I’m confused. After all these years of wanting to visit and photograph Auschwitz, I finally went, and it was indeed a moving experience as you would expect. But it’s also tainted by the realisation that we have already entered into a dark time in the present day that feels every bit as dangerous as the late 1930s. Auschwitz for me stands as a reminder of how dark and despicable humans can be, and that we can never go there again. But we are.
Gate 13
For the sake of the People
Democracy Sausage
They say a week is a long time, in politics.
For those of us who live in Australia or Canada—or if you’re a citizen of both countries, like me—this has been a very long week indeed.
Monday was the Canadian federal election, in which the Liberal Party of Canada pulled of the seemingly impossible and came from almost certain defeat to nearly winning a majority government. And here in Australia (as I write this), polls are about 2h from closing in our federal race as well. It’s not nearly as contentious, but potentially just as consequential…
50
BY BERT STEPHANI
It happened, I turned 50. In the run-up to this big birthday, I kept saying that it didn’t affect me. But then it dawned on me that it actually does effect me. Just not in a negative way. I’m completely fine with turning 50, I find it amusing and interesting. It feels a bit like I’m on the outside looking at someone who is half a century old and wonder what it would be like. I can’t really explain, I don’t really understand. And then there’s only one thing to do … grab a camera.
I decided to turn my 50th voyage around the sun into a photography project, probably a book. To kick off the project I went on a one week photo trip to the French coast armed with just a manual 50mm lens (what else?) to start figuring out which directions to go. I shot just for myself, without any research, no plans. Just to see where my intuition would take me.
Alors s'assit sur un monde en ruine une jeunesse soucieuse
By vincent baldensperger
Découverte lors d’un repérage photo, ce témoin né en 1928 et condamné en 1997 fait encore face aux éléments dans un silence total. Les 3500 ouvriers et les machines se sont tus, la carcasse du géant grignotée sans relâche s’amaigrit, se fragilise, ça respire l’agonie d’un monde industriel devenu trop encombrant. Autour c’est la campagne, la nature qui petit à petit reprend sa place. Autour c’est aussi des milliers d’emplois à réinventer, ailleurs…
“Alors s’assit sur un monde en ruine une jeunesse soucieuse.”
A. De Musset / La Confession d’un enfant du siècle
XV
By vincent baldensperger
Ma petite participation à la dernière coupe du monde de rugby a débuté fin 2022. Philippe me propose de réaliser une série de 55 portraits d’internationaux du XV de France. Un style, une signature, du noir et blanc tel que j’aime le travailler. Une belle galerie de belles gueules au final.
L’exercice est clair et “facile” sur le papier, un peu plus délicat en pratique dès les premiers rendez-vous. Il y a ce facteur temps qui rythme les séances les unes après les autres. En moyenne une quarantaine de minutes pour installer mon fond, ma source flash, mon réflecteur, réglages boitier, réglages lumières, séance portrait puis rangement de l’ensemble.
Autre découverte en chemin, la gestion des plannings, des lieux de shooting, pour aller à la rencontre de ces internationaux et réaliser chaque séance avec un minimum de “confort” de travail. De Toulouse à Biarritz, Bordeaux, La Rochelle, Paris, Perpignan, Béziers, Montpellier, Aix, Toulon, Clermont, Lyon… rendez-vous donc chez moi pour certains, chez eux pour d’autres, on pousse les meubles, les canapés du salon. On improvise aussi dans des vestiaires de stades, des salles de restaurants, des chambres d’hôtel, bref tout ce qui peut faire office de mini studio.
Au total quasiment 9 mois de réalisation, 9 mois de rencontres et de découvertes, 9 mois de bonheur.
Je rend une fois encore hommage à tous ces rugbymans qui m’ont accordé ces quelques instants devant l’objectif, à Philippe Toinard qui m’a confié ce superbe projet, à l’équipe des Editions de La Martinière pour leur confiance.
Les quelques portraits de cette galerie sont extraits de ma sélection…
Life of Byron
We’ve been away.
It’s been quite a while since I posted an essay here—but also, we got out of town for a few days.
If you’ve visited Australia, you’ve probably heard of Byron Bay; it’s one of those towns whose reputation precedes it—beautiful beaches, surfers with Kombi vans, a relaxed lifestyle, music festivals, did I mention the beaches?
