If you’ve listened to selected shorts on PRI for awhile (http://www.wnyc.org/shows/shorts/), you’ve heard Roger Kellaway’s, “Come to the Meadow.” The music is lyrical, whimsical and evocative. I can see wildflowers and feel the wind in his composition. The music, for me, paints a spring song in the meadow, evergreen and blooming. Yet, when I found myself in The Meadows on a cold November morning, I was captivated by the patterns, shapes and lines of summer grasses, now glowing golden in the glorious morning light. Come to the meadow with me, on a glorious autumn morning. Bring Roger Kellaway, if you can. There are more seasons in the meadow than you might expect.
On the banks of a mountain stream, meadow grasses glow in the golden light of early morning.
Meadow grasses dip to drink from the mountain stream.
A small stream snakes through the golden meadow.
Shape, pattern, line and light emerge through a high-dynamic-range look into the meadow.
Bowing before the inevitability of winter, crested wheat grass form a congregation of followers praying for new life.
The Meadows glow in autumn’s golden morning light.
Waiting for wind, meadow weeds cling to seeds that will carry life to new meadows and pastures.
In the meadow, autumn wind and snow have not yet buried the seeds of spring growth.
Laden with the remnants of summer growth, autumn’s remnants glow with future promise.
Near the end of fall, the meadow grass, Common Teasel, is not so common.
Fall portends sleep and death, yet, in the meadow, among the teasel, there is hope for renewal.
Paradise is not so far away from meadow teasel in late autumn.
Crested wheat grass form patterns of light among a variety of meadow grasses.
Golden lights illuminates shapes and patterns in the meadow.
Crested wheat grass mixes with other meadow grasses.
On the banks of a meadow stream, fall leaves cover smooth stones.
Evergreen endures while deciduous trees prepare for winter.
Fall leaves cover the ground before winter snow buries the leaves.
They say Africa changes you. If you’ve been to Africa, spent time there, visited the people, you will understand. I’ve been to Africa four times. This was my first time in Lubumbashi. I was surprised. My own stereotypes were both reinforced and shattered. In Lubumbashi, a fragile peace hung over the city as oppressive as the heat and humidity, infusing a cultural angst almost as heavy . I was the outsider. I was different. The children called me “Muzungu”, white face, not a compliment. They smiled and laughed, not with me. My camera lens brought them running, surrounding me, dancing, playing and posing. In their eyes I saw joy, and innocence. The adults looked on, skeptical, questioning, challenging. Their eyes were reserved, hooded, holding back, keeping their stories from me. Many turned away. Some shouted insults. Those that did not were watching to see what I would do with their likeness. I took their pictures. I took them with me. I took them in, a part of me. I will not forget. In their African eyes I will never be the same.
These boys could not resist posing for the camera as we left their homes on the Lubumbashi River.
Shouldering many of the parenting responsibilities, a young girl carries her baby brother on her back.
Stylishly dressed in a green leopard print, this young girl has just one dress.
Her dress didn’t fit. The buttons were missing, but, she was still beautiful.
He’d just come out of the river, the mud still on his face. My camera drew him to me, with all his friends. The children called me Muzungu–white face.
When I showed him this picture, he laughed and laughed. So did his buddies.
When I tried to take her picture, she would hide her face and then laugh. When I showed her pictures of her friends, she opened up enough to let take this photo.
They were inseparable. She was delightful. He was protective.
Joyful–I couldn’t help but smile in her presence.
Who was I? Why was I there? I could feel the quiet challenge in his stare.
He wanted me to see his basketball jersey–the LA Lakers. I don’t think he knew anything about basketball, or the Lakers. The Jersey was purple, and it came from America. We had something in common. He was proud of that.
Some NGO dropped used clothing on the banks of the river. The children chose the brightest. Washing in the Lubumbashi river keeps those colors clean and vibrant.
Hurrying to see what the commotion surrounding us was all about, he came out of the river, still dripping.
The secret to such smooth, smooth skin could be found in the mud of Lubumbashi River.
After interviewing his nephew, I held up my camera and pointed toward him. He nodded and I took his picture. His eyes tell stories I’ll never hear.
