Union of South Africa

Here's what dad and I saw steaming in to Edinburgh this afternoon, steam whistle blowing, smoke and steam billowing, Union of South Africa, an A4 Pacific steam loco (the class which set the world steam engine speed record) with the streamliner casing. I know the streamlining was more about image and marketing and didn't give much of an advantage in reality, but ye gods its lovely. Elegance and power from a different era when travelling the length of our islands drawn by some great steel, fire breathing dragon like this was an adventure and not the boring, over priced chore its become now.




(click the pic for the larger version)

Imagine charging down from Edinburgh along Britain's east coast mainline to London behind one of these magnificent engines, the sea on your left as you roar down towards Berwick upon Tweed, the roar of the engine resounding across the landscape, easily pulling a long line of carriages with its enormous power, crossing the border, cruising into Northern England, passing ancient York, surging south on steel and iron and fire and water at a speed most people of the time would never encounter anywhere else in their life (this series could easily cruise beyond 100mph) until you arrive in King's Cross in the middle of London. Before most people had cars, long before motorways existed it would have been remarkable to travel so swiftly, to go from one great capital city of the United Kingdom to another in just a few hours, and in comfort and style as well. God, that was the era to travel by train in this country...

filming at the Scotsman this morning

I've no idea what production they were shooting but as I was crossing North Bridge to work this morning I saw these bright lights in front of the old Scotsman building (now a restaurant/bar, the Scotsman relocated to new premises down near the Parliament a while back) and I grabbed the camera from my bag and fired off a quick shot - its not well focussed and there's reflections in it, but then it was shot from the top deck of a moving bus, so it was the best I could manage as I passed. I saw Christmas trees outside and a colleague noticed the hotel on the other side of the street had Christmas decorations, which would have been in the background through the windows of the restaurant, so perhaps a Christmas-set scene, but that still doesn't tell us what the actual production was. Oh well, something unusual on a cold, misty, gray morning...

Dizzy auditions for a French arthouse movie

Continuing to play with black and white at the moment, realised I've never taken Dizzy in B&W and with her gorgeous soft gray and white fur she's perfect for some monochrome treatment; click the pics to see the larger versions on my Flickr:

Legal Action

I am absolutely fuming today after receiving a ridiculous email threat of legal action. You might remember a few weeks ago dad and I saw some gorgeous owls from the Clyde Valley Birds of Prey Trust on display at a garden centre and I posted up some photographs I took of them? Well I just had this 'urgent' message from James Walsh, Clyde Valley Team Leader:

"I have been informed that you have pictures of Birds of Clyde Valley Birds of prey centre on your site http://www.woolamaloo.org.uk/labels/Clyde%20Valley.htm
. i have emailed you just to inform you that we have Privacy rights on the all the photos taken of the birds and is only allow for personal use. We have now contacted the Company lawyer and informed use that we can take legal action for have copyrighted pictures on your site. Could they be removed ASAP"

I am bloody furious at this. The birds were on display to people at the garden centre to raise awareness of the Trust, I made a donation and asked the man in charge if it was okay to take photos and he said yes. You'd imagine if you were trying to raise awareness of your work and funds you'd want members of the public to share their positive experiences with the world, its free advertising and its how the modern, digital world works - any organisation with a bit of common sense would be embracing that and using it, encouraging it. Not so the Clyde Valley Birds of Prey Trust. Please notice it wasn't even a friendly 'we'd prefer you not to post pics of our birds' email, it goes straight to the incredibly heavy handed legal threat. For taking my own photos of a public display that I had permission for (I wouldn't just take pictures of wild animals like that, even at this kind of display, I ask first. And James, those are MY pics, so no, you have no legal rights over them, be different if I had just taken images from your own site, but I didn't, these are my pics, I take many and share images of our beautiful country with readers and no-one has ever complained until your miserable, unfriendly lot).

