Category: design
Photo-zine number one
Since returning to the darkroom, I’ve been trying different methods to sharing my photography with others. I have used social media, home display, independent sales and art fairs, but I was wondering about a small, tangible way of sharing images. It was a social media post that introduced me to art zines and I was hooked.
The art zine examples in this post displayed prose, poetry and illustration. I’d seen zines from years before concerning football teams and music. More recently, I’d seen photography zines in small publications, which inspired me to do my own.
The simplest method I had seen showed the folding and cutting of a single A4 sheet of paper to make an eight page document.
Once made, I numbered the pages and set about collecting images.
I had wanted to feature the black and white 35mm images I had been printing and had been considering themes, when I realised that the majority of my photos had been of family or my local area, so I went with the theme and title, “Round My Way”: images of my locality.
I took the first eight images I liked, scanned them and sequenced them on an A4 document in Photopea. On first printing, I realised that I’d have to do some move-arounds, then reprinted. I did some titling and there it was.
Out of order…
In order…
…and complete!
At the moment I’m working through cutting them to size, folding and cutting. I’m definitely going to make more. There’ll be different techniques in themes, editing, formatting and printing, and even media, but this is a process that I am excited to continue.
Start to finish.
“Dune” review
On its release in 2021, I sent a review of Denis Villeneuve’s film of Frank Herbert’s “Dune” to my film group. With some edits, here it is:
Okay, first off, I watched this on my desktop screen. I fully get the director’s dismissal of watching this film in such a way this as being like riding a speedboat in the bath, but there it is: I’m currently not prepared to spend up to three hours in a cinema right now. Also, most of my formative film experiences have been on television: BBC2 film seasons, The Film Club and Moviedrome come to mind, as do Bond movies on a bank holiday and Disney films at Christmas. The films I watched and continue to watch in this way worked on me, no matter what the delivery system was. Indeed, when I did get to see a fair amount of them at the cinema, I appreciated the experience of watching them even more. One day, I’ll see Dune on the big screen and I’ll be very happy to do so. But for now, this screening worked just fine.
And what a film it is! I have never read Dune and I don’t know if I’ll ever get around to it, but I was greatly impressed by this adaptation. The novel’s possible adaptations, by Alejandro Jodorowsky and Ridley Scott, have been as fascinating than the ones that made it: David Lynch’s bored me on screen, but was a fascinating curio on video (especially with Alan Splet’s sound design) but John Harrison’s TV series didn’t attract me even with Vittorio Storraro photographing it.
Learning that story-cruncher Eric Roth was involved in this version’s screenplay was a big attraction to me. His theme of power and how it can be used tied the narrative together beautifully. And the narrative moved like a locomotive, with peaks and troughs heightening the drama (Kyne’s death scene was astonishing.) The highlighted language and cultural differences were a fascinating touch.
The scale of the film (especially in some interiors), how they were photographed and the visual effects that tied everything together were astonishing. Visual effects supervisor Paul Lambert won an Oscar for Blade Runner 2049 and he’s surely due another nomination here. More than The Force Awakens, the worlds depicted here genuinely felt like they were in a galaxy far, far away and yet they seemed completely real.
The beauty in the visuals was matched by the beauty of the cast (gracious! I could just stare at all of them for ages! [Even at Baron Harkonen in his restorative bath].) The costumes were exquisite (Lady Jessica’s gowns were very special, and I loved the detail and personalising of the still suits). But good looks aren’t everything: the casting and performance of each part came with such care that I couldn’t help but be riveted by them. Only once or twice I felt a dissonance between performance and narrative, but that may well be because of my watching and reading about different versions of Dune that have gone before.
Timothee Chalomet’s youth was terrifically tied in with Paul’s story: his dreams of Chani had the sense of puberty or development. (By the way, it must be quite odd to have wondrous dreams about a woman gracefully walking through the desert, only to meet her, have her pull a weapon on you, then hand you another weapon for you to die honourably with.) Rebecca Ferguson externalised her divided loyalties sympathetically. Jason Momoa could probably drink or fight everyone under the table. It was refreshing to see dark skinned actors like Sharon Duncan-Brewster in a science fiction film adaptation (still controversial to many fans) but I’m also aware of some observers feeling that in a story that is partly influenced by Lawrence of Arabia, Bedouin tribes and Middle-Eastern oil states, a lack of Middle-Eastern performers is a missed opportunity. Nonetheless, I am really into this film. Denis Villeneuve has definitely got his groove back after the longeurs of Blade Runner 2049 and, as Chani says, this story is only beginning. I can’t wait for what comes next.
Is anyone as excited as I am for the next part?
The Joy of Fashion
During a stay in hospital to have my wisdom teeth removed, I read the February 1987 British Vogue issue from cover to cover. Really, from the masthead to the copyright notices. I was fascinated. I was 17 years old.
I remembered buying a 1985 Cosmopolitan and being excited by the British launch of Elle that same year. I started buying Vogue shortly after. I bought a lot of fashion magazines. I read a lot more in the library when I was a student at the then Manchester Polytechnic. I had no idea why.