A popular gathering place for Congolese, the town square has both political and artistic significance for residents of Lubumbashi.
Inconspicuously holding up the wall of his home, a shy young boy waits with his cat.
In one of the nicer homes in Lubumbashi, this kitchen features a few pots and a charcoal barbecue for cooking.
A tangible symbol of the province’s mining industry, Lubumbashi Mountain rises above the farms and villages surrounding the city.
Lubumbashi Mountain is made from the left over materials from the mines surrounding Lubumbashi.
With much practice and good posture, you too can learn to carry your worldly possessions on the top of your head.
It was hot in Lubumbashi, and humid. When the storm finally broke and the rain poured down, it turned the roads to mud.
Thatched roofs and termite mound bricks make up the main ingredients of huts in Bande Village.
The Village Elder gave us permission to take a picture, but, the women of the village, the mothers wouldn’t come out of their huts to be in the shot.
Women and children gather on the banks of the Lubumbashi river to do their laundry.
The Lubumbashi River is the local bathing, swimming and washing place, as well as the source of drinking water and sanitation removal.
Older sister and two brothers walk through their neighborhood.
Boys watch and wonder what we are doing with our really big cameras.
This boy was full of life and laughter, posing for our cameras.
This boy watched us carefully and curiously, not approaching, yet, not withdrawing.
Unemployment is high in Lubumbashi. Many young men simply can not find work.
From a distance, Alex looks interesting. The closer you get, the harder it is to see. It can be beautiful, in a flowering African Thorn Bush kind of way. The flowers are pretty–sort of. The thorns can do some real damage. Among the thorns in Alex, there is an energy, growing, changing. In spite of the harshness of conditions, there was a softness in the faces of people. Not all were willing to let me take their picture. Some approached with angry words. Others turned away or hid. But, for those who stood their ground or gave permission, I could see a light, hard light perhaps, in their eyes. The noon-day sun did not make for the best photographs. However, in the hard light of the noon-day sun, when I put on my sunglasses, I could see hope.
You can meet elderly fashionistas in the most unlikely places.
I wish I knew what they were thinking.
In Alex, as in many parts of the world, the children are resilient–joyful and resilient.
She let me take her picture. She said I could. But I felt a sadness in her cloudy eyes.
She stood her ground. Our worlds were alien, mine to hers and hers to mine. I could feel her questioning, challenging–who are you? What do you want? I had no tools to bridge the gulf between us. When I took her photo and she ran away.
His curiosity got the better of him as he peeked around the corner of a wall. I smiled and he smiled back.
This little baby modestly hides from the camera as his Mother gives him an outdoor bath.
In Alex, unemployment, drugs, gangs and violence are part of the landscape of daily life. Barbed wire is one small means of protecting the children.
When you live in the dirt and the dust fills the air, everyday is wash day in Alex.
When you have to haul your own water and boil your laundry, it takes creativity to stir your laundry.
Children and Mothers hold hands for guidance, protection and hope throughout the world.
Amidst the rubble of decay, a fresh coat of paint and a little tar for the roof go along way.
A woman selects delicious fresh fruit at the Alexendra Market.
He knew I wasn’t buying. He made no move to draw me in. The wooden frame kept me from approaching. Yet, his gaze was penetrating.
They seemed like bars, the wooden frames. To keep me out or hold him in, I did not know which was more damning.
Two boys were playing in the remains of old construction. When they saw my camera, they stopped and stared, uncertain. Go away, we’re playing. They didn’t say it, but I got the message.
A child can find pure joy amidst the most challenging of circumstances.
I showed him the picture I took. Harmless. On to the adventure.
As this woman crossed the bridge, I asked if I could take her picture. When I showed her the picture, she laughed and laughed. She couldn’t understand why I wanted her picture.
It takes skill, practice and great strength to balance the challenges of life in Alex.
A young man listens to his MP3 player from an elevated place in Alex.
Rarely enough, a snack may be be the only food for that day in Alex.
Dirt and rubble are the playground for this young princess.
Amidst the dirt on the ground and the dust in the air, laundry may dry in the sunshine but it won’t be clean.
