Emily at 11

Well, it has been so difficult for people to let their guards down and allow me to take photos of them. Often they agree and when I take their photos they become self guarded and do the whole smile traditional portrait pose. I could almost pull my hair out! I know what I want to achieve but can't seem to get it...Feeling so frustrated at the moment....

Ah! Finally my daughter agreed to have her pictures taken. Often she dresses up around the house and I wanted to take photos of her, but for a while she has said no. That's OK.  Today she said yes and loved every minute of it.
Here are some shots we took. They were a lot of fun.

SALLY MANN...Inspiration, Doubts & Questions

During the presentations I was intrigued by Sally Mann...Some photos were confronting and I wanted to look away but couldn't help but look. Having my own children I recognise that most of the photos are simply the kids at play and are not manipulated into anything other. In saying this some of the photos I personally would have not published...

In all she has given me some inspiration for not only my final folio but for my own personal photographic documentation of my family. All to often photographs of people are staged, posing at the camera. I want to capture my children for who they are in all kinds of personal adventures. All to often we sit at the dinner table and reminisce events, however small and laugh or cry. As my children grow and experience life at it's various stages they forget so quickly and unfortunately so do we as adults.  

I want to capture life of my family and close friends "Behind Closed Doors" and capture how they feel and want to be seen as a contrast to how they are seen. Can I do this? I don't know. What will people think? I don't know. But it will be so relevant for me and my family and then one day their family to see and have.

"...I struggle with enormous discrepancies: between the reality of motherhood and the image of it, between my love for my home and the need to travel, between the varied and seductive paths of the heart. The lessons of impermanence, the occasional despair and the muse, so tenuously moored, all visit their needs upon me and I dig deeply for the spiritual utilities that restore me: my love for the place, for the one man left, for my children and friends and the great green pulse of spring."


Sally Mann



                 

Bellocq Presentation

Today was presentation day and I presented on J.E. Bellocq. I found him to be very interesting, initially I chose him from the famous photograph of the young lady in the striped stockings. But as I began to research him further more rumours and stories about him began to unfold that intrigued me. I learnt a lot from the presentations from the other students today, I only hope that I was able to do the same for them.

Ernest Joseph Bellocq or John Ernest Joseph Bellocq as he was also know, born in 1873 and died at the age of 79. He was born into a catholic creole French family who resided in the French quarters of the new Orleans. His father worked at a shipping company doing accounts, his mother kept house and his one brother became a priest.

Belllocq went to a private school and lead a very cultured life as he lived across the road from the opera. He followed in his fathers footsteps and worked at the shipping company doing accounts. Bellocq got itchy feet and longed for something better and more interesting. He pursued his interest in photography and took photos of ships, family gatherings, weddings and communions. This soon recognised him as an amateur photographer amongst the people of New Orleans. He ventured further taking photos of the New Orleans Mardi Gras and not long after made a name for himself as a professional photographer opening his own photography studio in town.

Not long after his father died his brother Leo move onto the priest hood and Bellocq moved out into his own apartment one and half blocks from Storyville. Storyville was renowned for it's legalised brothels and prostitution. Bellecq managed to befriend these women and gaining their trust they allowed him to photograph them clothed and naked. People in town speculated that these women allowed such thing because of his grotesque appearance and dwarf like stature. In reality Bellocq was quite an averaged size gentleman who was noticed for his red scarf that was almost his trade mark along with his femine style of jewelery that he wore.

Each day Bellocq would walk one and a half blocks to visit these women with his 8"x10" camera. He took a variety of pictures of these women being only Bellpocq and the one women in the room at a time. The women are portrayed as women who are working. Sexual acts or sex itself is all absent from Bellocqs photo's. The women seem to be totally trusting and at ease with Bellocq's presence and the task of having their photograph taken.

Bellocq not only photographed the women in the brothel he also photographed them when they were sick in the hospital. He had quite a relationship with these women. In his last days bellocq was leaving his studio when he collapsed in the street. He was taken to hospital were doctors said his days were numbered and that his condition was one of senility.

After Bellocq's death Leo his brother went to his apartment to collect his belongings and found them in disarray. Lamps were broken and furniture was upturned. In the back of a torn couch Leo found about 100 glass slides.

These slides were bought by Lee Friedlander twenty years later from a junk shop. unfortunately some of the glass slides were damaged due to hurricane Betsy. Friedlander restored the slides as best he could and reprinted the pictures. To his surprise some of the women in the pictures had their faces scratched out and were unrepairable. It was thought that Leo had scratched out these women's faces to protect their identity, but this proved not to be the case. The second theory was that Bellocq himself did it due to an affair with one of the women named 'Adele' often seen in the photographs holding a locket of sorts.

Friedlander published these photos into a book called 'Storyville Portraits'. There will be some unseen photos of Bellocq's work again published shortly.

