tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8217991827466528112024-02-21T06:47:37.824-08:00the quieter ...photographs and words by Judith Kimber...Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-16447540231903096222019-10-27T14:17:00.001-07:002019-10-27T14:17:05.837-07:00Golden Belfast blues<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The clocks went back last night and we're trapped in the darkest part of the year. I hate this. I thrive on light, and on winter weekdays I only see it at a distance through a classroom window. But a weekend walk in the sunshine always restores my sense of well-being.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I wandered round Belfast's Cathedral Quarter with my new Daguerrotype Achromat lens and no particular plan apart from to see what thoughts emerged and to try to make a set of images that belonged together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The sun was low, and shadows and reflections soon caught my eye. It's an area of the city that's both grubby and elegant, and it suits the style of this vintage reconstruction lens. Gold, black and deep blue appeared everywhere.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As seems to be the case every time I take it out, my amazing-looking brass lens caught people's eye too, and I had several conversations with other wandering photographers about it. I'm trying to use it in a thoughtful way, for imagery that suits its history and style, and these old streets are perfect for it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">At one point I heard a flute band passing down Royal Avenue and I kicked myself that I was too far away to take photographs. I'd love a slightly blurred collarette against one of these turn-of-the-century buildings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It would make a great counterpoint to St Patrick's Church in Donegall Street, one of my favourite city centre churches...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I looked for frames in the architecture, low gold light, small unexpected details. A bit of happenstance, a bit of integrity. Typical Belfast.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-31116729536418726112019-05-26T11:57:00.000-07:002019-05-26T11:57:28.495-07:00Naiads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9EaSfgiqlubvvHR00UK6vYloWbHoqq25R11VGIhyphenhyphenh8UrRk9cP_R_QegjsIC53rtPigOF9ZYgrFfW6AfIO9s-_HgxdZuX73flyk_IQfcEqWHg68QEfU_sQI7Or2mKKI6qb2Y_NR80EdoQ/s1600/Three+girls+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9EaSfgiqlubvvHR00UK6vYloWbHoqq25R11VGIhyphenhyphenh8UrRk9cP_R_QegjsIC53rtPigOF9ZYgrFfW6AfIO9s-_HgxdZuX73flyk_IQfcEqWHg68QEfU_sQI7Or2mKKI6qb2Y_NR80EdoQ/s400/Three+girls+5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Creating images of women in the water has been a passion for me over the last few summers. I've had enormous fun styling (trawling vintage shops, doing a little sewing, testing in the pool) and shooting with the very generous help and patience of my model Hopewell.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's been a steep learning curve. I've worked exclusively outdoors in natural light. I've done my best to control conditions with careful timing and positioning, and I've gradually learned how to realise practically what I can see in my mind's eye.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've loved many of the resulting images, but they haven't tended to be very successful in competition. Maybe I love them mainly because they've entailed so much work, and they still don't look quite like I think they do. Maybe they seem strange and difficult to understand. But I'm determined to keep working on this theme regardless and to see what results.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">'Naiads' is my most recent addition to the series, and the process of making this composite image has been great fun, though quite hard on my cloning finger (I should have used my Wacom tablet....). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I originally thought of a combination of four images. In each of these, Hopewell had been spinning around in the water, creating effective movement in both the water and the trailing pieces of her gown. I'd shot from above, standing quite precariously on a diving board above the pool.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I felt that the one at the top left looked too weird and inelegant, so she had to go. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I kept the best three, and rearranged them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">While I loved the colours (the pink gown was a delight to photograph in the dark water), I knew that my compositing skills aren't yet up to combining all of these, and I converted the file to mono.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It also struck me at this point that the women were dancing in a circle, so I began to work towards this for my final image.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The many shots I'd taken around these particular images were plundered for extra sections of water surface. It would be impossible to show this as a natural scene, so I aimed to allow visible water movement around each of the women and to keep it very subtle in all other areas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had the finished image printed in Hahnemule's new metallic photo rag paper. It has an amazing glisten and gleam, creating the effect of a moonlit pool, with the women shining from the black water like pearls. I love it. It remains to be seen whether any judges will agree with me, but in this case, that really doesn't matter. </span></div>
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Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-1463463724317811622019-03-10T11:31:00.001-07:002019-03-10T11:31:56.503-07:00Glimpses in the dark<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHMgqhGIUVh8_jtwZSKJSc7hLy1iYGCSI-5gMqvfGobKfn5nmhb4BBPeJOR1PHZCKmDNwGB_6hkw5Sl_a3zOB7TA3nfXOAZMKZeep6fOUGfvKVPFmMQradDm0hO3XJQ6iOcsk0eqJo37Y/s1600/IMG_5868-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHMgqhGIUVh8_jtwZSKJSc7hLy1iYGCSI-5gMqvfGobKfn5nmhb4BBPeJOR1PHZCKmDNwGB_6hkw5Sl_a3zOB7TA3nfXOAZMKZeep6fOUGfvKVPFmMQradDm0hO3XJQ6iOcsk0eqJo37Y/s400/IMG_5868-Edit.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My favourite lens is my 100mm f/2.8. It suits the way I see, a bit shortsightedly, focusing on an interesting small detail, with everything else fading off into the background.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I spent a happy couple of hours at the Ulster Folk Museum yesterday using it to pick out little details in the old houses - slivers of china or fabric lit by sunbeams in the dark rooms, reflections in wavy picture glass, shadows cast on cracked plaster.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I wanted to create a mood that was secretive and compelling, with hints of stories unfolding from the shadows. It was a good technical challenge too, working with what may look like pure black, but is really shades of darkness. I wish I had time to write the stories now, but they'll wait a little longer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-59196916730804284252019-02-17T11:53:00.007-08:002019-02-17T11:56:29.778-08:00Safe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My workhouse obsession has been in full swing for a couple of years. It was sparked by the discovery that some of my ancestors in north Fermanagh had survived the Famine years of the 1840s only by entering the workhouse at Lowtherstown, now Irvinestown. Seeing their names and the descriptions of their pitiful circumstances in the workhouse records was a moving experience, and it set me off on a quest to discover more about their stories. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The workhouse buildings at Irvinestown are long gone, but Bawnboy, County Cavan, built to the same plan, like all the Irish workhouses, made a fitting substitute. You can read more about my first visit to Bawnboy <a href="http://thequieter.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-last-resort.html" target="_blank">here</a> - it was another cathartic experience. I read all round the subject of the famine and the workhouse. My most helpful guides were John O'Connor's 'The Workhouses of Ireland', Breege McCusker's 'Lowtherstown Workhouse' and the recently published 'Atlas of the Great Irish Famine'. I travelled to the Irish Workhouse Centre in Portumna, County Galway, where Steve Dolan answered every question I could think of and showed me round another incarnation of the building which Margaret, James, Catherine, Irvine and Thomas Elliott entered in 1848.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I worked my way round the topic and visited the dreadfully atmospheric workhouse buildings, I decided that <a href="https://vimeo.com/316640486" target="_blank">an audio-visual piece</a> based on my own family's Famine story would be a good response to what I'd discovered. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was clear from the start that I didn't want to make a didactic piece, communicating historical information in a dry way, but a personal story, expressing the feelings of a real and relatable human being.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I chose Catherine, my great-great-grandfather James's little sister, as the focus of the work. To me, she became Cate, and I was delighted to find, when I came upon her details in someone else's family tree, that she was called this in real life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had a large portfolio of workhouse images I'd created at Bawnboy and Portumna. Now I needed Cate herself. Finding a famine-thin eight-year-old model was obviously out of the question, so I decided to focus on Cate as a woman in her twenties, thinking back to her experiences as a child. My model Hopewell personified the Cate of my imagination perfectly, with facial expressions and expressive gestures to communicate every moment of her journey. With her bare face, hair pulled back and handmade antique high-necked blouse, she became a thoughtful and damaged young woman from 1864.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Many of my workhouse photographs featured windows, as elegantly decayed architectural features and symbols of both imprisonment and escape. I couldn't believe my good fortune in locating, for Hopewell's "Cate" shoot, an old six-paned window which echoed strongly those of the workhouses. This became a key pivot point in the piece, with Cate shown first sitting outside the window, but moving behind it as the story recounts her admittance to the workhouse, her face partly obscured now by its bars. I structured a narrative that moved to and fro between Cate as a 24-year-old and the workhouse of her childhood, shown now as a near-derelict building. This was going to involve considerable suspension of disbelief on the part of the viewers, but I hoped that it would be effective.