Part XI - The adventures of Superfly

The flat looked bigger from the inside. This was because you couldn’t see the walls. They were muffled in a muddle of prints, books, journals, and crates. Lots and lots of wooden crates stamped: 'Fragile – Keep This Way Up – Jakarta, Java'. The crates clogged the flat and were everywhere. The living room cum study cum bedroom cum atrocity exhibition was adorned with black and white macro photographs of fossils.

‘That’s a Fishapod’ the Vagabond said brightly, pointing to an ancient looking fossil picture ‘It was found on Ellesmere Island in the Canadian North’

Superfly peered at it

‘It’s the first creature ever to leave the oceans for land. It’s called Tiktaalik Rosea. Look you can even see the bony fins for walking on land with. Charley boy would have loved it!’

‘Please take a seat and I'll get you a drink’ the Vagabond said disappearing into the kitchen

‘Er, take a seat where?’

‘On the sofa’

Superfly looked about for the sofa. Eventually he found it. It was buried under a geological strata of papers and books. He shifted the stuff and found it covered in a thick layer of fuzzy dust harbouring an assortment of microorganisms. He placed the books and papers gently on the floor lest he disturb the fragile ecosystem present therein. He was worried a careless movement of his hand might wipe out species new to science.

The living room cum bedroom cum museum was heaving in books and papers and specimens and crates. Books lying all over the place. Not a surface lay un-sodomised by the written word; Shakespeare, Milton, Proust, Darwin, Winchester, on the shelves, on the floor, stacked up against the walls, under the sofa, behind the radiator. He picked one up at random: ‘on the sexual habits of toadstools’ it said on the cover. He blinked at it. He picked up another: ‘contemporary teapot design in the age of plastic’ and finally another’ Java Man – the untold secret behind man’s origins’

‘Hey Man, what’s in all these crates?’ Superfly shouted

'What do you wanna drink?' the Vagabond said sticking his head around the corner

'Anything. No, actually you got a beer?'

'Sure'

The Vagabond stuck his head round again.'Sorry, I'm out of beer. How about green tea?'

Superfly looked at him as if he'd been invited to swallow a bug

'Er Yeah whatever. Listen, what's in these crates man?'

‘Ah, my latest project. A work in progress’ He shouted from the kitchen. His voice was fevered and excited. He stuck his head around again.

‘I think I may have found something. Something big. I doubt the curates and so called savants at the Royal Geological Society would be pleased though’ he snorted and disappeared into the kitchen again...

Slumdog Millionaire (movie review)

Slumdog Millionaire is a movie that could only have been made by somebody not from India. In this case Danny Boyle; a Westerner. Knives are being sharpened. Even the great Bollywood icon Amitabh Bachnan has thrown his empty-headed two punches into the fray:

'If Slumdog Millionaire projects India as a third-world, dirty, underbelly developing nation and causes pain and disgust among nationalists and patriots, let it be known that a murky underbelly exists and thrives even in the most developed nations,' he bellowed. 'It's just that the Slumdog Millionaire idea, authored by an Indian and conceived and cinematically put together by a westerner, gets creative global recognition,' he added.

So whats's going on here? Why the indignation and criticism? No doubt Bachnan and fellow Bollywood no-talents (have you seen Bachnan's performance of King Lear?) are riled (and slightly jealous) that the best film made about India in recent times was made by a Westerner (a white man: Gorah). But is the criticism justified? Would the film have been as well feted if it had been made by an Indian?

I don't know, perhaps there is an element of studios backing well known Directors (who wouldn't after all it's all about economics) but the bitter truth is that Slumdog Millionaire with it's 'true-to-life' portrayal of India's poverty-stricken underbelly could only have been made by an foreigner or ferengi. Bollywood producers, fixated with making 'feel-good-high calorie-popcorn-fillers' are woefully blind in seeing India for what it is. In Mumbai alone, 2.6 million children live on the street or in slums, and 400,000 work in prostitution. But these people are absent from mainstream Bollywood cinema (trust me I've seen it). Bachchan's blinkered comments prove how hopelessly blind he and most of Bollywood are to the reality of India and how wholly incapable they are of making films that can address it. Instead, they produce worthless trash like Jaane Tu, Rock On!! and Love Story 2050, full of affluent young Indians desperately, and mostly idiotically, trying to look cool, modern and Western.

Slumdog Millionaire is based on the novel 'Q&A' by Vikas Swarup. Vikas loves his country as much as anyone and did it the service of telling its truth with great warmth and humanity. And Danny Boyle's film continues in precisely the same vein. His innovative brilliance, fresh perspective and foreign money was vital. As an outsider, he saw the truth that middle-class Indians are too often inured to: that countless people exist in conditions close to hell yet maintain a breath-taking exuberance, dignity and decency. These people embody the tremendous spirit and strength of India and its civilisation. They deserve the attention of its film-makers. I have no doubt that Slumdog Millionaire will encourage many more honest films to be produced in India. But Bachnan et al should be ashamed that it took a foreigner like Danny Boyle to show India how to do it.

