The Man

Who the hell is this man who keeps getting in my photos?

The Unofficial

Here's something I wrote a few months ago, but it seemed kinda relevant for today.

There are other observations here, the latest of which was written with today in mind.

And if you want even more opinion from a man whose opinions count for nothing, try looking here.

The Brian

A week ago today my Uncle Brian died.

We didn't see much of him, but he was my favourite uncle - the life and soul of any gathering.

But news of his passing wasn't unexpected or terribly sad.

He had his life rudely taken from him long ago and had been in care for over twenty years.

The funeral was in Christchurch last Wednesday. I didn't go.

I don't have any photos of Brian close to hand but here's a photo of his bride on their wedding day.

And one of his wife, some of his kids, and various other members of our family one Christmas in Christchurch, at a guess in the early 1980s.

As trite as it sounds I sincerely hope you are in a much better place now Brian.

The Triptych

The Christmas Triptych to be precise.

The Olde

And the anachronistic.

And the very young.

The Lucky

I once had a cat.

She was a cutey.

I loved her dearly.

I took these photos the day we had her put down.

She was 19, deaf and had cancer of the bladder.

It was the humane thing to do.

It was fucking sad.

The Reflective

I'm not sure the subject of the photo was that taken with it, but I think it's a lovely shot.

Okay, maybe I should have moved that out-of-focus bottle or whatever, but we had just finished lunch and I saw this nice reflective moment so I grabbed it.

I have very few pictures of my immediate family, which makes this more special.

And on the same roll of film, this cool wee movie.

The Fern

I just posted this on my other blog. It's a slide taken by my Grandfather, George Palmer. That's him at the back of my profile photo.

I love it.

I'm not sure where the blue came from - he certainly wasn't using tungsten film, and none of the other slides have such a heavy colour shift. And I don't think it was my scanning. (I hope it wasn't my scanning!!)

Regardless it reminds me of John Herschel's cyanotypes. Strange that. And more recently the beautiful work of Alexander Hamilton. And, of course, Wayne Barrar's ongoing work - text but no images, one image.

Nice one George.

The Fellas

The other week I did some really bad scanning for a friend. Really bad cos she gave me film that wouldn't fit any of my film holders - it was some old stuff.

I've got no idea who these guys are, but I like the image.

Anyway her pictures got me thinking.

About this.

And how I ought to actually follow through with my promise. So now, eighteen odd months after its launch, we get the exciting second posting.

It's going to be simple. No title, just images, labelled either Palmer or Houghton. The label relates to who took the image or where the image was sourced from. Generally the Palmer photos were taken by George Palmer, and the Houghton photos were taken by many different people. I've currently got over 1500 images to post, and that's likely to grow. I'm going to try to post daily but there's no saying that'll happen.

Some of the images are pretty cool. Some pretty crap. I know some of the people in some of the photos. Some are relatives, who I may or may not know.

Hopefully you'll find it vaguely interesting too.

The Hospital

It's been an exciting week in microphenland. Not only have I had some work - awesome - it's been Writers and Readers Week, and wearing the hat of a Lumiere luminary I scored tickets to a number of events (one of which meant turning down work - awesome). Alongside that a friend had his book launch last night (not that I could get to it) and another friend had an exhibition opening.

On top of all that, last Saturday my mum went into hospital for a little operation - all good - and then on Wednesday my brother was admitted and had his operation yesterday - probably all good.

So, thanks to my mild family dramas, today you get a shot of a hospital room. Well actually it's a hospice room. I took it for this series. Nice.

The Cuties

For ages now (it seems like years cos well I guess it has been years now) I've been sporadically scanning family photos and things for the wall of shame Mum intends putting up at their place.

I've scanned all my paternal grandfather's slides, reprinted all my maternal grandfather's war photos (cos I didn't have a scanner then), and scanned numerous and various other shots of family from various generations - mainly from my mother's side.

I even set up a blog to post some of my grandfathers' photos, but as you can see I haven't done that yet. Maybe one day. When I feel I have much more time on my hands.

These photos, however, just had to be posted.

Aaawwww, ain't they cute.

The same three but in different order. A couple of years later. In Christchurch. At Mum's parent's house. One Christmas. (I like the roman sandal tan lines on the little blondie's feet.)

And all the grandkids as they existed at the time, which sadly isn't on any of the photos but my guess is 1975. I did think 1976, but that was when the floods happened and we went to Whitemans Valley for Christmas not Christchurch.

Anyway, here's the names just in case you're really that interested.

