Confluence
December 28, 2014 § Leave a comment
At the tip of the Presqu’île, Lyon’s heart, the Saône meets the Rhône and continue to the Mediteranean together. If they could send back pictures from that journey, they would be images of lavender, vines, sun-bleached tiles and Greek and Roman ghosts. Blue, purple and red. Cypress green, yellow and white. It all starts somewhere around the end of the railway tracks which dive into the merging waters. The notion of borders has always fascinated me. Lines that are supposed to separate two territories, two cities, two meridians…
This is just another one of those boundary spots and I was thrilled to find it practically unchanged since my last visit twenty years ago. I stood there with my friend trying desperately to capture the sense of the place and the feelings and memories it evoked in me. The bodies of water right before my eyes, in their peacefully powerful struggle to become one. A scene full of symbolism.
It’s taken me weeks to get these words together. How do I do justice to this photograph that represents a part of the world so dear to me? In the end, it was a friend’s wish that gave meaning to the scene for me: may your life in the New Year be in flow. Simple and perfect.
Speechless
July 25, 2014 § 1 Comment
Monument Valley 4.55am. Perfect stillness. Desert stillness. The stars are far too far away to be heard as they move around the skies. The feeling of being alone in the world. Delightfully comfortable.
Since my teenage years, I have derived enormous pleasure being awake late at night. Reading, listening to music, looking at the night skies. My time. Myself. In peace. This one was the ultimate late night experience. Freezing, buzzing from the thrill, speechless.
Here’s to you John Wayne!
April 25, 2014 § Leave a comment
Fifty years ago, in the majestic opening sequence of The Searchers, John Ford started filling the frame with John Wayne from the very same spot.
This is Monument Valley and I’m right in the middle of it. Speechless, enchanted, thrilled to have at last my own part in this most familiar of Hollywood sets. For the last fifteen years, I’ve been travelling to America and every time I step out of the airport doors I get the buzz of that first visit to New York City. The warped feeling that you’re in a foreign, distant place which is also so incredibly familiar through the million images burnt in my brain after a lifetime of avid film watching and television grazing.
This is Monument Valley and I’m right in the middle of it. For real! Empty spaces, blue infinity skies, fluffy clouds, red dust everywhere, the towering mesas. A boy’s childhood dreams and legends assume their true scale and beauty and do their trick once again.
Catalan sunset
March 25, 2014 § Leave a comment
Today, I saw a friend after 28 years. “Must be quite a friend!” remarked jokingly a colleague. Well, time apart was never a true measure of friendship for me and, once more, it felt as if Spyros and I had parted company only a few days ago.
We were brought together by chance in the middle of the Shropshire countryside back in late 1985. Part of a disparate group, taking its first steps away from home, in a foreign place. Exile and isolation can make the strangest of people bond. Bitching about the filthy skies and English cuisine provided the glue that kept us close throughout that endless winter. The rest of the time we shared our impatience to escape to the next stage of our future, so full of promises and dreams. Summer finally came. We said our goodbyes and drifted apart till today when we crammed a lifetime of events, choices, experiences and regrets in a coffee cup. Two old friends with a common moment in the past and paths that are at least 3,000km apart. And just like back then, we still talked about more dreams and the future. 19 again for the time of a double espresso.
Earlier this evening, I was going through some photos and came upon this 1/8000th of a Catalan second from last summer. It’s freezing outside again, and the picture complete with the carefree, sprightly boys somehow closed a circle. It fitted perfectly with the events and thoughts of my day. A bizarre blend of melancholia, bittersweet memories, optimism and calm. And it felt good.
Dreams
October 23, 2013 § Leave a comment
Do you remember when you used to fall aslep listening to my stories? Sweet drowning in the voice that sung tales from far away places and distant times. Tales full of light. Tales full of dreams. Tales full of hope and promise.
How did dreams become so dark and heavy?
Small
October 5, 2013 § 1 Comment
“All the world’s a stage
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.”
William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII
A photographic interpretation of some of the wisest words I have ever read. Pretty powerless against fate, life, the universe, the man-made world. There’s only so much you can control, only so much you can shape the way you like. But hey, that’s fine. Savour the moment. Feel the icy Donegal wind, the warm Mediterrenean sunset, the breath-taking New York skyline. Why else were we brought on this planet if not to walk it, breathe it, see it.
Aiden Kent
June 14, 2013 § Leave a comment
I got in the black cab and was intrigued by the pictures of the smooth-looking, tuxedo-wearing singer staring at me from the bottom of the jump seats. “This is me!” confirmed Aiden, the singing cabbie. He told me about his alter ego, his parallel life as a jazz & swing singer with his band, the Denmark Street Big Band. He said that if I was a 6-foot tall blond beauty, he’d already been singing for me by then. He’d certainly done just that on commission from a client who wanted to impress his new girlfriend on their way to a romantic lunch date. “Girls melt when someone sings for them” and he loves doing just that. Singing! Keeps him sane, makes cab driving more bearable. I could not resist the temptation and asked if he had made a record. Guess what, he had…and he also had copies with him…and of course I bought one…and I also got a live song performance from him despite not having a strand of blonde hair on me. Unforgettable! Priceless! Fleeting encounters with people like Aiden make life worth living. I’m still smiling. You made my day Aiden! Hell no, my month! This is one black cab with a twist!
Wavelength
June 7, 2013 § 1 Comment
Oh to be tortured by the bright, setting, summer sun. Blinding, delicious, timeless. Eyes burning, everything a blur and a big childish smile on my face. Memories ressurected, memories made. Peace.
Sleeping Giant
May 24, 2013 § 3 Comments
Giles Gilbert Scott’s majestic construction is standing proud once again. Since its decommissioning nearly 30 years ago, Battersea Power Station has almost had as many failed rebirth attempts as a cat has lives. This time though, might just be the one! Whichever way things turn out, take advantage of the opportunity to get close to the monolithic legend with the elegant lines while you can; for free! (Chelsea Fringe at Battersea Power Station, till Sunday 26 May).
The Messenger
May 20, 2013 § Leave a comment
There’s something about Robins at Kew Gardens. Something very personal and almost spiritual. Time and time again, during difficult moments in my life, a visit to Kew Gardens will invariably include the appearance of friendly and persistent Robin. Experts say that Robins sing all year long and that despite their cute appearance, they are aggressively territorial and are quick to drive away intruders. I know otherwise. They have always come to deliver a message of hope and support. They are the link with the other side.
Nikos Liapis 