The Morning

There are days. Some days you sleep. Some days you don't.

Lately I've been struggling with the sleeping bit. Especially when the person I'm working with says they're going to be up early and head out. So I wake about 6.ooam (after getting to sleep about 1.00am), lie there for a bit, then go "bugger this, I'm getting up."

Some days it's a good thing too.

Being in Twizel, and it being a glorious morning, I thought I'd go for a walk. I walked across the road.

Across the road was the Ben Ohau Golf Course. I walked around and took photos - as I tend to do.

I took a lot more photos than I intended, but I was having fun.

You can see the moon, and Mount Cook in some of the photos. It's really cool looking west to see the moon setting, just as the sun is rising in the east.

Just as I was getting back, the person I was working with made an appearance. It was time for breakfast.

The Return

Today I was going to astound you with images of "The Return". However, I have come to the realisation that 1) I didn't post images of "The Initial", so images of "The Return" won't be so shocking, 2) as I was carrying about fifteen kilograms of camera gear to the second (though chronologically the first) location, I decided (stupidly) not to take my own camera. That means I will have to astound you with words and not pictures.

Anyway, Part 1 - Fox Glacier

January 2006

March 2007

January 2006

March 2007
I'm not sure how obvious it is from these photos, but the lose of glacier seemed to me to be quite significant - a good 10-20 metres of length lost, and a whole lot of melting at the front.

And, Part 2 - Cave Creek

Both from January 2006.

As I was too lazy to lug my 1.5kg camera on the two hour walk, you'll just have to imagine this location with a similar green, a bluer sky, and no water. I was completely shocked. And this time I ignored as best as I could the memorial.

It's the West Coast. There's supposed to be water, for crying out loud.

Maybe the glacier and creeks were on holiday too.

The Gorman

I didn't find the creek. But I did find this. I didn't explore though as I was heading a different way.

The Long

Two shots dedicated to my friend Heather who is/should be bunkered in Colorado somewhere working on her thesis.

The first one is a damn fine philosophy, methinks.

The second one is a damn fine phone booth - though not the particular one I was looking for (I think that one may have been a couple of beaches over, but I didn't go there).

The Comet

As I was relaxing on the beach in front of my fire, listening to the gently lapping lake, enjoying my dinner, and watching the sun go down, I saw this (above) and thought "there's a photo in there". And there was.

And, yes, I do believe that is Mount Cook there just right of centre.

A little later, I looked to the southwest, after the sun had set, and I noticed a really odd little smudge of a cloud running perpendicular to all the other clouds. And it was white, whereas the others had taken on the last light golden glow. Pretty soon I came to the conclusion that it was the comet everyone was talking about.

It was neat.

Technical note: If you click on the bottom image it will open as a bigger image, and you should be able to make out the smudge.

The Fire

Back in January, after I ditched Nic, I did a wee tiki tour and ended up back on the shore of Lake Pukaki - where I'd spent New Years. This time, however, it was just me, my car, my tent, the lake, the trees, the rocks, the grass, and a stunning evening.

There was only one thing I could do. So I did. And it was beautiful.


There was a lovely serenity that night. Everything was calm (even the sandflies). And was the perfect spot to play the man alone. Bloody grouse mate.

The Photographer(s)

For those of you wondering what a photographer looks like, here's a bunch of them. In a photo. Taken by a photographer.

The guy in the red, using the real camera, is Andric, who I was working for the last couple of weeks. We are at Fox Glacier in the above shot. So are the people in the background. Those people are using fake cameras, so we deliberately put them out of focus so as to not embarrass or upset our piece of film.

Below, however, we have shifted locations to the Lindis Pass. It was warmer there. And you see the photographer exposing the film (Fujifilm Astia 4x5 Quickload), as opposed to framing the image as seen above.

And this is what happens when one photographer moves in relation to the other photographer and takes another photo of generally the same thing as before, but only different.

The Caravans

These were shot a couple of years back when I spent a few days at Tora with a couple of friends. It's a nice place. I nearly went back there the other day. But, sadly, ran out of time - it's a long drive doing every west coast beach from Castlepoint south.

The Big

The Cook

When I was in Auckland last, I did my usual pilgrimage to Parsons Bookshop to have a browse and a little shopping. One of the books I picked up was this one.

David Cook has been photographing the Rotowaro area since the mid-1980s, and this book is the end result. Anne Noble says it is "one of the richest photographic investigations of location and 'place' that has been carried out in New Zealand." I say forget the "one of". The book is part photography, part social history, part journal. It is a stunning work, beautifully shot, beautifully designed, and beautifully written. It is a book that everyone should own - if you can find it (I've only seen it the once, and then only the one copy).

John Turner mentioned David's work to me when we met a few months back, suggesting there was some (minor) similarity in our work. It's David's second book on Rotowaro, and having seen the first book I was surprised to see that, yes there is some (minor) similarity in our work. David is clearly an explorer - of both place and photography - and for that I'm grateful.

The Pretty

Yes I'm back in the land of blog. I had a great time being wined and dined down south, while acting as chauffeur/tour guide/sometime assistant.