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My script was structured round Cate's experiences, told simply and clearly. My voice actress, Rosie, conveyed her words with total integrity, bringing them to life in a way that made me forget it was actually me who'd written them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">To provide contrast, I also included the words of the Matron of the workhouse, the visiting minister, the workhouse inspector Dr Denis Phelan (these words are taken from his real report into conditions at Lowtherstown), and an anonymous local man. Helpful friends and colleagues read these parts for me, populating the piece and lending it further authenticity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Early in the process, I composed a simple lullaby for the Elliott family....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Safe, safe in my heart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'll keep you safe in my heart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Stay near or go far, wherever you are</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'll keep you safe in my heart</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As the script emerged, I decided to use the song at two key points in the drama: the moment when Margaret was separated from her children on admission to the workhouse (Charles Kickham's novel of 1869, 'Sally Cavanagh' helped me with this scene), and the tender moment near the end when Cate reveals her own current circumstances.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I composed all the music for the piece myself. I spent some time developing a palette of sounds to create the mood I wanted, with instruments such as a bouzouki, lute, cor anglais, flute, piano, folk percussion instruments and double bass. The style I chose is more contemporary than those of my other pieces, with no attempt to recreate the sounds of the nineteenth century apart from the presence of the simple lullaby. There's a recurring idea of a smear or glissando, referring to Irish traditional music but also aiming to cause a sense of disquiet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The opening notes of the lullaby, 'Safe, safe in my heart...' became a motif which reappeared frequently in the score, always referencing the idea of keeping a child safe from harm. I also composed a theme for the workhouse itself: this can be heard for the first time when the matron starts to read the list of names of those admitted on 22 November 1848. (The 67 admissions she mentions for that date is an accurate figure.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As well as the ubiquitous windows, a couple of other ideas emerged as visual themes within the piece. Flowers appear at significant moments. A cross transforms back into a broken workhouse window. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://vimeo.com/316640486" target="_blank">'Safe'</a> has been a labour of love. I hope that it conveys something of the desperation and tragedy that these people experienced, something of the possibility of redemption and the long shadow cast over everything that came later. I suspect it's not my last piece of work on the subject.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Click on the image below to see the finished piece on Vimeo.</span><br />
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<a href="https://vimeo.com/316640486" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1600" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJU_isI-bAgQ26xRqmjHRy1z8l-JFXmCXJFBnPHb5OrdJkIYVaD29FbYwEmofrLivEvzXjIznIqv8QGwkUkanAB7l5JcOoYS9tribCwT3WMg9HU2R6r5ygVUW47af4zSeBU9mqgGTM4k/s400/Safe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-3975096190872268942019-02-10T12:18:00.001-08:002019-02-10T12:22:13.434-08:00Shoreline<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's cold. My default weekend outfit is an Aran poloneck, jeans and boots. My fingers don't really want to be outside, and I have a pair of outdoor photography gloves sitting in my Amazon basket, though frugality is procrastinating the actual purchase.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But this weekend it's spirit-liftingly bright and the better half of the year seems finally within sight. Yesterday I was at work till early afternoon, but the camera was in the boot of the car, waiting for a quick getaway to the beach.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I chose Millisle, gateway to a Peninsula circuit. The tide was almost fully in, and the shots I'd envisaged weren't going to happen. But there's always something beautiful to photograph, and my eye was drawn to the patterns on the sand at the edge of the water, where waves and sun combined in elegant sculpted textures. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I took a series of almost abstract shots in gentle focus, until my fingers started expressing too much displeasure at the temperature. Time to click the button on my Amazon cart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-64292336770498068652018-09-16T11:13:00.000-07:002018-09-16T11:13:21.102-07:00Pale seaside<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes when I go out with my camera I know exactly what it is that I want to shoot. And most of my best images probably result from careful planning and research, though there's often a little happy coincidence in the mix as well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But sometimes it's nice just to go out and see what appeals to my eye. Yesterday was a day like that. It was a dry, dull September afternoon and I felt like walking on the beach to clear my head. I did my customary round-the-peninsula drive. The seas and skies weren't looking particularly photogenic except in the most minimalist of ways. What drew my eye instead were the fading, drying sea plants all round the coastal route, seedheads and skeletal stalks standing delicate against the bleached blue-grey sky.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPEa78vCCGEaKhYmE5ahpGSghyphenhyphenrRwNEdd5zL5wDQ0ZOVsJbuD2UzEKJsnZ3cqxNBtrCNUDnwlLx9MUHx30ZSYbtMBhwA7umFSRlTIzKAt_mnH0hyphenhyphensaFxJ2A1NiIN6Dy_QIlHkmjgdAMYQ/s1600/IMG_3476-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPEa78vCCGEaKhYmE5ahpGSghyphenhyphenrRwNEdd5zL5wDQ0ZOVsJbuD2UzEKJsnZ3cqxNBtrCNUDnwlLx9MUHx30ZSYbtMBhwA7umFSRlTIzKAt_mnH0hyphenhyphensaFxJ2A1NiIN6Dy_QIlHkmjgdAMYQ/s640/IMG_3476-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You can't see the sea in most of my images, but I like to think I've captured a little of the mood of the afternoon and the way the understated light can calm and revive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-64353919234099764272018-09-02T11:35:00.001-07:002018-09-02T13:50:34.867-07:00Following Frances 6: Churchill<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s summer again, and I’m driving from Aughnacloy, County
Tyrone, to Churchill, County Fermanagh. Even for me, this feels like coming
home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The trees arch further and greener across the road. I catch
glimpses of the lough every now and then. The scents in the air have a western
warmth about them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the manse at Churchill is only nine miles, as the crow
flies, from Frances’s childhood home at Gortnagullion, where her parents and
her brother Joe and his family still lived. If you stood on a hill and looked
through a gap, you could almost see the turf smoke rising from the McCrea chimney.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You can’t help standing on a hill here. Churchill is exactly
what its name implies – quite a steep hill, looping up from the lough shore
road, with the church the central point of the village. It’s not actually the
Methodist church that gave the village its name, but it seems as though it
should have done.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s a lovely manse, right beside the church, but not
physically joined to it like the one at Aughnacloy. It’s double-fronted and
substantial, with plenty of rooms to be explored. Today, it looks almost
exactly as it does in my postcard view of it from the 1920s. Nora remembers it
as ivy-covered, however, so some judicious pruning must have taken place
between William and Frances’s tenure and the postcard shot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I walk past it, I see somebody ironing in one of the
front rooms. I pluck up my courage and walk up the garden path. The doorbell is
answered by Charis, who takes a break from the ironing to chat with me about
how nice it is to live in this calm, friendly village. I’m too shy today to ask
to look round a bit, but my covert glances over her shoulder confirm that many
of the house’s original features remain.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">III</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This pretty place is so pleasant that I have to take a
moment to remind myself what actually happened in Frances’s life while she
lived here. This is the chronology.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">July 1905: the family, William and Frances (now 36 years
old), with toddlers Fred, Donald and Nora, moves to Churchill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">6 November 1905: four-year-old Fred, their beloved first child, falls ill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">7 November 1905: Fred dies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">12 February 1906: baby Gertrude is born.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">29 November 1906: Gertrude is baptised by Randall Phillips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">3 February 1907: baby Robina is born.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Later in 1907: Robina is baptised. In an unusually flustered
and scrappy entry in the baptismal register, no date is given and there is
neither a name for the baby nor the signature of a baptising minister.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">July 1907: the family, William, Frances, Donald, Nora,
Gertrude and Robina, packs their possessions and leaves to move to Donegal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtk_6YJ8fKSUJpOExe04Y2SlGshmLNehOc0V_JiWyyQOVQIKDYOd_YN5QE9yHNdhNghWDNsswYtxcnw8Gz55XZ6mTdvNkM4HDrtcw_0elcTWzajFcqJDLxUY4qCRJz8P9TDT5TNAwLec/s1600/IMG_2810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtk_6YJ8fKSUJpOExe04Y2SlGshmLNehOc0V_JiWyyQOVQIKDYOd_YN5QE9yHNdhNghWDNsswYtxcnw8Gz55XZ6mTdvNkM4HDrtcw_0elcTWzajFcqJDLxUY4qCRJz8P9TDT5TNAwLec/s640/IMG_2810.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s difficult to imagine what these two years must have
been like for Frances, already at a low ebb physically after her recent illness. As the minister’s wife and a very active participant in church and
village life, she was on public display. Grief and joy, stresses and
