks when I just didn’t quite manage to get anything good. The weather was okay – and there was a time when some dramatic clouds were looming over west London, but I wasn’t in the right place. I took a couple of pictures anyway but they don’t have much merit.

Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative

I need to go somewhere more gnarly. I think the River Lea might be calling – and I definitely want to shoot the old Lesney Products (Matchbox cars) factory by the canal. But I think mainly that I want a break from shooting famous landmarks. Yesterday I found an interesting shot at Tower Bridge, shooting through a tunnel onto the river.

Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative

No doubt I was the thousandth person that day to do the shot, but the light was good for me and I thought I’d try and “make a photograph” rather than snapping a picture. Stupid move. The minute I put my tripod down and started setting up everyone else seemed to think it would be a great place to take a picture. It pissed me off. I was jostled, and had my personal space invaded. Most of all though, I’d been idiotic enough to think I was “being original”. Clearly I wasn’t. Or maybe it was my tripod, camera bag flashgun and big fat 15-35 mm lens that marked me out as a pro and therefore worthy of emulation? I don’t know but I spent this morning on DP Review checking out Canon’s Powershot G10, a delicious little unobtrusive pocket sized camera.

Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative

One of the highlights of the walk was seeing Will, a Thames Sailing barge motoring out through the lock at St Katherine’s dock. It was one of those wrong-lens-on-the-camera moments, but I cracked off a couple of shots – unfortunately there was a bloody great hotel casting its shadow over the grand old barge.

Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative

When I eventually got to Ian’s place (he’d already gone to the butcher) I did some swift and decisive damage to some beers, some wine and some cider. And one of the finest legs of lamb I have ever eaten. Mary, it sucks to be you, but your little lamb was delicious!

Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative

Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative

Copyright 2008 Paul Davey Creative

Ian is an excellent cook. By that I mean properly outstanding. And he also has a fine music collection. We listened to James, Had a fairly long Pink Floyd episode (Dark side of the Moon and Animals) and then too full and too pissed I wandered off to get the tube home. And that’s when things begun to unravel.

My son. He is chaos personified and has on numerous occasions come to my home to pick up his phone charger. And has always forgotten to take it with him. But he’d phoned when I was in town urgently needing it so he could arrange meeting his bandmates for their US Embassy interview (They are off on a US tour). Anyway, I got home, drunk as a lord and then decided It would be both kind and clever to take the phone charger to my first born at The Regent where he works behind the bar. Why?

To cut a long story short, a couple of pints, a tequila (which I cannot stand) and a shot of Sambuca (euuuuurgh!) later I was tattered. But I do recall this even more trashed woman who sat next to me and ordered a pint. I was amused to note that when she took a sip, her decidedly beaky nose dipped into her beer. She then spoke to me thus: “Bwab-bbblurrrrb bzzzp bammmmp”. I was transfixed! Not so much by her fluent use of drunkspeak, but by the fact that the tip of her nose was decorated with beer foam. Special.

Fortunately I was prevented from having any more to drink by the closure of the bar and I somehow made it home…

Shameful behaviour!

Railings, Pilings and Boy.

Copyright 2008 Paul Davey

I love Adobe Lightroom. It makes playing with images a breeze and if you mess up, the original is still there. I shot this last Sunday on my Wapping/Docklands walk. I was quite annoyed when the kid walked into shot - I don't like photographing random people, especially kids given the RIDICULOUS paranoia people have about anyone with a camera. Anyway, there were more people approaching, so I thought sod it, and banged off a couple of pics anyway. Composition-wise, I would like to have had the kid a little closer - the "rule of thirds"and all that, but I was hardly in a position to start directing my unwitting model. So I ask this: Is the picture improved by the kid being there, or is he a distraction? I cannot decide.

For those interested, I desaturated then used split toning - warm yellow for the highlights and blue for the shadows - just a tad, you understand...