Graving

"Facing the Grave"

"Flowers and Cross"

I’m a “graver”, at least that’s what I’ve just discovered through Google. According to Shanna Riley at A Gravers Journal, this means I find cemeteries peaceful and serene, and am fond of reading and photographing headstones. What’s more, this is apparently a perfectly respectable hobby, and is an essential part of tracing family histories, whether your own or other people’s.

The Halls

Part of my fascination with cemeteries is our practice of creating monuments to deal with the passing of our loved ones — the architecture of headstones alone is an artform, one that is subject to trends and changes, just like any other creative endeavour.

But I also love the stories of individual lives that are hidden behind the names and dates.

For instance, given that she died aged 77 in 1993, we know that Stella Margaret Mary Hall was probably born in 1916. This means she saw everything from the Russian Revolution in 1917 to the first public access to the Internet in 1992. She was 14 before Pluto, the ninth planet, was discovered, and yet lived to see the first “test tube” baby born 1978.

Suitcases and Electric Jugs

Down Memory Lane is a cavernous antique, vintage and curios shop in Fyshwick, a strangely-named industrial area in Canberra. The prices are realistic and an afternoon of rummaging is akin to visiting a social history museum.

I’m a big fan of using old suitcases for storage, and can never walk past a stack of vintage magazines or a cabinet of costume jewellery.

Screened Portrait (Justin)

Seven years ago today, I went on a date with a young PhD student. He had black hair, grey eyes and a voice like smoke — I thought he was divine. We had lunch in the sun at a little place on the café strip in Leederville, Perth. Not that we ate anything … we were both too nervous, a state that lasted for the whole nine weeks and two days that we dated.

It wasn’t very long … you see, the PhD student was waiting for his final marks and planned to get a job on the other side of the country. And he didn’t want to take me as his girlfriend.

Instead, he wanted to take me as his wife.

We married six months to the day after that first, awkward date.

Were we crazy? Yes. Did we know what we were doing? Yes. I knew Justin was “the one” before he even asked me on that first date. And here we are all these years later.

You’ll be pleased to hear we’re not nervous around each other any more!

I'm not sure the above portrait is the best illustration for this romantic story. Justin looks less like a dream first date and more like a character from the sci-fi series V — the one where alien lizards disguise themselves as humans and take over the world!

Our Sunshine

I was up until 3am working on this — some pictures simply take a long time to “nut out”.

The whole process in general for making this image was overly complicated, which is something I’m very good at bringing on myself!

I started by using a torn cardboard mask to create an in-camera half-frame in my Holga, following Ed Wenn’s instructions at Toycamera.com.

Then I walked around Goomalling, a tiny wheatbelt town in Western Australia, where my parents have a house, looking for close-ups. The main street is a long, wide avenue, with a pub, ramshackle shops and industrial yards on one side and a railway and park full of relics from the pioneering days on the other. I also nipped out to the cemetery (I can never resist a wander through one) and the restored Slater Homestead, built in 1856.

A little planning and big dose of good luck resulted in a series of meaningful juxtapositions that will hopefully turn into six portraits of the town.

“Our Sunshine” contrasts a vintage Sunshine harvester with a statue of a “digger”, the nickname for an Australian soldier, to comment on our national pride in those who serve Australia in wars.

Single Sheep

Some people say sheep are silly. Not this one — it kept me on my toes for a good half hour before I could get close enough for a shot. Perhaps "sneaky" or even "skittish" are better descriptions. I was quite surprised when this well-framed shot came back from the lab as I gave into running and randomly shooting in the end!

Tantrum through the Tulips

This image shows why one should not take a child to a flower festival. In 2004, we went to Floriade with Justin’s cousin, Jo, and her two girls, Eden and Bronwyn.

And this was the result.

For those who prefer blooms to bust-ups, Floriade is the biggest flower festival in the southern hemisphere. For 30 days every September and October, there are three times more flowers in Commonwealth Park than residents in its host city, Canberra.

That’s one million flowers!

After Mondrian

I remember the furor over the cost of Australia’s new parliament house when it opened in 1988 — notably the extravagance of the 48 pillars and two staircases of Italian marble in the foyer.

Of course, the building is now an award-winning architectural icon, applauded for its sophistication and symbolic use of materials. Further, Italian-born Romaldo Giurgola — who co-created the winning design with Australian Richard Thorp in a 1980 competition — is now an Australian resident and lives within walking distance of his handiwork.

Piet Mondrian, Composition with Red, Yellow, Blue and Black

The sleek, symmetrical exterior of Parliament House is instantly recognisable — it towers, visible from all angles, over central Canberra, making it one of the city’s most photographed subjects. However, I prefer the foyer; grand yet minimal, it’s geometric shapes and simple colours remind me of a Piet Mondrian painting.

Geometry expressed truth for this modernist Dutch artist. Can the same be said for what goes in the home of Australian politics?

Artist Talk

From top to bottom: Poor Little Rich Girl; Junior Player; On the Shelf

It's official ... I promise these are the last mannequin photos I post for a very long time (the fact that I don't actually have any more helps). In fact, I've only shown you these because I'm giving an artist talk at Photoaccess at 2pm on Sunday. If you're anywhere near the corner of New South Wales Crescent and Manuka Circle, Manuka at that time, please feel free to drop in for a glass of champagne, a cupcake and a chat.

Otherwise, you're welcome to stay right where you are and read my catalogue or browse through the entire exhibition at Flickr.