And yes, all of that is true, which is why when a friend very kindly offered his house for a week, we jumped at the chance to have a bit of summer in winter. (Yes, this is what Byron looks like in winter!)
The Way Back
By Patrick La Roque
Vinyl, it turns, out, was a gateway.
I first installed the turntable on a rotating tv stand (quite the anachronistic piece of furniture from my mom's house), next to the desk, connected to the mixer through a small pre-amp hastily purchased from Amazon. The old records sounded great in the studio monitors, and for awhile I was perfectly content spinning albums while busying myself with daily work. But after a few after-hours listening sessions in that office chair, I thought to myself "man, this is kinda silly". So I pulled an older set of slightly busted powered speakers out of storage, and moved the whole setup to the other end to the room. The sound took a hit, but I could live with it. I went up to the attic, found an ageing Ikea lounge chair—a leftover from my bachelor days—dropped it smack-dab on the "sweet spot". But now the tv stand looked ridiculous so I ordered a small media cabinet, cheap and nothing fancy, but clean. I added my buddy Robert's Uberlight to illuminate the turntable when needed. Got some cleaning supplies to refresh my dusty collection (along with twenty+ classical records acquired for a dollar each at a neighbourhood yard sale).
One day, not too long ago, I started thinking about the receiver I'd purchased back in the 90s—a mid-range Harman Kardon. The new cabinet had this built-in shelf just begging for it. I remembered something being broken, but after a good cleanup everything worked, except for the radio. No big deal, right? I unplugged the pre-amp, tested the receiver's Tape Out to see if it would send a signal to the powered speakers. It did, and the sound immediately expanded (not sure why, it's a direct pass through...whatev). This Tape Out setup, however, meant bypassing the unit's signal processing. Bit of a shame. I cursed myself for selling RFT speakers for peanuts, years ago.
Note to self: be a pack-rat, damn it, you never know.
On our visit to the Maricourt flea market I headed straight for the electronics section, hoping to maybe get lucky and unearth a decent pair of stereo speakers. Nope. Damn it. I was a dog with a bone now. I found myself lurking on audio forums here and there, to get a sense of what was available, what could be ok, and affordable. Brands to avoid, those to look for. Just curious, you see.
I found a deal on a set of Elac Debut 2.0 b6.2—German brand, design by Andrew Jones (famed speaker designer), mostly glowing reviews all-around.
I took one more step.
...
I've been a musician my entire life. I used to spend hours and hours dissecting album after album, of all genres, lying on dusty apartment floors, alone or with friends, rooms drenched in burning incense with the lights turned down to half a sliver of a lux. But over time music slipped into the background, a soundtrack to merely colour the day to day movements of our lives. Unobtrusive to the point of anonymity. Music for work, for dinner, for cooking, and driving. Music as decor. Spatial Audio? Pfff. Most of this wasn't even played in stereo anymore, relegated to solitary Echo and Sonos devices pretending to sound right.
Now for the first time in years, I don't simply hear music—I stop, I explore, I choose, I listen. Not just to vinyls either: I've wired outputs from the studio mixer to the Harman Kardon receiver, which allows me to send audio from the Mac (or any device with Airplay), opening up our entire streaming library.
Filling a room with sound is transcendent: there is air and movement and vibrating particles interlocking, bouncing off walls and piercing the skin. Resonances like mantras and soft meditations. Character borne of chipped paint, old wood, and glass. It's the sound of ghosts, of unrelenting memories, a realm of contemplation and awe and alchemy.
Vinyl, it turns out, was a way back.
Glitter & Stars
By Patrick La Roque
I'm searching for words that aren't coming. The snow's falling, finally, enough of it to cover the brown and beige monotony of the past month. 2022 is almost over and yeah, it was slow around here. I'd love to pinpoint a reason, but I confess to being at a complete loss. Is it fatigue? A less urgent need to express ourselves on a regular basis?
When I saw Bert's post a week ago I immediately picked up my camera and walked around our house, now fully decked out for the holidays. It felt right. Maybe not as essential as it once did, but comforting. A beginning, at least.
Wishing you all the very best.
More inspiration, more awe, more love.
