Sometimes, I ask my wife to take my picture. She is actually a good photographer, but she doesn’t like this enormous camera. Behind me, you can see the ocean off the Chita peninsula. Behind my wife, you can see my father-in-law having a nap.
I am very fond of this hat, which I bought many years ago on a hot day in Nagano. Hats don’t suit me at all, but I can just about carry this one off. You may not think so, but I don’t care.
part one – black and white
if cameras are hand luggage, you might as well use them
It was a beautiful sunny day so I decided to take my youngest boy on a bike ride to the library in the park nearby. On days with a ’9′, there is a street market, so we slowly negotiated the foot traffic. Ahead of us, I could see this couple working on their song and dance routine to an audience of ne’er do wells starting the day with an Ozeki One Cup. As we approached, we were noticed. Instructions were relayed to the singer by the dancer,
“English song, English song!”
He gathered himself and began singing a mournful song about the homeless, how they have been kicked out of Sasashima (a part of Nagoya near the train station which has been turned into a cinema and entertainment complex), how they are victimised for being poor and only wanted to work. My boy covered his face with his hands. When the song concluded, our hostess grabbed a ukelele and launched into a new song about the Ganges. Then a man gave us two satsumas, we thanked everyone for their hospitality and cycled on.
As far as I know, this couple are not actually homeless. This lady sells lottery tickets in a booth at Nagoya station and is quite well known as a Nagoya character. Not as well known as the middle-aged salaryman who sings in the street in a schoolgirls uniform, but that’s another story. If anyone can shed any light on this couple, or the song they sang for us, I’d love to know more.
Polaroid used to manufacture backs for the Mamiya RB67, which took their old type 80 peel-apart film – a film that bit the dust along with the rest of their line. I guess that explains why the old fella in the camera shop where I bought my beast chucked in a back for free… a kind gesture but ultimately a useless one. However, I had heard that there were other backs out there which were compatible with Fuji film. At time of writing they still produce a black and white instant at 3000 ASA and a colour one at 100. I’ve been scouting around for such a back for a while, but didn’t expect to stumble across one in Southampton on my recent trip to England. I always get my films processed at City Photographic while in the UK, a great independent shop staffed by people who still care about film photography and turn work around quickly, professionally and at a fair price.
When the Mamiya was the workhorse of the fashion industry, these backs initially were used in the studio to take test shots. As you can see, they don’t fill the frame but I think I can have a lot of fun with this new toy. Once you factor in the processing, each shot works out at about the same cost as 120 film.
I was lucky enough to visit the Brunei Gallery at SOAS in London and catch this group exhibition. I took a few pictures for my friend Junku, one of the featured artists.
A wonderful raggle taggle bookshop.
Part of the exhibition space. I don’t usually read in galleries because I like to make up my own stories. But these stories needed – need – to be read.
After viewing the photographs, you can walk out onto the veranda and sit in this garden, listening to the birds. We need to listen to the birds, sometimes.
It’s a pretty murky river, especially in February, and it doesn’t have the striking cityscape of skyscrapers found elsewhere. But a walk along the south bank (or even ‘South Bank’) is still a pleasant experience. London is a city I love.
Every time we visit the zoo, I feel slightly depressed. But then I forget and think it would be fun to go and look at animals with the kids, and we go again. The elephant enclosure (and it really is an enclosure) looks the same now as it does in photos from my wife’s childhood.
