Stairs and shadows: irrestistible

No comment or explanation needed, as far as I am concerned.

Missed hoped-for chance: Berlin in the rain

Berlin is a great city for photos of modern (and restored neo-classical) architecture. But that needs good weather, or at least dry weather for the buildings to appear at their best. Last week I was there, with some extra time, and even with a special travel guide for architecture fans (on sale in bookshops all around the city). But it was cold and rainy--as I wrote to some of my readers before. Instead of a nice set of photos, almost the only thing that came out was this contrasting view of the TV tower at the Alexander Platz and a church spire: Who comes highest? Is TV more important than religion (maybe that was an intended message in DDR times)? And what does it mean that the TV tower disappears into the clouds?

Amazing building: Atlanta Marriott Marquis hotel

Little to say, but more to see in this amazing hotel I am visiting, the Marriott in Atlanta, Georgia. The atrium, stretching from bottom level to 50 floors up, almost defies taking into a single photo, and yet it is full of architectural motives, with the curves and not-quite-repetitions of positions of concourses and bridges.

It all reminds me of a genteel version of Zion in the movie trilogy The Matrix. Even worse: aren't those closed doors and uninhabited galleries just like a prison? And another advantage of Zion over the hotel: it did not have such tacky colours in the carpets on the floors ;-)

Just some architecture

Only nature, in the last weeks. High time for my other love: architecture. Clear lines, clear light--good old modernism in an airport building. The balance of verticals and horizontals is stressed by the square format of the photo--admittedly, to the left it got boring, so I cropped the picture. A person in the picture (an intrusion of nature?) adds a little movement and interest to the straight lines in almost monotonous grey, but remains a semi-silhouette. The man's lorry(?) has a few dashes of red, drawing attention to the man, but more than that also making a "warm" statement near the person, counterbalancing the few cold, blue accents in the architecture.

Window on black

Just a simple old-time window in an old-time farm shed. Weathered brick, broken glass. The contrast between wall and window is a beginning, then the glass in the window is so dirty that you can hardly see through it. However, the glass is broken so you can see through it—but all you see is the dark inside of the shed, so it's just blackness.

To make it a little more lively, I took this picture with the wall somewhat in perspective. The lines of mortar give a little bit of movement, leading the eye towards the broken window.

Atget, Abbott and the Wonderment of Reality

Dutch TV in the early Sunday evening showed a documentary about two famous photographers of cityscapes: Eugène Atget, working in Paris around 1900-1925 and Berenice Abbott, famous for her pictures of New York in the 1930s. Abbott in fact had two careers, because she also was the one who rescued Atget's legacy of almost two thousand glass negatives. And it was Atget's photos of the disappearing old Paris around 1900 that inspired her to document the changes in New York city. The documentary showed the links, but also the differences between the two photographers: Atget as essentially a 19^th century romantic, Abbott as a 20^th century photographer who learned photography from surrealist Man Ray but who felt inspired by Atget to document New York's transformation. Some of the surrealist fascination was already visible in Atget's work, too: he made a number of photos of shop windows with reflections like the one copied here, which lookèd quite modern in the 1920s--Man Ray himself made the contact between Abbott and Atget.

Somehow both Atget and Abbott transcended the simple documenting of the old-and-the-new juxtaposed, intermingled or destroying one another. What is it that makes some photos and some photographers do that trick? I found in both of them the same things that inspire my photography (at a rather more amateurish level of course): "The real world, seen with wonderment and surprise" (Abbott writing about Atget), realising that the art of photography is "selecting what is worthwhile" (Abbott commenting on an Atget photo).

Technically, it was interesting to see how both of them worked with large plate camera's: 8"x 10" negatives to get ultimate sharpness, with flexible tilt-and-shift lenses to achieve perpendicular verticals. Digital APC-sensors are not the end of photographic evolution!

Hopefully, the documentary will appear in the Dutch public TV's archive. Give it a try; it's 45 well-spent minutes!

