A day in the life: Pt.6


11:35:27am. St Kilda Beach.
Actually not much to write about this one… I liked the way they seemed to be falling out of the darker cloud to the lighter clouds below, and the way they were gently spiralling. From a distance, it looked a peaceful, serene way to travel. Up close, I suspect this was not the case…



A day in the life: Pt.5


11:29:10am. St Kilda Pier.
When I first arrived in Melbourne two and a half years ago, having lived the majority of my life in Tasmania, I used to wander the streets of the city craning my neck and looking up – at the variety of buildings, the layers upon layers of steel, glass, tin, tiles, and bricks. It was a different visual language to the one I’d grown accustomed to; in Tasmania it was all about sky – vast, bright, and all around, making me feel so amazingly small in the scheme of things.

As I made my way out of the city, continuing my day of wanderings (both physical and intellectual), I was struck by this contrast. And now, I don’t spend so much time looking up in the city, but am completely struck silent whenever I’m back in the presence of so much vertical space. This spot gave me a sense of bringing those worlds together, acknowledging the space, whatever might be in it…

And isn’t it interesting, how the simple act of observation and attention can lead to a space of such quiet contemplation? Who needs meditation when you have a camera, one lens, and twenty spaces left on your memory card?



A day in the life: Pt.4


10:38:54am. Little Bourke Street.
I wandered (lonely as a cloud?) away from Fed Square along Swanston Street, then heading through the Mall, then up through Emporium, and then out onto Little Bourke Street. I’ve had a bit of success with street photos here in the past, and given that I was almost half-way through the time of day where sun was still available as a light source, I was looking for a few ‘easy’ frames to help keep things moving. This time, nothing much caught my eye. I almost took about three photos, but in the context of only 24 frames, they just didn’t seem to have enough there. But enough of what? Intrigue? Drama?

No, it was story. They didn’t have enough story. They didn’t reward you for looking into the frame, imagining what it was like to be there, to see this, to imagine what happened next. I kept meandering through such ideas as I walked, and just before leaving the area, I glanced down into this alleyway, not really expecting much.

Looking at the frame now, I’m not sure how much I consciously worked through in determining that this was worth taking… now, I see the sight line of the wolf, the angle of the dress almost mirroring the hand, the silhouette positioned with the only lightness in the frame just behind, even the bins leading my eye straight to the person. Then, I just saw enough to know there was a story waiting to be told.

Maybe that’s something of my craft as a photographer – to see, in that instant, the story waiting to be shared?