Photography ... astronomy ... art ... design ... technology
(... and the odd rant)

All of these make my world go 'round, to some extent, and they will all be found here at some time or other. Some of the photography can be purchased from my Redbubble site. I can also be found at Tempus Fugit (no longer being updated).

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Click #2

A moment seized; a fleeting glimpse. Click.
Contemplation. Possibilities; subtle details, obscure even. Click.
Clearer now, focus sharper. New perspective; comes to life. Click.
Different light, shadows new. Chiaroscuro changes mood. Click.
Quiet thrill; a frisson. Tones, texture; composition gels. Click.
Now from here, lower. Detail isolated, highlighted. Click.
Turn a ring; focus narrows, draws the eye. Click.
Close in, tighter frame. Rule of thirds? Break it. Click.
Nailed it.


Friday, July 10, 2009


Brass, turning. Click.
Gut drawn tight. Click.
Rhythm punctuates silence. Click.
Drum moves relentlessly. Click.
Tooth meshed with tooth. Click.
Cast iron drops. Click.
Glint of sun on silver. Click.
Shadow sweeps downward. Click.
Motes settle on oak. Click.
Governor spins. Whirr.
Bell rings out. Ding.
And thrice more. Click.
What time is it, Grandad? Click.
Steady beat of time. Click.


Wednesday, July 8, 2009

A serene cacophony

Behind me, a fridge door repeatedly opens and closes, punctuating the clink of crockery and utensils. Quiet chatter and bustle.The urgent sound of milk being forced into action for a capuccino. And again. In the background (it's all background), the chatter and gossip of birdlife, the interlocutors hidden among shadowed paperbarks. They conspire occasionally to drown out the culinary commotion, then retreat into quiescence.

Midmorning traffic, intermittently trying to lay a post-industrial veneer over the placid scene, but not being entirely successful. The lagoon in front of me is receiving attention from a young man; he is corralling weeds on the surface with floats and net. Steadily, with unhurried pace, he skims the weed-strewn surface, until the unwanted flora is contained in a small enclosure one one bank. Carefully, intently, he draws it in to leave a clear surface once more. Finishes the task with rake and barrow.

A midmorning Virgin, headed south, momentarily disturbs the peace. It passes quickly, leaving its avian role models in charge once again.

The water surface, calm just moments ago, is now a frenzy of interwoven ripples, as myriad insects go about their routine. Busily, they skim and skate in an invisible free-form choreography betrayed only by the undulating boundary between open air and aquatic obscurity. The human chatter has now built to a modest hubbub, as the tables, once empty and quiet, fill with twos and threes seeking a morning break. Two toddlers, restless; mum stands watch - her attention divided between dancing insects and her diminutive dynamos - cajoling, controlling. The arrival of carrot cake and coffee seems to calm the little ones. Baby chocaccinos work their magic, and mum can relax. For now.