Stairways

Stairways again, and cupolas--fascinating elements of architecture. This was taken in Haarlem, two weeks ago. Just too bad that my mobile phone's camera is so bad. The (too vivid) colours may work nicely here, but that is the only positive thing about this photo, I fear. Must go back with a really good camera + lens--if I ever find the time...

Alea iacta… Another competition

Not sure if I'm testing myself or the juries, but I just sent in three photos to a national competition, the BNAFV's first-ever 'Foto Online'. At first I though I would not do it, expecting thousands of photographers to take part. But a few days ago we got a reminder saying that there were 180 participants. Well, then I could give it a go—basically with the same photos that I submitted for the regional contest less than a month ago. I redid the black-and-white one for which I got the comment that is at too grey and 'murky'; tried to strengthen the drama and contrast in the air. I still like the picture of this strange building in Almere, and am curious if I'll get similar comments from this national jury.

The other one from the regional contest that I submitted, was the allium (from our own garden, taken as a test-picture on the first evening that I had my Alpha700), again because I like it and also a little bit because someone in the audience found that it deserved a higher grade.

And you're welcome to comment too, of course!

Vaut le voyage: Berlin

No picture to stake my claim—sorry for that, folks! But my visit to Berlin this week was only for a meeting. The meeting was long, the stay was short, the weather was bad and the camera was at home. Yet even from the bus between the airport and the city centre it was more than obvious that this is a place for great photography of different types. Modern architecture on a grand scale, to begin with, of course! And many photographers know that, for in the regional competition, there were photos from the Sony office in Berlin by three contestants (one of them was awarded—too much competition for the others). The grey November day was a good backdrop for the buildings with the lights on everywhere, taking you just this step beyond standard architectural photography. Dreary days may make for good photo opportunities! And then of course the people in the streets and their ways to protect themselves from rain and cold, made up another bunch of objects for pictures.

Maybe I'll be more lucky when I go there next—or my camera club should make a trip there. Obviously, many others have done so already, but that still makes one's fingers itch: by pointing my camera a little different, by finding that great light, by releasing the shutter at exactly the right moment... We might shoot that wished-for winner!

A little late -- Building and handball

Dear folks, sorry for not updating this blog last weekend: work, work, work! The work took place in the Copenhagen Business School, by all accounts one of Europe's top business schools--but that was not my reason for being there and even less was it my reason for mentioning it here. I mention it here, because it offers great opportunities for photography of architecture. Next time when I go there, I'll bring camera (and tripod!). For the moment, I just have an illustration taken from someone else.

Photo activities last week were there, but rather to make a visual memory of my daughter's school activities than as serious search for the ultimate photo. I must admit that for most people, the memories are more important than the photographic quality.
The school activity was a handball tournament among some of the village schools. Sports photography proves to be quite a different discipline: suddenly you miss the 2.8/300 or similar lenses of professionals. The one here was made without flash (not used, because it might disturb the players) at ISO 800, and is better at showing the speed and action (hey, I succeeded in panning precisely with the player's body!) than at portraying the star player of the team: the picture shows his back rather than the front side--why wasn't he a left-hander? ;-)

Work and pleasure

Last week I was out of the country, presenting my (and my colleagues') work at two conferences. Not a minute for serious photography, only the joy of having morning coffee in a medieval Italian monastery, now the Faculty of Economics of the University of Pavia--in dire need of restauration (it's Italy, after all), but still: that is the original environment for European universities!



The joy of photogaphy came with the occasion to experiment with the A700's highest sensitivity settings: ISO 6400 and 3200, respectively (reduced jpegs of the otherwise unchanged RAW photo's). Especially ISO 6400 is close to useless; ISO 3200 is not bad for the purpose of documenting a late-evening tour of a vinyard.