The film looks gorgeous. Danny Boyle adeptly uses wide-angle cameras and places them at wonderful angles to get startling shots. The camera is placed at feet level, it is angled, it is twisted, we get birds-eye-views of the slums and much of the filming takes place at sunrise or sunset. Every frame in the movie is a foto-graf in the making! When you watch the movie pay attention to the camera angles and their placement and you'll see what I'm talking about. The music complements the pumped-up visuals well and is composed by A.R Rahman. Being visually attuned I was more drawn to the imagery of India. The Taj Mahal, the slums, the dhobis, the streets, the crowds, smells, the hugger-bugger. It's all there. Regardless of the visceral reality it portrays it still manages to remain a feel-good movie at heart. How does it do this? How do you film filth and poverty and desperation and still be feel good? You film with a heart and soul. Through your characters and plot you show you care. And this film does this. On a slight negative I wasn't wholly convinced by the truth of the love interest between the two protagonists. Their love felt too facile and plastic for me.

More then anything else the movie excels on a visual level and good ole plain story telling. Go see it. (4/5 stars!)

Part X - The adventures of Superfly

London is as they say only a city. But do you not think it more? A creature no less: breathing and growing and belching and fucking. A dragon with moods: In winter sombre and frigid. In summer sexually deviant in buttercup glory. In winter the women are at their sexiest. Do you not think? – It’s all those layers you see. Like orange peel white underneath. I don’t know maybe I’m sick. Someone once told me or maybe it was something I’d read, that London is the great ‘equalizer’. In the London street with the chaffing shoulders and scratching nerves, you don’t matter. Some people find this disturbing. For others it’s a release. If you’re one of those non self-effacing people who think you do matter then you need to grow up. You need to grow a sense of scale. Death is also an ‘equalizer’ of sorts, but my new year resolution is not to stew on death too long – it’s too moribund a topic of conversation. Moribund - I like that word. I do think about it often though. Death. I’ve heard so much about it, so many things, and seen it on TV. On TV it doesn't really have impact, doesn't feel real. I wonder what it will be like in person. In the flesh. Will it live up to expectations? Or will it, like most things you see for yourself, be a disappointment? An under-achiever? Under the gaze of death we are a meritocracy. I find that strangely comforting. I am not the jealous type and nor do I envy but I do feel for all the Slumdogs out there. The Slumdog Millionares! My comfort is reserved for them, not me.

Superfly was in London. And the grim reaper was after him has he bounded through the great city maze. He’d first heard of London in Pakistan. ‘The city of Kafirs’ they liked to call it or the ‘Head of the manacles of empire’ and my favourite ‘The big smoke’. London is no longer a smoky city. Oh no! It is electric. The steam-engines were shut down many years ago and today you can find them in the Science Museum. Nowadays the only ‘smoke’ your likely to encounter is that coming from the mouths of prickly Londoners. And they can be prickly indeed if you know which buttons to press; especially in the North. Superfly had read somewhere that London was ‘that darkness that sucketh Empires ill-gotten gains and speweth forth the clanging hammers of industry’.

But the great thing about London, apart from the electricity and We Will Rock You, is of course the fact that it is so easy to get lost in. Be anonymous. A freak amongst fellows that don’t really give a damn exactly what you are or where you're from. City, country or planet. And to be honest who really knows what they are and where they're from anyway? Can you really stake your claim and say where you're from in todays' world? But think of the release not having a label affords! Hence, why the The Vagabond so loves London and is so taken in by it. Do you know those dark locked off parts of your brain? You know the one’s you don’t want anybody to know about? Well I know what’s in there. Oh yes! I know what your dirty litte secrets are. How do I know? Because of London. All of life is here; all squashed up and mangled in puttyfied slags and it seeps into my pores and infects my mind. I have nightmares you know. Other people’s nightmares and they’re mine to keep. So hands off.

But where were we? Oh yes we were saying how the The Vagabond likes London very much. It’s a symbiotic relationship. He breatheth from the city the stench of life and in return he giveth his soul. Perhaps that is why he keepeth coming back? Why he don’t have to play hide and seek with his own shadow. The vagabond loves to watch. And to think (or at least try to). He lives in a small but comfortable flat, nicely furnished, with just the right proportion of ostentation, taste and bookish charm not to look pretentious. It is a fact that one who is learned and well travelled with well scuffed heals, by osmosis, attracts towards him the trappings befitting his station: books and journals and obscure texts and carvings and prints. Crates and crates of the stuff from far away places that clutter his flat, his mind and his relationships. In fact he spendeth an inordinate amount of time in a stupor. Currently he is obsessed with the question: Why are people nice to each other? He is crazy no?! But there is method in this craziness. Look, do you know why people are nice to each other? Let me tell you: It’s not, as many would like to believe, because people are genuinely friendly, but because of the old adage: ‘you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours’. You see at the heart of all kindly behaviour is a motive. Oh yes! The motive is selfish. But it is hidden in our breast away from us. What does that do to you! Can you live a normal life knowing this shit? You can’t I tell you! It’s unfair to live with this burden of knowing.

