Seeing Red

The ongoing dilemma - what to do with the shoe boxes full of pre-digital photographs that I never got round to arranging in albums.  My daughters are shining examples of this sort of efficiency and good organisation but they certainly didn't inherit these excellent traits from me.  I kept up with the albums until the the grandchildren arrived in the first daughter's case and in the case of the second daughter, I'm ashamed to admit, around the mid-twenties mark.

There seemed to be a strong case for doing something with as many images as I could and I decided to make a collage from the many pictures which featured red as the focal point.

The pictures in this collage were taken for an assignment on a photographic course I attended prior to owning even a compact digital camera.  One of students on the course, who worked in the media world, used a digital camera, something new to all of us, and would bring her laptop to classes to show her assignment.  I couldn't imagine then ever making the change from film to digital.  Thousands of images later, with several hard drives filled with pictures, I love the fact that I have an ongoing record of our family, especially in the case of the older daughter and the grandchildren who now live in Australia.  It's interesting too, to follow one's progress as a photographer and to realise how practice really does improve, if not perfect, technique.  Now, what's more,  I've discovered the joy of having my photographs professionally printed and bound into albums, so things have really come full circle.

Following the red theme,  this is a picture I took at the weekend of the Old Clock Tower at the entrance to the Waterfront Harbour, complete with circling seagulls.

This is one of the pointed windows at the base of the tower where it was so hot and bright that I had to take the picture, holding the camera with one hand and my rucksack up in the air with the other hand, to block out the sunlight, hence the somewhat wonky reflection.

I had to wait some time until the children's car rides were empty. This little boy decided to stay put even though his parents had decided that enough money had been spent on rides.

The National Sea Rescue Institute boat in its glass shed, poised for swift launching.

And lastly,  red umbrellas scintillate against the hot blue sky.  Tinkling, frost-beaded glasses, the sound of live music, laughter and chatter floating over the gleaming sea water.  Another perfect Cape Town afternoon.

Flying High

Twenty years ago today South Africa celebrated one of its most historic  moments as Nelson Mandela walked out of Victor Verster Prison, a free man.  It was an emotional moment for all South Africans and one that I will never forget.  My memory of that day is as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

Reflecting on Reflections

For some reason today I've had reflections on my mind.  I turned to the Oxford English Dictionary and found this definition of reflective : "1. Providing or capable of providing, produced by reflection. 2. thoughtful".  This seemed to neatly tie in with my thoughts about reflections and whether what we see when we look in a mirror is truly representative of what we believe we look like to other people.  I took a lot of self portraits, hoping as it were to almost catch myself unaware, if that makes sense, but the images I captured didn't seem to look anything like the image I see in the mirror.  More work to be done on Point No 2 of the definition above.

Reflections in nature, even with people in them, are much simpler and can be enjoyed for what they represent, something beautiful and tranquil. 

 Two photographers are better than one.

When I photographed this scene I was sitting in a green foliage cave, hidden away from passers by and it reminded me of my childhood, when my sisters and I enjoyed finding snug hollowed out spaces under shrubs in the garden, transporting rugs, pillows and books and emerging from time to time to cadge snacks from my mother.

I find it intriguing when an image captures the reflection of something that appears not to be there.

All my images in this post are about reflections in water and although this last one appears to be of sun glinting on glass, it is in fact the waters of Sydney Harbour reflecting off one of the glass surfaces of the Opera House.

City Lights

Two nights ago I played tourist in my own city.  Although I have lived in the city centre for over fourteen years and travelled up to the top of Table Mountain in the cable car many times, I have never driven along the road below the cable station at twilight and stayed in situ for a few hours to take photographs.  This situation had to be remedied and, together with my daughter, her friend and the trusty chauffeur (my dear husband) we set off with cameras, tripods and all the paraphernalia required for a night time shoot.

The zig-zag road with its hairpin bends clings to the contours of the mountain and the first and only space to pull off provided a chance to take this picture of the city and harbour, with buildings just touched by the setting sun. 

Higher up the view spread out more with the sun now gilding part of the harbour area and the distant hills.

We had to wait some time for parking space but eventually as evening drew in people started to return to their cars and we found a good vantage point.  Below, Devil's Peak swoops down into the city and the distant mountain ranges are swathed in veils of  pink and amethyst.

A last flush of pink of pink light bathes the city in its warm radiance.

The peak on the left of this picture is called Lion's Head while that to the right is called Signal Hill.  As a whole they're supposed to resemble a resting lion.  Lion's Head is a popular but fairly strenuous climb,  the last part of it assisted by ladders and chains sunk into the rock. From what I've seen of my daughter's photographs the view is magnificent.  There is a moonlight climb once a month and from our home we have a clear view of the procession of twinkling lights progressing up the mountain.  The summit of Signal Hill can be reached by car and has an incredible view over Camps Bay, Sea Point and our new 2010 Soccer Stadium in Greenpoint.

As the evening gradually transforms from warm to cool hues, the lights of the city start to flicker on all over the city bowl.

The blue intensifies and now the illuminations on the docks and one of the freeways out of the city are clearly visible.

The remaining vestiges of blue disappear and the landscape sparkles, jewel-like in the velvet darkness.

Golden Morning

Rising with the sun this morning for a change, I walked out onto our front verandah to collect the morning newspaper and came upon this glorious sight.  We'd had a dense sea mist rolling in during the night, accompanied by the mournful sound of the foghorns down in the harbour and now the sun was making a spectacular appearance through the the gossamer clouds.  We live on the slopes on Table Mountain and that's Devil's Peak in the background.

A lone pigeon, one of a flock which wait every morning, for my neighbour to scatter breadcrumbs on the sidewalk.  Occasionally, a golden labrador strolls past on its morning walk, scatters the birds and hoovers up the remaining crumbs.

The sun, climbing higher now and lighting up the gardens with golden light.

And, finally bursting through the mist in full radiance, this whole sequence occurring in the space of three minutes.