At no point in my avid fashion magazine buying did I show one iota of interest in fashion as a career. Working in a bookshop after college, I found myself way more comfortable selling books in the fiction department than I ever did in the art section, with its lush volumes on design and clothing. And yet, fashion always interested me.
At best, I am a tidy rather than innovative dresser. One could describe my wardrobe as conservative, at a push. My fashion reading certainly didn’t influence me in that way. I was never one for noticing people’s outfits until very recently. And yet, I looked out for music videos and films styled by Robin Derrick, I knew all the best fashion photographers’ names and work, and I enjoyed watching fashion shows. Quite the disconnect.
Something changed when I resumed drawing in the past few years. I watched YouTube tutorials on drawing technique: an interest in figure drawing led to my following artists who drew fashion images. One in particular mentioned one of their favourite books to learn from: Fashion Illustration by Anna Kiper.
On buying the book, I looked through the pages on a train journey. I was entranced: the shapes, fabrics, poses and colours therein were fascinating; reading and drawing from the book was an immediate pleasure and remains that way.
I had wondered all this time what this whole fashion “thing” meant to me, and here it was: fashion brought joy, beauty and colour into my life. Looking at fashion made me happy. As I draw it, that happiness is multiplied.
I continue to work my way through Ms. Kiper’s book, as well as through tear sheets from magazines. As I draw, I wonder whether I will invent my own designs and whether my drawing skills will enable me to also draw the spaces in which these clothes are worn. But for now, the act of drawing and celebrating fashion is enough.
The deep dive
I’m currently amping up my photoshop skills.
There have been two projects so far; both to do with layering. They have been fascinating and frustrating in equal measure, but also totally necessary in order to make the images I am ambitious to create.
I have been inspired by such photographers as Ilina S, Erika Tschinkel, Sabina and Zhang Jinga, who all suffuse their images with an air of the fantastic, with their use of subject, composition, lighting and post production. Their images and technique remind me of the painstaking work of special visual effects teams in film making.
My rudimentary efforts so far make me think of how one can know when an image is “complete”. I’ve never been able to work that out in my writing, editing or darkroom work. The idea that creative work is never finished but abandoned comes to mind.
Maybe such knowledge comes from knowing how to best use the tools, which is what I’m learning now. Tutorials abound and I’m practising regularly.
A writing adventure
The finished product
It started with a tweet.
Earlier this year, Amaa_Official tweeted some advice to creatives on writing an instructive ebook. Her thread broke down the stages into manageable chunks, from choosing a subject, through writing, to presentation, sale and promotion.
I’ve written books before as part of the NaNoWriMo challenge, but I had never thought of doing something like this, so I set to thinking of a subject to write about. Of all the subjects I considered, I chose photography: an interest I’d pursued for years, in which I had wide experience with cameras, shooting and printing.
On looking through my photos, especially the digital images on my computer, I decided to focus on landscape photography. I thought about subjects to cover and the images needed to illustrate them and set to work, writing the ebook on Apple’s Pages and editing the photos in Adobe Photoshop. While doing this, I uploaded old landscape images of mine on social media, with posts trailing the forthcoming ebook.
A little over 5000 words later, with each of the ten chapters illustrated and formatted, I used Canva to make a cover design, adapting a free cover, which I then reduced in size using a trial of Adobe Acrobat. Once I’d placed it on my product page in Gumroad, I linked to the sales image on my social media.
I hesitate to finish with, “and that was all it took!” The process took months: page formatting was difficult; I agonised over the cover. But on the first day I launched the book, it began to sell.
This has been an extraordinary creative venture and one I’d like to repeat: I’m currently thinking of subjects to write on. Thanks to those who have bought the book so far, Amaa_Official, AlyssaColeLit and all those who tweet advice on ebook writing and promotion. Sharing this book has been a pleasure.
Skylight
For a long weekend this mid-January, central London was taken over by light installations from Lumiere London, an arts event arranged by Artichoke. The event was attended by one million pedestrians over the four nights, which was probably why it was so hard for us to get around and see stuff, but I got a few photos in the end.
Les Luminéoles by Porté par le vent on Regent Street
Although I’m used to London’s road traffic, there’s always something refreshingly different about areas being taken over by pedestrians: the Notting Hill Carnival; New Year’s Day; football and music events. That said, it can be absolute hell to get by on the diversions. Still, to walk down Regent Street to see a hologram of an elephant in the Air Street arch is quite a treat.
Elephantastic!
We walked on, pushed along by crowds and later I thought that visiting over several days may have been a better way to go about things, but no matter: the west end streets turned into light-jewelled paths for one night was enough for me to feast on until the next Lumiere festival.
Piccadilly
Architectural dreams
One rainy Tuesday morning, I cycled between appointments to the Royal Academy to see their Sensing Spaces exhibition.