depressions, impatience and calm, all seen and shared, and perhaps judged.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm unsure exactly how little Fred died. It seems likely, though, that it was related to his scarlet fever, which was thought to leave children more vulnerable to a range of other serious conditions such as meningitis. Nora wrote that he was taken from them after only a few hours' illness. She knew him as a big brother for less than two years, but she remembered and talked about him until she herself was an elderly lady.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nora didn’t remember the inside of the manse. Perhaps it was
easier for Frances to let the children play outside in the gardens around it
and in the pretty hilltop road. Here, they visited their neighbours,
remembering most fondly the lady in a house across the street, who kindly fed
them treats of crystal sugar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Before my visit, I tried to find out what ladies lived in
Churchill at this point and might have been dispensing spoonfuls of sweetness
to the manse children. I found some potential candidates. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">On Christmas Day of 1905, William officiated at the marriage
of Maggie Sanderson, a member of his own congregation, to Patrick McMenamim
from Bolusty More, round the lough shore road towards Rosscor. Maggie had until now lived in the village with her brother
Thomas and his wife Margaret, and their children Lavinia, in her twenties, and
the younger William and James. Lavinia was a witness at the wedding. I wondered
if this family, with strong church connections and three doting women, might
have been the one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s often hard to tell from census documents where exactly
the properties listed were situated. But once I arrive in Churchill, it seems clear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Across the road from the manse, a couple of houses down, is
a charming white bungalow with a walled garden. A plaque beside the door
identifies it as Lavinia’s Cottage. Perhaps Lavinia Sanderson inherited it from
her parents and lived there until she was an elderly woman. I imagine her
feeding the village children with sweets her whole life long, while their
mothers look on from their bedroom windows, smiling and regaining strength in
the temporary peace and quiet.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<br />Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-30552840741395698522018-08-19T12:18:00.000-07:002018-08-19T12:18:21.943-07:00Botany Bay Beach<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlMPGRTPS_phW4_bvpubtX6krycK_RUawVyQSth2G0PZtVmpx6qDacY0IzHIYQb6nBJHrG1QCTdTjz1rs8CleW3MXG6PB7hl07JzI9UDr0dgUKieuD69MV0s7xO-xiif6AFU5D3Ib6as/s1600/IMG_2131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlMPGRTPS_phW4_bvpubtX6krycK_RUawVyQSth2G0PZtVmpx6qDacY0IzHIYQb6nBJHrG1QCTdTjz1rs8CleW3MXG6PB7hl07JzI9UDr0dgUKieuD69MV0s7xO-xiif6AFU5D3Ib6as/s640/IMG_2131.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">At the end of the Botany Bay road is the plantation. Through the plantation grounds and across a boardwalk is one of the most amazing beaches I've ever seen.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzYcOggGt0aSYO568dLxY8-apo2xS-YBdtpjRdMMDgELDFnQvB8fNOqNBBpckkpJCx_4YU4GJWTriiiuO-hm2bx7E2nPRU7NEIjq6jiKlu7narujA0e90COirD_nW_J1jDyMJrrDfC_is/s1600/IMG_2237-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzYcOggGt0aSYO568dLxY8-apo2xS-YBdtpjRdMMDgELDFnQvB8fNOqNBBpckkpJCx_4YU4GJWTriiiuO-hm2bx7E2nPRU7NEIjq6jiKlu7narujA0e90COirD_nW_J1jDyMJrrDfC_is/s640/IMG_2237-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On a sunny day, the colours were a bleached palette of sky and bone. The beach is shallow, but strewn across it are the skeletons of ancient coastal trees, like a dinosaur graveyard. The storms of the last few years have shifted and destroyed some of these - I'd seen some amazing older images of branches reaching up from the water against the sunrise - but it's still very atmospheric.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'd planned this as a location for my good friend Silas Fretwell, and the noble J obliged in his modelling duties, as pelicans wheeled overhead, fluffy white clouds floated southwards and the sun beat down with beautiful cruelty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-35765581168593728422018-08-12T11:49:00.001-07:002018-08-12T11:49:59.447-07:00The road to Botany Bay<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-M83re7VFWMktcyy_Siwcz2TovlHuzVJwb0pJsv_Jcw-PMZENTGhQIqODNXj55ExdNt00wuO2qL8osWcodpWMGNScZzx2_2Z7uoOEASnVMNTId1io431i5gvVDhKcSfw3duYLOvKDk4/s1600/IMG_2024-Edit-2-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-M83re7VFWMktcyy_Siwcz2TovlHuzVJwb0pJsv_Jcw-PMZENTGhQIqODNXj55ExdNt00wuO2qL8osWcodpWMGNScZzx2_2Z7uoOEASnVMNTId1io431i5gvVDhKcSfw3duYLOvKDk4/s640/IMG_2024-Edit-2-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This was one of the most atmospheric places we visited in South Carolina.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you live in Northern Ireland or you're a Game of Thrones fan, you might be put in mind of the Dark Hedges, near Armoy in County Antrim. This is the road to Botany Bay Plantation, near Edisto Beach, 3798 miles away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's the same idea - an avenue of trees lending grandeur to the approach to a stately house. But these are southern live oaks rather than beeches. And the road is surfaced with sand. And only two other people passed by in the half hour that we spent there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The quiet, the quality of the late afternoon southern light, and the sense of history all around made travelling the road a special, almost spiritual experience. I'm sure I'm not the only one to have imagined stories and films rising from every bend in the road.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In a place like this, stories start romantic, but it doesn't take long before painful historical facts intrude and you see the reality of the lovingly tended plantation grounds. It's a landscape built up to grandeur on slavery, fading into decline ever since, but still beautiful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When you come from Ireland, you're used to finding that your history has a traumatic flip side and beauty is troubled. Maybe that's always the way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Looking backwards from the more elegant angle of the shoot...)</span></div>
Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-61909856475623853662018-08-03T12:25:00.001-07:002018-08-03T12:25:13.431-07:00Low Country squares<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkb7ZyogRIejDZCbHQ1Q2yi-J9kk1ea_W3K-5JcBRO7ayx0VWPi_p_LdPYVgBKNE_tRLDxGsdG867RZ2nF3mUWUjWIaK-G-z12Wx6Kx4pM98vNLXOjW6BjfWWCNPQWEbEwepepX37HnuQ/s1600/IMG_2237-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkb7ZyogRIejDZCbHQ1Q2yi-J9kk1ea_W3K-5JcBRO7ayx0VWPi_p_LdPYVgBKNE_tRLDxGsdG867RZ2nF3mUWUjWIaK-G-z12Wx6Kx4pM98vNLXOjW6BjfWWCNPQWEbEwepepX37HnuQ/s400/IMG_2237-Edit.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A holiday within a holiday - at the end of July, we spent a few days staying in a lovely house belonging to generous friends in Green Pond, South Carolina.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Relaxation-wise, it was fabulous: a morning spent strolling round Beaufort; buying shrimp directly from Elijah at his trawler at Bennett's Point (turned out a pound of shrimp apiece was really quite a lot, but we ate it all no problem); driving the sandy roads overhung with live oak and Spanish moss; walking in the grounds of the derelict Old Sheldon Church at Yemassee; visiting the beautiful Wildlife Management Areas nearby; getting very sandy in the lively waves at Edisto Beach and, best of all, spending a day amongst the skeleton trees of Botany Bay Beach. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Photography-wise, it was a gift too. The colours of the landscapes, distinctly southern, and the quality of the light, especially after a rainstorm, were inspiring. And since Silas Fretwell was driving me about in his Jeep, he made an appearance in a couple of shoots - more from those later, perhaps.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGeU657-l5UBlcKJJiYhKtM1CqZ48uEesj8QwyRCoDOFJRNBL_Jopm26AQCC9iRYRYjukD34rsXVeJ43N9eHEUGBl9ehD_W7MV0LrK5ijVllrLW5Bd-JmwZmiQydk4eKL71zkOvOB__B8/s1600/IMG_2405-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGeU657-l5UBlcKJJiYhKtM1CqZ48uEesj8QwyRCoDOFJRNBL_Jopm26AQCC9iRYRYjukD34rsXVeJ43N9eHEUGBl9ehD_W7MV0LrK5ijVllrLW5Bd-JmwZmiQydk4eKL71zkOvOB__B8/s400/IMG_2405-Edit.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Really, we only scratched the surface of what this beautiful Low Country area has to offer. I left full of ideas for future work and so thankful for the kindness of the friends who enabled us to visit so easily and happily.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-52836428180558295882018-07-15T09:26:00.000-07:002018-07-15T09:26:04.539-07:00Shadows <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24qx9WeH1ZzFFnA6YOjzIze8-8wlXuD9XSIQDsSwhkVizIdQjlc5YJNXuB4bMxA3yh7jBXhWelHNtK3XRKDFo8BctyiZbYzjNMQffMsFj-8Xs12dqyd0YCXEk5SnVh2Cyhl-R4DKkcgo/s1600/IMG_0444-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24qx9WeH1ZzFFnA6YOjzIze8-8wlXuD9XSIQDsSwhkVizIdQjlc5YJNXuB4bMxA3yh7jBXhWelHNtK3XRKDFo8BctyiZbYzjNMQffMsFj-8Xs12dqyd0YCXEk5SnVh2Cyhl-R4DKkcgo/s640/IMG_0444-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: helvetica neue, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This week I visited one of my favourite photo locations, Old Car City in White, Georgia. It's always a harsh day out, with high temperatures and mean biting insects, but I was really looking forward to adding to my portfolio of fabulous paint and chrome textures on abandoned vintage cars.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwz8NaBaFANwscbwiP5VcaHumvoydS-37tBAg_gCbRTpn_EX_noSTtGK6S-CzKY-gwC4nuJRYEIiflLa_i3aBUaeZIJOzx66TZRuqbIKmVNva6EJ32Y4qh6SceDB5qtC_7aojC9HH2uJw/s1600/IMG_0439-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwz8NaBaFANwscbwiP5VcaHumvoydS-37tBAg_gCbRTpn_EX_noSTtGK6S-CzKY-gwC4nuJRYEIiflLa_i3aBUaeZIJOzx66TZRuqbIKmVNva6EJ32Y4qh6SceDB5qtC_7aojC9HH2uJw/s640/IMG_0439-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: helvetica neue, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I spent most of the morning focusing on one particular car, a 1940s Buick Special sitting in perfect leaf-dappled light, hoping for a nice set or even a panel of images.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica neue, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In fact, it's always a challenge to shoot in this light - very bright in the sun, quite dark everywhere else. I was working with a tripod and a shutter release, using live view to save bending over to peer through the viewfinder for every single shot. It took a while to make this combination work, but after a while I thought I had it sorted.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJH11zpxX01gCwFtyDuFDprUwTqBFSimRTMNO-pOp-xQLtjjwDNXrs287IGrT3rDQvAEP4ucjwRw1-o80pYKEmzZ1o_VceBjHiWfg6yFoTbvgQf3EhpRc4lum-C5lJ3vBcRtw2DV20kfM/s1600/IMG_0424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJH11zpxX01gCwFtyDuFDprUwTqBFSimRTMNO-pOp-xQLtjjwDNXrs287IGrT3rDQvAEP4ucjwRw1-o80pYKEmzZ1o_VceBjHiWfg6yFoTbvgQf3EhpRc4lum-C5lJ3vBcRtw2DV20kfM/s640/IMG_0424.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: helvetica neue, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We went for a well deserved lunch break in the diner across the road, and I checked my images more carefully. They were all slightly out of focus. I had totally not handled things in live view.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica neue, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was really frustrated to have spent so much time and effort on some well framed shots which were completely useless.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica neue, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The afternoon light wasn't working on my Special. But I did, sort of, get my tripod/shutter release/live view/focus combination to work. It was a useful reminder of how much I don't know, to try to be positive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I wasn't loving my tripod much, though, by this point, so I switched to hand-held and concentrated instead on some darker shots, with shadows and suggestions, a little bit Gothic. A slight salvage of a painful day.</span><br />