The Vagabond lives in a salubrious (salubrious = nice) part of town where he generally keeps himself firmly to himself. 'Generally', because as much as it may ail him, he must occasionally venture into the open for milk and fresh air. He is not an overly ‘social creature’ by any stretch of the popular imagination! – in fact he is rather misanthropic, preferring the company of himself rather then others. Some may attribute this to an acute or chronic shyness - but that is humbug. The vagabond is extremely comfortable in the presence of human beings but with the proviso ‘when he wishes to be’. The bottom line is that he wishes that people were more like him: misanthropes - so he wouldn’t have to bump into them! Misanthropes are a rare breed. Most people are so in love with they're own image that they can’t help boasting about it. I like to call it wanking your ego. Or having sex with yourself – it’s the same thing.

The Vagabond has many friends. They're called books. Do you know what the best thing about books is? They don’t speak! They just sit there until you open them and then they come alive. And they have so many interesting things to say. They can be jam-packed with information on the Burgess Shale or be a window into somebodies heart. Unlike normal conversation with a human, which the Vagabond finds to be tedious and rather painful. Also, if books get boring or repetitive you can skip a page or two – try doing that with a conversation! What else? The Vagabond has no partner as yet. Notice the inflection on the ‘as yet’ – this simply means that he does one day intend to find a partner. Find, yeah as in find wandering around somewhere. Like in a park:

‘Hey there pretty girl I was looking for something and I’ve found you, you wanna be my partner?’

And the girl mildly flustered says: ‘Erm, ok, but what’s in it for me?’

Isn’t that what normal people do? Find partners? Though, and this is not boasting, there is no dearth of admirers for The Vagabond. He has been approached many times by the fairer sex for erm whatever it is they approach him for. But in truth he has no interest in pursuing a lengthy and time consuming ‘courting ritual’ when he’d rather read and do other stuff more productive like write and watch movies. So there you have it: The Vagabond incarnate. You may see him as a devil, a selfish oaf or the vilest abominable outrage of nature; but there is no doubt that he is a genius and a perceptive observer of mankind. Whatever his faults. Is he loveable? Is the moon made of cheese?

The Superfly pressed the doorbell. After a pause it rang. It was obvious the doorbell wasn't used to being pressed and found the whole affair annoying. There was music playing inside the flat. The door opened gingerly. It's hinges were not used to this either and they complained. A head popped out. It looked as if it had the weight of the world on it's shoulders. The head eyed Superfly with a severe look. Suddenly there was recognition and the eyes lit up, the mouth widened with a mischievious grin and the furrows eased out. The Vagabond was most pleased for this rare interruption in his routine...

To be continued...

Part IX - The adventures of Superfly : Earth Escape

‘Escape!? Why it is the most difficult of things’
(21st century philosopher, and misanthrope)


The universe is big. How big? Really really big. Huge, vast, immense, mind bogglingly endless ad infinitum. It goes on and on and on and on. Just like me sometimes.

And the earth is dull. How dull? Really dull. Brain numbingly dull. Imbecilic. Like tomato soup. But even tomato soup is more interesting. Cos it has bits floating around in it you see. Bits in a sea of tomatoeeness...but I digress.

So what do you get when you mix big space and the dull earth? You get no chance. No chance of any visitors from other worlds. No little green men going beep-beep. No flying saucers. No extra terrestrials. Why would they visit? There are many more interesting places out there in the deep dark recesses of space then a benighted rock 3rd from the sun whose ape-descended life-forms think to be the centre of the universe.

And Superfly knew all this. He knew it well. He knew it good. In fact he knew it like one knows a rash…intimately. And it made him cry. He’d seen the current entry in the Guide for the earth: ‘dull’, and he knew that it would be another thousand years before anybody would pay a visit to this backwater. A thousand years is a long time…especially if your stranded on earth.

He wondered what he would ‘do’ for a thousand years? The thought floated in front of him like those bits that float around your eyeballs in your sleep. Suddenly he had an idea! He could visit every country in the world and spend at least a year there. Since there are about 200 countries in the world that would be 200 years used up! Some countries he might actually like and spend more time in; but then some he might hate and decide to get out quick – so on average 250 years is about right; with a year or slightly more spent in each country. That still left him with another 750 years to go though.

He could get a job. Yes! Not for money obviously but to pass the time as they say. But then jobs do get boring after a year or so; so he could spend a year in each job before moving to the next. How many years is that? Well, it depends on how many different kinds of jobs there are? Hundreds: teachers, sweepers, decorators, doctors, accountants, mullahs, artists, ice-cream men, father Christmases, scientists, archbishops, writers, novelists (not a real job but still), actors, ministers, and presidents. And many more. If he was going to be a President he’d have to do it for at least 4 years. I mean you can’t just leave in the middle of a Presidency citing ‘boredom’ as an excuse! Well you could, but it wouldn’t look good on your CV. And then there’s something else; he couldn't possibly be President and then be a sweeper afterwards. President would have to be somewhere near the end and it would probably be wise to start at the bottom; with the mean menial crappy jobs and work his way up. You don’t want to be told by your subsequent employer that you are ‘over-qualified’ for the job. So, let’s just say that there are 500 different kinds of job. That’s 500 years used up leaving another 250.

