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Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Wild As The Wind

It's been a stormy storm of a day. The sky let fly, really, and I came to realise how close my house is to the trees. I figured that I might in fact live in a treehouse. Branches scraped ferociously on my roof, I thought they'd come through the walls, like the Little Shop of Horrors. But I'm not afraid of them, I just wish sometimes I was in a mountain cabin, to make it seem a little more...I don't know. It's all those books I used to read, like "Heidi" for example. Silly, really. 


However, I seem to like the coast more in winter. When the wild stirring air lashes itself about the sea, chops it up and throws it about. And there's me, on the sand...so small, so insignificant. Yet, at the same time, incredibly powerful. My energy soars, I'm invincible. The wind licking my face like a hungry lion. I don't mind it, and just stand there, steadfast. I think of all the things I'm going to do and when. I have begun, I am in it, I don't have to wait any more. 


For aren't we always waiting? All this waiting.


We only really wait for ourselves.



I found some more images in my lengthy archive. I was still wandering Sydney, although I didn't live there at this time. I did eventually move two years after these images were taken. My favourite thing was the weekend flea markets. Any market that I could find, I would venture to. I loved looking at all the vintage or antique things, and piles of junk on tables. I'd often find exquisite items and get them for a song. Of course, I kept them all; just little things, you know - nothing ostentatious. 


Mostly I loved talking to the stall holders. Little old men with funny accents and missing teeth, wanting to talk all day, or not say anything at all. Just smile and nod. No English, perhaps? If they talked, there was always a story, and always willing to share it. I photographed alot of them and returned often to talk again. I would come home at the end of the day buzzing with inner light of all these fascinating people I had met, the things they had for sale and the stories within.



At the Paddington Markets I would often go to this particular book stall. It was a makeshift room, propped up by very dodgy looking 'walls' that I couldn't sort of see, they were just covered in books. Wooden shelves laid flat with books stuck in them, like a giant printers tray. I just admired the spines mostly, not picking them up. I think he had a bunch of old vinyl underneath them too.


I had in my camera a roll of expired Colour Infrared Film by Kodak, I think it was about 5 years old. I had kept it in the fridge, although I discovered the fridge had turned off one summer I wasn't home in Australia for two months. So that's a cooked film. But I shot & processed it nonetheless. And these swirly images came out of it.


                                                 
                                                    Paddington Markets, Sydney - April 2002.

I like the book at the top, four and a half books along from the right. It's beige with raised bands on the spine. Beautiful. Now I want to go back and pick it up. Darn.




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