Stephen, Janine, Andrew, Timothy, Amanda, Geoffrey, Craig. (Initally I thought Amanda was Neil, but in another photo the baby is on Aunty #2's knee, so I'm assuming that makes Aunty #2 the baby's mum which makes the baby Amanda not Neil.)

The Wrap

Neice #2's first Christmas. Yay.

Neice #1's um ... sixth (?) Christmas. Yay.

Neice #2 surrounded by some of her presents. Yay.

And what happens an hour or so later.

The Father

Christmas 2005.

Santa can be scary.

It didn't take too long for the wee one to come round though.

And become Santa's little helper.

Mind you it probably helped that the Santa was my dad (a gentle man if ever there was one), and 90% of the presents were for the wee one.

Insert appropriate seasons greeting here.

The Godfather

Yesterday I had to get up far too early for a Sunday.

Partly my fault, cos there's a photo I've been hoping to get for a couple of weeks which I thought required me shooting it soon after sunrise. I was wrong. As I found out yesterday. It's either just before sunrise. Or a couple of hours after.

Partly cos these two ladies (snotty nose and all) got baptised at the ungodly hour of 8am.

It was the first church service I've been to for years. Last time I was in this church was for the kids parents wedding nearly 10 years ago. There have been a couple of memorial services, and a funeral or two, but nothing full on church service like yesterday.

From memory the last church service I went to was midnight mass at the Catholic Cathedral in Seville in 1998 - just the place for a born and bred Anglican to be spending Christmas Eve. Interestingly enough, at least I thought it was, the service was in Latin and the only locals in attendance seemed to be those taking the service. All them damned tourists were there probably hoping to get a taste of the Spanish Christmas only to discover the Sevillians knew better.

Anyway, growing up we always did the 10am service. I'm not sure I've ever been to an 8am service before. And crikey, talk about Gothic. I guess it was what they call High Anglican. The music was so heavy, and whoever wrote it seemed to think the melody and the lyrics didn't have to work together in any way. So you get a room full of people half mumbling words cos they can't quite figure out what they should be singing where.

My memory of church was that, boring as it was, at least there was a sense of joy, of lightness, to it. Yesterday, however it was heavy.

I was there to state before God that "I believe and trust In God the Father, maker and sustainer of all things; and in God the Son, my saviour Jesus Christ; and in God the Holy Spirit, giver of life and truth. This is my faith." And "I will love this child and share my faith with her/him." And "In faith I turn to Christ, my way, my truth, my life, as I care for this child."

I wasn't struck down, so I guess God (being omniscient) realised that I was there for my family and not for Him/Her, and decided that taking out an avowed agnostic two days before Christmas might not be the best look for the church.

The Young

Right that's enough annoying depressing ranting.

These shots were taken on the occasion of my Dad's 60th birthday. He's older now.

So is the rude little girl in the pictures. She's more than twice that age now. Time flies when it's other people's kids.

The Picture

This is a picture of me, drawn by my niece. It's me with curly hair - apparently my wavy hair doesn't cut it. And while you can't see my feet, apparently I'm wearing heels. Goes with the dress see.

When we did the family thing a couple of weeks back this same niece started calling me weird and crazy.

Is it possible she knows me too well?!!

The Church

It's Sunday. So here are a couple of shots of a church.

Not just any church mind you.

It's the church where three generations of my family are buried - well two are buried, the third was sprinkled.

It's St James Church, just north of Kaikoura. It's now a studio space for local artists it seems. Not that there's ever been anyone else there when I've been wandering around.

This is the shot I was there for. It's the grave site where three generations of my family are buried - well two are buried, the third was sprinkled.

I've just spent the last week, off and on, in the darkroom processing all the black and white film I shot in January. I learnt a few things. 1) processing with deep tanks sucks, 2) I do indeed have some leaky film holders, 3) fix gets exhausted faster than I thought, 4) I need to be much better organised next time I go on a similar sized shooting spree.

Learning is good.


Special Added Bonus:

Same church, different year.

The Uncle

Cos this blog is all about me, I had to use that title (it's in the smallprint, near the bottom, honest), but you've probably seen more than enough of "The Uncle" here to last you a lifetime, so here are some a pictures of my niece, born yesterday about 6.30pm. Yay.


Her exhausted Mum and excited big sister.


Oh okay, here's a shot of me too. And in case you were wondering, I can confirm that it is quite difficult to take photos when you're holding a new born (but having talent as great as mine helps - sort of).