Superfly thought he could spend some years being married. Say fifty years. An awfully long time especially in today’s ruthless marriage and divorce cattle market – but hey, he could find someone ‘really nice’ and let the 'niceness' drag on for 50 years. That’s 200 more years to go. He could write a book – that’s 5 years (cos it would have to be a very good book), and spend another 10 years writing the difficult sequel. He could read. Yes! he could read every classic book ever published. Say 2 books a week so that's 100 books a year and 5,000 books over 50 years – give or take a few stinkers and the odd incorrigible tome of unintelligible pretentiousness like 'Ulysses' (At least he'd be able to finish 'War and Peace').

Were almost there now with 150 years left. Movies, yes! He could while away 20 years watching every movie out there (including Bollywood) and then another 5 years recovering in a mental institute. 125 years left. That leaves women. A year per women seems sufficient before moaning and groaning on leaving toilet seats up start flaring up. Actually, the toilet seat moan is a good indicator that it’s time to move on. So if he was to have 100 women with a women per year, that’s 100 years in total. Obviously in these years he would be 100% dedicated to his 'gal' with no time for extra-curricular activities like work, reading and movies.

Phew! that leaves 25 years. He could go back to University, that’s another 5 years. That leaves 20 years. He’d have to say goodbye to all the friends he'd have over the years and centuries (if they're still alive) and since they’d be located all over the planet; that in itself would probably take 20 years. That leaves the final 5 years to do the packing. You know suitcases and stuff. I’d imagine they’d be much excess baggage.

So there we have it. An itinerary of Superfly’s time on earth for the next thousand years! Superfly thought about it and it made him feel miserable and gave him a stomach upset. There was a beacon of hope though. There was the slight possibility that someone at the Guide would notice his conspicuous absence and send an advance scouting party for him – but this was unlikely. Guide workers were generally ‘expendable’ in the grand scheme of things. He thought about the upcoming thousand years. They were spread in front of him like the endless steppes; melting into the horizon. He thought about the jobs he’d be doing, the shitty jobs and the good. He thought about the countries he’d visit; the rat holes as well as the nicer one’s. He thought about the many movies he’d watch and the books he’d read. He thought about the many women he’d live with and the thought filled him with dread.

But first he had to visit London. He had a friend there he had to meet. Someone he’d met in Pakistan whilst holed up in some stinking hovel. The friend had generously invited him around to 'his pad' if he was ever to venture to London Town and Superfly had every intention of taking him up on the offer. They’d discuss much: the state of the world, the peculiarities of earthworms, the latest Oscar contenders, selfish genes, Blake’s immorality and of course the meaning of life. Not that it mattered because he already knew, but it’s always a good conversation piece…and afterwards they’d smoke a bit and have a drink and no doubt get inebriated on some vile brew.

But it would also be an opportunity to meet the celebrated reclusive creator of the finest blog in blog world: The Swashbuckling Vagabond. A blog as Sony Corporation says’ : like. No. Other. It would be wonderful to finally shake the hand of the genius and brain behind the finest existential ramblings since the first cave man jumped out of his cave and grumbled: 'Grrrrrh! Gruuughh!' It would be fun and he was looking forward to it but first he had a plane ticket to book. Can you fly direct from Darjeeling to London he wondered?

To be continued…

Coming soon...Part IX - The continuing adventures of Superfly : Earth Escape

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The adventures of Superfly - New Year Special

Location: Tea-bar in Darjeeling, West Bengal, Planet Earth - on the late evening of December 31st 2008.

Two figures (a male and female) sit with shoulders hunched on opposite sides of a table overlooking the valley. It is dark, the sun has long disappeared behind the horizon for the final curtain call this year, and the lights from the braziers in the valley below flicker away like drunken fireflies. The air is cold. The wind bracing. But the tea hot and very good. The male humanoid is rather tall and dressed casually in fashionable gear; a pair of loose cut jeans, a t-shirt emblazoned with the logo ‘Ape4ever’, on top of which is a hoody to keep the chill at bay. The female is wearing a black dress, figure hugging, with a low plunge line. She is gorgeous. In fact she is utterly, maddeningly and devastatingly gorgeous and Superfly is in two minds as to whether to ‘let her go’ or make her fall in love with him. She has dark wavy hair and glittering eyes like diamond cutters that not only pierce the night but also seem to pierce time itself. Superfly is momentarily dazzled by these beacons of hope.