A movie was also made of Bellocq's life in Storyville called 'Pretty Baby' starring Brooke Sheilds when she was a young girl. This movie caused a lot of controversy because of the age of Sheilds at the time and the content of the movie.

All in all none of what I have written has any truth as during 1911 and 1913 when Storyville legalised prostitution it also became know for Jazz music. Unfortunately someone didn't want history of New Orleans to become public so destroyed all evidence of what we can only now speculate upon.

“When I sought to learn more about Storyville and it contribution, if any, to the development of early jazz music, it didn’t take me long to discover why nobody had ever written a history of the area. The public library’s files of newspapers and periodicals had been vandalized, with countless issues clipped, very likely by persons who had stake in suppressing the information in them. In 1938, The TimesPicayuna threw out its files of photographs.”

Evening Sky

Every evening the sun sets at the front of our house. We always Marvell at how beautiful the sky looks. As we have only been at our current address for 2 years we haven't managed to observe the sky as much as we would like through the changing seasons. Stuart mentioned in class on Friday that the light is really wonderful for the next few weeks. I took this into account but cringed at the thought of getting up at the crack of dawn or before hand to take some shots.

Talking to other students and reading blogs, people travel far and wide to capture a photo of brilliance. Last Saturday evening I was walking out my front door at approximately 4.30pm on my way to work. As I did I looked up at the sky...I raced back inside and grabbed my camera.

Sometimes brilliance and beauty is right under your nose and sometimes all it takes is a minute to stop and smell the roses to recognise what is before us.

Two of Me!

I have to laugh at myself. Not at me in the photo but at the deliverance of the photo. Taking the photo was easy enough but photo shopping (Montage) it was another thing entirely. I listened, I took notes and thought I had an understanding...(laughs) I couldn't even open my photo (Laughs)! With a little bit of one on one and lots of patience from Stuart...I managed this! I'm impressed and cannot wait to try it again. I have just down loaded picassa and yet to try it. But it should enable me to investigate at length a similar shot as above.

Thoughts on Final Folio

I have been tossing around a few ideas on the final folio and keep coming back to the same idea. I would like to capture people 'behind closed doors'. Capture who they really are in their relaxed state in their own private surrounds. People are intrigued by people and hold a certain curiosity about what happens behind closed doors. I understood it could be confronting for some people but the negative response I have had from friends has been overwhelming. All have been intrigued by the idea and the first question has been 'Do I have to get my clothes off?' Even my husband was reluctant at first. Though I have one brave girlfriend who said yes. She asked me to capture her love of music that many people don't know about her. She plays guitar as a personal escape. She also had her heart set on a photo she had seen and wanted it replicated as herself.

We decided to take her photo by a gum tree playing her guitar. It was quiet a beautiful day with the slightest breeze and a hint of spring in the air. She settled quite nicely at the base of a large gum tree and strummed away as I lay in the wet grass and took photos of her. It was very easy to photo her as she was so comfortable being who she is with no inhibitions or expectations.

Through some chatting about her playing her guitar we decided to take the photos one step further and take some shots of her semi naked as similar as we could from the photo we had seen. She did lots of poses and we laughed a lot trying to imitate the pose of the other girl in the photo. It just wasn't working, it wasn't looking comfortable and relaxed so we took another approach and I gave her her guitar. Her whole demur changed and she fell into her own skin and became one with the moment. I quickly clicked around her as she was gliding back into her self. I ended up taking fifty something shots of her before we found the right angle, lighting and she felt comfortable with the shoot.

The photo shoot went well until she saw the photos of herself on the computer. She was very confronted by what she saw...although happy with the photos. Again it is putting people in a place that they secretly want to go but are to frightened to be confronted with their own reality and privacy.

I am going to pursue my adventure with this idea, whether I use it for the final folio or not remains to be seen, but for now I am going to give it my best.

Here are a couple of shots from today.

Adelaide Road Trip

Two adults, two kids and one dog and our road trip to Adelaide begins. As a kid I spent our family road trips vomiting out the back window. I had to wonder was this going to be the same. I packed the car with lollies and more lollies, prevention was better than that horrible hangover feeling car sickness leaves you.

Our first stop is on the side of the highway. My son is asking to pull over to take a photo of the last bit of the Grampians. A very proud moment for mum. My crazy enthusiasm for photos has rubbed off on my guys. Before long hours have passed by with endless highway scenery that looks all the same and night falls. Some happy family pics are taken in the car, all looking a bit worse for wear. As we cross the boarder of Victoria to South Australia we decide to stop at the next town for some dinner.

The town is dark, no street lights about, no people about. We drive in further to find a pub or a roadhouse but everything seems to be closed. Ahead is some flashing lights. Yeah! It's a pizza joint. Weary and tired we all stumble out of the car and head in. Something doesn't feel quite right. People don't look quite right. It's a thirty five minute wait. No, we are out of here. Laughing we all run to the car and pile in as fast as we can. The fog is rolling in and it is just very eerie. We had just pulled into Bordertown. The same town we later found out were the people were found in the barrels.