This is a shot from somewhere, taken some time ago, in some place I can't recall, and is here purely cos I like it. It's pretty.

Special Bonus Offer:
Sharyn, and others(!), rudely took the opportunity afforded by my trip to embarrass some poor bugger a lot more. It's rude and offensive. Oh, and funny.

The Golden

I'm off to Nelson today (to be more precise I'm actually off to Christchurch to pick up a car so I can drive to Nelson today) to help an overseas photographer (this guy in fact) fill in a few days. So here are some shots I took last time I was in the city (of Nelson) - on a day trip when I was working for that nasty corporate a few years ago (the one nice thing they did for me, he says somewhat bitterly).


Two vernacular sites and one iconic.

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).

The Reference

I'm not sure why, but I've always seen this as a Peter Peryer shot - with a William Eggleston minor. Regardless I like it.

The Dog

I like icons - sometimes. The amount of times I come across a memorial or monument or public structure I would like to photograph and discover that the people who designed it clearly weren't thinking about the needs of photographers when they designed it is staggering.

Case in point. This dog. All information clearly specifies that this is not a memorial to James McKenzie's dog Friday, but for "working collie dogs, such as Friday". You can read this for a bit of light entertainment about McKenzie. Go on, I dare ya.

See what happens when the can't control things!! The bloody dog walks out of frame.

The Opera

Back in 1998, I spent a few days in Sydney, between my return to NZ from my African odyssey to attend my bro's wedding (pictures of which may be posted at a later date), and my return to the UK to continue my escape from any sense of grown up responsibility.

Above is the utility atrium in the hostel I stayed at. It struck me as being somewhat Mondrianian - but with the added bonus of a horrible fluoro green . Or maybe Mirovian - but formalised.

It was hard to escape the odd icon though. And I'm not one for shying away from my responsibility as a tourist.

Ooh, look, the Opera House.

Interestingly, a couple of days after I left NZ the first time around, Crowded House played their "last ever show", on the stairs of the Opera House in front of 150,000 people. Bastards. And they didn't invite me. Boy was I tempted to forget flying to Hong Kong and doing Sydney instead.

The Butler

On our way from Christchurch to Ahuriri, Nic and I, at my insistence, detoured slightly up the Rangitata River to pop in on old Samuel Butler. He wasn't in, but it was a nice drive all the same.

This is the valley, a little past the Peel Forest, where you first hit the valley proper.

At the end of the road you find Mesopotamia settlement. Butler lived around here somewhere, a bit of a walk from the road we were on though, so instead I photographed the school.

And the AA sign.

It was while living around here that Butler wrote Erewhon. You can read it here - if you like.

The Casal

In London, there's this club called the 12 Bar Club. To say that it's small but intimate would be to state the blatantly freakin' obvious. Being a bit of a music appreciator, I'm always on the look out for new artists. Amongst those I 'discovered' during my time in London was Neal Casal. Although an American, Casal played London - the 12 Bar Club to be precise - while we were there. It was a great gig from memory. People who can do the solo voice and guitar thing, do it well, and do it entertainingly are few and far between.

I don't know why, but I'm sure I had a great reason to take my camera along. Consequently, I took some photos. The first of only two times I've done gig photography.

As you may be able to make out, the club is on two levels - one about six foot, three inches above the other!! Small but intimate, see.

The opening act was a six or seven (or eight) piece band called Lincoln, from memory. (Look, I'm not going to go rifling through my old journals and scraps of paper just for the purpose of fact checking okay!) They could barely all fit on the stage, but they also put on a damn fine show.

As it happens, I bought my first Neal Casal CD late last year - it's a good one too, complete with DVD. And while on the topic of DVDs and people who can do the solo voice and guitar thing well, check out this one.

The Domesticity

A few days ago David posted this. Looking through my folder of images to post here, I rediscovered this.
Not as crafted or as lovely as David's, it has to be said. The window is from my old bedroom in Lower Hutt, in the house Mum and Dad owned for a few years, and which book-ended my world travels.

Crappy as the photo is, it brings back good memories. And really isn't that what a good photo should do? Evoke and emotional response in the viewer.

So does that now mean that this crappy photo really is a good photo?

The Lookout

Sometimes it's not the view but the lookout itself which is really interesting. Case in point, this one somewhere along Lake Wakatipu.

Some indecipherable, to me, Asian grafitti. While I wouldn't want to encourage more people to deface our precious rocks, I did like this scrawl. In fact, I liked it enough to take a photo of it.

Oh and here's the 'real' view for those of you interested - looking north-ish.



Post Script: This just in

To labour over last week's disgusting theme (and thank god that's over), this is funny - but you'd probably expect that (especially if you like this guy as much as I do).

And I would like to point out that Friday's uncharacteristic posting was the result of a far too restless mind, too much alcohol (well not too much, more a really pleasant quantity), an inablility to sleep, and damned bloody women - always trouble, one day I should actually listen to my Mum who keeps reminding me to steer clear of them at all costs.