As long as a child can smile, there is hope.
Mothers in Alex carry their babies, sometimes on their backs, sometimes in front, the weight of better times for future generations.
This little boy seems to know sorrow beyond his young age.
Red and green, blue and yellow, opposites and contrasts, the story of life in Alex for two sisters.
Official unemployment figures hover around 37%. In Alex, the real figures are much higher as many men have simply given up looking for a job.
A young mother carries her baby to and from the market in Alex.
With a cloth wrap, most women carry their babies on their backs. When the get too big, or it gets too hot, the loose the wrap.
This little boy plays in the dirt while his Mom sells fruit at a stand in the market.
To make a living, many women conduct entrepreneurial street trading enterprises, selling produce and other goods.
Two employed mechanics enjoy their idle time waiting for work.
The barren landscape of Alex Market is both playground and refuge for children of resourceful mothers.
In Alex market, children watch and wait as parents, mostly mothers buy and sell.
It was noon and the sun was directly overhead. Hot. And Humid. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The hard light cast hard shadows. Appropriate–in Alex, life is hard. One of the poorest urban areas in South Africa, Alexandra Township is part of Johannesburg and is home to nearly 200,000 souls. Many do not have running water, or proper sanitation. Many live in informal shacks made of corrugated metal or cinderblock brick. Unemployment is high. Drugs are rampant and gangs compete with law for control. When I entered Alex to take pictures, I stood out dramatically–white on black, with hard shadows. The harsh light was not what I would have chosen for good pictures. Nevertheless, the time of day was a metaphor for life in Alex–harsh and hard. In this post I wanted to show some of the conditions inside. Partial understanding comes through knowing. Tomorrow I’ll show their faces.
Alexandra Township, or Alex, is part of Johannesburg, South Africa, and is one of the poorest urban areas in the country.
Water is a scarce commodity in many parts of the world. Clean water is even more precious. In Alex, dirty water is plentiful.
Livestock co-exist with people among the trash of a struggling human population.
Goats will eat just about anything, including trash. In Alex, they have plenty to choose from.
Alexandra township is located on the banks of the Jukskei River.
Among the discards of a declining industrial population, art will still find expression.
Harsh light heightens the contrast of color as clothing dries in a heavy breeze.
In Alex, dirt, dust and heat are oppressive. Clean laundry is never really clean. But, it is always drying.
This building was abandoned. Now squatters take up residence as the building slowly decays.
Drying laundry reflects the inner life of this former tenement building, now the home to countless squatters.
In Alex, even newer buildings are breaking down.
A dominant feature of home construction in Alex, corrugated metal is used for roofs and walls.
Broken, or baking, bricks are plentiful in the neighborhoods of Alex.
In Alex, if your truck won’t run, it may still work for yard decoration.
Red dust coats everything in Alex, including the cars. However, in spite of the arrow, I could never find the actual location of the car wash.
No matter how much or how little one might possess, entertainment is no longer a want, but a need, as illustrated in this upscale home in Alex.
The Eternal City, Rome’s history spans more than 2,500 years. Founded in 753 BC., legend suggest that Romulus and Remus weren’t content to remain with the wolves, but instead founded the world’s oldest continually occupied city. When Romulus killed his brother Remus in a dispute over where the city should be, the Roman Empire was born.
I spent a day in Rome. We didn’t have a plan. We thought we didn’t need one. Everywhere you turn there is something ancient and interesting. With a church on nearly every corner, we lost track of which was which. We couldn’t go in them all. We couldn’t see them all. We could have spent weeks, months studying, learning, enjoying and capturing the beauty of this ancient city with a modern vibe. I will go back.
Designed to hold between 50,000 and 80,000 spectators, stadium builders still use the Colosseum as a pattern for modern venues.
Commissioned by Marcus Agrippa during the reign of Augustus as a temple to all the gods of Ancient Rome, the Catholic Church dedicated the Pantheon to St. Mary and the Martyrs in the 7th Century.
Representing the Emperor Septimus Severus’ victory in A.D. 203, this Arch still stands to welcome travelers to the glory of ancient Rome.
