A week's worth

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By Patrick La Roque

We barely realize how much stuff we consume on a daily basis. We go through the motions, take out the trash, recycle as much as we can and now compost most of it...but it still just moves constantly, in/out, flowing like a river.

The images below barely scratch the surface. I picked through the recyclables before dumping them in the bin outside. I could’ve added Amazon packages and at least ten times more boxes and wrappers and cans. With five of us sharing the house and the kids growing up, it’s quite an exponential curve. And you can’t help but imagine all of this multiplied across every household, a thousand million times...we ingest and reject at a dizzying pace.

As photographers, this extends to our gear as well: the appeal of the shiny and the new is a siren’s song that’s hard to resist. This is why we made a point this month of shooting all our essays with our oldest camera—well, our oldest digital and usable camera anyway. In my case (and a few of my colleagues as well I think) this was the Fujifilm X100. Back when these were still called Finepix. And you know what? It wasn’t a pleasure to shoot and it quickly highlighted just how far we’d come. Technology really does shift insanely fast and our reflexes and expectations shift along with it. And yet I was profoundly surprised when I loaded the images on my computer: the files from this camera totally stand up, even in 2019; even on a 5K Retina display. In the rush of new features and medium format and ever faster performance I’d forgotten how good this little camera was, despite its flaws.

Images should always spring from who we are, not what we shoot—and yes, we know this in our bones.
But it was damn good to be reminded.

Re/Growth

Re/Growth

It’s funny - I hadn’t intended to write a companion piece to my last essay; but, here we are.

I was back in New Zealand last week, driving down the west coast of the South Island; and what struck me after a few years in Australia wasn’t just the colour - though the variation in shades of green are certainly striking - but the interconnectedness.

It’s a very wet place, the coast, and there’s a dark lushness to the forests; especially compared to the areas of New South Wales where I spend most of my time these days…

Deep Blue Year

By Vincent Baldensperger

De bas en haut, avec pour seule frontière l’horizon, 365 nuances de bleu. Pas de saison pour le marine, l’égyptien, le cobalt, l’azur, le saphir, le smalt, l’électrique, le prusse, le canard, le turquin, le minéral, l’outremer, le guède, le ciel, le barbeau, le céruléen, l’ardoise, le céleste ou encore le bleu roi… entre mer et ciel, chaque jour sa lumière, chaque instant sa nuance… Bienvenue en 2019 !

From bottom to top, with the horizon as the sole border, 365 shades of blue. There is no season for navy, egyptian, cobalt, azure, sapphire, smalt, electric, prussian, peacock, deep, mineral, ultramarine, woad, sky, cornflower, cerulian, slate, celestial or even royal blue… between heavens and oceans, each day has its light, each moment its nuance. Welcome to 2019!

Cycles

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BY BERT STEPHANI

I used to live near these fields and I walked them often for a couple of years to get some air, think, forget, despair, hope or just be. I liked how things changed with the seasons but as soon as I entered the second annual cycle, I got bored because it was like watching a movie again just after finishing it the first time. What's the point of life if it's just a constantly repeating pattern?

It took a while before I started noticing the subtle changes that came with each cycle. I saw wildlife that wasn't there a year before, the puddles on the path were in different places, there were new sounds, unfamiliar faces and so much more. 
This morning, when I walked these fields again for the first time in a couple of years, I noticing that these small changes are all it takes to transform an area over time. 

Nature is wise teacher, small changes do have an impact. Our actions aren't pointless, so let's make them count.


Constant Renewal

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Photography & Text by Derek Clark

Constant

ADJECTIVE

Occurring over a period of time.

Remaining the same over a period of time.

(of a person) Unchangingly faithful and dependable.

NOUN

A situation that does not change.

Glasgow, like most cities, is changing rapidly. But you may have noticed that the older something gets, the better the chance of survival. The Provan's Lordship is the oldest house in Glasgow. It's a stones-throw away from Glasgow Cathedral and was built by Bishop Andrew Muirhead for the chaplain of nearby St Nicholas Hospital in 1471. I was lucky to have the place to myself when I visited recently and I have to say that it was more than a little eerie. You can practically feel the history in each room as you make your way through the house.

Nearby graves at Glasgow Cathedral have alphabet gardens growing in the engravings of the tombstones. Nature takes back everything eventually and here the soil has blown into the channels, followed be seed. constant growth; Constant renewal. Nothing ever stands completely still.

A short walk towards the city centre reveals the latest area for architectural renewal. Glasgow College and the surrounding area has seen a massive change in the past few years with building after building being erected at great speed (at least for someone who lives outside the city). But if I had to put my money on which of these buildings would still be standing in 100 years, The old Provan's Lordship would win hands down.

An old London bus passes by the modern architecture, the rattle of the Diesel engine cutting through the quiet like a chainsaw. It heads toward the Provan's Lordship. A link between new and old.

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All Still

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By Patrick La Roque

January is usually a quiet time of year, but 2019 is different. My calendar is filled with judging, writing and shooting assignments, including a few days in Toronto at the end of the month for a rather important gig. Combined to holidays that were little more than a seven-days-a-week-xmas-playlist blur, the sense of renewal and opportunity for reflection are missing this time around.

I’m meditating again (or trying to...the brain is one crazy nervous beast) and over the past weeks I’ve searched, actively, for images that would bring me peace. Therapy through photography. It’s much too easy to get caught up in busyness otherwise—as Kevin and Dominique both expressed very well in their last essays.

So here’s some stillness...an illusion, while we gather our thoughts.

