is the only sincere form of flattery. It can also be a form of tuition, and it doesn’t cost a cent. So in the course of my exciting explorations in darkest Invercargill I kept happening across St Mary’s Basilica, which looks a lot like this—

Screen Shot 2014-04-01 at 20.36.28

—and is much more impressive than my simple snap suggests. But the sight triggered a philosophical frame of mood and I couldn’t help but try to capture the representations of modern technology and progress exemplified by cars and railways and electrical switchgear and controls and lighting and microwave towers and all that stuff; contrasting with the mediaeval mindset that designed the structure built to house the thoughts that slithered out of the desert some two millennia ago.


led me to try to use local materials and modern tools to reproduce one of the … THE … all-time great shots from the Second World War; thus—


—which if you haven’t sussed it yet will appear later on in the series. I was struck by the resemblance and similarities, but can’t spare the time to tweak. ‘Twas ever thus:  excelsior~! So enough of that old chestnut—


—it’s time for a new chestnut, a fresh perspective if you like. Here’s looking at you, Kid … shot outside whilst Spouse was inside confusing the snits out of our local medics, she does that when she’s feeling rash. They never spot it, though. It’s a wicked web we weave, they tell us, and flies zooming through the local holly pretty soon get the point—


—while I’m lost in admiration for the wee engineers who created these structures as mathematically precise and ordained as St Pauls itself but without the divine assistance. It takes an awesome amount of weaving to make one of these things—worth it though, judging by the ROI for the spider (ROI = Return On Investment). The above is only a portion of her haul.

So, on the Street and life therein: just one week out from the summer solstice in this oft-touted semi sub-tropical South Seas island paradise (ergo in theory at least ‘warm’, right?) I couldn’t resist this opportunistic shot of a wee street vendor purveying her wares—


—and doubtlessly wishing she’d never come this far south to do so. The cherry growing regions in NZ are a wee bit closer to the Equator—down here be for hardy types of idio  folks.


to stretch the ‘street’ into the country, and to dedicate a snap to Maria, here’s a wee gatey thing I snapped whilst out briskly walking along a country road recently. Sadly I didn’t catch the spiders so you’ll just have take my word for it:  they were there.

e fg and h


to all lingering questions: that WW2 phamous foto. It was of course Mason’s St Pauls in the Blitz shot, instantly recognisable from any head-on angle—

St P in the B
St P in the B

—and used by both sides at the same time in their propaganda war. The Germans got hold of it and used it to show how successful they were in burning London, and the Brits used it to show how staunch they were in the face of all the German efforts to burn ’em. I use it as inspiration although I’m not that keen as to sit up on the roof all night during a blasted blitz just for a good snap.

So without intending to flatter the photographer I do attempt to emulate some of his techniques and by so doing hope to learn and improve. We can do worse than sit at the feet of the Great Masters to imbibe their wisdoms.

AND shamelessly copy the little buggers …



(Images courtesy of various innocents, and Wikipedia for the Blitz snap)




  1. The conquering of conkers. Nothing like rehashing the old greats Argie, and that gate is marvellous. Though I’m pleased the spiders are less visible than my imagination implied.
    I do however, love your street-vendor-lady shot, very good capture. She looks a little fed up though.
    One of my favourite pastimes is shooting cathedrals and churches, particularly on the inside. Have you managed to do so with your St.Pauls doppelganger?

    1. Every time I try to enter a church I get struck by lightning. Pure coincidence of course but a shocking experience that could electrify the soul. (Don’t worry, I think I have it licked—I’ll trail a motor-vehicle earthing strap from my knee and so penetrate the defences. So long as I don’t blow a fuse I should be okay … )

      1. I remember when cars used to have those earthing straps. They always reminded me of a snake’s tongue (don’t know why particularly). But it seems quite apt given your electrifying predicament, serpents and churches n’all.
        I used to feel much the same about venturing into Christian establishments, actually any religious establishment (even going into the Buddhist temple when I was a Buddhist gave me the heebie-jeebies. Now you could argue that Buddhism isn’t strictly a religion – I know ol’Zandie Pants would, but they way they practise it in these parts it is). I digress. I suppose I learned to disassociate myself enough from the religious dogma to appreciate the fine works of art and architecture. I have a thing for Christ figures on crosses too, and went through a phase of snapping them, especially when I was walking the breadth of Spain. Very interesting experience indeed. My faves were the ones dating back to the Dark Ages, wonderful pieces of art.

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