Legend claims that Peter was crucified upside down and Paul was imprisoned near the basilica just outside the Forum.
Ancient Rome and Catholicism coexist on top of one another.
Designed both to intimidate and illuminate, many Cathedrals in Rome provide stark contrasts between the light and the darkness.
Master works by artists such as Bernini and Michael Angelo can be found on the alter pieces of many Cathedrals throughout Rome.
Intricate stone angels and demons inspire visions of heaven and hell in many Cathedrals throughout Rome.
Intricate designs draw the eyes to heaven.
Massive stone pillars provide support near the grand entrance to St. Peter’s Square.
The height to the oculus and the diameter of the interior circle are the same, 43.3 meters.
Dedicated as a Catholic church in the 7th century, two kings of Italy are buried in the Pantheon; Vittorio Emanuele II and Umberto I.
Numerous shrines to the Virgin Mary can be found in the most unlikely places throughout Rome.
As the sun sets on the piazza, night walks begin. Historic sights in Rome are beautiful by day or night.
If my umbrella didn’t work, the naked Romans would intimidate me, too.
A wedding party was just gathering as we happened upon the Piazza del Campidoglio.
Intricate artwork crafted by the masters adorns the ceilings of nearly every Cathedral in Rome.
Intricate stone work and detailed artwork adorn buildings along the Via della Conciliazone, connecting Saint Peter’s Square to the Castel Sant’Angelo.
An Angel holds the golden crown of celestial glory above the Cathedral alter.
I had one day to shoot B-Roll in Rome. And, it was my birthday. My wife surprised me by flying to Rome and meeting me at my hotel. It was a great birthday present. I still had to film but we saw the sights of Rome together.
Rome has this interesting vibe of Ancient Rome overlaid with Catholic Religiosity. The people are friendly. The city is dirty. The food is good. And the places–unbelievable–almost as unbelievable as the legend of Romulus and Remus being raised by a She-wolf. Still, it is a good story–and, a great city.
The size and scale are nearly beyond belief. So are the lines to get in.
Sunlight casts shadows through the massive pillars near the entrance to St. Peter’s Square.
Heart of Rome and Capital of the ancient World, the Roman Forum represents the glory of a once great empire fallen to ruin.
Emperor Septimus Severus wanted the glory of his victories in battle over the Parthians in AD 203 to be remembered for all time.
In the shadows of a very old Catholic Cathedral, the ghosts of Christians past linger amidst the ruins of an ancient Roman prison.
The Piazza della Rotanda gets its name from the informal title of the Pantheon which is the church of Santa Maria Rotonda.
Nearly two-thousand years after it was built, the Pantheon dome is still the world’s largest unreinforced concrete dome.
One of the greatest achievements of Roman Engineering and Architecture, the Roman Colosseum is still the largest amphitheater in the world.
Completed in 1925, the National Monument to Victor Emmanuele pays tribute to the first king of a unified Italy.
Legend suggests that the chains housed in the central nave of Saint Peter in Chains church were actually used to bind the Apostle Peter when he was imprisoned in Jerusalem.
Designed by Bernini and created in 1692, the statue of Philip IV of Spain welcomes visitors to the Santa Maria Maggiore church.
Also known as the Mausoleum of Hadrian, the Castel Sant’Angelo was commissioned by the Emporeror Hadrian and was later used by the Popes as a fortress.
Statues on the bridge, Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II, look over the Tiber River as pedestrians, vehicles and boats pass by.
A restoration project underway, Trajan’s Forum reveals ancient secrets in the midst of a crowded contemporary neighborhood.
Late afternoon sun shines Heaven’s light throughout a Cathedral nave.
An Angel holds the golden crown of celestial glory above the Cathedral alter.
Residing in the Church of St. Peter in Chains, the Grim Reaper eventually visits us all.
It was my birthday. Anne surprised me by coming to Rome. We threw coins over our shoulders and kissed. We will return.
I think you could spend days inside. We rented an audio device with a recorded digital audio tour. Each room had a number. The number corresponded to the program on the audio device. It was interesting and fascinating. I felt compelled to move on after the short room history ended. I finished my tour of the Palace in an hour. I could have, and should have taken longer.