And then there was the visit to the Certosa di Pavia. "ABC" in kids' jargon: Another Beautiful Church. Very beautiful, but not a place for very interesting photos. What can you add to all the beauty of the craftsmen of the 14th-16th centuries? I was reasonably satisfied with only two photos, and that for technical reasons mostly: I more or less mastered some challenges--next time I want to make some real nice pictures with that technical knowledge...

In the first, I wanted to make the craftsmen's beauty visible in a picture of a detail of a pillar plus the painted vault. To show both, I used the built-in flash of the camera with slow sync (otherwise the vault would have remained dark). The amount of light in the background satisfied me quite a lot. Of course, as a tourist on a conference, I did not come with a tripod, so the result is not quite sharp, but for a 0.7" picture it's not bad. And Lightroom 2 (great new options in this version--a must-have!) helped to sharpen it a little.
The other one, the church's facade, needed Photoshop to readjust the falling lines of the 16-mm perspective: I wanted to capture a lot of clouds above the church so in the fleeting moment when the light was right, I just had to shoot a bit upwards. When that was done, Lightroom 2 was used to make up for my lack of a gradual neutral-density filter; one of Lr2's new options is the 'graduated filter' and that helped to bring the picture back to the impression that the situation had made in reality.

Zen among the willows

Saturday we visited the 'Vlechtdagen', the fair for basketmakers in Noordwolde, in the North of the Netherlands, where they have a museum devoted to this old craft. My wife loves to put her energy into folding, weaving and sometimes even beating the twigs into shape. My interest would be more in the surroundings, to see if some more abstract or architectural theme would offer itself. And it did! But there was more for my photography than expected.

The fair's theme this year was 'Japan', with a show of marvellous Japanese basketry--even interesting to people like me who are not into making willow baskets. Photography inside was not allowed, so I can show you only one little picture ;-) of a creation called Connection, made by one Takeo Tanabe. The original plan had been to invite the artists (rather than just artisans) from Japan to demonstrate their skill, but apparently the organisers' funds were not quite sufficient to make that possible. Too bad! I would have loved to see these people at work: would they be able to concentrate on the precise detail in the hum of a fair? Would they work fast as in a routine, or slowly as monks?
We had to make do with mainly Dutch and German basketmakers; an example from my wife's favourites at 'De Mythe' is shown here.

But we were also given the chance of some other Japanese arts and besides the ubiquitous bonsai tree pruning, they had something rather more special. Didn't I write about kyudo, the martial art of archery, before? A Dutch group gave a beautiful demonstration of what I might translate as the essence of photography: prepare your materials, yourself, and then wait for the right moment to let go. A lesson in Zen-plicity, which I involuntarily started to mimick with my camera while watching them go through their ceremony. With one little difference: they had one arrow, and I had 5 frames per second... Hopefully, they'll forgive this novice for cheating on the rules a little ;-)

Little Technique and Lots of Sinplicity

Photographers' clubs tend to give a lot of attention to technicalities: what is the camera with most pixels? Which lens has the highest resolution? Was that picture exposed perfectly? Should it have been photoshopped more? Sometimes they even look at what is in the picture: Did it follow the Rules of Composition? (The capitals are intentional: some people seem to believe that there is a golden set of rules for perfect pictures--my point of view is that rules may help avoid errors, but great pictures break The Rules in a creative manner. But that is stuff for another time.)

Of course this is an exaggeration, because there are also quite many amateur photographers who are interested in what the picture says. But most, I think, prefer to stay on the safe side, and techniques make up a more 'secure' area than artistic aspects.

From a technical point of view, the picture below is hardly acceptable. It was made with the camera of my mobile phone, with only 2 megapixels. And even in the phone cameras there are technical differences: my previous phone, a SonyEricsson, made much better pictures of 2 megapixel than my current one, an HTC. But the point I want to make is precisely that pixels are not all. Nor is it a problem, I think, that there is some glare from a lamp in the left bottom corner--on the contrary, it adds to the charm. To me, this picture of a staircase in a somewhat rundown hotel in Oslo (Norway) is charming because of the pattern, the spiraling lines of the staircase, the repeating pattern of open metal circles, and the contrast between the staircase itself which is rather modernist and the handrail with its flowers and frills. Also the pattern of light and shadow in the upper left corner adds to the picture, repeating the staircase pattern and breaking the monotony of the white wall.