Back on the highway tired and hungry, next town we promise the kids, next town we will eat. Pulling into the next town we see a roadhouse up in the distance, full of trucks. Good bet it has good food. Tintintara. We pull up to some massive road train trucks. Quite magnificent with all their flashing lights. What wonderful home cooked meals.

On the road again we are heading to Tailem Bend where we have booked a motel room for the night. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, motel rooms I have seen in towns so far look like something out of a horror movie. Foggy eyed and dead tired we pull up at the motel. Yep it looks like a horror movie scene. To tired to care but not to tired to notice no-one else's car is in the car park...We pile out of the car dragging donas and carrying tooth brushes. One room, two single beds, one double bed and a t.v. No time to care just want to sleep.

The sun is up and we are back on the road. No looking back, no sleep and craving a coffee, keeping in mind the kids have bounced out of bed looking forward to the next leg of our journey my needs are irrelevant. As the roads wind and curve we almost melt into them becoming one with the country side. It's so hard not to loose your breathe at the most amazing vibrant green grass and full lush gum trees and palm trees. We are living in a lucky country. More photos are taken from inside the car capturing the winding road leading us into the mountains ahead. Every curve and bend in the road excites us with it's generosity of shear beauty.

A welcome sign and two distinct bridges, one old and wooden and one large and representative of the Bolte bridge in Melbourne. We had arrived in Murray Bridge, a large bustling town, mums doing school runs and shops opening for the days trading. Mac Donald's breakfast and coffee, feeling much better now.

The sign says 70 km to Adelaide, the sky is blue and the clouds are missing, I can feel the warmth of the sun on my legs as I drive out of town and back onto the A1/M1 highway. Twenty minutes along the highway and the weather has changed, it is getting darker and the sky is covered in grey clouds. We are not far from the Adelaide hills. The speed limit is 100, so hard to stick to the limit through the winding hills. As I glance at the speedo it says 118...On either side of the highway there are dense hills of pine trees, the road has been cut deeply into the hills exposing sandstone rocks. The fog is rolling in thick I can almost feel it hitting the wind screen as I slow to go down the winding hill and through the tunnel. As we emerge from the tunnel the sign tells us we are in Adelaide, our journey has another two hours ahead of us from here as our destination is Moonta Bay. No stopping, we keep driving.

Just outside Adelaide the scenery has changed again. The A1 highway looks almost desert like with small scrubbery bushes and yellow sandy soil. The sky's are blue again and the sun is comforting and warm. There is the most ironic sculptures on the side of the highway, absolutely in the middle of no where. We pull over and I slide under a barbed wire fence and jump over some holes that look like old mine shafts half covered in. I am right up close to this sculpture, it is overwelmimg large. My heart is beating hard as I look back and see how far away I am from the car. I lie down on the hard cracked red sandy soil and take some photos of this unusual piece. Done. I race back to the car as fast as I can completely freaked out not looking back. About a hundred metres up the highway is another one. I couldn't resist...

As we crawl into Moonta Bay we commented on how much it looked like the country town from Jaws with over sized antenna's in every houses backyard. It is very much a sleepy town by the ocean, much like a holiday destination for summer lovers.The houses are all made out of sandstone reflecting a federation era with lots of iron lace work on their verandas. One local footy oval is a bustle with the local Saturday morning juniors game. On a small court close by the junior girls are having a game of netball.

We have arrived at our destination safe and sound.  As planned we participate in the festivities of a 40th birthday party.

Next morning at 11am we pile back into the car and head for home. We estimate we will be home by 11pm that night. We leave behind weather of a beautiful spring day.

The trip back to Melbourne seems to take no time at all. On the other side of Adelaide hills I take the wheel. Relaxed and cruising the highway at a speed limit of 100kms it is easy to feel like you are the only person on the road and speed. To the left hidden amongst the gum trees is a police car. As I have seen it I looked at my speedo and  at 117kms I was in trouble. Heart pounding I had a quick wake up call. I got lucky this time he must have been preoccupied with paper work because there was no sight of him in my rear view mirror.

Horsham RSL was our only stop, hungry tired and weary we ate dinner here before we set off for our last part of our road trip home. I sat at the back of a large road train truck sucked up by it's power I let it guide the car through the night. We could here the heavy breathing of the kids in the back seat, they were sound asleep. I took photos of the highway heading home. It looked just as beautiful of the night as it did during the day. When we reached the top of the mountains in Bacchus Marsh we could see the sea of lights of Melbourne and Melbourne's city.

11pm we pulled up in our driveway we all sleepily stumbled out of the car and drifted through the front door and into bed. This road trip was an amazing experience for each of us. Each of us has learnt and grown this weekend in our own  special and personal way.

My son at the Truck stop admiring the oversizes Road Trains.

The highway before us from the passenger side of the car.