Through these beacons she is gazing at him intently. Her name is Sofia. She finds that there is something about him; something she is unable to put her finger on, something decidedly odd. Not odd in a bad sort of way but odd in a good way. For some reason she finds herself drawn to him. It is inexplicable! To her he radiates a combination of excitement and adventure and at the core of it a carefree nonchalance and childish honesty. But there is something else too in this milieu; an other worldliness about him. She wants to get to know him better.

On the other hand Superfly decides that emotional entanglement with an earth girl is not the way to go; especially when he is desperately trying to escape from her world. Besides he couldn't possibly take her away with him and there's no knowing whether she'd even want to go. So he decides to 'let her go'. The tactic is to bore her with conversation so that she moves on to someone more interesting. The conversation is on the subject of ‘Coral Atolls’. He is trying to bore her to death with geology but it doesn't seem to be working:


[Superfly] 'In the Pacific Ocean surrounded by deep blue fathomless depths lie what are known as Coral Atolls. Coral Atolls are little ‘islands’ of coral just below the waters surface that form a shallow light-blue lagoon. The water in the lagoon is at waist height and beyond the wall of coral that surrounds the lagoon the water level drops to tens of thousands of feet into the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. How were coral atolls formed? Huh? Do you know? No? Well let me tell you! This used to be a mystery but no more because it was solved by Charles Darwin in 1836, during his famous 5 year voyage around the Earth in the Beagle. By the way have you heard of Darwin?’

[Sofia] Yes, as a matter of fact I have! His the monkey man isn't he? The one who said we come from monkeys?

[Superfly] (raising a surprised eye brow) 'Well er not quite. What he meant was that we share the same ancestor with the chimps. Anyway, well Darwin in a flash of insight suggested that coral atolls are the tips of now fully submerged submarine mountain tops. What happened was this. In the distant past when the Pacific was not as deep as today the tips of the underwater mountain were able to rise above the water as little islands. When the Pacific sea-bed lowered so did the mountains and as a result the islands gradually descended. Now, coral only grows at a fixed depth a few metres from the surface of the water so as the mountains submerged the coral, to maintain its depth, continued to grow upwards. Voila! Thus cogito we have the coral atolls! The mountains have long vanished below the water but the atolls remain like little rings of shallows in the deep Pacific’

[Sofia] ‘Wow! That is soo cool! So what you’re saying is that the coral used to grow on the tips of the underwater mountains and as the mountains drowned the coral grew upwards to give us these coral islands? That is genuinely fascinating!'

[Superfly] (bemused and now drowning himself) ‘Yes, er that’s exactly right’

It was clear that the strategy to bore Sofia with geology clearly wasn’t working. This was by far the strangest Earth girl he had ever met. And he had met many in the year he'd been stranded on Earth. She seemed to be genuinely interested in what he had to say! Strange that. He thought that perhaps a heavy dose of ‘ecology’ might do the trick:

[Superfly] ‘The organisms that live in the atoll are part of a micro ecosystem. Being thousands of miles away from the nearest Pacific island they are entirely dependent on the fragile environment in which they live. The atolls in affect are a self contained world-within-a-world; supporting many organisms from tropical fish to mollusks to polyps and of course the coral organisms themselves that secrete the coral matter. To the fish, the shallow coral atoll is home and beyond the walls of the coral walls lies a dark and dangerous world; but luckily for them the coral wall surrounding the atoll prevents the entry of large pacific predators like sharks and big fish. However, if the sea level was to rise (say from Global Warming for example) the coral would be unable to grow in sync with the rising waters thus flooding the atoll and submerging it further below the waves’

[Sofia] ‘That would be so awful! My heart goes out to those fish. Poor little fishes!’

[Superfly] (now raising both eyebrows) ‘But you see I am trying to make an analogy between the coral atolls and the earth. The earth is like a secluded coral atoll and its inhabitants, i.e you, are the benighted little fish totally ignorant of the world about them. Like the fish you humans have a lack of perspective’

[Sofia] ‘What do you mean 'you' humans? Your funny! But anyway what do you mean by 'lack of perspective'?’

[Superfly] ‘Look, there’s a lack of perspective on the part of humans. Humans live there lives in a world of moderate speeds, they, sorry we, see a limited range of the electromagnetic spectrum through our eyes i.e. we don’t see all the frequencies only the one’s corresponding to colour. We don’t see Radio, Microwave and Gamma frequencies for example and we hear a limited range of sound frequencies, and we live a limited number of approximately 70 or so earth years. How are humans supposed to fully appreciate and understand the events; the colossal and mind boggling events happening around them? The crucial point is time. Mountains rise and oceans fall and this takes time. Millions and millions of years. Human beings with lifespans of 70 years and a recorded history of 3,000 years or so are ill suited to record let alone appreciate such geological events. Hence, the reason why the vast majority of humans shuffle about their daily lives in a torpor of ignorance. Just like you!’