Fresh Eyes

Fresh Eyes

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the rising move towards instancy in everything we do. From Twitter to Netflix to reducing the thirst for knowledge to scanning the top line of a smartphone google search we live in a society where time and space is seldom afforded. We want instant access, instant gratification, instant response and decisions. But sometimes time is the essential ingredient in allowing us reflect on where we’ve been, what we’ve done and what was really important all along.

Join Our Club

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BY JONAS RASK

I’ve known these guys for a very long time now. I met all of them, except Kasper, back in 2002. The year I started medschool.
We had no idea what we had gotten ourselves into at the time. We thought this was just education. It turned out we were quite heavily underestimating the importance of what we had set out to do. We were on a path that would shape our future in a quite profound way.

Back then we cared less about the healthcare system setups, the union politics, the suicide rates, medical rarities and the Hippocratic oath. All we cared about was friendship…. and anatomy.

I flunked anatomy, big time.
I thought it would be like high school. I thought I could pass the tests by just acting interested and use my intelligence. But I found out the hard way, that being a medstudent required an insane amount of work and effort. Every day. Unfortunately the gang moved up a semester while I was stuck doing the anatomy thing all over again for another 6 months.
But luckily we kept hanging out despite.
Our bonds were strong.

Many things happen during the course of a 6 year stay in university. And after those 6 years, comes clinical internships. Then the clinical speciality education.
Spread across the country, we still managed to get ourselves (and our growing party of wives and children) together for special occasions. Not as often as before, but we believed in quality over quantity.

We now live within 45 min of each other (except for Tobias who moved out west and has to drive a little longer), and even to this day we still get together.

It’s our club of friendship.

I treasure it more than I could ever express.

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Renewal 2019

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The end of 2018 was full of reflection for me and now, as we head into 2019, I feel I’ve had a certain amount of clarity over the festive period.

I spent a lot of time before Christmas out and about on workshops, shopping and socialising and something hit me like a brick.

Consumerism. Over indulgence. Ego. The need for immediate satisfaction. The need for acceptance. Technology. Noise. Boredom. Constant movement. Lack of space.

Lack of empathy.

And I include myself within some of those parameters.

“Man is not, by nature, deserving of all that he wants. When we think that we are automatically entitled to something, that is when we start walking all over others to get it.” 
― Criss Jami

It’s an abundance of crisis. An ever essential need to get more “likes”, more stuff, better stuff, other stuff. Stuff. Just because it’s stuff. We must have….stuff.

On Christmas day, here in the UK, right after the kids watched a Christmas movie, the advert that came on straight after was for a loan company.

What kind of a message is that? What kind of empathy is there?

I feel like many of us are the people that never slows down.

Buy more stuff. Plug into more stuff. Eat more stuff. Never taking a break. Never slowing down.

For what?

There are a lot of messages in our daily existence. I love the artwork that Banksy puts out. His work has a deep sense of irony, humour but a very, very keen sense of observation of the world we live in.

Without sounding too much like Michael Jackson, for 2019, I’m looking at my children more.

I’m looking at the simple things. Things that make them laugh and smile, must, surely, be the things that can make us laugh and smile.

When I’m 95 I want to be walking down the road hand in hand with my wife - not thinking about “stuff” or worse, the time I wasted on “stuff”.

The most important stuff in life is not stuff. It’s life.

Well I think so, anyway.

Happy New Year, folks.

The Hidden Lane

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PHOTOGRAPHY AND TEXT BY DEREK CLARK

DECEMBER 20th, 2018

Back in March this year, I shot some pictures of The Hidden Lane. This post has been sitting as a draft since then as it didn’t tie in with whatever we were doing around that time on Kage. Although it’s a bit out of season, I thought it would be a good idea to put this out as my last Kage post of the year. Sort of clearing out the cupboard so to speak.

When I revisited this post I was struck by how bright and colourful it was. I’m not sure if it was denial or a sense of false hope, but it surprised me that 2017 was not all doom and gloom (even though most of it actually was).

MARCH 20th, 2017

Like the wardrobe leading to Narnia, a typical close on a Glasgow street leads to the Hidden Lane. To be honest, there is actually a sign telling passersby it's there (businesses gotta survive), but it's still a bit of a surprise when you go through the close and arrive inside the Lane.

Brightly coloured doors and even a large building painted in the brightest yellow paint let you know you have arrived somewhere a little different. Different for Glasgow at least as we're not known for bright colours on buildings (although some of the islands off the west coast do embrace that sort of thing). There is actually a slightly odd feeling of stepping into another country, no doubt helped by the sudden appearance of sunshine on the day I visited.

I stepped into the tea shop and ordered a cup of tea and a piece of walnut cake. Sipping my tea from an old China cup that reminds me of visiting my granny as a child, I chat with the waitress about the lane. She tells me that one of the offices belonged to an MP from the Green Party and another was used for restoring antique furniture. I ask if it's ok to take a few pictures inside the tea room and with permission, grab my X-Pro2 and X100F and shoot a few photographs. The waitress comments on my cameras and asks if they are old film cameras. I wish I had brought the Hasselblad as I had intended, but wanted to travel light as I would probably be doing a lot of walking today.

I step out of the tea room and into the cold air, I turn right and enter an alley with brightly coloured doors. The second door is open and I look inside to see a young woman restoring an antique bench. Stepping inside, and with her permission, I shoot a few pictures and chat to her while she works. The bench is around one hundred years old and when she has finished it will hopefully be in use for another hundred or so. Isn’t that what we all wish for? That our work will live on after we’ve gone?