FIRST OFF, ‘CHALLENGE’ IS
fun! Second, I can see why it’s a challenge. Third, it’s something I needed—was getting rusty, now I’m seeing everything in black and white (B&W) and in varying degrees of fuzzy. Dammit. However …
WOULD YOU BELIEVE
that not only can the technological generation gap strike like a herd of slithering snakes, so too can a selective mind. A mind that selects—entirely of its own volition—what it wants to retain. What my mind deems important isn’t always (face it, isn’t often) what I deem important. Like how to drive a well-loved camera for example.
MY DIMINUTIVE POCKET CANON
doesn’t seem to do B&W so for my earlier attempts I shot in colour and fed the images through iPhoto’s B&W changers. For this post I fished out my beloved and well bashed old Olympus. I remembered that it does B&W, Sepia, and variations of blackboards and stuff. Boom boom~!
To not digress, today Spouse wanted to go to Windsor to help take her mind off yesterday’s dentistry. Moi too, I like Windsor—different places, different textures. Full ahead all engines …
WHEN WE GOT THERE
and went our different ways I discovered to my horror that I couldn’t remember how to make my Olympus do black and white. No way. Nothing. In vain I parked the ol’ bott on a bench seat in the main street and (as far as any of the natives were concerned) spent a good fifteen minutes or more apparently photographing my foot.
Okaaay … the Olympus has a choice for sighting your shots; a wee screen a la most modern digitals or an electronic ‘conventional’ viewfinder (in itself a mini TV complete with eyepiece). I hate the screen. I detest it with a deep vibrant loathing, but I do love and adore the viewfinder—it’s not just a nostalgia thing that takes me back to real cameras and the days of film (anyone here remember film?) it serves important psychological functions too. It removes a lot of distractions when snapping and it isolates me from reality whilst paradoxically making me more intimate with it.
So I held the camera to my eye and called up the menus. I view-findered my way through every single one of those rotten menus. The entire human circulatory and nervous systems together have fewer courses and pathways. I wandered them all, to the very terminations—some of them twice. In sheer desperation I even photographed my foot in case anyone asked me if I were photographing my foot. No-one did. They never do when you’re ready for them … then I bimbled off to find The Spouse, who in coming up astern found me first (foul, Ref!).
IN THE COURSE OF EXPLAINING
my frustrations to an ever sympathetic Spouse I hauled out the camera and set it to screen so I could share (okay, inflict) them—which I demonstrated by going straight to black and white. Even the blasted display went B&W. Right under my disbelieving thumb.
THE WEE WITCH MADE ME DO IT AGAIN
and again. And again, just to drive home whatever it was that I’d done this time that I didn’t done last times phlubba da phlubba da phlub—
—and then once more for luck, shutting down and booting up from cold. Only then did she get off my foot and let me go. Dammit, she doesn’t have to emulate my instructional techniques; but it worked.
I’M NOW IN SB’s
and when I’ve finished this coffee (SFX: insert photographing own coffee noises here, please) I’m back off outside to see if I can find another texture to shoot in ‘pure’ black and white. And next time I’ll take Ishaiya’s advice and dabble with contrast and stuff—hell, this challenge and other folks’ advice/photos are as good as a course (free, too~!) — even if you do forget how your blasted camera works.
An opaqued window in a church I was passing, I had to kneel down on the grass outside and shoot upwards to get the effect I was after. I could imagine the locals nudging each other and saying “Dumb tourist—he’s meant to kneel down inside the church!”
This was set into the footpath. There’s a hint of the ancient Roman about it, but nothing so exciting—it’s actually a cast-iron cover atop a surveyor’s mark. Lovely shade of rust …
Some say there’s nothing so boring as watching paint dry. For myself, I actually find dried paint quite exciting.
Give up? It could almost be an amorphous schlogg of foam in the surf—in fact it’s that previously mentioned shot of a half guzzled coffee. Black and white does the rich foamy coffee-creamy textures no favours at all, not that they lasted very long: sic transit gloria mundi and all that.
I promised a shot of the glass chunks melded into the tarmac footpaths. Here ’tis. The glass is made completely safe by the process but for whatever reason I’ve never been able to photograph it. That brighter chunk in the middle was catching the light but the effect was lost entirely by the shooting. Bummer …
I know … you’re going to ping me, right? The theme is texture, not pattern, right? True — but this (the reflective part of a ‘witch’s hat’ temporary road marker) has a multitude of textures; go ahead, count ’em. And the weird looks I got from passing pedestrians made it even more worth while.
I WAS THINKING
that if I could suggest a theme for a ‘photo challenge of the week’ I’d suggest ‘A Dozen‘. What you do with your dozen would of course be entirely up to you …