Urban nature photography

I love this...

Namibia, day 1

On our first day in Namibia we rented a truck in Windhoek and drove about 2 hours southwest from the capital to a small lodge to spend our first night before venturing further afield for the rest of out 10 day road trip. Beautiful drive. Incredibly hot, unbelievably dry. So dry you actually don't sweat--any moisture evaporates instantly. In fact by the end of the first day I had a pounding headache from dehydration. The rest of the trip we drank around 3 liters or more each per day.

After four years in London, I guess I've come to take water for granted. If anything, the English climate has turned water, in my imagination, into an ever present, gloomy, drizzly weight that must be endured for endless stretches with a scowl and an upturned collar. A roadblock to wearing my new high heeled turquoise suede ankle boots. A compelling excuse to skip morning runs and therefore a contributing factor to my body's modest but nonetheless alarming new tendency toward muffin top in the absence of regular cardio. All of these unpleasant things, rather than the precious stuff of life it is most everywhere else.

So it was humbling to notice, when we stopped our truck so I could hop out and open a wooden gate to allow our vehicle to drive into the lodge on a dusty, heat emitting road, a swarm of tiny purple butterflies coating a patch on the ground. Why? Because upon closer inspection, I realized they had gathered to lick a faintly moist patch in the sand, most likely deposited by a leaky vehicle that had stopped previously in this same spot to open the gate.

A hundred tiny creatures, whipping their little tongues at the dampness. This was life or death for them. I immediately poured half of my water bottle onto the ground, hoping to give them a party.

Most of them scattered as soon as I approached and started taking pictures...only a handful of brave (or extra thirsty) ones stayed behind. Click to enlarge...notice the little guy coming in for a landing to the right in photo four below.

I am not an otter

In the same way that it's said Eskimos have 52 words for snow, the BBC online weather forecast seems to have about 500 different depictions of the sublte variations in the constant rain expected this week.



Summer is not here yet. Yesterday I wore my Barbour jacket (purchased in Chicago in winter to keep out the wind!) and a wool scarf. And I was still a bit chilly. Scott suggested we pretend it was October and then it would seen unseasonably warm.

I found a curious snippet in the Times Sunday magazine last weekend that sums up all that is wrong with this country:

THINK YOURSELF SUNNY
By Edwina Ings-Chambers

Hurrah, it’s the summer (almost). Except, hold on, this is Britain, so it’s almost guaranteed that rain will stop play. So, how can we keep thinking sunny?

- Reframe your thinking. “Focus on season indicators that aren’t about the weather,” says the cognitive behavioural therapist Rhena Branch. “New growth, flowers, window boxes, the smell of barbecues and all those other things that say it’s summer.

- Don’t be a perfectionist. “The British are famous for their intrepid spirit,” says the life coach Nina Grunfeld. “You can still head to the beach, even if there’s just a glint of sunshine, but take a cardigan.”

- ”If it does rain, try to imagine you’re a creature that loves rain, like an otter,” says Grunfeld. “Ask yourself how an otter would enjoy the rain, and see how you can bring those sorts of feelings into yourself by, say, putting on waterproofs and venturing out.”

Edwina, I don't mean to piss on your parade, but I AM NOT AN OTTER. Neither are you. Perhaps you are suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. A nation shouldn't have to tap the depths of its intrepid spirit to head on a picnic. WWII ended in 1945.

Signs of Spring part iii

Walking in Bermondsey today, which is not a place you expect to see green things, I spied a pair of magpies in a tree (the only tree on the street) building a nest. They had a mass of twigs of similar lengths & widths and were in the process of weaving them into a secure nest with their beaks. One would jump back every so often, onto an adjacent branch, as if to size up their progress. Amazing to watch!

Curious about what I saw, did a bit of Googling and came up with some interesting info. According to various bird sites I consulted:

"Both birds build the large nest, which can take several weeks to complete, from small branches and twigs, and line it with mud and vegetation. The nest is usually in a large tree (but sometimes in pylons) and domed to prevent predation by other crows, but some birds do not bother."

Also in the spring, "large numbers of Magpies often gather to resolve territorial conflicts and social standing. These gatherings are called parliaments."

On a related note, "breeding magpies hold a territory of about five hectares (12 acres) all year round. Because nest sites are limited, between 25% and 60% of magpies in an area do not breed."

So not only were these two quite skilled builders, they belong to a small breeding subset amongst celibate peers.

Six Nations Rugby: England v. Italy

Yesterday our friends Caroline & Andy invited us to see England trounce Italy in the first match of the Six Nations Rugby championship, a much anticipated annual tournament between England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France and Italy.

The stadium is in Twickenham, a smallish London suburb/village with NO parking and very narrow roads. So spectators get as close as they can via a variety of public transport, and then walk for ages in the cold toward the stadium. Enterprising locals set up sausage stands on their front lawns and rent out their driveways to those brave/stupid enough to drive to the match.



















