In Sydney’s Pitt St mall, a woman sits in a pool of listening.
Tag: Olympus OM-D E-M5 MkII
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There was a man in Sydney’s Hyde Park, playing an instrument that makes the fountain work.
Well, that’s what I like to think anyway.
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A return to some studio work I did a few weeks ago. I love being in the studio – working with lights and light modifiers. It doesn’t matter what the subject of the shoot is, it’s the creative process of getting the light right .. actually, I don’t know if I can explain it in words. I think I might have to let my images speak for themselves.
This is Rel, one of the models supplied on the day. This shot is ‘fashion’ as opposed to portrait, or editorial, or glamour, or beauty. Who knew there were so many styles of photography?
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Staying with the Sydney theme for another day … although, really, this image could have come from anywhere. All over the world people rage against injustice, and express their rage in different ways. And some photograph the man who covers himself in a sign, while others photograph the photographer.
What this image doesn’t show is busker Joe Moore, playing in the Pitt St mall … the music this man was joyfully dancing to. The dancing man signifies balance to me – the injustice he’s railing against hasn’t dampened his spirit – he can still dance with enthusiastic abandon while sending passers-by a message.
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One of the entrances to St James Station in Sydney, possibly not much changed from when my parents started dating over 60 years ago (they met on a blind date at Museum Station). Being on the platform is like stepping back in time – the old-style advertisements, the tiles so reminiscent of a time long gone, except in memory. And Chateau Tanunda Brandy? It’s been around since 1880 … a little longer than St James Station, and quite a bit longer than my mum and dad!
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In Sydney’s Blythe St, a hoarding around a building invites me into another world.
I like Sydney.
I like the parks in the centre of the city, and the gardens at the edges.
I like the expanse of the harbour, and the ferries dotted across it.
I like the iconic buildings and structures, and the mix of old and new – sandstone rubbing shoulders with and being dwarfed by glass and steel.
I like the spaces to sit and eat lunch outside with colleagues or on your own, the breadth of Martin Place.
And I like that Martin Place always brings to mind Les Murray’s An absolutely ordinary rainbow.
It too invites me into another world.
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Grace #4 … beautiful in black and white. This was supposed to be a fashion shoot, but I can never pass up an opportunity for a portrait shot!
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Grace #3 … have I mentioned that I love shooting in a studio?
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I attended a photography workshop on the weekend – a ‘build your portfolio’ workshop. There were models and sets and lights and action. It was fabulous. I felt that I’d found my new home!
Over the next week I’m going to feature some of the (many) images I captured from the weekend. The first image is of Grace …
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I haven’t taught pre-service teachers for what seems like a long time … and out of the blue, a former colleague rings and asks if I want to teach a unit on engagement! Yay. The next week I start teaching. One student writes in his introduction: ‘Sharon, you were the most respected and most feared lecturer we had. It is poetically fitting that you are teaching me in my final year, as you also taught me in my first year.’
I had recognised this student’s name as soon as I saw it. As all teachers know, some students make an immediate impression on you. When the students are young, it’s often the students who challenge you the most that make the most impression – those students who don’t sit still, who don’t comply quickly, who ask lots of (what appear to be irrelevant) questions … the students school isn’t designed for. They remain with you for many years, and even ten years later you talk about them fondly (or with residual despair).
When the students are older the ones who make an impression are those who ask lots of questions, who bring a different perspective to class discussions, who don’t sit still in their thinking; the ones who develop tremendous resilience and now call themselves ‘teacher’ effortlessly, when initially that word reached their lips with great reluctance and unease.
A little over ten years ago I walked into the Week 1 tutorial and asked the students why they chose to study teaching. One student, a slightly chubby redhead, said that she’d wanted to be a paramedic. ‘Why didn’t you do that then?’ I asked, somewhat bluntly. Some weeks later I noticed she wasn’t in the lecture. The next week I ‘marched’ (according to her) her to my office to talk to her about the importance of regular attendance. (When you have potential, it’s a shame to waste it.) I taught her again in 3rd year, and then again in 4th year where her response to a literacy paper I had asked students to write was outstanding.
But even though students make an impression on you, at the time you’re teaching them, you don’t expect to end up lying on the grass under an umbrella listening to Ben Abraham and Archie Roach (as warm-up acts for Missy Higgins) on a hot summer’s afternoon in late January with them. Unless they’re Alison, the former slightly chubby redhead, who had come to stay for the weekend.
And then the next day, Alison asks me if I can take her photo.
Wouldn’t that be a great project … to return to all the memorable students I’ve taught and do a photography shoot with them! Who’s up for it?
Musings from the cold 