Monday, December 7, 2009
DEMILITARIZED ZONE
I returned from Korea recently and made these two shots of the Demilitarized Zone(DMZ).
The first depicts a bunch of South Korean Soldiers approaching touristy binoculars which gaze across a misty valley towards a rather famished looking North Korean scene featuring an unbelievably tall flag pole.
The second depicts the binocular instrument.
Sadly the photography protocols at the DMZ prevented a shot of the valley and pole so we are resigned to a similarly lanky sentence.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
The Milnerton Market
Don't snigger, I know it's been a while in coming but the time is almost here.
Milnerton Market
Die Plek van Verligting
When my work on this book was drawing to a close, I handed a dummy of it to the committee that runs Milnerton Market and invited them to flesh out the images with their own captions. The most pertinent of these illuminated a bleak and unpopulated shot of the market pitch, shrouded in mist. In heavy pencil, the caption read: Die plek van verligting. The place of relief.
Milnerton Market lies parallel to the ocean on a slim shoulder of barren land, and it could just as well be a second high-water mark. At weekends, when the place wells up again into full activity, it seems as if yet another massive wave of jumble has risen from the sea and its dark channels, rushed up over the beach, jumped the railway tracks, and emptied itself in the market grounds.
Only a close and prolonged look has made me realise that for some people the market is just this: a border zone between a place of relative comfort, on the one hand, and a place of uncertainty, on the other.
Milnerton Market occupies reclaimed land near the beaches where the first white settlers in Southern Africa set foot. For many of the stall holders and micro-entrepreneurs, the strip’s activities are themselves a work of reclamation, an attempt to reclaim economic viability and sense of self.
An orange diesel locomotive shunts derisively up and down the tracks like a blunted and misdirected messenger carrying outdated news from a past when many of the privileged white marketeers worked for parastatals like South African Railways, now called Spoornet. Such patterns of redundancy are the watermark of this book.
The order of the photographs adheres only marginally to normal time inasmuch as the first photograph I took at the market a decade ago appears at the start of the book and the last photograph at the end. They are also arranged in a vaguely chronological order to suggest some of the changes that occurred over the last decade – changes at Milnerton Market, changes in my own “documentary” sensibility – as well as to nurture the sense of contingency which makes a market circuit so rewarding.
Inside those brackets formed by the first and last photographs are one character, two old ladies, and some repeating triplets, to give rhythm and guide the reader over the market’s footprint. Essentially, the order of the photographs tries to maintain an air of outward haphazardness.
At the time of the design conception, I was bored by the trend in South African photo books in which layouts privilege photography as part of a higher order. Here, photography should be taken as everyman’s pursuit and the book design seen as analogous to the market itself rather than an ode to a medium. I also don’t believe that “social documentary” photography needs to patronise the viewer by bludgeoning a message home. This book’s various bits and pieces are meant to hint at a kernel of information whose nature can vary according to each reader’s sensibility.
My guiding principle has been to try to forge an object that would appeal to any marketgoer. Like a cursory lap of the Milnerton Market, browsing the book’s contents could seem simple.
But I hope that, through your repeated scrutiny, patterns will emerge from the mess, and that when you finally discover the slow-burning ship’s lantern protruding from a dusty tarpaulin (or the silver Eveready torch with pert red ON/OFF button for next to the door in the garage), the glow it emits will last a while.
I had fun over the years at Milnerton; the cracked conversations, fellow guttersnipes, and list-makers I encountered, not to mention the fascinating accumulations of useless junk piled everywhere, have all left me addicted.
The market is like a languid eddy which expects nothing from the focused collector or unsuspecting coaster who gets taken in its current. It has a frankness which is attractive, and I’ll continue going there as long as I can.
One weekend, after Friday night’s waves have spread a new quilt of junk over the trestle tables, you might end up finding these stained pages there too.
The contributors to this book have been extremely generous, for which I am most grateful. I would like to thank Ivan Vladislavic in particular for his patience and advice.
This book is dedicated to my parents, Mike and Sue.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Strange and beautiful buildings in, and near, Liverpool
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
African Centre for Cities-UCT
The ACC at UCT employed me to illustrate Chapters in their new Journal called Counter Currents. This I did and these are some results.
