Monday, 7 March 2011

Paris and I ~ 'Grim And Bear It'


iPhone Photo Chronicles
~ Grim And Bear It ~


Grim And Bear It, originally uploaded by Paris Set Me Free.


I never tire of rounding the corner of rue Saint-Vincent into rue de la Bonne, checking to see if another of Gregos' plaster faces has reappeared to cheer up that sadly empty little alcove (not yet) and seeing Sacré Coeur's magnificently grimy backside, if I may put it thus, mooning me in all its glory.

For a basilica barely a century old, this flagrant folly of Christendom is bristling with gothic gargoyles and, round the back at least, has done its best to cloak its youth in a very respectable layer of grot and grime. Which makes for far more interesting photos than the classic but oh-so cliched south-facing facade.

Gargoyles would merit being the subject of an entire book, and luckily Paris is a fine place to be for those of us who are rather fond of these fearsome demon-perturbers stroke drainpipes. A formidable functionality, both architecturally and for our soul-saving needs, a characteristic sadly lacking from most modern constructions. Bring back our grimacing grey little friends, I say, and flush your foibles away.

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© 2011
Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free - Contact me directly for photo tours, interviews, exhibitions, etc.

Sunday, 6 March 2011

Paris and I ~ 'Black and White and Red All Over'


iPhone Photo Chronicles
~ Black and White and Red All Over ~



People often ask me if I do 'black and white', which could easily be a discussion on one of my more 'technique-based' blogs like Paris Set Me Free, but it's this (iPhone) picture that inspired the thought so it's here.

And I find it an intriquing question, although it's generally intended as a straightforward one. It's almost as though some peope have subconsciously delineated two types of photography, independent, mutually exclusive, never the twain shall cross pixels or Ilford stop bath.

I don't think that way, although I'm probably thinking too deeply about the whole issue, full stop.

My answer, at its simplest, would be 'Yes, I do black and white'. But then again, it's more a case of the photo or image telling me to 'do' it. For me, black and white, or variations of it such as above, are dictated purely and simply by the image itself, and the technique of completely desaturating the colours is just one more option we have at our disposal to create interesting pictures.

I know you can really 'do' black and white in a much more obvious way: stick some b/w film in your camera or select black and white on your digital camera and off you go. But I rarely do this.

For one thing, I can always play around with the colours afterwards, and often do, including getting rid of the colour altogether or perverting it in some other way. And then if you do shoot from the start in black and white, what happens if you come across an incredible colour photo op when you're in the streets and can't capture it?

Then again, I'm also a fan of limiting yourself in order to be more creative, and forcing yourself to do a purely black and white session is a very good way of doing this. Another way is to buy a €10 throwaway camera and see what you can do with that: back to the old days - pay (for the film), point, click, pay (for the processing), see, smile or sigh; no second chance, a great discipline, and a great way to discover that long lost joy of photography, waiting for the results of your efforts!

So, my final answer would be twofold: I don't specifically shoot black and white, in the way some people have chosen to do, because I love colour too much. Having said that, I often exploit aspects of reduced tones, but most of my cues come from what I have in front of my eyes at the moment of shooting, which includes imagining the possibilities further down the creative line.

A couple of things shooting from the start in black and white is excellent for is in training you to look for differences in contrast, and spotting strong patterns, and the image above is a good example of these (as well as repetition of motif, but that's another blah-blah).

As I was trying to get the above shot, there was one clear creative message shouting at me: get the repetition of the black and white striped zebra crossing and the flag. Once I'd decided, in a split second, that that was the basis of a potentially good photo, the challenge was to incorporate as many other elements as possible to strengthen and support that initial idea. These would include framing, expression of the man, position of the man, watching the background (no bins!!), imagining further repetition (e.g. further striding leg on left) and elimination of all other inappropriate objects and colours if deemed unuseful.