I am extremely angry that they are using legal threats over my OWN pictures that I took MYSELF and with the PERMISSION of the person who was in charge of the animals. This does not promote a positive image of the people behind this trust - it makes them look insular, unfriendly and, frankly, rather abusive of the freedom of expression of others (and is this how they use the donations I and others gave them that day? To pay a lawyer to threaten people who were sharing happy memories of encountering some of the animals they protect? Surely they should have other priorities for their funds?).

I did not use copyrighted images from their site and resent their implication;, they were my own - a smart organisation would be encouraging people to share their experiences and photos on their sites and also with the official site; instead this is what you get. I certainly will never again offer any monetary donation to this group nor will I ever go to see any of their displays again if this is their ridiculous attitude. Why on earth take the birds out to the public to create awareness if you are then going to be threatening to anyone who talks about how they enjoyed that experience and shares their own pictures? Good god but you lot have a lot to learn about creating a decent public persona for yourselves.

Well, never again, I won't go near these people with their legal bully-type tactics and if you are thinking on going to see any of their displays you obviously better be careful if you take any pictures, even if you ask and are given permission beforehand, in case they jump on top of you with legal intimidation. This last year has been so damned hard for dad and me and little events like coming across these owls cheer the two of us up, something we both need badly, but now this heavy handed person has ruined that memory for me. Thanks for your heavy handed and utterly out of proportion (and wrong - as these images are mine, I didn't use any of your pics without permission, did ? Did you even look??) email, James, thanks for ruining what had been a happy experience and thanks for making me now change from having enjoyed and promoting the beauty of our country to regretting ever coming across you and your organisation and your despicable attitude to the very people you were supposedly trying to reach out to with this display of birds. If I hand you a second bullet would you like to shoot yourself in your other foot now?

Update: I've had a couple of emails further from others in the Trust in the couple of days following this original nasty email from someone else (who hasn't actually identified themselves and seems to have a number of spelling errors although not as many as the original message) in the Trust who apologised and said the initial person should never have sent such a message and has been reprimanded for it (it didn't really explain why on earth such a ridiculous threat came around in the first place though). And now I've had another saying that the person responsible has been removed from the Trust because of previous (unspecified) incidents and asking in that light if I would remove my post about the original email since the person was no longer involved with them. Frankly, having already deleted one post because of this lot I'm not minded to delete another so the answer is no, this post remains, but to be fair (which, let's be honest, they have no right to expect given their initial treatment of me) I've added this update, but no, I'm not deleting anything else.

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

Adapted and illustrated by Andrzej Klimowski and Danusia Schejbal,
From the original tale by Robert Louis Stevenson

Published: Self Made Hero

“For years men have hired assassins to carry out their crimes - I was the first that ever did so for pleasure.”

Jekyll and Hyde, one of a handful of stories which has become so embedded into our culture that more than a century after it was penned, more than a century since its gifted young author died on a Pacific island far from his Edinburgh home we still, to this day, use the phrase ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ personality as shorthand to describe a person who’s personality can vary between goodness and acts of vicious anger rapidly, as if two different people inhabited the one body. Its no coincidence that Stevenson’s original short tale was born in the same era that, among many other scientific advances, saw the beginnings of modern studies of the human nature and the intricacies of the most complex creation we know of: the human mind.

In fact this supposed familiarity with the concept is, I think, often a handicap to a real understanding of Stevenson’s magnificent work; it has been around for generations and has been endlessly adapted to each changing age since it (or should that be them?) was born in 1886 (a decade before Stoker would birth another enduring dark reflection of humanity’s desires and fears with Dracula). Within a year of publication stage adaptations were appearing; by the very early 20th century it was already being adapted to a new scientific wonder of the age, the moving pictures. It would be endlessly re-interpreted through the next century and on in more films, plays, books, games, music and, of course, comics. And this has given many people who haven’t read the original the idea that they don’t need to, that they know it already. In fact I recall some members of my own book group objecting to the book one month because they all knew it. Had they read it? No. Well, I’ll tell you what I told them - if you haven’t read it, you don’t know it. Most books, TV productions, plays and others rarely capture the essence; the story here isn’t just a simple tale of duality and good and evil, it never was. It’s about the eternal conflicting impulses each of us has and the complexities of human behaviour, not simple ‘saintly’ doctor and brutal hedonist; Hyde is Jekyll and those vulgar appetites for drink and warm flesh are Jekyll’s own and oh how he wants to indulge. And - at first anyway - how good it feels when he does indulge (we all know this feeling at some level, from simply breaking a diet to eat cake to something more involved). Klimowski and Schejbal understand this.