I was invited to present my work at a conference run by the same Faculty and part of my general rationale was the urge to speak about a certain type of photography's ability to encapsulate the 'everyday and the epic'. This idea is not mine, but comes from a book which influenced me deeply called 'The Epic and the Everyday'. I found the book at a used bookstore recently and let out a small sound indicating delight...FnA!
Another speaker at the conference asked me if my argument was not a bit binary. Well of course it is, the implication being that the photos include what falls between the outer markers.
The 3 shots are from:
1. Mitchell's Plain-a poor area on the 'Cape Flats' where 'Colored' people stay
2. The border of 'Kosovo' in an area called Phillipi in the informal settlements
3. The 'Parade' in Cape Town's CBD
Monday, October 5, 2009
Cities in Crisis
A large volume has just been published which documents the colloquium that 'Cities in Crisis' was a part of.
Cities in Crisis is an exhibition which I co-curated with my fried, Professor Michael Godby, who is head of the Art History Department at the University of Cape Town. The show was exhibited at the FADA gallery in Johannesburg and is represented on the www at citiesincrisis.com
My two favourite shots are that of David Goldblatt and Guy Tillim which both collapse disparate spaces into coherent, readable space. Goldblatt's shot shows the remains of some kids' game called 'Onopoppi'. The remains are a floor-plan of a house which makes me think that 'poppi' means doll. Behind the floorplan of stones are some unfinished houses so this shot features a cartesian perspective in the foreground, and a more traditional elevations in the background. 10 points.
Guy Tillim's shot fucks with the brain by compositing the shadow of an invisible building behind a water reservoir. The resultant suggestion is a volumetric and spatial impossibility. 10 points.
Mine is the shot of a beachfront.
Go to the www to see the entire show please.
Books, bucher, boeke
Last week I stumbled upon a massive bookfair in London at the Whitechapel Gallery. I bought many books because I am obsessed with the format. Strangely, my favourite was this small yellow fellow which made me feel mellow.
Its called 'All the clothes of a Woman' and it's by Hans Peter Feldman. He is a latter- day list maker and collector. Apparently he owns a toy shop. The cover gives the contents away with inimitable accuracy.
Not two days ago in Johannesburg I found this orange chap which jumped out at me like a slap. It's a first English edition of Italo Calvino's Mr Palomar. It's really beautiful and often features the protagonist watching waves.
At times this reader feels that the act of watching the waves might be marginally more interesting that the description of Palomar watching the waves but, like the act of watching waves washing over eachother, Calvino always manages to bring the attention to attention.
I also Found a reprint of Juan Foncuberta's Fauna which is a fictional account of the travels and discoveries of a certain Dr. Ameisenhaufen. Presented like a botanist/explorer's diary the book charts the discovery of a wide variety of outlandish hybrid beasts. The good doctor even discovers an elephantine beast with a trunk which becomes luminious when the animal is distraughs-Elephas Fulgens. It's far out.
Here are some bad page shots. That's Ameisenhaufen noting 'a fact' in a small book, the lumo trunker and some other weirdos.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
MAERSK
MAERSK employed me some time back to travel to the Ports of W Africa to make a document of their activities. While cleansing my drives I chose these shots to compliment a earlier post called 'Take your Style'
These portraits are out-takes.
Laurent, the guy with the Ray bans, saved my bacon in a Cameroonian slum.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
bisyllabic
Often considered malformed by prescriptive language users I have decided to call the post... BISYLLABIC.
It has become clearer to me that a large part of my subconscious motivation for making photos stems from the actual name, or the name that springs to my mind, of the object in frame. A file called bisyllabic now sits in my 'b/w' folder and contains some of the following shots.
What mean?
1. b/w_diegang
2. b/w_foghorn
3. b/w_hifi
4. b/w_kalus
5. b/w_rattrap
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
You Leica?
Tools only interest me inasmuch as they do what they are supposed to without making a racket or breaking-unless they are speakers in which case they can exhibit the former trait.
This is my favourite tool.
Produced in the late 70s it's diminutive body meant that it cut into the larger machines' sales. It was hastily discontinued. I think the best lens for it is a 40 mm. This is what I have. All the small-format b/w shots on this blog are made on it.
Those two chickens are friends.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
The Leopard
When I was last in the mountains I spoke to Simon Madlala who tends to the thatched holiday house.
He told me that he had seen a leopard near the forest and that his plan was to trap the Leopard and sell the pelt to the local chief for a large sum of Rands.
