Fortress

laROQUE-fortress-001.jpg

By Patrick La Roque

I sit on a beach thousands of miles from home. I hear waves and their undying flux, like claws of the eternal, grinding. I hear id and ego battling it out, the persona emerging...you are the loner it says, you are content. No. The truth is, I die a small death without the presence of others.

I am not the fortress I once thought I was.

If they let us linger, we steal atoms from those around us. We ingest particles through osmosis, feeding on thoughts and energy and light. And when darkness falls we consume it whole as well.
Soft-spoken vampires
eyes and ears and teeth to the ready
yet giving as we take.

I am not the fortress I once thought I was.

I could fly to the ends of the earth but nothing would ever fill me the way you do. And so I rush the rush of mad machine horses, legs pumping in a cloud of blistering steam. I tear at the sky and asphalt with my mouth, pull them apart until this void is closed and distant.

I am not the fortress I once thought I was.

Signs Of Life

006_CLARK_Signs_Of_Life.jpg

PHOTOGRAPHY & TEXT BY DEREK CLARK

I held my sister up as she waited for her final pill of the day, the eighteenth. We were alone and she looked at me and shook her head. I asked her why she was shaking her head and her reply was “What kind of life is this?”. 
This was the first time she sounded like she'd had enough and I struggled to muster an argument for the defence. But before I found one she said: “I suppose it's a life”. I nodded my head, unable to speak. But this time was not because I didn’t have an answer, but because emotion hit me in the back of the throat without warning. Emotion that chokes your words and throws out awkward silence for all present to endure.

It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was chatting to Steve and his wife Amanda about alternative treatments that he and my sister could/should try. We were at Photo Talks, which Steve ran with Phil Paine in St Albans. I had flown down and had the honour of being the final speaker on the final night. Photo Talks had been a great success, but due to Steve’s cancer diagnosis and Phil’s imminent move to Wales, it was coming to an end.

Shortly after that, we invited Steve to be a guest writer/photographer on our June 2017 issue. Steve’s essay was called ‘I Live To See Another Day’ and as it turns out, was published one year before his death. Steve was already writing his personal blog and telling his very private story in a very public way. He showed great bravery and courage in that blog and It’s well worth sitting down with a coffee and reading Steve’s story in his own words. 
My heart sank when I read the following words in his post titled ‘Playing To The Gallery’.

“My liver is failing. This is the end game, and this will be my last post. Nobody can quite believe it, but I know I have days not weeks.”

That indeed was Steve’s final post, but his work will live on for many years, which thankfully we will be able to consume soon. Neale James is in the final stage of editing a documentary film about Steve which will be coming really soon. Books of Steve's work are already in the pipeline too.

**UPDATE** The film by Neale James can be found at the foot of this page.

Cancer is the worst of diseases, but it brings out the best in people. I see it all around me right now. My parents and my brother in law rise to new heights each day with their compassion, strength, love and unwavering commitment. Falling apart will have to wait for another day because today is about care.

“Human kindness is overflowing,
but I think it’s going to rain today”
— Randy Newman

P.s.
I’m not sure this set of pictures fits with the text. My idea, as the title says, was to show signs of life without actually having any people in the pictures. I also wanted to take a walk in the streets with my camera, as Steve did in his final months and made sure to include a few bikes as Steve was a keen cyclist.

UPDATE 21st July 2018

This is the film by Neale James that I mentioned above.

The Dark Side of the Camera

STEPHANI-darkside-01.jpg

BY BERT STEPHANI

Unfortunately I never met Steve but his guest post on KAGE definitely struck more than one chord with me and the sad news of Steve leaving this earth made me think. 
As photographers we all want to live on in our work, well I know I do. We try to preserve everything: the youth of our children, life events, fashion, our friends, loved ones, our environment and how it changes over time ... everything. But what about ourselves, the dark side of the camera? Sure, every picture is to a certain degree a self portrait of the photographer but it is not a picture of ourselves. I don't care too much if there won't be a picture of me in 50 or 100 years. But maybe my children or their children would like to have at least some document of how I looked. Hey, maybe in thirty years, I would like to see how I looked as a middle aged man. 

I've never been into self portraiture much although I find it very interesting to see from others. But although there are billions of people that I'd rather photograph than myself, I'm going to make an effort to do an occasional self portrait. I had to dig deep in my archives to find some that I actually like. 