Superfly watched Sofia for a reaction but non came. She seemed to be trying to absorb everything he had said. And now for the coup de grace:


[Superfly] 'And here I am. Me! Scuttling amongst these stupid benighted creatures of the dark - your brethren - your stupid ignorant brothers and sisters - your thick mum and your equally 'in the dark ages' thicko dad! I am like a God! I can see the history of the world and the future of mankind in the palm of these hands! And you know what? You have no future! Your all gonna die!'

[Sofia] (pauses)

[Sofia] ‘It must be a curious sensation to walk around observing humanity in all its variety; knowing the gulf that exists between what you know and what everyone else knows. It must be rather lonely being you?’


The girl was clearly reaching out to him. Wanting to coddle him with her heart, entreating him with her earnest eyes. His behaving like an arrogant no-it-all had back-fired. She loved him for it!


Superfly decided it was time to try something else to get her off his back. She was too lovely. She was too intelligent. She was too caring. She was too pretty and his heart was in jeopardy. He had to shake her off. So he decided to try out some abominable poetry on her:


[Superfly]
‘Tiger tiger burning bright
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?’

[Sofia] 'Mm! What are those strange words you speak. You weird Mr Freaky!'

Superfly peered up at the sky, his mind sozzled in a befuddlement of Darjeeling Tea. Then he looked at the girl and moved his head closer to hers.

[Superfly]
‘I have travelled among unknown men
In lands beyond the sea
Nor earth did I know till then
What love I bore to thee’

[Sofia] (sighs) ‘I must admit you are rather odd’

[Superfly]
‘The odder I am the more you see
See thy tearful eyes; swimming in infinity?’

[Sofia] (smiling) ‘Will you stop doing that Sir Poet! It is sooo annoying!

[Superfly]
‘Forgive me for I never caused to annoy
Hear my heart it cries; for land ahoy!'

[Sofia] ‘You are crazy. Do you know that? Stark raving mad’ and then she kissed him on his cheeks.

[Superfly]
‘The stars and heavens are in a twist
My lonely heart wrapped in a kiss
Beyond the shores of pirate lands
I stole your kiss with sleight of hand
Where did it go? Where lay hidden that kiss?
It's on my cheeks I see but why not on thy bottom little Miss?’

[Sofia] Kisses Superfly him on his lips

[Superfly] (now concerned that his poetry is having the opposite affect)
‘Behold the stars they weep for me
Burning brightly for all to see
A mortal kiss from lip to lip;
I fear my love will shackle me to this
An Earth benighted with darkness and sloth
My existence to be forever forgot’

[Sofia] ‘What do you mean ‘shackle you'? Is my kiss nothing but a shackle?’

[Superfly] (thinking that's better. This is finally working)
‘Pity me for I have sinned
Nothing in this world but ruin
Awaits me for I fear
The mind forg'd manacles do appear
The bird that soars mighty and free;
high and brilliant that is me
Above the clouds and beyond the oceans
there I rest free of love and such silly notions’

[Sofia] ‘You’re a selfish ogre! You think love is a prison? I offer you my love and you throw it back in my face like a dirty dishcloth!’

[Superfly]
‘It is not your love that I fear;
but the mind forg'd manacles do you hear?
They come in the night to drag me away;
steadfast I must be and never to sway’

[Sofia] Throws her drink in Superflys face and trudges off in an angry huff

[Superfly to himself]:
‘A fiery temper and fiery heart;
go hand together what a blast
I have hurt and sinned and many things more;
but who’ll catch my heart when it falls?
I must escape this forlorn planet;
make haste Yes! I must plan it.
But wait! I hear a countdown do I not?
A New Year beckons I almost forgot!
My New Year resolution is to escape
From this sombre and infernal place
But first I must visit that wonderful man
whom I met in that seedy Pakistaan
His name was The Vagabond I seem to recall
an invitation I have for an evening call
Amongst a planet where darkness frights
I’ve found a candle burning - in the night
A lonely candle it may well be;
wavering hither and thither like some Bohemian Rhapsody
Whose immortal refrain now fills my ears
how dost it go? I remember! I swear!
Yes! I hold it in my mind.
Let the New Year roll in to the following lines:


‘Is this the real life
Is this just a fantasee
Caught in a landslide
No escape from realitee'


Happy New Year for all and me!
Say I: 'do you doubt my sanity?'
There is depth I say in these perilous lines
Look closer and perhaps you may find
The secret of life I have found
Quick! I must hide it!
Before New Year is crowned!'

****

Man of the World (headphones required)

Shall I tell you about my life
They say I'm a man of the world
I've flown across every tide
And I've seen lots of pretty girls

I guess I've got everything I need
I would't ask for more
And theres no one I'd rather be
But I just wish that I'd never been born

And I need a good woman
To make me feel like a good man should
I don't say I'm a good man
Oh, but I would be if I could

I could tell you about my life
And keep you amused I'm sure
About all the times I've cried
And how I don't want to be sad anymore
And how I wish I was in love

Coming soon...Lesson III : I Want It All - The greedy art of Street foto-grafy

'Adventure seeker
On an empty street
Just an alley creeper
Light on his feet

A young fighter screaming
with no time for doubt
With the pain and anger
Can't see a way out

It ain't much i'm asking
I heard him say
Gotta find me a future
Move out of my way

[Chorus]

Listen all you people
Come gather round
I gotta get me a game plan
Gotta shake you to the ground

Just give me
What I know is mine
People to do hear me?
Just give me the sign

It ain't much i'm asking
If you want the truth
Here's to the future

...For the dreams of youth!!'