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<br />Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-12556066672500263142018-06-23T12:15:00.000-07:002018-06-24T11:09:00.264-07:00Belfast noir<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRhm1EwTdmJEuKk8GXksvt1MNGrZOb4yGv_uxOWd61ngXH212vA1MG_AruUf0P8Zj3MHsVm_2OWIPlWSY0ncjF6iXtzv0p3Y_7dInd9p_vF60dtx1ruM_-co5585OvPIwzR8pn6grHHc/s1600/IMG_2395-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRhm1EwTdmJEuKk8GXksvt1MNGrZOb4yGv_uxOWd61ngXH212vA1MG_AruUf0P8Zj3MHsVm_2OWIPlWSY0ncjF6iXtzv0p3Y_7dInd9p_vF60dtx1ruM_-co5585OvPIwzR8pn6grHHc/s640/IMG_2395-Edit.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Belfast suits black and white, I think. That might be partly because I can't shake off the belief that the late nineteenth century, when Belfast was at its most bustling, actually happened in black and white. I know, that's ridiculous, but the more photographs I look at, the more it feels as though it's the case.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">More logically, the architectural shapes, the stone carvings, the steeples, the statues, the cloudy grey skies can be seen at their graphic best in mono. It's a moody city, and taking out the colour enhances this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've spent the last couple of months working on black and white images of Belfast for <a href="https://www.instagram.com/judith.kimber/" target="_blank">my Instagram account</a>. It's been a great challenge and discipline. I'm including some of my favourites here, with location details at the end of the post.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">PS: I just read an article on the Belfast Telegraph website that said that 611 households in Northern Ireland are still watching television on black and white sets. I love this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Locations: ceiling, St George's Church, High Street; best roof in Belfast, Bradbury Place; wounded angel, City Cemetery; lady, Crown Entry; ironwork, Clifton House; mural and fencers, Hill Street; motto for life, Dundela Avenue; accidental angel, Donegall Road; artist's model, Carlisle Memorial Church; City Hall from Donegall Place; Bank of Ireland, Royal Avenue; Monument to the Unknown Woman Worker, near Eliza Street; greenhouse, Botanic Gardens; marble hand, Harbour Commissioner's Office; Titanic Memorial, City Hall; St Malachy's Church, Alfred Street; Jaffe Fountain, Victoria Street; St Anne's Cathedral, Donegall Street; Queen Victoria monument, City Hall.</span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-42768396313534557402018-06-17T08:48:00.002-07:002018-08-23T13:41:48.733-07:00Following Frances 5: Aughnacloy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Frances, William and their two little boys arrived in Aughnacloy in July 1903. The manse, attached to the church, stands towards the southern end of the town, on the corner of the Monaghan road. It's an attractive grey stone building with what must have been a substantial garden behind it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Frances had already set up manses in Ballybay and Swanlinbar. She was becoming used to taking stock of a new house and placing their own modest possessions in it to make it feel like home. But this time, it was harder work, more of a chore. Two-year-old Fred and baby Donald didn't make her task easier, and her pregnancy, too recent to be shared with anyone but William, left her tired and sometimes dispirited. Soon, the whole family was ill with summer colds, and Frances found herself thinking too often of their lovely house in Swanlinbar and their friends there, a time which seemed in retrospect sunnier and simpler.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And Aughnacloy had something of a reputation in Methodist circles. Several previous ministers had died there. Nora describes it as "a most unhealthy manse". Frances was not superstitious. But she knew the stories, and she worried a little.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Baby Nora was born in December, safe and sound. The congregation, now becoming friends, celebrated with them, and Christmas was especially joyful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Later that year, however, Fred started complaining about a sore throat. Within hours, he was feverish and nauseous. Then an itchy, bumpy red rash appeared. It was scarlatina, one of the most feared of childhood diseases. Frances knew that Fred had to be isolated to protect the rest of the family, but it was too late. Within a week everyone was ill, even little Nora. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some of the ladies from the congregation helped with nursing them, and Dr Phillips called regularly. William and Nora recovered quite quickly. The two boys caused greater worry, their symptoms lingering much longer. The doctor was most concerned about Frances herself, who was suffering terrible headaches and stomach pains. Scarlatina was a frequent killer, and he began to fear the worst for her. He had been attending illnesses in the manse for years and now, looking at her feverish face and the listless little Fred and Donald, he decided that drastic action was needed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dr Phillips told William that, unless Frances was moved, he could not be responsible for her life. Horrified, William arranged for his wife to be taken by carriage to her sister's house in Fermanagh.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The two practical men, the doctor and the decorator-turned-minister, set to working out what was wrong in the house. With the help of another member of the congregation, they began to investigate pipes and tanks, the attics and chimneys, even lifting the corners of floors. They found an answer in the dining room. Lifting a flagstone under the rug, they found an open sewer directly underneath. Appalled by the sight, their friend left. William and Dr Phillips grimly replaced the stone over the awful sight and began the complicated process of arranging to have the house's plumbing rerouted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">How do I know all this? A little is speculative, some is careful research, but most is clear from Nora's brief and rather grim account of her parents' life in Aughnacloy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">"After three years work in Co Cavan Father & Mother moved to Aughnacloy where I was born. It was a most unhealthy manse & several ministers had died there. And when our family had Scarletina & Mother was very ill the Doctor said she must move or he would not be responsible for her life. Father attempted to get things righted & got a man to lift the floor in a room. When the floor was up sewers were discovered with only a flag for covering, and the man refused to do any more! No wonder the family was ill."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I visited, I wasn't expecting to like the town. Frances didn't remember it fondly - the horrible illness coloured her memory of her two years there very strongly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In fact, I found it quiet and pretty. A lovely broad high street, ideal for a weekly market, with attractive houses just waiting to be beautifully restored. An appealing town pump, set where water carriers could enjoy the view over the bright green Tyrone and Monaghan countryside. Two other churches on the main street, well cared for and busy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Methodist church itself is plain, painted pink, with pleasing arched windows. I was given a very warm welcome. There were eighteen of us there the morning I attended, and almost everybody stopped to talk to me, interested in my quest. The service was simple and moving. The singing was three times as impressive as you'd expect from eighteen people. I was glad to have my expectations so thoroughly contradicted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Just one small thing jolted me. Beside me on the wall was a marble plaque, engraved with the name of Henry N Kevin, William's colleague from his time in Cootehill and Ballybay. Henry Kevin died at the manse in Aughnacloy in 1912.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'd found out enough about Mr Kevin previously that this was actually upsetting. His obituary says that he had become weak after repeated bouts of flu and had been about to ask for a year's leave from his work. I hope his final illness was nothing to do with the conditions in the manse.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I traced the rest of his family. His daughter Helen married a man from Aughnacloy, Samuel Hanse, a few years later, and they emigrated to New Jersey, part of the flood of people leaving Ireland at this time. Henry's widow Annie followed, living with Helen and Samuel in New Jersey until her death in 1939. Little Helen, the child Frances played with on the floor of the manse in Cootehill in 1899, lived until 1997 and the astonishing age of 106, reigning as the matriarch of a large extended family. That made me happy.</span><br />
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Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-67099906938547780122018-06-10T11:33:00.002-07:002018-06-10T11:34:34.601-07:00In harbour<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nothing makes me happier than an evening visit to a fishing harbour with my 100mm lens. I have hundreds of images to prove it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's maybe a bit of a niche interest, a detail shot of the beautiful rust on a fifty-year-old prawn trawler. But this weekend I've been trying to go a bit more mainstream with some colour-themed grids of my harbour close-ups. I'll put them in my Etsy shop and hope that someone else in the world shares my love.</span></div>