STEPHANI-dark-16.jpg

Thx Steve for being Steve. You have made your mark on a Belgian photographer you've never met, I can only imagine what an amazing influence you must still be to those close to you. 

For Granted

On the day of Steve's memorial, I was in Brighton with Patrick.  Unfortunately, I could not possibly attend and will pay my respects another time.

At 12:30pm, Neale James, who was also with us, tapped me and muttered "It's now".

Incongruously, today is my daughters 10th birthday and tomorrow is my parents 50th wedding anniversary. 

As I always say to my questioning children, the world will always spin, but sometimes things fall off.  And that's sad.  But mostly, things are good and whilst we celebrate Steve's life in memorial form, we must also celebrate the beauty of ongoing life, love and laughter.

I thought about what to post here, image wise, and decided that I would honour Steve in the way I think he would approve of.  

Just some random pictures, of the 48 hours around his memorial.

On Being

RASK1128.jpg

Words and Photography by Jonas Rask

This essay isn’t easy for me. Loss and sorrow never is. 

I deal with life and death in the healthcare system every day, but that’s in a professional setting. That’s when I’m prepared and at guard. I put on the semi-permeable emotional shield, that protects my inner fragility. These things hurt. Every goddamn time. Even for a doctor like myself, who is confronted with it on a daily basis, they hurt like hell. Some more than others, but they do hurt! 

Steve Shipman's passing after a longtime fight with cancer is obviously something that touches us here at KAGE. I didn’t know Steve personally. I loved his photography, I read his blog, but I never reached out on a personal level. But in the context of things, that doesn’t really matter, 'cause the loss is a great one. He was an inspirator par excellence, and he touched many people through his art, including myself. 

We talked about the theme of this issue and the title that came up was “On Being Here - For Steve” - I gave some good thought into what I wanted to do photographically for this issue, and I decided on a portrait series shot in 6x6 on analogue medium format just like Steve did with his portraiture. Unfortunately the 7 portraits I had done got lost during a bad development session yesterday. So the portraits went down the drain...  

DSCF0702.jpg

Having to rethink the entire thing with less than 24 hours until deadline, is one of those situations that you really don’t want to find yourself in. Nonetheless that is what happened. 

I took the liberty to do a complete shift in expression. Instead of me portraying strangers with no emotional affiliation to my life, or Steve's for that matter, I decided on sharing some shots of the one thing that I know mattered most to him:

Family.

I cannot speak on behalf of Steve, but I can speak for me when I say that family is everything. They bring me all the emotions that I can experience as a human being. The entire spectrum. 

When the feeling of loss and sadness takes a toll on my mind, the feelings of hope, innocence and happiness always prevail when I see my kids at play and look into the eyes of my wife. 

This is what “being here” is all about for me. Being here, for Steve, everyday enjoying life with those around me that matters the most. 
Here’s to you and your loved ones Steve.

7x024

No Such ThingDerek Clark | X100F, 23mm f2. 1/250 sec at f7.1, ISO 3200

No Such Thing
Derek Clark | X100F, 23mm f2. 1/250 sec at f7.1, ISO 3200

Driftwood, Bribie Island
Robert Catto | X-H1, 35mm f/1.4. 1/8000 at f/1.4, ISO 200.

Broken Fire
Jonas Rask | X100F, f/4, 1/125, ISO 5000.

SuzanneVincent Baldensperger | X-Pro2. | 35mm 1/125 at f/1.4, ISO 800.

Suzanne
Vincent Baldensperger | X-Pro2. | 35mm 1/125 at f/1.4, ISO 800.

BudsPatrick La Roque | X-PRO2,  1/11000 at f/1.8, ISO 200.

Buds
Patrick La Roque | X-PRO2,  1/11000 at f/1.8, ISO 200.

National Portrait GalleryKevin Mullins |GFX-50S with GF45mm F2.8 Lens 1/200 @ ISO 125 F2.8

National Portrait Gallery
Kevin Mullins |GFX-50S with GF45mm F2.8 Lens 1/200 @ ISO 125 F2.8

BrusselsBert Stephani | GFX 50S, GF110mm f/2,  1/250 @ f/2.8, ISO 200

Brussels
Bert Stephani | GFX 50S, GF110mm f/2,  1/250 @ f/2.8, ISO 200

Live In The Moment

017_CLARK_Every_Day_Life.jpg

PHOTOGRAPHY & TEXT BY DEREK CLARK

“I’m a housefly called God and I don’t give a fuck...
...I’m the atomizer
I’m the vaporizer
I turn everything to crud
I like it here in your flesh and blood
I’m the elevator man don’t you see?”
— Nick Cave

Live in the now. Live in the moment. That's what I'm constantly telling myself these days. But that's not always easy when you have a cloud hanging over the future as you know it. But I'm trying hard.