Added to that these days are all the post-shooting options, but I won't go into those here. In the old days you also had plenty of after-the-fact possibilities, such as dodging and burning, vignetting and the choice of processing chemicals and paper to change the tones and 'feel' of the image. These days you can mimic many of these, albeit with a certain melancholic nostalgia for the smell of the developing trays, the excitement of exposing the paper and literally creating the image 'first hand', and of course those unforgettable chemical coughs and burns.

To talk creative decisions here just for once, for the photo above I decided to take the 'almost black and white but better' approach, or 'New: black and white, now with added colour'.. ;-) Make up your own advertising slogan for this idea if you like!

I did a couple of purely black and white versions but I liked the deeper 'richness' of the blacks and whites in this version, and the two discrete but significant dashes of colour (the red and the yellow) add a non-distracting but very pleasant additional point of interest to the shot, I feel.

The shot being a wonderfully spontaneous moment of a totally unexpected Montmartre parade supposedly celebrating some Brittany foodstuff or other. The cynics amongst us might read 'screaming marketing op'. That's what you get for mooching around the heights of northern Paris on a chilly January morning, or was it Feb. You should try it sometime. In black and white or colour, or a bit of both: the choice is entirely up to you.

*Remembering my childhood, which is becoming more and more difficult, the answer to the question 'What's Black & White & Red All Over?' from the title could be: a newspaper, an embarrassed zebra, a nun falling down the stairs, the communist party manifesto, or a penguin in a liquidizer. I've spared you the really sick ones, so be thankful for small mercies...

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© 2011
Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free - Contact me directly for photo tours, interviews, exhibitions, etc.

Saturday, 5 March 2011

Paris and I ~ 'Munch As It Hurts Me To Say This...'


iPhone Photo Chronicles
~ Munch As It Hurts Me To Say This... ~






OK, I give in. I know when I'm beaten and I know how to capitulate honourably. Pride is seldom a productive emotion.

Let's do macarons. There's no point trying to fight them any more.

They are Everywhere. They are Coming. They are Here.

I'm innocently looking for an enigmatic 16th century inscription in the 5th: what do I find? A macaroon shop where the wall of an 'ancient cabaret' is supposed to be.

I'm perusing a website which asked me to supply a regular piece: what do I see? A conspiratorially grinning contributor slap-bang next to a thundering-thigh-sized word at the base of a window stuffed with the round squishy things, and that word begins with 'M'...

I'm setting up a charity event and one of my main blogging buddies offers a prize of... homemade macarons as her contribution.

I'm writing a review of a Paris poetry book by Suzanne Burns, and the author's a total macaroon freak. Their even have their own poems, look:
The pert Clara Bow pout of my mouth
sank into macarons
the way teeth might sink into flesh
this is not a guess.
(from 'Angeline's Patisserie at 28 rue Vignon')
Or what about one called 'Immortality in Two Bites', which starts:
Yesterday I baked macarons
to bring the city back.
Honestly, my pride is well and truly swallowed, in anticipation of my first mararoon in 15 years (although my partner informs me that I stole a whole bunch of hers just a while back - my memory's gone blank), and it had better be good. Any volunteers to make sure my experience is a life-changing one?

Well, whilst waiting for this momentous occasion I shall content myself with presenting my new spring collection (above) of colour-coded macaroon pictures to suit any handbag, hair ribbon or high-heeled Yeti gumboot, power nosering or anything else that might be in fashion at the time of reading.

Lemon yellow or raspberry red; peevish purple or froggy green; svelt silver or baguette brown... the choice is yours.

Feel free to admire them appreciatively whilst wearing the matching Paris attire you feel most 'you' in and, of course, why not, as you sink your teeth into one of the little rainbow nuggets themselves. Go on, you have my blessing - what are you weighting for?
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© 2011
Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free - Contact me directly for photo tours, interviews, exhibitions, etc.

Friday, 4 March 2011

Paris and I ~ 'Life's A Drag'


iPhone Photo Chronicles
~ Life's A Drag ~


IMG_5162, originally uploaded by Paris Set Me Free.


Until now I was only aware of one smoking animal in Paris, the admittedly very famous Au Chien Qui Fume, immortalised in a series of amazing pictures in a rather nice restaurant at Les Halles, where I once went to a pre-divorce.. I mean post-wedding reception.