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Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-57748305079139599722018-05-29T12:12:00.000-07:002018-06-03T11:39:01.814-07:00Revisiting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">New Smyrna beach, on the east coast of Florida. This was the shoot where I first had the idea for Matthew Loney's Miracle, one of my audio-visual pieces.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's a gorgeous beach at any time, and we had a mellow, slightly misty day for our work, resulting in lovely muted blues, greys and beiges - a long way from a stereotypical Floridian palette.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This week I revisited this work and chose some images to edit in colour, rather than Matthew's black and white. I've done so much work with the mono images that I'd really forgotten what they had originally looked like. I submitted some to Arcangel, the agency that handles my commercial work. And I gave in to reveries of later summer afternoons on hot Florida beaches. Just a few weeks to go and I'll be there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-47348892668766942652018-05-20T12:16:00.000-07:002018-05-20T12:16:12.788-07:00Things we lost in the fire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's good to challenge yourself to try new things. This is a new thing I've been working on for the last month - my first composite image. It's by no means perfect, but I'm pleased with how it's turned out as a kind of trial run.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">By good fortune - rather than highly skilled discrimination - it turned out to be a good image to use for a first attempt. The fact that the figure is quite dark and is set on an even darker background made it fairly forgiving. I was excited to see that, when you place the figures side by side, the line of their adjoining arms creates a very nice continuous line, providing a sense of flow from one to the next. The lenses of the gas masks became ready-made frames to surround the images that I placed inside them, making this task much more straightforward than if I'd had to blend them into a scene in a realistic way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've learned a lot of new Photoshop skills through working on this image, but developing the initial concept was more fun still. The original image was called "Close to my heart". In the composite, I wanted to develop the idea of the man holding tight to the gas mask, attempting to keep several things close to his heart. The images in the lenses show a girl, face turned from the camera, a couple walking into the distance, and a heart worked in wrought iron. There's a lightly sketched story there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Did he succeed? "Things we lost in the fire" doesn't sound overly hopeful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The butterfly (vintage, carefully attached with a bendy wire and a piece of Sellotape), however, could be interpreted in a range of different ways - escape, a soul, forgiveness, change, death, resurrection....</span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-15542267176273048202018-05-07T12:34:00.003-07:002018-05-14T13:27:42.038-07:00Quiet<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I spent most of last weekend reading Susan Cain's book on the magic of introversion, 'Quiet'. (It's not the first time that reading a book was my main weekend entertainment, see below.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QegA4bwgcDbLD3gGBn4tHAO3sgfKGedqVZIUHcn4nSMKtBYxpHVTeO-Re41XfitYE5IEG-yOoC3g8RA_VfbLIYhptpmeyIRK-4gKnTKUzN-mS1eJe6YefDLT-ye_cJTp-2YVPhg4IbA/s1600/Reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="640" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QegA4bwgcDbLD3gGBn4tHAO3sgfKGedqVZIUHcn4nSMKtBYxpHVTeO-Re41XfitYE5IEG-yOoC3g8RA_VfbLIYhptpmeyIRK-4gKnTKUzN-mS1eJe6YefDLT-ye_cJTp-2YVPhg4IbA/s400/Reading.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've always known that on the introvert/extrovert scale I'd be on the introvert side, but I would have thought I wasn't too far from the half-way point. I'm not particularly shy. I'm calm rather than anxious and pretty emotionally stable. I have good friends. My job has involved talking for most of the working day for the last 30 years. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can do public speaking.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But 'Quiet' was a revelation to me in terms of how I understood the true meaning of introversion, of Susan Cain's presentation of the strengths and benefits of this personality type, and of just how many introverted boxes I could in fact tick. It's not shyness, or anxiety, or solitariness. It's a different angle of thinking and feeling, and I recognised myself on every page. If this is you, or your partner, or your child, or your students - half the world - you won't regret reading it too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some of the bells that rang for me were my </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">dislikes, such as e</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">vents which demand audience participation, g</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">roup problem-solving tasks, b</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">rainstorming, t</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">he section in some church services where you have to greet, or, horrifyingly, hug everybody, b</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">eing in the middle of a large crowd of people, s</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">mall talk.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the things I enjoy, like c</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">onnecting with people online, c</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">reating things independently (I don't want lots of feedback or suggestions on what I'm making), a </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">space of my own, b</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">eing on my own after spending time with other people, proper conversations, si</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">lence after a day of sound.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm very wary of c</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">onflict and of u</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">psetting people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know I'm o</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">ver-sensitive to all sorts of things, in both positive and negative ways, e</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">asily hurt, v</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">ery observant, c</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">autious, imaginative, p</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">ersistent and loyal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can d</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">rive for four hours without turning the radio on, just thinking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can also behave like an extrovert if it's for the sake of something I really believe in - but I'll need space to recharge afterwards.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My best New Year's Eves have involved midnight walks on the beach with one person. A New Year's Eve party? Nightmare.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the things I found interesting was the way she linked the qualities of sensitivity, empathy and being highly reactive to aspects of introversion - this was definitely something I'd identify with. My own devastating first day at nursery school fitted neatly into the highly reactive category. I'd been used to just playing as a pair with my lovely and imaginative best friend until this point, and the sheer number and noise of the nursery children upset me terribly. The fact that the toilet flushing and the Hoover vacuuming at home also upset me terribly should probably have alerted my parents to the fact that nursery school wasn't likely to be a big success for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It made me smile to come to my blog after reading Cain's book and realise what I'd called it... I'd named it after the somewhat corny but true saying, "The quieter you become, the more you can hear". I'd found this to be true in many contexts, but it seemed to me to have special implications for a photographer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The virtues of patience, observation, persistence, listening, thinking, planning, taking time and space - they all have their contribution to make in photography. Obviously there's room for spontaneity, boldness and risk-taking too - but sometimes those work better once the other things are already in place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I was a child, I didn't really think about what I was like as a person. I just knew that there were quite a few places in my world where I was very uncomfortable - and others where I was totally at home. As an adolescent, I assumed I was weird and different from everybody else and wrong. I didn't realise that most of my friends were probably feeling the same in their various ways. As an adult, I'm pretty comfortable with what I'm like. I'm used to myself and what works for me. But it was still a very uplifting experience to read Susan Cain's book and see the qualities of an introverted person - which are so often presented as problems, or challenges to be overcome, or aspects of oneself that must be worked on - as positive, things to be celebrated, the valuable contribution of half of the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Postscript: my mum has just told me that there were about five children at the dreadful nursery school I was sent to, and that it was specially chosen for its small size and quiet atmosphere, since I was such a sensitive little thing. I remember hordes of children, probably 30, and chaotic scenes of apocalyptic terror. I was obviously even more sensitive and reactive than I remember...</span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-73770635587135072192018-04-15T12:08:00.002-07:002018-04-15T14:36:07.569-07:00Judge not....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitelB8CSyXqPkyyoRTl87A6nKdW9B_Ke0nE2tUx9t7oYs6SJu3HB4hYgjEDBaxv465LF6xyF_g7PSysxS7o9UvSp04uGrsHsUKtC1HghU1POeQSTf9DiT7OArk3M-IzMUhz_3JzwYvSCk/s1600/IMG_5732-Edit-Edit-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitelB8CSyXqPkyyoRTl87A6nKdW9B_Ke0nE2tUx9t7oYs6SJu3HB4hYgjEDBaxv465LF6xyF_g7PSysxS7o9UvSp04uGrsHsUKtC1HghU1POeQSTf9DiT7OArk3M-IzMUhz_3JzwYvSCk/s640/IMG_5732-Edit-Edit-Edit.