(the almost irresistible allure of indulgence, of playing the bad boy, but you must always remember these impulses don’t come from some mysterious creations, they come from Jekyll; its all drawn from Jekyll, however much he might protest or detest the idea)

This comics adaptation is quite lovely, right from the haunting cover (which hints at those early, silent film adaptations such at the 20s Barrymore version as well as reminding me of Chaney’s Phantom of the Opera’s dreadful visage with a hint of Munch’s Scream) to the interior art, which Klimowski and Schejbal have split between them, the former taking the first part of the story (told mostly by Jekyll’s lawyer friend Utterson) and Schejbal the second part, mostly Jekyll’s description of his vices, his desires and the fateful potion he concocts which allows him to indulge those more vulgar passions safely, in a different persona, with no risk to the reputation of the respectable doctor. In fact - and I realise this may sound odd - but while reading this I often had the feeling less of reading a traditional comic but of reading an illustrated book; by that I mean that the panels, most only two or perhaps three per page, felt more like they depicted an individual scene rather than a flowing sequence, little tableaux, illuminating key moments. I don’t mean that as a criticism, quite the reverse actually, I think it’s a style which works beautifully for this story.

(the cityscape is elegantly depicted, an ordered world of fine architecture and well designed streets, but Stevenson knew from first hand experience that even in his refined, native Edinburgh the beautiful city showed one face but had another in the shadows and alleys and hidden places…)

The monochromatic art helps to evoke the feeling of the period (hints of old photographs, those first, flickering cinematic camera); even the use of black and white and the mix of greys is highly appropriate to the subject, while the art depicts a suitable mix of elegance (gracious Georgian and Victorian architecture, emblematic of the new, clean, ordered cities of progress) and the more horrific (the misshapen Hyde brutally beating a small girl for sheer animal delight). While both halves deal with the same story from different perspectives, the split between the artists also seems to create a literal contrast, with Schejbal’s latter half (again appropriately) appearing darker as Jekyll himself tells of his nocturnal inclinations and his shame at giving into such urges, his discovery of his formula, of Hyde and the descent into a hell of his own making, passing through a glass darkly.

(Hyde’s brutal murder of an elderly MP, the crime which pushes him beyond the pale and leaves him a man marked for the gallows)

RLS’s story, as you can probably gather, is one of my personal favourites; its one of the classics of Western literature and a cornerstone of the horror genre (in his look at the genre Stephen King calls it the archetypal werewolf tale). And as I said, if you haven’t read the original tale, you really don’t know the story in its complex, fascinating beauty. Klimowski and Schejbal’s adaptation knows this and unlike some much more simplistic versions it eschews the good versus evil approach for the more satisfying entanglements of the original, while also revelling in the mystery - and you must remember that to most of us today, we know in advance Hyde and Jekyll are the same person, but the original audience didn’t - of who Hyde is and what his relationship is to the respectable Jekyll, events spiralling in a mix of violence, vice, indulgence, regret and half whispered secrets.