Arguably the most iconic symbol of Versailles, the Hall of Mirrors is dazzling.
Statuesque candelabra reflect and refract light throughout the Hall of Mirrors.
Stone busts witness the passage of time across the marble floors of Versailles.
Stone leaders reflect in the mirrors and pillars of former French greatness.
Natural light from French doors illuminates the stone guardians standing sentinel.
In the Hall of Battles, the busts of great French military leaders still stand at attention.
Elaborate ceiling design is part of every room in the Palace, none arguably more interesting than in the Hall of Battles.
In the Hall of Battles, paintings depict past great French battles.
From the Battle of Tolbiac in 496 to the Battle of Wagram in 1809, the main battles France has fought as well as the dynasties that ruled her are represented in the Hall of Battles.
Frozen in time, great French Generals fight on in the Hall of Battles.
A museum curator looks out a window across the palace courtyard.
Versailles palace is known for elaborate and striking design, the marble floors included.
Just inside the courtyard balcony, a bronze and crystal candelabra provides illumination.
French Kings gazed out this window.
Only time will tell when looking in a mirror.
Intricate gold leaf and ghostly faces watch you watch them.
Apocalyptic scenes playout on the ceiling of the Palace Chapel.
Whether or not Marie Antoinette actually said, “Let them eat cake,” is up for debate. What isn’t up for debate is the fact that the French Aristocracy of the 17th century had lost touch with the plight of the common folk. In 1682 King Louis XIV moved the center of political power in France from Paris to Versailles. His heir, Louis the XV and his heir, Louis the XVI, expanded the elaborate and exquisite palace in a decadent game of one-upmanship, each seeking to outdo the extravagance of the last. The Château, or Castle, or Palace of Versailles represented the system of absolute monarchy in the divine right of kingship.
The people had no bread. Yet the Kings inlaid gold throughout their palace and threw elaborately expensive balls. For this very reason, it may be possible to understand why, on October 6, 1789 the Royal Family was forced to leave Versailles for the Tuileries Palace in Paris as a result of the Women’s March on Versailles and the erupting revolution. Not long after, in spite of lofty ideals, the people’s French Revolution removed the heads of those who ignored the basic humanity of their subjects instead choosing art and architecture over liberty and life.
As I visited the marvelously decadent and brilliantly ostentatious palace, now a historical museum, I felt that traditional photographic images did not rise to the same level of ornate excess demanded by the creators of Versailles or by the palace itself. So, I look through the lens wishing it were canvas and brush, hoping that the images could transcend the common and rise, with the ghosts of Versailles, to the courts of Art.
The Palace of French Kings
Near the entrance to the Palace Grounds, a quaint provincial cottage guards the iron gates.
Used as a military hospital in World War I, this luxury hotel was my home for the short time I spent in Versailles.
Iron gates prevent unwary tourists from entering the garden maze and getting lost forever.
Symmetrically groomed lanes on the Palace grounds provide ample opportunity for gentle country strolls.
A gentle stroll for quiet contemplation or a challenging jog for peak conditioning, the Palace lanes of Versailles offer the perfect environment for physical or mental conditioning.
Fountains and gardens adorn the Palace grounds at Versailles.
Surrounded by dolphins and cupids, young Apollo slays the dragon.
From the dreams of Greek philosophers, statues and trees lead to the heart of French Culture, symbolic tree of life, the Château de Versailles.
Precisely pruned pillars point to heaven while standing guard on approach to Versailles.
An evergreen sentinel points toward heaven outside the Palace of Versailles.
Evergreen soldiers await the command to march on the Palace.
A Grecian Goddess of Versailles ironically holds the flame of freedom in her hand.
In the Palace Garden, the four seasons (three visible) are represented by Grecian like statues.
KIngs and Courtiers still bask in the lavish extravagance of the Château de Versailles.
Statue symbolizing one of the four rivers of France, the pool reflects sunlight up to the hall of mirrors.
Legends of the Greeks express the dreams of French Kings.
The Palace of Versailles from the rear.
Louis IV transformed his father’s hunting lodge into the seat of French government in 1682.