I Spy: Nick Vlahadamis

Ragged frame edges and a blue-duotone make for a gorgeously moody architectural shot.

A test of the minox B using available light in the Queen Victoria Building, Sydney. “The results were pleasantly surprising,” Nick says.

From Nick’s series My Minox Newtown Essay, shot in the inner-city Sydney suburb of the same name using a 50-year-old Minox IIIs.

“I’m really an ordinary dad with a couple of young kids,” Nick Vlahadamis tells me in an email about his camera habits. That may be true, but Nick’s passion for Minox — the world’s most famous brand of spy cameras — is anything but mundane.

I met Nick through cameraFanplastic, my online shop, and we got talking about what is technically called subminiature photography; that is, cameras so tiny they fit in the palm of your hand. He was thinking about investing in a new film scanner, so I offered to test a few of his teeny (as in the size of your little fingernail) negatives on my gear. As you can see, the results are fantastic, so I thought I’d interview Nick for this blog.

But first, a little bit about Minox….

Walter Zapp, a German born in Russia and living in Estonia, dreamed up this portable and lightweight in 1932. While not as popular as the 35mm camera, it quickly became a niche favourite, first in the luxury “gadget” market, and second in the intelligence community, notably with US, British and German agencies, who used its easy concealed size and close focusing to copy documents.

In today’s world of digital imaging, Minox is alive, well and still in production. In fact, the cameras have a cult following and are adored by collectors. Part of the appeal is the styling — these cameras embody the best of modernist design.

“I love their brushed aluminum construction and miniscule size,” Nick says. “One look at any model and you just marvel at the unique craftsmanship. You just want to hold it, carry it and use it all the time.”

No wonder he owns seven of these beauties: three Minox Bs; three Minox Cs and a Minox IIIs (also called a Minox A). “There is nothing else like the Minox in photography,” he enthuses.

Like many photographers, Nick likes to have a camera on hand at all times. “I always carry the Minox IIIs in my pocket,” say says. “I can shoot anything that catches my eye and if I don’t use it, I just play with it in my hand, like worry beads. It’s so tactile.”

About the length of your average finger, James Bond fans will recognise this particular model from the 1969 film On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. A piece of trivia — star George Lazenby actually holds the camera upside-down!

While Mr Lazenby’s camera technique means he would have shot … well, nothing … Nick says Minox cameras generally are ideal for snapping ad hoc in busy streets. Surprisingly, he adds, “They’re lovely portrait shooters.” In fact, he often uses them to photograph his wife and two children.

Having said this, Nick is coy about his skills, although his images suggest otherwise. “I am really a novice, with a keen interest in something that was once ubiquitous, but is now so quirky,” he says.

The Butcher's Cow

I achieved an incredible feat when I recently visited printer Stephen Best in nearby Braidwood — I limited myself to packing a single camera. I also had just one hour on the day we left to take pictures, gallery hop and rummage through vintage shops. And this is what I came up with — I love the way colour links and balances what, at first glance, are two diverse subjects.

Urban Birds

In early 2007, I went through a phase of wandering the streets of Yass with my Olympus Pen EE-2, snapping scenes of mail boxes and front yards that took my fancy. Well, after a two years, my backlog of film is finally processed and I’ve unearthed some more, this time with a peculiar bird theme.

In “Bird House” (top), the beautifully hand-crafted feeder seems higher up and more impressive than the house itself. A vintage pot guards the house in “White Swan” (centre) — this scene evokes childhood memories of visiting old folks who were friends with my parents. In contrast, I’m a bit frightened of “Birds 4 Sale” (bottom) — the house looks derelict and the car seems almost dumped on the unkempt front lawn. Would you feel safe knocking on the door to enquire about the cockatiels and finches on offer?

Who Was Mary Farrell?

Who was Mary Farrell … and what was her life like before she was buried in the Boorowa cemetery?

This is where I enjoy playing the role of sleuth, like Hercule Poirot, one of my favourite fictional detectives.

Her name suggests she was an Irish Catholic — “Mary” is obviously a reference to the mother of Christ, while “Farrell” is a common Irish surname, which means “hero” and “man of courage”.

The words and pictures on Mary’s headstone support this. The three-leafed clovers also suggest Ireland, but not luck — otherwise there would be four — while the dove with the olive branch suggests peace, perhaps to “rest in peace” now that her life on Earth is over. Meanwhile, the epitaph “Of your charity pray for the soul of” was a popular Catholic inscription, which urged the living to intercede for the souls of the dead to speed their journey through Purgatory. This inscription, however, was most popular in the 100 years before Henry VIII split from the Catholic church in the 1530s. While no date of death appears in my photograph, the headstone style and Boorowa’s history suggests she died in the 1870s or 1880s — does this mean Mary was an old-fashioned girl?

What is certain is that Mary and/or her parents came to Australia in one of two ways: they were either convicts (possibly sent as political prisoners) or emigrated to escape the Potato Famine. Either way, she and her family would have been farm labourers, possibly working their way to owning their own farms or businesses. Of course, they were not alone — Boorowa is still known for its Irish heritage.

The amazing thing is what Mary would have worn while she worked the land and raised children: no stranger to the corset and bustle, her waist would have pinched in and her bottom padded out. If she couldn’t afford the real thing, she would have created imitations using petticoats and horse hair, both hidden below a tight blouse and floor-length skirt.

And to think people praise Ginger Rogers for “dancing backwards” in high heels!