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last week I took my first faltering steps into the world of judging photographic work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was a challenge. I tried my very best to rise to that challenge and do justice to the work of all the entrants, but really it was a fairly sketchy first attempt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The competition in question was for less experienced photographers at Northern Ireland level. Less experienced doesn't mean less good - there were a substantial number of excellent shots in the collection to be judged.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Working as part of a three-person team, with one very experienced member, was what made me think I'd be brave enough to do it. And the most enjoyable part of the process was the evening judging session, with no audience, where we looked at all the images and made our decisions. We had a pretty good level of agreement on which ones were in the top half of each category, and then which ones were in the final dozen or so. But it took time to whittle those ones carefully down to the top three, the highly commendeds and so on. There was a lot of worthwhile discussion and persuasion. It was instructive to hear the opinions of my fellow judges; sometimes they noticed things that I didn't, and sometimes my opinion changed, based on their points of view. With only a little compromise to ensure that everyone's opinions were represented, we ended up with impressive line-ups of winners for our three categories.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A few evenings later came the really difficult bit - presenting our decisions to an audience, largely composed of people whose work was included in the competition.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Considering I'm someone who talks all day long for a living, I find talking to a photography audience surprisingly nerve-wracking. They're my peers, and a lot of them know a lot more than I do. By the time this particular evening rolled round, I was beside myself. I was hoping for some kind of cataclysmic weather or political event that wouldn't actually harm anybody, but would definitely involve the cancellation of the competition. Sadly, it was a reasonable sort of a damp day and Northern Ireland ticked along in its usual not overly competent but definitely not cataclysmic way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I had to stand up and talk about the images. I had read every book and article I could find about good judging - and of course I had my own high-minded advice to follow from <a href="http://thequieter.blogspot.co.uk/2017/09/judgement-day.html" target="_blank">this article</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I sort of managed to do it. I was fortunate to be able to present many of the images that I'd been most impressed by. I think I conveyed a good sense of enthusiasm for these. I tried to concentrate on their artistic content, the messages they were presenting and how they might make viewers feel. I tried not to tell personal anecdotes, but I slipped up once or twice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What I found really difficult, though, was making suggestions or giving advice that might be useful to the photographers. The few times I managed it, it was hedged about with so many perhapses, maybes, mights and possiblys that my intended recommendations were probably completely lost. And sometimes I just couldn't bring myself to say anything negative - so the photographer might well wonder why, if it was so good, it wasn't sitting amongst the top prizewinners?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I also realised afterwards that I'd said very little about anything technical in all the feedback I'd given. Composition, content, mood, emotion, use of colour had featured heavily, but I'd not discussed things like depth of field, exposure, editing techniques and so on. I'm not sure how that happened.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">All in all, it was an educational experience. I don't know if I'll ever be asked to judge anything again. If I am, I'll do it better next time. If not, the respect that I already had for all the good and well-meaning judges I come across will increase a hundred-fold. A win either way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The image at the start? It's my own. It's called Close to my Heart. I included it here because it's one that I thought judges would very possibly not like. But it was placed first in my most recent competition, and I'm thinking how very well-informed, sensitive and wise that judge was..... :)</span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-88796138400557151522018-03-30T10:09:00.000-07:002018-03-31T14:22:16.089-07:00Lough Ennell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXD1B6x6jsHWWwf9rwawRR4D763BbkWr6oezRyOaFYGsqjMn1NGzBbnRG_aYHT3xzbfJ98JL5J-6-sDpeWDhnMYlNRMfdAbDcPYR_H2grCR8q3zd1_D4lHAmK7a8rMWhZbeAsJ70RJqU/s1600/IMG_8948-Edit-Edit-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXD1B6x6jsHWWwf9rwawRR4D763BbkWr6oezRyOaFYGsqjMn1NGzBbnRG_aYHT3xzbfJ98JL5J-6-sDpeWDhnMYlNRMfdAbDcPYR_H2grCR8q3zd1_D4lHAmK7a8rMWhZbeAsJ70RJqU/s640/IMG_8948-Edit-Edit-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lough Ennell, just south of Mullingar in County Westmeath.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This was one of my stopping places (the only one without tea and cake) on my way back from Portumna to Belfast yesterday. It was the generous recommendation of a friend - and such a beautiful place.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBKziKGYxCpuqW9T4gtRkuE-Sjpn6HlBFzHEWXqs-1N3nK7RsN4dZP4BfOVVcF22_fuN3pHUUoAHJT-mwu2M6Ziive31XvWMqATjKZZy0iekJvqvyDO_gLwwgFGGajmc-mrigjum3510/s1600/IMG_8946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBKziKGYxCpuqW9T4gtRkuE-Sjpn6HlBFzHEWXqs-1N3nK7RsN4dZP4BfOVVcF22_fuN3pHUUoAHJT-mwu2M6Ziive31XvWMqATjKZZy0iekJvqvyDO_gLwwgFGGajmc-mrigjum3510/s640/IMG_8946.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was a dull day, but the clouds were lovely, reflecting in the tranquil surface. Much of the lake is very shallow, with rocks and plants emerging elegantly from the water.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It feels old, despite the calm. It has a busy history of crannog and ringfort building and buried silver. Now, it's surrounded by big houses and golf courses, but on a dull Irish day, there's enough wildness left to imagine it in ancient times. It even has swans - but by the time I reached them it was raining heavily and I needed some chocolate cake. I'll aim to return in May, with a picnic.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-29938911227144087792018-03-12T12:34:00.000-07:002018-03-12T12:43:48.938-07:00Faces of the Lough<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've written in </span><a href="http://thequieter.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Grandpa%27s%20contact%20sheets" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">earlier posts</a><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> about the photography of my grandpa, Ernest Elliott. He lived in Portaferry from just after the turn of the last century until the mid-1980s, and his work reflects what he saw in his local area over those decades of vast change. Some of his most striking images were of </span><a href="http://thequieter.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/grandpas-contact-sheets-rural-life.html" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">rural life</a><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> on the Ards Peninsula and around Strangford Lough</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">. Perhaps the most touching, though, are his </span><a href="http://thequieter.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/grandpas-contact-sheets-portraits.html" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">portraits</a><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> of local people</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So it's particularly nice that this week in the <a href="http://www.downcountymuseum.com/Home" target="_blank">Down County Museum</a> in Downpatrick, an exhibition of his portraits has opened. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I visited yesterday and came away very impressed by the museum's work. The images are well chosen and beautifully displayed, with standard-sized framed prints broken up by very large prints of some of the most striking portraits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I found it a moving experience to walk round the gallery, looking at each face in turn. Part of that was the fact that it was my grandfather's work, and he'd have been very proud and pleased if an exhibition like this had happened in his lifetime.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Part of it, though, is something that I often feel when looking at portraits. To my eye, in the best portraits there's a sense of connection between the subject and the photographer which creates a moment of openness, almost of vulnerability. The humanness of the subject is clear, in its hopefulness, joy, confidence, sorrow or fear. That can be heart-rending to look at decades afterwards - one authentic moment captured from a life lived and completed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">All these emotions are on view here. The images I've added here are photographs of the photographs, and they don't convey the full quality of the work, but perhaps you'll catch some of those moments nevertheless.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-14458164390199441852018-03-04T12:09:00.000-08:002018-03-04T12:09:31.824-08:00Photographing dinner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the advantages of being a camera club member is the opportunity to participate in regular competitions. And one of the advantages/disadvantages of our particular local federation is the two themed competition rounds each year. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes these are inspiring, sometimes off-putting, very often challenging. So far I've attempted street photography (quite far outside my comfort zone), contre-jour (shooting against the light, not a success), texture (oh yes, this suited me very well), bad weather (you'd think, living in this country, that that would be easy, but no), and infrastructure (a challenge, but I was pleased with what I managed).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The most recent themed round was food. This has been much more of a challenge than I would have expected, and it's taken most of the year to achieve just three shots that I'm satisfied with. But it has been fun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The one at the start of this post is my favourite. It started as a picture in my head, and it had its title, Sugar and Spice, from the outset. The vintage spoons were a key component - from all my experience of shooting old cars, I'm very aware that photographing shiny metal is a nightmare because of the reflections. Once it stops being shiny, you get lovely patinas, and you don't see a tiny version of yourself and your camera in every piece. So I haunted antique shops both here and in the US until I had enough old cutlery.