Begun as a hunting lodge by Louis XIII, the Central Courtyard grants entrance to one of the most lavish palaces in history.
Marble courtyard at the heart of the Palace of Versailles, grants entrance to the King’s private chambers.
Inlaid gold embroiders the exterior of the King’s bedroom on the Palace of Versailles.
It took three years to build the Pyramid Fountain near the Grand Palace of Versailles.
On the Palace grounds, the Grand Canal is 1,670 meters long and took eleven years to build, from 1668 to 1679.
People, places, things–I think I’ve pretty much covered it. This will be my last post from Paris–a collection of random stuff–shapes, lines, designs, stuff–much of it transportation related–since we were running, literally, around the city. The city of lights, the city of love, good food, great architecture, interesting people–Paris has it all. Some may wonder, then, why shoot this–stuff? Storytelling, for me, begins with the wide shot and gets more specific. I am fascinated by shapes, lines, interesting stuff. It is so easy to miss the interesting stuff. It is even more difficult to see the interesting stuff, in interesting ways. The story of my visit to Paris–a story I will never forget–and, one I hope to visit again–concludes with the specific, yet random–from my treasure box of stuff.
Notre Dame Cathedral is rich in sacred imagery carved with intricate detail.
Intricate carved stone detail above the entrance to the cathedral of Notre Dame.
Intricate design and inlaid gold accent gates at the Château du Louvre.
Intricate design and inlaid gold accent gates at the Château du Louvre.
Blue granite monuments, symbols of eternity, perfection and earth, near Paris monuments.
Red granite monuments, symbols of eternity, perfection and earth, near Paris monuments.
One of the friendliest gargoyles I’ve seen.
Aging cobblestones on an aging Paris street.
Stone Newels cast interesting shadows at the Château du Louvre.
Rusted chains, set in stone, convey a sense of decaying permanence.
Angels, even dusty ones, above your threshold must be a good thing–right?
Tie up your bike, or your boat.
Nice house, nice ride.
They’re everywhere–a great, green method of transportation.
Perhaps a place to chain your bike?
They’re everywhere.
My reflection in the cracked mirror of a Vespa.
In spite of the ubiquitous logo network, my cellphone reception in Paris was terrible.
Interesting designs and colors on the covering above our outdoor cafe stop.
Bright colors, garish perhaps, liven the underground realms of the Paris Metro.
Which line, which direction? This is how you find your way on the Paris Metro
Ropes and horn cleats on the docks of the River Seine.
On a bridge above the Seine, trash finds a home on the seldom seen and unnoticed river side of the wall.
Fall leaves adorn the streets of Paris in September.
So much to see, so little time. With so many sites, the challenge was to really see, to look for the commonplace and see the unique vibrance hidden beneath the rush. Judge for yourself. I was inadequate, overwhelmed, rushed. A feast before me, I had little time to decide of what to partake. Yet, I came away filled.
The Metro was our friend and we walked, and walked, and walked…and the sun went down.
A vintage rainy day in Paris.
Perhaps one of the most famous and most expensive streets in France.
Two boats pass at dusk, on the Seine River.
Stone steps make for good reading.
A woman strolls past the symbols of Parisian ethnic diversity.
On the way to Paris.
At last, we found it.
A rainy day outside the Château du Louvre
A window flower box fades in early fall weather.
A street performer serenades Parisian lovers with the accordion, long a symbol of Parisian music.
The Paris subway is convenient and economical.
A cool way to exit the Metro
The Paris Metro provides a convenient and economical way to see the sites.
Tourists mass outside the Cathedral of Notre Dame.
Inside the gothic Cathedral de Notre Dame.
Just in case you forget, Parisian clocks remind of lunch time.
One of the more populous citizens of Paris sits at court.
Paris has many sites to see and many benches upon which to see them.
Industrial greenhouse gases contribute to the odeur of Paris
The Eiffel Tower beams a welcome, across the bridge.
Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité
The City of Light, and liberty.
The Eiffel Tower beams a welcome, across the bridge.
View across the tarmak from terminal 2F-Charles de Gaulle is a beautiful airport.
They're Calling To Me 