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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
It would make a great counterpoint to St Patrick's Church in Donegall Street, one of my favourite city centre churches...
I looked for frames in the architecture, low gold light, small unexpected details. A bit of happenstance, a bit of integrity. Typical Belfast.
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.
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.
I've spent the last couple of months working on black and white images of Belfast for my Instagram account. 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.
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.
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.
A high, beautiful space in the centre of Belfast. It's full of ghosts, emanating in layers from its Victorian brickwork. And every corner's a frame for a view, out or through.
We're upstairs in, appropriately, the old Frames snooker hall complex, once Robert Watson's beautiful furniture warehouse. It's stood through world wars, troubles, development and devastation and at least once it's been on the brink of demolition. Now it's waiting for its next act - perhaps an office space, perhaps an apartment.
All around us are faces, torn from magazines, preserved in the aspic of their heydays. It makes me wonder, randomly, how much I'd pay for the chance to look out of these high windows and see the old Belfast they saw. I'd give a lot.
Later, we're in another empty, lovely space. This is the Carnegie Library on the lower end of the Oldpark Road. It's also ready for new life and love, but full of the old energy of its hundred years of reading and learning.
The architectural details are beautiful. The institutional pink paintwork, a pale, delicate version of the famous Baker-Miller pink, adds to the feeling that we're surrounded by benign spirits, wanting only to sit at a long mahogany table and take their turn with the day's newspapers or request a new Greek primer from the shelves.
You can find out more about the plans for this building here.
Unexpected bonuses - and counting my blessings very gratefully as I thought about people who hadn't been so fortunate in her wake - of Ex-Hurricane Ophelia's sweep through Belfast were a day off work and some beautiful light. The afternoon sun was warm and low and the clouds were busy and dramatic.
I went for a long walk round part of the west side of Belfast Harbour, exploring the area round Corry Road, Dufferin Road and McCaughey Road. I was hoping to find some subject matter that would fit the theme of 'Infrastructure', a forthcoming competition round in my camera club. I'm still not exactly sure what will count for this, despite lots of helpful advice. I suspect I'm focusing too much on the details that go on around the infrastructure and not enough on the infrastructure itself. And now that I keep saying and thinking of that word, it's beginning to sound wrong and strange, the way words do when you concentrate too hard on them.
But whatever with the infrastructure, it was an exhilarating walk. There were no other pedestrians round, just one guy on a bike, who winked at me and called out, 'Good luck!'. With what, who knows. But thank you very much.