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The spices came from Belfast's fabulous St George's Market. The spice stall lady let me buy tiny amounts of all the prettiest spices, though she looked very dubious at my choices, obviously deeply concerned about what my dinner was going to taste like.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I shot three versions of the image, on white, red and black backgrounds. There was no doubt which was best, although I'd really hoped that the red would work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And my living room smelt fantastic, despite the spice lady's concerned face, for several days.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzu6YEGrBdBMPVhw4JEnLzdUeoGjgeVhW_o_6kgQBd48EAj39AQMV2YOzil9EgpqrJWTWPX9Uy5Im1srvmdNNn7Y26gyYUF6tgvh3gU7-BA7rt5NFy_C9Mtgpcq8vBQkU8qfsV_zScXo/s1600/IMG_2074-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="960" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzu6YEGrBdBMPVhw4JEnLzdUeoGjgeVhW_o_6kgQBd48EAj39AQMV2YOzil9EgpqrJWTWPX9Uy5Im1srvmdNNn7Y26gyYUF6tgvh3gU7-BA7rt5NFy_C9Mtgpcq8vBQkU8qfsV_zScXo/s640/IMG_2074-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The oysters also came from St George's Market. I had carefully sourced this </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">lovely vintage, non-shiny, seafood-themed silver dish from an antique shop in Asheville. The shoot was in my garden in November, and the light was perfect for both it and the oysters.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was particularly looking forward to eating the oysters afterwards. I'd never tried them before, but I love seafood - my favourite dinner is mussels, and my favourite place to eat is the Mourne Seafood Restaurant.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I ended up being off work for a week. I don't really like looking at this photograph any more.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSO5YtV5VPPj8fyonWIw0UFikBv0uKX-90E2Z6C_k2hcgmJ2Svj89p4ZuNeRw5EM4WWZFkWxCc6fVYJA56qj5dFiaCmqtX5Hg4-VCWbJ9UERTXKsymSUMMWX9hSTJjMNCfT5wQYVMQS9o/s1600/IMG_8519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="960" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSO5YtV5VPPj8fyonWIw0UFikBv0uKX-90E2Z6C_k2hcgmJ2Svj89p4ZuNeRw5EM4WWZFkWxCc6fVYJA56qj5dFiaCmqtX5Hg4-VCWbJ9UERTXKsymSUMMWX9hSTJjMNCfT5wQYVMQS9o/s640/IMG_8519.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finally, a nice little tomatillo, with no tragic aftermath. This one is from last August, lit by the evening sun in J's garden in North Georgia. With its comrades, it ended up as an excellent salsa for our homemade burgers. An ideal food item, attractive, well behaved and tasty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So those are my three. You'd laugh to see most of the others, and I was slightly tempted to post some of them here. But it would be pretty embarrassing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Food photographers deserve much more respect than I had realised. This was a serious challenge which produced a lot of failure - but proved a positive learning experience in the end.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I'm seriously excited by one of next season's challenges - a photograph to illustrate a book or song title. Very much up my street.</span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-41224657688135072192018-02-11T11:48:00.001-08:002018-05-30T12:53:00.538-07:00Car Guy<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My new AV, Car Guy: click on the photograph below to see it on Vimeo...</span><br />
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<a href="https://vimeo.com/254916543" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1XO8V5Tdt_-UO_jHr4DOHC0VV58VvmATrt9dyT_Oo8GlR4dmCfy9cJMKC1521arJkohBTsfmGAJhRswTHc78FnhwvLrGm_ewRPNQimVj9D8EzN04nUn1ky_nyT2hu1VNlda3M-1pwtA/s640/IMG_4791.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This one has been a challenge, technically and emotionally.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">After the unexpected success of Matthew Loney's Miracle, which built up a little collection of trophies and medals from various national competitions during 2017, I was suffering from a bad case of impostor syndrome. I was very pleased with Matthew Loney, but I'd had so little experience of AV work when I made it that I felt its success was a bit of a lucky accident. It was frequently praised as being very different. And it was, because I didn't really know what was the usual thing for an AV.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">February sees the start of the 2018 AV season, with the NIPA festival as the first event, and I felt that I needed to make something new - but also that whatever I made, it would never be as good as Matthew. This is a paralysing attitude. It's one I see often in my own students. I'm sympathetic to it, but when someone else is feeling this way, I'm great at proffering sensible advice and encouraging them to move on. It's much harder when I'm the one paralysed.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZpQLZIj6veObGc5bA-NACFvz39hW5FgJwrMRL3pEZkjaWwZfGlQ2idw7VRfBwuUWJ1sqaN7o7F7ie9fl_TTy-U7vBIb__mPgnz9Clh75ad9sflYBAaLKNBPCMi8tG9CEkjL7uWxw8DfY/s1600/IMG_0789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZpQLZIj6veObGc5bA-NACFvz39hW5FgJwrMRL3pEZkjaWwZfGlQ2idw7VRfBwuUWJ1sqaN7o7F7ie9fl_TTy-U7vBIb__mPgnz9Clh75ad9sflYBAaLKNBPCMi8tG9CEkjL7uWxw8DfY/s640/IMG_0789.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I still have the syndrome, but I made the AV too. I got started by deciding that I was right, it would never be as good as Matthew, and that was ok. Instead, I treated it as a chance to try some new things. There's a voiceover. It's half the length, but I still wanted to convey a cohesive story. And it's in colour.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This proved to be a good approach. The always supportive J helped me with the script. We spent several happy evenings over the Christmas holidays lounging on the sofa, arranging fragments of text on a plastic tray from WyseByse, arguing over individual words, high-fiving each other when we hit on a good phrase. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Working out the technicalities of the voice tracks was a good learning experience too, once I'd constructed a pop shield from a coat hanger and a pair of tights, having forgotten to borrow a real one from work. We recorded several takes to get the voice right, though it was freakish how easily J was able to sound like an 80-year-old. I chopped the best track up into multiple segments, which made moving the voice around to work with the music track and slides much more flexible in my PicturesToExe AV software.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzE6eMNQCRaTcIlvgq_bD4tUNdC54WqXTOyRD3Qr1Xozq-v39S-hAv3Q_Y2gX5Q27-pN6YsMSR17EMvxqsF0mMexww10vSZEILcFECVnSFzlnMW18jV4wQvvVIyeweGacPusXJ0n3ghlI/s1600/IMG_4416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzE6eMNQCRaTcIlvgq_bD4tUNdC54WqXTOyRD3Qr1Xozq-v39S-hAv3Q_Y2gX5Q27-pN6YsMSR17EMvxqsF0mMexww10vSZEILcFECVnSFzlnMW18jV4wQvvVIyeweGacPusXJ0n3ghlI/s640/IMG_4416.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The music is my own. I wanted to keep it simple, with just piano and bass and very little else. The mood is influenced by cool jazz of the 1950s, when the cars and Car Guy would have been in their teens. The music starts with a little two-note motif, G - E, a setting of "car guy" - and this idea, backwards, forwards, decorated, filled in, and at different pitches, permeates the whole score.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The heart of the story is Car Guy himself, beautifully played by my friend's dad. And in a way, he represents the best of all our dads, with his homespun wisdom, his integrity, his mild humour and his understated but longstanding love for Isabella.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I hope it all comes together effectively for viewers - I'd love it to come across as touching, and for you to enjoy wandering through that southern scrapyard as much as both Car Guy and I have done.</span><br />
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Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-60163130747435165782018-01-28T11:19:00.000-08:002018-01-28T11:56:42.857-08:00Silas Fretwell<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8s98JZgIdnGQrhdZf-7rVswmnyoMgJmtEjfJ5EuWLH8EgMNg_EWMo3bMqlTEVp1hbh-SMYfcu4YWs6IM143s9WM0Pl5wYxXLyMbdvSE74Bm2Ia4s7oEhnmt8EjOcdLmaMN0aIHRcQG2E/s1600/IMG_5384-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8s98JZgIdnGQrhdZf-7rVswmnyoMgJmtEjfJ5EuWLH8EgMNg_EWMo3bMqlTEVp1hbh-SMYfcu4YWs6IM143s9WM0Pl5wYxXLyMbdvSE74Bm2Ia4s7oEhnmt8EjOcdLmaMN0aIHRcQG2E/s640/IMG_5384-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silas Fretwell, banjo player.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Boxing day, over a month ago. Northern Ireland was at its winter best, and the very game J went along with my styling ideas and posed moodily on a range of beaches round the Ards peninsula. Also in the alleyway behind my house, where one thoughtful neighbour has provided a beautiful weathered black backdrop as his garden wall.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I love projects like this. The combination of developing the concept, imagining the styling, finding the clothing and props, chasing the most beautiful weather, and trying to get everything right on location is an inspiring challenge.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And this particular day was a good one. Sometimes what I've imagined looks really stupid in practice, but I was happy with this combination of content and locations.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We ended up having tea at the Portaferry Hotel, as J tried to regain feeling in his fingers, which were sadly unused to playing metal strings for such a length of time. I think it was worth it, but that's easy to say when I was hiding behind the camera, properly dressed for the cold day, and pressing nothing more aggravating to the fingers than a shutter. Maybe I owe him more than afternoon tea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-87595626093995185272017-12-17T08:56:00.000-08:002017-12-17T08:56:20.363-08:00Following Frances 4: Swanlinbar, Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXIMTvYVjTkwzdVnlDIX_YfB_-jikwPSaM7LHO_V6B9LmSNVMUD72WVYuwSShEcmv_F7tmDyjCunA7kEBUrUTsDjv7GuufPPS_DyPNbSjfqmfVww6Q5iS7QgkOKjfYbMwK8VcIWfTcGA/s1600/IMG_1461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXIMTvYVjTkwzdVnlDIX_YfB_-jikwPSaM7LHO_V6B9LmSNVMUD72WVYuwSShEcmv_F7tmDyjCunA7kEBUrUTsDjv7GuufPPS_DyPNbSjfqmfVww6Q5iS7QgkOKjfYbMwK8VcIWfTcGA/s640/IMG_1461.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’ve been thrilled
by the visceral glimpse into Frances and William’s life afforded by my visit to the derelict Swanlinbar Methodist Church (you can read about it <a href="http://thequieter.blogspot.co.uk/2017/10/following-frances-4-swanlinbar-part-1.html" target="_blank">here</a>), and I’m
ready to drive away happy. But Gregory wonders if I’ve called at the manse yet.