(the hypocrisy of the fine Victorian gentlemen, suitably attired for the evening as befits a respectable member of society, upstanding, moral, but happy to indulge in vices and pleasures in darkened rooms while always worried about the ruin of reputation should the secret pleasures be revealed to the world)

It’s the best (and one of the most visually attractive) comics version of the story I’ve read since the Mattotti version years ago from NBM (which was more of an interpretation rather than adaptation as here, but very true to the feel of the story) and if you’ve read the tale you should enjoy it while if you haven’t then it should serve as a good introduction to the real story, after which you should then pick up the original text (after which I suggest Hogg’s Confessions of a Justified Sinner, one of RLS’ literary inspirations). Moody, atmospheric, brooding, wading into the murky depths of the human psyche, it’s a tale that simply doesn’t ever lose its relevance; every time you read of a disgraced politician or religious figure its easy to think of Jekyll and Hyde. And uncomfortably easy to think how we all have parts of ourselves we wouldn’t necessarily want to be made public. Now if you will excuse me, I feel the urge to walk the misty streets and perhaps have a drink in Deacon Brodie’s, named for one of the real life inspirations for the story. Now where did I put my walking cane…

(first published on the Forbidden Planet International blog)

Out and about

I've kept myself pretty busy over my week off, between the book group, movies, out catching up with folks and enjoying a drink, more movies and also a lot of wandering around enjoying the burst of good weather, ambling around the city and also down the coast, taking a shedload of photos as I did so (about 2.5 gigs worth of pics in a few days, I'll need another week off to sort them!), which has kept me occupied and active instead of sitting around brooding, so its been helpful. Walking past Edinburgh University the other day I decided to take some snaps of the skaters and skateboarders there - its a popular area for it in Bristo Square in front of the Uni. Before you think I am getting all arty with the move to black and white photography, I had been down in the Royal Mile earlier in the day taking some architecture pics and moved to B&W for those as I think it suits some buildings better and had taken several pics of the skaters before I realised I hadn't changed back to colour mode.





Yes, I could avoid that altogether by shooting in colour then greyscaling in Photoshop afterwards, but I think that's never as good as shooting in B&W to begin with. I'm not sure if that's just a subjective opinion because if I greyscale a colour pic I'll always know it started out colour, but anyway, if I want B&W then I'll shoot that way rather than change it on the computer later (besides I do very little modification of my pics, I'm a Gonzo photographer, I take pics of things I see and try to reproduce what caught my attention, not spend 6 hours filtering and altering it in Photoshop, not that I have anything against that, but its just not what I normally do, I like to keep my pics fairly honest as photographs and not overly manipulate them other than tweak contrast or cropping, things I'd do back in my dark room days at college).





So the upshot was I took several pics before I realised I was in B&W mode then looked at the images on the camera's screen and thought, you know what, I think this scene looks cooler in B&W, so I kept it that way. And ended up doing a bunch more B&W as well, not done much monochrome since my college years when I did my own prints (back in the days of actual film with my ancient but highly serviceable Praktica) and I suddenly found myself thinking, why haven't I done more B&W in the digital years? I used to love the way monochrome can bring a different light to some subjects and yet here I was doing hundreds of photos a year onto my Flickr and hardly any in B&W, like I had forgotten about it. I think I just revived my taste for it...

is that a year?

Its exactly one year today from the worst day of my life. Is it really a year? How can it be a whole year that my wonderful mum's not been in this world with us? I've not felt this year go past; I know as we get older we all say how quickly time seems to pass, but this was different, it went past, much of it acting on autpilot. I miss her so much it hurts every day, its like the phantom ache of a lost limb. I hurt more thinking about my dad and how much it hurts him. I see bad people on the news every night and wonder why they get to live when she was taken away so early from us. She and dad should be enjoying their retirement time together, hand in hand. Life just seems a lot emptier and colder now and I feel permanently scared, something I never felt before. I'm worried and scared all the time, waiting for something else to happen, constantly worried about my dad. Losing anyone is so very hard but losing them suddenly can leave you in an even more vulnerable place, it shocks your sensibilities to see how swiftly someone so precious to you can just be taken away, it leaves you wondering what next and why you struggle to get through each day, what the point is.

And I know its also selfish - its so easy to be wrapped up in your own grief that you forget others are going through it. Mum already has far too many new neighbours by her plot, some family is going through that pain every single day. Some of my very dear, lifelong friends are coping with seriously ill parents right now. And I know in a perverse way that the grief and pain is almost an indicator of good fortune - its in direct response to the love my mum brought us and I know there are some who don't feel this pain and despite appearances I know actually I'm still luckier than them because they never had this love to lose and how horrible that must be never to have known what that's like, to be completely enveloped by love and warmth like that. I had that and there are too many who never did, there are too many kids who never get that love and care to grow up with.

