This gallery contains 7 photos.
Chris knew i wanted to take some photos of Bluebells in a wooded situation and while my back was turned researched where we were to go for this weeks wanderings. He chose Bluebell Cottage circular walk and RHS registered Bluebell cottage garden and nursery situated in the Weaver Valley, Cheshire. Its a bit of a trek […]
Thanks Chris Jordan for this emotive look at what the human population is doing to Gods creatures, it is a very moving film.
Thanks DPS, light painting with photoshop, when will i find time to have a go at this? Soon i hope, looks really exciting!
Thanks DPS for ANOTHER technique to use
I don't mean the song by The Who, though it is a very good later days Who song. I really mean 'Who are you?' How would you describe yourself in as few words as possible? How might you be described after you'd died?
I'd been thinking about this matter of self-definition for two reasons, one deep and the other not so.
I have been reading some posts by photographers who are really into the idea that their images are pure and pristine because they take great pains to get all the settings right in the camera so they do little or no post processing. They harken back to the days of film when post processing in a wet darkroom was a long and time consuming process and you really needed to get it right on the film.
Two experiences of two friends suggested yesterday's meanderings. First, when walking by the River Mersey with Greg the other week, I'd pointed at a bit of the Wirral coastline opposite and said 'Where's that?' 'Rock Ferry' was the answer. I'd never been there.
Then our friend, beekeeper Andrew Hubbard, went there for a day out on sunny Bank Holiday Monday and told us about a wonderful pub.
When I was a young boy, I was always tripping. Didn't matter what I was walking on or what kind of shoes I had on, or no shoes. If I walked more than ten steps, I was going to trip. I had bruised knees, torn jeans (my wise old grandmother despised torn jeans), bloody elbows and hands....
My youngest uncle (still living at home and going to college) used to blame my tripping on my feet....