Seven Year Hitch

Seven years and eleven cancelled appointments.

I'd almost given up, but not quite.

On the twelfth appointment I was expecting a cancellation and that meant I could go for my river bike ride and a macchiato in the strip in Fremantle. But this time Helen showed up complete with her mandolin ........ almost ready to be photographed. I say almost because I sensed her anxiety level was a tad higher than normal.  I guess if someone had postponed their visit to the dentist or accountant eleven times they might be anxious. As soon as I fired off the first half dozen shots I descended the staircase and let Helen look at this image on the camera screen.

I first met Helen in July 2001 when she joined a portrait workshop at UWA Extension. Although I demonstrate portrait techniques during the workshop I make a practice of never offering to photograph students outside class. In Helen's case she asked for a portrait and I happily agreed. But it wasn't until April 2008  that we made an image together. It was a case of sympatico on hold for seven years.

In those seven years Helen and I chatted several times. Appointments were made, appointments were postponed.  In that time I learned two things about Helen. First, that she was one of the most interesting and disarmingly honest and down to earth women I had ever met. Something of a rarity these days. I always felt totally relaxed chatting around Helen. Armed with dark sense of humour and sharp intellect the conversation was always energetic and inviting. Fortunately, our politics were in congruence.  Helen also demonstrated a  strong sense of heritage and a dedication to family. Her frankness was refreshing and invigorating. With Helen I learned that I was dealing with a genuine human being and a proud Australian.

The second thing I learned about Helen was that I had sort of met my match in terms of story telling. People often comment on the fluent nature of the stories I tell and interweave with my photographs. Helen had an uncanny ability  and relate a story to take me from a relaxed state and keep me on the edge of my seat for half an hour.

But perhaps the major revelation was in the shoot itself on 13 April 2008.
When I reached the bottom of the staircase after just five minutes shooting Helen looked nervous. She  immediately focused on the image I showed her. I think I saw a slight glistening in her eyes, then a small sigh of  relief.
She quietly whispered 'I never realised I would look this good'.

I knew from July 2001 that she would look that good. Helen realxed immediately and the rest of the shoot was a breeze.

Entries to the 2017 Fremantle International Portrait Prize close on Friday 11 August. Click HERE for details.

Cloud Walker

Thirty years ago at Easter 1985, assisted by wife Margaret  I carried an English steel tripod, a Pentax 67 medium format camera, three lenses and three rolls of Fuji Provia 120 film to the top of Mount Toolbrunup in teh Stirling Ranges

We also carried our sleeping bags and a  ground sheet and food for the evening. My first surprise was the top of Toolbrunup is not flattish like Bluff Knoll but pointy with no real room to camp. There was not enough space to erect our tent so we pulled our sleeping bags under the low bushes for protection from wind and moisture.

I'd planned this carefully, studying the locations of landforms and lakes and the magnetic direction of the sunrise. In particular I wanted to include Bluff Knoll in any landscape I was hoping to get the sunrise reflecting in the lakes. Male a plan and God is sure to have his say and provide you with a few challenges.

I was awake before dawn and snuggled into my down bag listening to small birds telling me it was time to get up. When I did expose my body to the mountain chill  I saw to my disdainthere was no sunrise or lakes. The nocturnal cloud bank covered the entire scene. I stood, as in those religious biblical paintings, like Jesus in a sea of clouds.

Margaret declined to leave her sleeping bag despite my rapture about the scene. I laid on my stomach, shivering and took a frame of the cloud bank on the Pentax. The audible clunk sounded like a gunshot in the wilderness. Bluff Knoll poked his dark mysterious head through the cotton wool clouds. I drifted into a world of my own. Here alone on a mountain top with just my camera. The ache in my legs and back meant nothing for this experience.

I learned that what you get in life is sometimes not what you aimed for. It may be better or perhaps not as good. But its important to have an aim and to strive.

Mount Toolbrunup at 3451 feet is the second highest mountains in the Stirling Ranges.

Learn Landscape Techniques, Depth of Field, steepened perspective and aperture priority control in Practical Photography (Intermediate) at UWA Extesnion.

footnote: After scrambling over scree on the descent to the park we invited the wrath of the Park Ranger. We had left son and daughter alone in their own little tent for the night to fare for themselves. The ranger viewed them as 'abandoned' children and us as irresponsible parents. Margaret and I thought we were extending their education and preparing them for life. Little wonder they both ended up working for Outward Bound Australia!