No – I had assumed that the manse lay between the church and the river, and
that it’s long demolished.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s not. It’s a
few houses up the Creamery Road from where I parked my car. Gregory suggests
that I call at the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I walk out the road, knowing it’s a long shot. But there
working in the garden are Noel and his son Conor. I explain my connection with
the house and I’m welcomed in. Noel’s wife Kathleen arrives back from doing
messages in the town and we begin a tour of the manse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s a gorgeous house, detached and set in a substantial
garden, with stabling for a horse. The period features are intact – the tiles
in the square hallway, with the staircase rising up around it, the shutters throughout
the ground floor, the window frames with some little touches of stained glass.
It’s the most elegant house Frances has lived in so far, and as her first
manse, it always occupied a special place in her heart. Nora writes about her
mother’s vivid descriptions of her new home and of placing her wedding presents
around it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Kathleen and Noel are the most generous and lovely hosts
possible. In no time, I’m sitting having my lunch at a big old table in my
great-grandmother’s kitchen. It’s bread and cheese and tea. The cheese is
fancier than any Frances would have seen, but it’s familiar ground. We talk
about the Swanlinbar of today, education and prospects for young people,
agriculture, health and Irish political issues. This manse kitchen has listened
to such conversations continually over the last 117 years. I feel immensely
privileged to be involved in this one, and there’s a very grateful tear in my
eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Frances and William lived here in County Cavan for three
years. It was a quiet posting in many ways. Later, when I’m able to see the
original documents in the library at Edgehill, I find that William officiated
at only one wedding during these years, perhaps his first. It was a winter
celebration, when Maggie Jane Moffitt married William Magee on the fifth of
December 1900.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maggie, a seamstress, thirty-one years old, had been living
with her older brother Robert, his wife Doria and their seven children on the
family farm in the tiny townland of Gortnaleg, just south of Blacklion. After
her marriage, she moved in with William, his elderly mother and father and
sister Hannah, on their farm in Druminiskill, just across into County
Fermanagh. The Magees were a Church of Ireland family, and Maggie left the
Methodist Church of her youth to join her husband’s denomination.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The census records of 1911 show Maggie and William living in
Druminiskill with their eight-year-old son Richard. Hannah is still with them,
occupying the position of unmarried auntie that Maggie had previously held in
her own brother’s family. The Magee family remain in their Gortnaleg farm.
Doria’s name is now transcribed as Deliah, or perhaps Deriah. The three eldest
children have left home, and four more young ones have joined the family. The
youngest is baby Wesley Jason, an astonishing mix of names, Methodist and 1970s,
to my eye. Interestingly, two of the middle children, including Maggie Jane,
named after her aunt, are recorded as being able to speak Irish as well as
English.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All of that’s a bit of a diversion, but it’s also a little
snapshot of a family history very typical of its time and place. I also wonder
about the personal connections between the characters I see emerging from the
church’s careful records. Frances and Maggie were the same age and had much in
common. Might they have been friends? Might they have kept in touch during the
years ahead, as Frances, a great letter-writer, moved from town to town and
Maggie brought up her one precious son in the Lakeland countryside? Would they
have heard of the important events to come in each other’s lives and sent
sincere notes in their similar, careful late-nineteenth-century handwriting?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Frances was six months pregnant with her first child at the
time of Maggie and William’s wedding. The baby was due in March. With so many
older and younger siblings, nephews and nieces, I would imagine that Frances
had attended births before and looked forward with excitement and a realistic
idea of what lay ahead for her own first confinement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Her sister Rebecca, a reassuring and competent presence,
came to stay in the manse. Everything was made ready for the expected time. But
a complication arose. William received news that Swanlinbar was to receive a
visit from the Reverend F E Harte, minister of Carlisle Memorial Church in
Belfast, as part of the Foreign Mission Deputation. Fred Harte was a friend of
William’s – they had been ordained together. Carlisle Memorial was William’s
own home church. Offering hospitality at the manse was the right thing to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimNrI4A8UUd4v7E5MFHABWlz3lLGF8MGkg5ToRmYQFfq6m1i6flPdRIYZ_mXY3N-9OJ8J3AkEt4AmfKmB27t51ccC3mD44IaOID1yGv6DTrKZ7Q0f2FUe9nIT9avMUVQuibHcAC1XSFEM/s1600/20171101_185352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="960" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimNrI4A8UUd4v7E5MFHABWlz3lLGF8MGkg5ToRmYQFfq6m1i6flPdRIYZ_mXY3N-9OJ8J3AkEt4AmfKmB27t51ccC3mD44IaOID1yGv6DTrKZ7Q0f2FUe9nIT9avMUVQuibHcAC1XSFEM/s640/20171101_185352.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And despite everybody’s best hopes, the inevitable happened.
Frances and Rebecca entertained their visitor warmly, and everyone retired to
bed. Almost immediately, Frances went into labour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fred Harte tells the tale in his own book, <i>The Road I Have Travelled</i>. “I was three
long weeks in the country speaking on week-nights and preaching on Sundays. The
tour began at Enniskillen, from which I had a two hours trip down Lough Erne to
Knockninny, thence to Swanlinbar, where a little boy was born to the Rev. and
Mrs. William Bryans while I was in the manse. There was great commotion during
the night, but I slept peacefully through it all. The little boy was called
after me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Mr Harte was a notoriously heavy sleeper. Later in his book
he manages to slumber through the night of the Donaghadee gun-running. Nevertheless,
to modern sensibilities, having to stifle your labour cries to avoid disturbing
your husband’s colleague in the guest bedroom sounds like a duty too far.
Frances was certainly made of sterner stuff, though, and, ironically or as a
genuine compliment, the little boy was indeed named Frederick Edward.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fred was joined the next summer by his brother Donald. The
manse and its safe green garden were the perfect place for the little boys to
play, and by the spring of 1903, Frances was secretly expecting her third
child. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But spring was becoming a time of anxiety. She knew that a
move was inevitable, and as yet there was no indication of William’s next
posting. With every passing week she looked more fondly round her warm, square,
nicely appointed house and feared that its comforts would be hard to equal. Her
fears were to prove entirely justified.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-821799182746652811.post-21101676823316778352017-12-10T08:49:00.002-08:002017-12-10T08:49:35.370-08:00Something to do with the sea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirA-2XmB9rT2qZhEp6XiJgbYDJFW-iHz00QPjXmlLDGQBjXqulZH2eaJGQtM5jrYpEztlabKZIL2L2Eqpapgw890pWkChfkxigulnhR-urmRlnF55duHrE2GGQSzaYQBCM5GA6HeqluQY/s1600/IMG_4921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirA-2XmB9rT2qZhEp6XiJgbYDJFW-iHz00QPjXmlLDGQBjXqulZH2eaJGQtM5jrYpEztlabKZIL2L2Eqpapgw890pWkChfkxigulnhR-urmRlnF55duHrE2GGQSzaYQBCM5GA6HeqluQY/s640/IMG_4921.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I blame the government for my lack of photographic and blogging action recently. This school year we have a new syllabus in place for two year groups, which makes for a much heavier workload than usual. I'm missing my weekends driving round the country - I seem to be spending far too much time sitting at my dining room table surrounded by A level notes instead.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I did escape briefly from the Renaissance church anthem last weekend to drive one of my nieces along the County Down coast for an afternoon. It was a beautiful cold November day, ideal for a ten-minute walk every time we came to a harbour or a beach. Also ideal for eating at the Mourne Seafood Bar in Dundrum the instant the light went. We had salt and chilli squid, whitebait and mussels, all fantastic. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's funny how a short outing like that can completely revive your spirits. It's something to do with the sea, I think. I had to sit down with my notes the instant I got home, but it didn't seem quite such a chore as usual.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Judith Kimberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17151604813966988833noreply@blogger.com0