Lesson II : a life of contrasts

Welcome!
Thank you for joining me
Again
I hope it’s not been
Too long
Since we last spoke
And enjoyed one anothers company
You see
I have other things to do besides
Like converse with the Gods
And fight those
Nasty Galactic aliens
That live in wonderful lands
So far,
Far away
Up nigh - There!
Where I point
Can you see?

Perhaps one day
When I have defeated
The aliens
And if the sun
Is still shining
And if it is
A Saturday
I’ll take you with me
Oh yes!
Hold your hand
Along the slipstream
Ride the crests if you may
And if you so wish
And if it so pleases you
You may bring along
Your camera
A box of tricks indeed
Your camera is!
The wonders it can do
Come! Let’s begin to delve
Into its mysteries
And talk about…contrasts
But first we need...
Ah yes!
We need
A definition...

Contrast (noun) : 1. The state of being noticeably different from other elements. 2. The amount of difference between tones in a foto-graf.

Contrasts are everywhere. We barely notice them except when we slow down a little or when we view foto-grafs. The camera is so wonderful because it does our slowing down for us. Life in fast-motion is not amenable to spotting contrasts, but life in slow-motion is. I believe that we can divide all contrasts into the following two groups (these groupings are purely my own and you will not find them in any textbook anywhere on this planet - In fact, if I may be so bold as to say, you will not find any of this, in any text book, anywhere on this planet!)


1. Visual contrasts – where the contrasting effect results from the interplay of light and shadow, the comingling of colours and from the interactions between textures and patterns

2. Subjective contrasts – where the contrasting effect results from interactions between the different elements in the frame


‘Ugh?’ I hear you mumble
‘What is he talking about?!’ I hear you grumble

Don’t worry. Relax. Patience. I will explain all


1. Visual Contrasts

This is an example of visual contrast:



There is a clear visual sense here in the way the crinkly jaundiced autumnal leaves; with their reddish tinge stand out from the bed of grass. It’s a simple image taken from my local park yet there is something about it that steals your gaze and holds it. There are also textures too; the interplay of the veins of the leaves with the smooth blades of grass – the renewal of nature – old and new - rebirth

Another example:



Do you see? Do you see how the bright radiant scene in the foreground with its jumping colours and smiling yellows, lends the background a more foreboding and brooding aspect?

And this:



The affect here is created by the overlapping of the bare bony branches with the red leaves in the background. It's as if the tendrils of winter are sapping the life out of the world. Tell me, do you ever notice the encroaching winter? No, not in the way you feel cold, but do you notice its advance in the trees when you look up?

Another example:



Although the umbrellas in this image are all visually striking, a contrast affect still results because of the presence of clear boundary lines between the umbrellas and the repetition of strong geometric patterns.

But you don’t always need colour to create vivid visual contrasts as the following black and white images clearly demonstrate:






The interplay of shadow and light in the first image has an interesting affect; imparting the sweeper with a ghostly countenance - a sprite haunting the hollow sepulchral tombs. Scenes with widely varying shadow and light regions are classically difficult to capture faithfully with cameras. This is because camera sensors are not as good as the human eye in differentiating extreme gradients of light and dark. The human eye, having evolved over millions of years, is much better at this. I will show you in a later lesson how to deal with scenes of extreme contrasts and how to turn the inferiority of the camera sensor into a creative advantage…

The second image is of ornamental Moghul ‘Jalee’ screens in Fatepur Sikri, India. What do you think makes the image ‘work’? Is it the delicate pattern of the screens interlaced with the extreme light and dark conditions? Yes. The resulting affect is precisely what the designers had in mind 600 years ago.


2. Subjective Contrasts

Remember subjective contrasts are different from visual contrasts because they rely on the manner in which the different elements in the image interact with one another

Let me explain:



The elements in this image are the two men. One has the use of his legs the other not. There is nothing inherently 'special' about either of these elements in separation; but when you put them together in the same image there is contrast. And contrast is everything!

What about this:



The contrast here exists between the care-free happiness of the children and the broken-down ramshackle environment in which they are playing. It is the littlest things that make us happy; play time, a good book or a relaxing read of the newspaper (as the next image demonstrates).



The man looks as happy as you or me. There is comedy here too and contrast.