It turns out that there are other fuming animals coughing their guts up around the place: Lille has Le Chat Qui Fume restaurant, and there's apparently a Sanglier Qui Fume auberge in Morocco.

Dijon has decided that people would enjoy eating whilst listening to some smouldering numbers at Le Piano Qui Fume restaurant, and look what I've just discovered: a smoking goose!

While Google is trying to convince me that he lives in Cabourg, I assure you that I took this picture in the heart of the Latin Quarter just a few days ago, and presume he, or should that be she, is still there.

I'm assuming all the while that these are animals (or musical instruments at a stretch) which actually inhale fumes from burning leaves, as opposed to passively being cooked along the lines of smoked herring or mackerel.

Quite what this obsession is with intoxicated wildlife I don't know. Just an amusing anthropomorphism which seems to tickle us humans I suppose. I used to drink at the Frog and Rosbif from time to time, surrounded by endless pics of our little green friend in various states of leglessness under the influence of a wide range of inebriating brews.

I'm not sure if that other venerable Paris animal eaterie, Au Pied de Cochon, falls into this category. I've never been there, pig's trotters not really doing it for me, but I don't think the beast is expected to partake of the meal anything other than passively lying down, and certainly not getting high on toxins.

Mind you, and this isn't the first time I've thought about this, doesn't a name which includes '... qui fume' sound a bit passé these days? I mean, it's illegal to smoke in restaurants in France, non? I half expect to see a pack of disenchanted dachshunds disconsolately dragging on dog-ends outside the kitchen door every time I pass by rue Berger in the 1st.

I'd like to humbly suggest, just before I go, some more up-to-date versions of these old, outmoded names. What about 'L'Oie Qui Tweet' (almost feasible), 'Le Chien Qui Surfe' (I've seen that in Australia, honest) and why not 'La Souris Qui Se Révoltèrent' (The Mouse That Turned, or Revolted )? Good for some of the dodgy Belleville Chinese joints or insalubrious Indian establishments in Passage Brady, perhaps. Move with the times, right?

___________________________________________________________________________________
© 2011
Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free - Contact me directly for photo tours, interviews, exhibitions, etc.

Thursday, 3 March 2011

Paris and I ~ 'Locked Into Reality'


iPhone Photo Chronicles
~ Locked Into Reality ~


Locked In To Reality, originally uploaded by Paris Set Me Free.


Life is made up, or so we would like to think, of moments of time, during which nothing much seems to change; a single 'activity' seems to be 'taking place'.

These mysterious 'moments' may occupy a fair chunk of the day and be considered pleasurable and desired, like watching a film. They may be purely functional (and possibly pleasurable or satisfying), such as going to the toilet or getting the ironing done. Or they may, when all's said and done, be considered a pure and unadulterated waste of time, like waiting for a train to enter a station and liberate the door's automatic locking system.

What could be a bigger misuse of the precious and fleeting moments of our lives than staring at a train's door-locking system?

But is that the right way of looking at things? Is it really for our circumstances to decide which moments, or chunks of our lives are to be considered worthwhile, and which useless?

Having said that, don't we all need some down time, where we quite consciously decide to do a big fat lot of nothing much at all?

The crux, and the irony of things is, though, that we tend to spend most of our imposed and unplanned 'down time', such as a train delay, feeling bitter and rueful, regretting all the 'quality time' we are losing. And we spend a lot of the time we are doing things we have supposedly elected to do using free will dreaming about our next slot of down time.

And when the long-awaited down-time finally comes, we spend most of it regretting the past, worrying about the future, or agonising over the rapidly diminishing down time slot we are currently living before our wonderful bloody busy, self-chosen tiring 'real-life' kicks in again.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? And so I proudly present you with a stolen moment of some imposed down time I lived recently. I'd like to introduce you to the door-locking mechanism of a name- (but probably not number-) less carriage of a Line 5 metro, somewhere over the Seine just about to be swallowed up by the gaping aerial entrance to Austerlitz train station.