The minister who gave the service spent quite a bit of time with the family listening to us to get a sense of mum. A few days before the service I wrote to him about her. The words weren't meant to be read out, it was just maybe to help him for the funeral service, but in the event he decided to read it all out in the church. I don't know where the words came from, I really don't know how I even managed to think or type that dreadful week and looking at it now its not what I'd have chosen to be read out, I'd have done more to it if I could, but perhaps that's the point, that I didn't re-write and edit and polish it, its just words pouring out, so to honour mum I'm reprinting it here:

"We've all, friends and family, been talking endlessly about my mum in the last few days and among some memories which made us laugh, even at this time, the one aspect of her which came up constantly was that she always tried to be there for everyone, whether it was nursing my papa, Michael or taking care of some of newest members of our extended family to let the new parents catch a breath. And every one of us could give a catalogue of times she was there to support us, from physically taking care of us when we needed it to the simple wee touch of a phone call before a big college exam saying good luck and I love you. But the single biggest thing my mum did for any of us was also the simplest - she hugged us and loved us. Of all the many ways people have to communicate to each other the simplest is touch - a hand held, a pair of arms holding you. Its the simplest but its the most powerful and its the most wonderful; there isn't a member of our family from child to adult who hasn't benefited from a hug from Pat Gordon when they needed it. And not just the family, I know there are plenty of friends here today who have had those arms wrapped round them in their lives. That simple act is remarkable - another person touching you, holding you, their warmth enfolds you, you feel their heart beating and know it is just like yours. You know they can't wave a magic wand and make all the bad things in life go away, but you also know that as they hold you they're saying I can give you shelter from those bad things, if only for a few moments my arms will be a harbour you can rest in. That simple act is saying something very, very precious in our world - its saying someone cares about others. We've been so lucky to have that all our lives and even now that love expressed so readily is holding us up when we feel like we're going to fall.

Our family has always embraced it - I know some folks aren't so comfortable with it, but we all are and its part of what keeps us going and keeps us together. Its a simple act but when we do it we show we care and when we do that we do something astonishing, we make the world just a little better. In my mum's name and in my dad's because I can't think on one without the other, I'd like to ask you to do one thing for her now, before we leave. Would you please turn to the people next to you, family, friend or someone you don't know, and give them a wee hug. Because its one of the most wonderful things in the whole, wide world we can do for each other and because I know she would want us all to."

I keep trying to remember her warmth and love and how it made me feel. They say that all of life is a desperate need to go back to the warmth and security of the womb, but really, who remembers that? I can't speak for others, but for me its always been more that magical feeling of being a very young boy, walking between your mum and dad, holding your hands and just knowing at some deep level that you were utterly loved and at that age there was no problem big enough that your mum and dad couldn't solve it. The boy in me still remembers that warmth, the man in me misses it terribly but is sadly happy to have had that warm childhood and all the other years. Then you grow up and often they say that's a hard time when you realise that your parents aren't heroes and magical, they're just ordinary folks who make mistakes just like you. I never really felt that; actually realising they were fallible human beings just like me but they did so much within those human flaws to make me better, to make our family better, that made me love them even more. I'm trying hard to remember that, but far too much of life looks very grim and frightening now and its difficult to find reasons to keep moving on when you don't feel like there's much to look forward to. And that 'time heals all' phrase, that's nonsense, it doesn't heal anything, it doesn't make anything easier, it just means you are older and wondering why.

I wish I could put it more eloquently, I wish I could phrase what's inside me with more care, but what it really, simply comes down to is I love her and I want my mum. And I don't get that ever again and that just doesn't stop hurting. Her name's on a bloody stone and I hate it, she should be here with us and I still don't understand why she isn't, I still don't know why the world took her away from us like that.