On a day when he needed supplies I lifted Simon to the trade store. When we passed the place where he had spotted the leopard I tried to impress the logic of conservation onto Simon. I said that if he killed the rare leopard his son would never get to see such a beautiful animal. Simon stared forward through the windscreen and laughed a bit.
He dismounted from the Jeep at the trade store and soon afterwards I saw my father and told him the story.
'Dad, Simon has seen a leopard at the farm. He is keen to kill it and sell it to his Induna.'
My father smiled and said,
'Maybe the leopard will kill Simon'
My dad wears the tux and Simon carries a fire-fighting tool.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Cressida(the long dog), Frank Chong and a Guy Called Gerald
This is my dog Cressida and this is Frank Chong and his Toyota Cressida. Gerald and his Toyota Cressida also appear in this post.
I named my dog after the car which I believe represents South African motoring. My dog represents South African dogs. In Xhosa she is called 'itwina' which means something like a very typical hound of medium size. Cressida was bred by a hunting man to run down quarry. She goes like a fucking bullet from the barrel of an expensive sniper's rifle headed with ultimate precision towards the depression of an unsuspecting temple. I digress.
Frank Chong(small butchery owner) was very surprised when I came a knocking and asked him if he would pose near his Cressida in Rosettenville, Johannesburg. His surprise soon turned to a sort of shy Chinese glee which can be seen in his face behind his sunnies. I liked Frank Chong a lot.
The other dude is called Gerald. His mode of self-presentation is a little more sophisticated. This could be due to the fact that his kids were pulling the piss out of him as he leaned on his white horse. Note the enigmatic positioning of the hands.
1. I am a ninjite, back off!
2. Shit, I just dropped 5c
3. Pull a move with my hands and this photographer wont notice that I cut the 8 in half to make a '3' for my house number
Photograph for a travelling salesman
Half way between Cape Town and Johannesburg, on the N1 highway, is the Palomino Motel. It is comprised of two slim, white blocks which sit tucked against a hill in tiered fashion at about 40 degrees to eachother. They overlook a broad valley flanked with mesas like wily, slit-eyed sentinels. For 24 hours each day the changing of truck gears can be heard.
The Palomino boasts neat barbeque facilities and the rooms are decked out in the most pallid of mauve and pink tones. Expectant pitchers and cylindrical glasses await the thirsty traveller.
Here's me, the view, a pitcher and glasses and a photograph for a travelling salesman.
If you ever get to the Palomino make sure you have 'Static on the Radio' by Jim White. Become a parody of yourself and wear the fox hat.
Friday, July 31, 2009
fuck policy
When I was an eager tennis playing youth my mum used to drop myself and other drinking Lendls at the KOKSTAD tennis tournament. Between heavy swigs of Old Brown Sherry I caught sight of Mr Matthew Louwrens ripping around the court complex.
In later years Matthew sought to rectify a couple of society's ills and ended in the maximum security division of a psychiatric institution.
When he left he married my friend Jo and the two gave birth to Frances.
Fuck policy.
Laos
Some time ago I was commissioned to spend time in Laos photographing the impact that hydro electric power was having on the mountain populations.
The effect was not good-flooding of burial grounds and general exploitation of the local populations. Norwegian machines. Simplistic. Email me for the politics of it all.
Here are some photos I made.
In case any of you have to photograph a hydro electric installation in low light requiring a 30 second exposure in a structure that is rattling like a gattling...on large format...
TIP:Park your tripod as firmly as you can on the floor and have faith that everything in the vicinity will begin to vibrate at the same frequency. It works. The money shots were these shots of the main generator shafts.
I traveled for 2 days on crap planes and in sawn-in-half B52 bombs on Mekong tributaries to reach these locations. On reaching the buildings which housed the generators I realised that there were serious light deficiencies and vibes de luxe. I screwed the ribber shoes on my tripod over the metal leg-pins and then retracted them in order that the film and the subject jig together. On returning to Berlin I was happy to check that all was sharp-sharp.
The old geyser was 114 years old then and I was late for my plane when he arrived. He is a living talisman and, on account of his age, travels for free in any medium. He was excruciatingly slow to answer questions, but hey, at double one four who wouldn't be drawn out.
The dam wall has a log on it. The trunk is about 60m long and was chucked up in a flood.
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