Short

Steps 3 & 4

Outdoorphoto - Weekly Choice award.

Dahmer's Butchery

Gave the Ink Store a bit of a makeover.

Two Doors down

THA

Outdoorphoto - Weekly choice award

The Ink Store

Smoking encouraged

The Men's toilet at the old Department of Public Works building in Marshall street. Complete with ashtrays at the Urinals.

B accompanied me this time to re-photograph the images I lost when my computer crashed last month. A very helpful and slightly tipsy security guard showed us through the buildings for a small fee. We tolerated his smelly breath and managed to take some fine photos.

Home

The colours were just perfect on Saturday morning, with low stormy clouds coming in from the South-west, so I did some HDR conversions. This was the best of the lot.

Beyond Care..

Historical Landmark?

One of the first mine shafts sunk in Johannesburg.

Johannesburg was born because of the discovery of Gold. Significant maybe?

Not to everyone. Another historical landmark becomes a shanty town.

The simple truth is that there is no revival of the Johannesburg City centre.

It would be nice if somebody cared again.

Nice shoes..

I inadvertently joined the world the other day.

After many happy months of minding my own business I unknowingly took a sidestep in a different direction, and found myself swirling in the neverending vortex of the downtrodden.

By chance I read a blog on the Sunday Times website and was immediately drawn into a ‘discussion’ about apartheid and the military. It was unusual for me to be on the defensive so soon after writing my opinion on the subject on hand, and I came off second best to say the least. Argumentative-wise that is.

The discussion started of as a for/against ‘debate’ about Jacob Zuma, and as it goes in our lovely country, ended in a Black and White confrontation about the past. How we(white) are to blame for all the ills of the past and how they(black) will continue to be disavantaged because of those actions. And as is the norm in these debates the blame continues to fall on the Afrikaners, or Boers as we are sometimes called.

During all my time in self-imposed Limbo, I naively thought the feudal storms between the races will subside into calm seas of acceptance and I’ll re-emerge into a world of tolerence and love; an African Nirvana where the Lion and the Lamb are seated at the same table, savouring plates-full of vegetarian delight.

It seems there will always be an us and a them. We can’t change and nor can they. For as long as politicians feed the fire of our discontent, we will continue on the senseless path of hate and self-destruction.

That is all; I will now return to blissfull ignorance.

Battered and Burnt

Skull and Cross

The Graveyard near Paardeberg, Walkerville.

My Father the Photographer II

Not Smiling here, but he did.. a lot.


I decided to dedicate an unused blog of mine to my father's photography. His nickname was Smiles, and you'll find the link on the sidebar.

My father the photographer - Part I

My sister finally got her hands on my dad's photographs. She found 2 or 3 boxes full of negatives of photos taken since my father first lay his hands on a camera. The quality is still good even though they're scanned from very old negs. The two photos below were taken in front of my grandfather's Dairy, The Royal Dairy, in Jules street, Malvern. Circa 1963(two years before I was born)

Man on Bicycle

Man Smoking

My father painstakingly marked and dated each and every negative over his entire life. The photos tell a wonderful story.

The Black church

Dutch reformed church in Heidelberg(South Africa)

If viewed from a distance the church looks dark and brooding. Adding to the somber perspective are the black gutters, carboned stone-work, and the black wrought-iron work.

My favourite church, and second only to the stark-white church in Colesburg.

A Penny..

Radiation way

Another bottle of dry Red, and some time on my hands.

The girl I used is from stock on kym at

http://stock-on-kym.deviantart.com/art/walk-away-74584816