Looking back, I realise it's the only moment I can actually remember from the whole day.

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© 2011
Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free - Contact me directly for photo tours, interviews, exhibitions, etc.

Wednesday, 2 March 2011

Paris and I ~ 'A Comedy of Errers'


iPhone Photo Chronicles
~ A Comedy of Errers ~


A Comedy of Errers, originally uploaded by Paris Set Me Free.


Stations have to be the ultimate human-watching arena. Souls are in a state of flux, humanity ebbing and flowing. Emotions are carried and worn like the heavy suitcases and overcoats they drag across the concourse because travelling involves waiting, leaving and arriving, which stimulates a vast range of conflicting reactions. And also because they think that no-one is watching and that no-one cares what they are showing.

Travelling also involves rushing, crying, laughing, panicking, eating, searching, scrabbling and despairing. Any number of weird human emotions which look all the more ridiculous if you turn the virtual sound down and capture in an instant. Try watching dancers with the volume off and you'll see just how silly humans can be. Which is why I don't dance.

Instead, I raise a little metal box to my eye, peer through a little hole and press a little black button. Opposite me as I do this there is often seemingly nothing much going on. Yet still I raise, peer and press, raise, peer and press, as though my very existence depended upon those three actions.

If you turned the sound down on me and watched this process as a silent movie, you'd probably have little difficulty in ticking me off as a compulsive-impulsive loony. It would probably be quite funny to watch. A comedy. The little black box man running after the big black bag draggers, all recorded for posterity by... another little black box person. Do you ever wonder if somewhere along the line we're getting things marvellously, glorously, spectacularly wrong? A human comedy indeed.

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© 2011
Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free - Contact me directly for photo tours, interviews, exhibitions, etc.

Tuesday, 1 March 2011

Paris and I ~ 'One Day I'll Drive Away'


iPhone Photo Chronicles
~ One Day I'll Drive Away ~


One Day I'll Drive Away, originally uploaded by Paris Set Me Free.


We had a problem when we went to Australia for a year when I was 9, back in '74. My dad didn't drive and there was no way we could get around without a car where we were going to be living, in the outskirts of Perth. Where I came from you built up. Over there you just built out.

He started taking lessons and the excitement mounted along with the nervousness as the test date approached, just before leaving, and he had to have that licence or we'd be in kanga-poo up to our white Pommie knees.

He got it, and we left, and on arrival the task of finding the family's first personal vehicle presented itself. To cut a long story short, for some reason we got a white second-hand Peugeot 404. Next to all the droolworthy Ford Falcons and Holden Kingswoods was our little French four-wheeler, but it got us from A to B, most of the time, which was my practical dad's main concern.

In the end I swallowed my 9-year-old pride and grew to love it, particularly for the novelty value of actually having a car, along with the growing list of cool things we did in it. Like following the 400 mile long water pipeline east out to the mining town of Kalgoorlie and the ghost town of Coolgardie, and gingerly nudging koolin' kangas out of the way without a roo-bar, and removing one side of the driveway wall with a fender, or was it the other way round..?

A sad day it was when we finally had to sell it and head home to East Enfield, North London, UK, a world away from South Como, Perth, WA, in all ways. But I'll never forget that cute little car, and every time I see one the memories flood back, the smell of the seats in the sun, the clunking of the doors and the lazy chewing of sourgrass plucked from the driveway before every trip. Insouciant days.

This one was in Montmartre yesterday, just next to the Ciné 13, in more familiar territory for a French thoroughbred than bouncing along between the blackboys in the bush, to be sure.

I have quite a few Aussies doing photo tours with me these days, and there seems to be something building up in me, a sort of niggling that perhaps, in some not too distant future, I should get over there again. And who knows, maybe hit Route 94 to be that tanned boy once more sitting astride that big ol' pipeline, with a faithful old froggy bagnole by my side.

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© 2011
Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free - Contact me directly for photo tours, interviews, exhibitions, etc.
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