Herein, seven architects were commissioned to create installations that responded to the Royal Academy’s main galleries. They did this with light and structures that were a delight to see, walk around and interact with.
For some reason, I left my regular camera at home, so I relied on my mobile phone for photos of some pieces.
Li Xiaodong formed a labyrinth of branches, timber and pebbles to create and environment to sense as much as walk through.
Grafton Architects (Shelly McNamara and Yvonne Farrell) built a suspended concrete structure, which light passed through to make spaces on the ground as well as tone the stone above.
Pezo von Ellrichshausen (Maurice Pezo and Sofia von Ellrichshausen) constructed a magnificent four columned platform, with a viewing gallery on top, accessible by both stairs and sloping walkway.
Kengo Kuma used light and wire to create this patterned space.
I finished my tour with Diébédo Francis Kéré’s interactive structure: an arch made of porous material, through which one was encouraged to insert coloured straws however one saw fit, making an ever changing structure. My contribution, a dark green straw bent into a triangle, is near the top of the last picture.
Lights in the water
I had no idea that Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design had moved to Granary Square near London’s King’s Cross in 2011. Embarrassing. I found out earlier this month when I met a friend there to plan an excursion.
There it was: an impressive, restored structure by Stanton Williams Architects; cafes and amenities therein; and this gorgeous fountain area outside.
Apparently, some parts of the building are open to the public, so I’ll come back for a closer look in future.
The Infinite City
Wherever I’ve travelled, I’ve always been most fascinated by cities.
I find them magical, vibrant and multi-layered. While most places have attractive aspects, cities lend themselves to exploration and experiment in a way I can’t find anywhere else: I feel conspicuous in the countryside; I can get lost in a city.
Despite spending most of my life in London, I find that I know very little of it. Happily, I have friends who are ready to explore it with me on photo walks, nature walks and bike rides. We go to places we know and places we’ve never been and we search out as much as we can.
One such recent case was with a cycling friend: “Let’s go east again,” she suggested, “Bermondsey.” Okay. We met at Waterloo and cycled east, past Blackfriars and Tower Bridge to Bermondsey. Then we continued on aimlessly, taking in anything that interested us.
Here was a view from Bermondsey’s south bank of Tower Bridge and the City of London that we hadn’t seen before.
The further we went along the undulating river Thames, the more our view of the city changed.
Passing by St. Mary’s Church in Rotherhithe, we found the juxtaposition of a children’s play area and a graveyard. Somehow, it seemed quite touching.
Continuing to the Docklands area we were amazed by the size and quiet of Greenland Quay. Practically derelict during the 1970s, it had been redeveloped into residential properties; the dock, formerly used for ships involved in the whaling and timber trades, is now used for recreational purposes and is one of only two functioning enclosed docks on the south bank of the Thames.
An about turn revealed this seated grafitto under a road bridge: another work by Banksy?
Our return home took us through one of London’s many green spaces: Russia Dock Woodland. I have an impossible dream of visiting all of London’s green spaces; impossible, because there are so many of them and so many more being developed. The woodland was developed by the infilling of the former Russia Dock: the park itself was long and narrow. This artificial hill photographed, Stave Hill, was created by using spoil (waste material and rubble) from the works to fill and landscape the areas formerly occupied by commercial docks.
It has a viewing platform on the top, but my friend and I didn’t ascend it, encumbered as we were with our bikes. But I’m sure we’ll return to take a view from the top across this infinite city.
Tomorrow is today
If, at any point, you are considering an exhibition to see in London between now and the beginning of next year, you must go to see the installation Tomorrow at the Victoria and Albert Museum.
The V&A is my favourite museum. Containing items of design, architecture, sculpture, costume and furniture from around the world, I love visiting it regularly, looking for new areas: I try only a couple of rooms at a time; any more would be too much beauty to take in.
On one such visit, I saw a number of small hoardings, pointing out that “Tomorrow” was taking place in a certain area of the museum: “Tomorrow?” I wondered, “What could that be?” Off I went to find out.
It was an installation, by Scandinavian artist duo Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset, and was spread over several of the V&A former textile galleries. The artists, using various objects from the museum’s wide collection, transformed the galleries into an elaborate South Kensington apartment. Therein, they told a story.
How? By making this apartment belong to a fictional architect called Norman Swann, looking back in anger on his life. Visitors to the exhibition, with the use of a screenplay picked up at the entrance, could walk through this apartment reading scenes set in the dining area, bedroom, kitchen and study. One would walk through the exhibition making a film about Mr. Swann in one’s own head. The effect was mesmerising.
One isn’t allowed to take photographs in the exhibition and that’s fine: having photos taken while one walks through this installation would be incredibly disturbing. (The photos included here are scanned from the screenplay that you pick up at the start of the installation.) Also I don’t think that one needs to: the exhibits, the screenplay, actors therein and one’s own imagination makes Tomorrow completely memorable.
Along with the Dalston House and the Sultan’s Elephant, I must admit that I’m a big fan of art installations. I wonder what else is or will be out there to experience?
Burning Details 
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