By the way, the picture was not photoshopped (to answer the photographers' clubmember's question). All corrections were made in Lightroom: I cooled the too warm whites, desaturated the still predominant yellow tones and gave a little more vibrance to the colours to maintain the wooden character of the handrail.

Another thing: this is the second picture in this blog of a staircase. Yes, I admit I have something with stairs. I find them interesting symbolically, or socially: they connect levels, they are symbols of communication. But I also find them interesting photographically. I like anything with repeating patterns, I guess, but especially if the repetition is not quite perfect, as in pictures of staircases: steps vanish in the distance, getting perspectivally smaller or changing from sharply focused to vague. And spiral staircases are even more special, because they add the element of turning steps. Not simplicity but sinplicity (simplicity-with-a-twist), in the term that happened to enter my blog accidentally.

Almelo by night

Yesterday evening, three of the Fotoclub went to look for some architectural pictures agains the light sky in neighbouring town Almelo. We ended up, after looking at some other places witout feeling inspired, at one of the obvious spots: the headquarters of the 'Waterschap' (water district board). I was not very successful in finding something new to show. How much can you do with a building? The reflection of lamps and the sky just after sunset on the blueish building and in the water were good enough for one picture. The other one is a detail of the building: somehow I find stairways intriguing, and this spiral one looked just right with the added frame of the window. Should I have photoshopped the bluish reflection of the sky in the glass away?

Sin and Sims

Really, it was an accidental mistake! In my previous one I wrote 'sinplicity' instead of 'simplicity'. No need to call Dr. Freud to help; it really was just a matter of hitting the next key on the keyboard. But the error may come in handy: simplicity without sin is not beautiful. Sinplicity makes a photograph good (and this time the 'error' is on purpose).

That is of course a bold statement. What do I mean? Karel van het Reve (professor in Russian Literature, the brother of novelist Gerard and one of Holland's greatest critical rationalists) once said, if I remember well, that humour relied on surprise. I guess a good picture does too: it must surprise the viewer. For instance by breaking the apparent simplicity of the composition in clear lines by a baroque wildness of a cloud's line. Yesterday's picture was an example of that where the balance was very much on the clear lines. Today, I add a picture with more balance between architectural lines and clouds (also from our trip to Almere).



So I am advocating sinning against the rule of simplicity. Breaking the rules is the thing missing in computer environments like the world of the Sims--and that, I maintain, is why pictures of reality can be beautiful, and screenshots of Sims never are.

Introduction: a picture and reasons

Oh well, why not? Half the world is blogging, let me add my two cents' worth of wisdom. Is it worth even that much? Until I kow better about that, I'm glad that this is a free service (in exchange for another bit of privacy given up to Brother Google).

Why would I? Because I'd like to share my views and thoughts on photography. They may be kind of oldfashioned or even mainstream, but that is for the reader to decide.

This blog is not about my private and professional lives--although sharing some of my pictures may give more than a little hint of where my work takes me.

Why in English and not in my mother tongue, Dutch? Because I hope to reach more persons than just my immediate family, friends and co-members of my FotoClub. Apologies to them: I support the Dutch language on other occasions!



As part of this justification and 'credo', I add to this first one a recent picture about which I'm not dissatisfied: a bit of architecture from Almere, notorious as 'the ugliest town of the Netherlands', but it is highly photogenic! A couple of guys from our Fotoclub recently went there to take in the modern architecture; I for my part was inspired by .

What was the inspiration for this one? Sinplicity, I guess: just enough colour in the greys not te be black-and-white, and a mirroring of the clouds to break the straight lines of the architecture.