And you can purchase flags and scarves to show your support for England all along the walk.

























Unless you are fans from Italy and brought assenine fan gear from home.



In any event, there were LOADS of people.





What better way to kick off a rugby match than with Special Forces being lowered on a giant flag of Engand from the roof of the stadium? (It was a lot more hardcore than my photo conveys).


And there was also God Save the Queen:



It didn't take England very long to score. And so the crowd was happy.






















I'm confused as to why England fans sing a traditional American spiritual to root on their team, and even more confused as to how they all manage to sing in unison from the first note.



In truth, it was not the most exciting game given how dominant England was. There was a solitary Italian fan near us wrapped in his country's flag. I wouldn't have guessed it was possible to look so stoic while wearing a blue clown wig.

But it's always great fun to see rugby anyhow. We purchased little radios that allow you to listen to the action on the field via a small mic worn by the referee (the feed from which is otherwise not broadcast). It's great for better understanding what's happening and also hear what the players are saying to one another. (It's not like American football where the refs will explain penalties to the crowd. )

























Then, after being dominated most of the match and losing what seemed like half its team to injuries, Italy (in blue) finally scored:



But it was too little too late, and in the end England won handily.













After the game we retired to the Sun Inn, a rugby-themed pub in Richmond (along with a lot of other fans).

The crowd was jovial but it'd been a long day so we headed home while the evening was still on a, um, high note:

Mobile images, con'td

Continuing on my quest to document London via mobile phone, I took these images of the Thames late last night on my way home from work (it's been a long week).

I was so tired, having spent my evening at the office. Eyes sore and dry from the computer monitor, brain weary from thinking and writing.

It was so cold. One of those clear, quiet, bitter evenings where everything seems unbearably harsh, yet somehow twinkling and pretty, with your eyes tearing from the cold.

All the more reason to stop and appreciate my surroundings. I stood on the bridge snapping away at what seemed most beautiful to me at the time, in this instance the harsh almost metalic feel of lights reflected on water.

Snow Day

The whole city is taking a snow day. I had a walk around the neighborhood this morning with my camera...

(click on album for larger size photos, then select slideshow)

York Hall

Scott and I went to the fights on Friday night at the historic York Hall Leisure Centre in Bethnal Green. Awesome venue and atmosphere.





The main event was the British welterweight title fight: Kell Brooks vs. Stuart Elwell.

The Telegraph summarizes it better than I could:

"Elwell looked out of his league, the 31-year-old felled by a jabbing hook 30 seconds into the fight, then punished again with a straight right. Before the first round was over, he was down again, this time by a left cross, and was given a standing count by referee Marcus McDonnell. Elwell ended the round looking very shaky indeed.

When Brook wobbled the legs of his opponent again in the second with a left, right, left, as Brook picked his shots, referee McDonnell had seen enough. It was the right decision. Elwell was in no position to continue."

Here's a very poor quality video from my mobile phone. You can't really see much, but if you turn up your speaker you can hear a very loud, very drunk spectator shouting advice to the boxers (something useful, along the lines of "fucking come on!"). Helps you get a feel for York Hall.




Brook was amazing to watch. Swift, powerful, focused, yet totally serene. Tough, both mentally and physically. Which is why I suppose was surprised/amused to hear his voice in the post fight interview:

Early Sunday morning

Some snaps from over the weekend in an around our neighborhood. I love living a block from the Thames.

Mobile images

I've been so busy with work, life, travel, everything these days that I've sadly had little time for creative pursuits. In desperation, I've begun snapping a great volume of pictures with my mobile phone, usually while commuting or running errands, anything to feel a bit more creative. My mobile camera is quite poor, which is fun because it makes taking interesting images all the more challenging.

I remember reading an interview with a Cuban filmmaker who was asked whether his country's limited resources prevented him from realising his vision for a particular movie. To the contrary, he said the constraints forced him to be even more creative. Not that my little mobile images are on par with Cuban cinema, but you get the idea.

(Click images to see them full sized)

Self portrait, Southbank, London

Parking ramp, Kingston-upon-Thames

Detail of sculpture, British Museum






















Saturday night boxing at York Hall Leisure Centre, Bethnal Green




















Southwark Tube station
























Car wash, West Kensington























Foggy morning on the Thames, as seen crossing Kew Bridge




















Phone booths, Turnam Green






















Rainy evening, Oxford Street























Scott at Prince of Wales, Esher





















'Reflection', Antony Gormley sculpture, Euston Street





















Rising moon and solitary porch light, Kew Green























Escalator, Oxford Circus Tube station





















Scott in reflection, morning commute on #391 bus






















Self portrait, upper deck of #65 bus, rain






















Self portrait, morning commute, #391 bus
























Waiting for my ride, lonely road, Esher railway station



















Evening commute, rain






















Wintery platform, Hammersmith Tube station
























Elderly man's reflection, upper deck, #267 bus