We tend to blame the past and put too much expectation on the future. But the past is gone and can’t be changed, and the future is uncertain and might not even exist for some of us. The present is a gift that should not be squandered. It might even be possible that the present is as good as it will ever be.

My kids are ten and twelve and in a few years they will fly the nest and start their own family. We will see them less and less as they move forward in their lives. I'm conscious that this is just a stage in my life and it's by no means a long-term thing. I can keep thinking about the good and the bad things that lie ahead, or I can open my eyes and see everything that is perfect at this moment in time.

Beautiful Chaos

By Bert Stephani

As soon as we agreed to take "everyday life" as our theme for this issue, my mind started spinning with ideas and concepts. None of them worked, there was always something missing. And then it hit me: everyday life doesn't thrive within the confines of a concept. So I just let it rip. 

Since I discovered mirrorless cameras, I've pretty much always carried one with me. And lately I started wondering why I used to make tons of those real life intimate images and now I hardly ever make any. Are the kids too old for this now? Aren't their enough interesting things happening in my life? Or even worse ... did I loose my mojo? Although these reason may carry some validity, it's not that. You see, I was stilling carrying a camera everywhere, I just stopped using it to photograph every day life.

I revisited my archive from a couple of years ago to investigate how I made those great family pictures in the past. I definitely had more winners back then, but only because I took way more pictures. Quality should always be the goal for a photographer but sometimes quantity helps to achieve quality. It's rare when all the stars align in such unposed pictures: the perfect moment, great light, a good background, ... And when it happens, it only lasts for a split second. 

The say: "the best camera is the one you have with you". But that's not true ...

THE BEST CAMERA IS THE ONE YOU HAVE IN YOUR HANDS
(with a full battery, an empty card, without lens cap)

12 Hours

kevin-mullins-12.jpg

Photography & Text by Kevin Mullins:  Fujifilm X100F

“Monotony has nothing to do with a place; monotony, either in its sensation or its infliction, is simply the quality of a person. There are no dreary sights; there are only dreary sight seers.”
— G.K. Chesterton, Alarms and Discursions

In a world of seeming monotony, there is I suppose there is a story in everything.

This month, we decided to document our everyday life and I immediately knew that it would be kind of dull.  But also, perhaps, a bit cathartic.

You see, even though I believe I have one of the best jobs, I still have a daily grind. 

I have the same issues and worries today as I did five years ago and I still feel like I'm walking through treacle often.

In the end, it turned out to be around 12 hours to encompass this.

I wanted to give a viewpoint as to what I see.  Every day. 

Not a romanticized version of anything, but honest warts and all series of images.

These images are not pretty, and can't really be considered much more than snapshots, but they are true to the voyeuristic principles of photojournalism.  What was in front of me, I photographed without adornment.

Nothing is moved, nothing is cleaned and nothing is edited.

This is my daily life.

I'm very privileged to live in a beautiful market town, and once my day is done I get to walk through a gorgeous Cotswolds scene to our beautiful, but small and cramped, 400-year-old cottage.

I still need to change the water in my car, and I still find my daughters dolls terrifying.  

But I'm grateful for the monotony I have to endure if in fact, endure is the right verb to use.  

05.05 retrospect

RASK1379.jpg

Photography and words by Jonas Rask

Ever since I started shooting Fujifilm cameras back in 2011, I started carrying my camera with me everywhere I go. 
The store, concerts, recitals, family gatherings, the couch. You get the point. Everywhere. 

Whenever I give lectures on photography, it’s always my key point. - Always wear a camera. You never know what situations will present it self. 
This has a very desirable side effect. Most of my images are images of my everyday life. Life as it happens around me, in front of my lens. 

Maybe not exciting in present tense, but when viewed in retrospect, it becomes what photography is destined to be. Preservance of memories. Those fleeing moments that you want to hang on to forever. 

I dug into my library. 
I found one monochrome
I found one colour

6 years. 12 images. 1 date.

This is my everyday life. On May 5th. The past 6 years.

 

13

14

15

16

17

18