And here's another:



Where is the contrast? The contrast exists between the well-to-do tourist and the poor man sleeping on the station floor. It is a contrast that grinds, that grates, that makes you feel uncomfortable. A contrast created when people inhabiting the extreme levels of society are brought together in the same image and forced to inhabit the same frame, the same space. It is also powerful social commentary. There is no better way to 'say something' then to spar together contrasts in an image: rich-poor, young-old, fair-unfair, justice-tyranny, black-white, beauty-ugly. A single image can achieve more then many books or thesis' combined


Another example:



The contrast here exists between the man using the mobile phone and the dilapidated transport from which he is making his call. Can you imagine this scene 10 years ago when mobile phones were the latest de-riguer fashion statement? It is a fact of life that some things spread like wildfire, like communications technology, but some things, like old-fashioned rickshaw transports, move much slowly - as slow as the wheels themselves

The image also tells you how the modern and the old interact. The fact that the mobile phone does not (any longer) appear anachronistic in this setting is an indicator of its acceptance into mainstream and lowstream society.

So next time you’re out and about look out for contrasts. Most important of all learn to see with your heart as well as your eyes. What I mean by this sphinx like maxim is that if you can manage to combine strong and clear contrasts with emotion, then your images will be that much more powerful and arresting.

Also bear in mind that none of the techniques so far discussed; use of empty s p a c e s and contrasts, require the use of sophisticated and expensive camera equipment. A simple point and shoot camera will do. The only 'sophisticated' equipment you will need is your eye!

Lesson 1: empty s p a c e s

First things first…

Welcome!

Thank you for joining me

This moment has been

A long while coming

I know it’s been difficult

A difficult journey

But now

After millions of years

Of our atoms

Jostling around

In random formations

In dinosaurs

And prehistoric slugs

And what have you

Here we are

Yes!

Our first lesson

In foto-grafy

I like to start things of

Slowly

Very slowly...

Thus, the first lesson will be

Easy

A slow affair

Nothing technical

A little introduction almost

A taster

A warm up

For the treats to come

For there will be plenty of these

So called treats

So strap yourselves in

Make yourselves comfortable

Make yourselves a coffee if you like

Or a chai

Or a glass of wine

And come and join me

On an adventure

Let’s lay open that dormant self (so mildewed and old)

Open our minds

And eyes

And do some exploring

Of empty s p a c e s

Lesson 1 : empty s p a c e s

The most powerful and visually striking images are those that, for some reason or other, feed an emotional need within us. Like a gust of wind nudging a candle to life. Have you wondered why some images make us feel and others not? Why is it that some images so stir and bewitch us?

Take a look

A simple image. What do you see? What do you feel?

Perhaps the image feels ‘lonely?’ – the great expanse of blue sky and the dainty branches, stripped of life, bare – trying in vain to reach out to a sky that is cold and distant. Perhaps you feel ‘fear’? – A fear as the lifeless winter wraps its fingers upon the world bringing with it bleakness and melancholy

And this?

The indifference of society to the older generation – What do you feel? Do you feel society has failed this women? Wasn’t she young once with hopes and dreams?

Notice the deliberate use of empty s p a c e in the above images. The empty space to the right of the old women is deliberate. What is it communicating? She has travelled life; a life that promised much from its earliest stirrings – but has it been true to its word?

And what about the void of sky to the left of the tree; the tree beckoning the sky. And yet the sky sits there cold and indifferent. Empty spaces can have a profound effect on the emotional landscape of an image – use them wisely

Another example

The girls are playing in a gang and the boy on his own. Does the generous empty space accorded him make his separateness from the gang more empathic?

And in a similar vein

Emptiness everywhere – completing his isolation from the world. The blank spaces like a force stifling him from all sides

And what about this?

Don’t just plump the subject in the middle of the frame. Experiment by placing it on one side and giving it space to move, to breathe, to speak, to be alone

Off centre subjects can also lend the image a dynamism; a certain daring that placing them in the centre cannot achieve. Look at this

The image looks so much fresher, so much better, so much 'cooler' and spunkier with the off-centre pitching. Do you not agree? You know you do!

And finally, ah one of my favourites: me hopping (or am I dancing?) around the desolate Deosai Plains (the hopping no doubt due to oxygen starvation)

The Deosai Plains is isolation incarnate. And having me wallowing on the very edge of it; barely in the frame in fact, heightens my isolation and descent into the empty stomach of the world! – Yes, my descent into madness. Am I mad? Most definitely indeed.

everyone

needs a place

they can hide

hide away

find a s p a c e

to be alone

Remember : empty spaces and their effective use are a powerful tool. Use them wisely for they can be just as important (and interesting) as the subject itself...

Though this is clearly not the case below. The 'subject' here being far more interesting then the shiny floor ;-)

Hackney - The Pix'els

All foto-grafie courtesy of a Panasonic Lumix DMC-LX3 (10.1 megapixel, Leica f2.0-2.8) point and shoot camera - £300 (see pic above)
































everyone needs a place
they can hide
hide away
find a space
to be alone

Coming soon...Maestro de foto-grafie (Headphones required)

'everyone needs a place
they can hide
hide away
find a space
to be alone'