In this issue

1. My image of the week

2. Frontispiece

3. Of endings and beginnings

4. Fevered Mind Links ( To Make your Sunday Morning Coffee Go Cold)

5. End Papers

My image of the week

Frontispiece

An apology of sorts

Arohamai:

In my last newsletter (two weeks ago), I promised to continue writing the newsletter. I had every intention of making it to the publishing line last Sunday, but it didn't quite happen.

There are reasons.

For most of us, Christmas is a time of joy, of sharing and being with friends and family, giving gifts and perhaps even celebrating Christ's birth.

For most of us.

However, there are those amongst us for whom Christmas is anything but a joy, a time they look upon with dread and foreboding.

These are the homeless, lonely and alone, people who have slipped through the floorboards of society and found themselves in the dust amongst the foundations. These are people who spend Christmas alone, lonely and in a state of misery. Did you know that the suicide rate rises dramatically at Christmas?

Anyway, I've had my fair share of shit Christmases. On my own, with the odd text from my family for company, just trying to make it to the other end of a miserable day. Watching all the joy on FaceBook but not being a part of it.

Christmas 2021 looked like being one of those. Not that it troubles me now, because I'm happy with my own company and content in my own skin. And for some reason, Christmas generally puts on some wonderful weather here in New Zealand. So it was all good. Well, I told myself that.

Then the thought came to me that I could either be the victim or a winner of sorts. So instead of hoping somebody would invite me for Christmas dinner, why not turn this thing around and be the host? Why not invite fellow Christmas orphans to join me and celebrate together?

Sometimes the answer can be so obvious that you completely overlook it.

So two friends came by, and the three of us had Christmas together. I cooked, cleaned, polished, and cleaned up afterwards—Christmas dinner with all the goodies.

And we had a lovely time.

They even complimented my cooking (clearly uneducated tastebuds!).

It is common in some traditions to set an extra plate at the table for the guest who may suddenly appear out of the darkness. But, of course, there is always an invisible spectatort at our dinner tables.

Each meal.

Every day.

It is our Creator, whoever we perceive Him/Her/It to be.

Perhaps, if we were to remember that Silent Guest, we might choose to substitute a real person in need and fill a plate for them.

Then we could acknowledge everybody, and nobody would go homeless and alone on what should be a joyous day.

After cooking roast lamb with garlic, rosemary and mandarin jus, olive oil and rosemary smashed potatoes, fresh baby carrots, green peas and homemade mint sauce, not to mention the other add-ons, I was frankly knackered.

And slept in the next morning.

Of endings and beginnings

A story of sorts.

As many of you know, I spent thirty years as a secondary school teacher before stepping out into the "real world", and, over time, I made many (dubiously empirical) observations.

One of the things I observed was that boys often take longer to find their path in life. Time and time again, I would meet frustrated parents at meet-the-teacher nights who were worried that their sons seemed to have no focus in life and little sense of their future direction. My answer was to tell them that sometimes young males take a lot longer to find the entrance to the path and will often try many different options before they finally settle upon one.

"One day," I would reply, "they are going to find what they want to do, and then you won't see them for dust."

It was like that for me through my mid-20s. I had more hobbies than changes of underwear, and I was passionate about all of them, and yet I couldn't settle upon anyone as a life path Fishing, climbing, caving-you name it. I was into all of them And yet…

However, there was a thread that ran through all of them-photography. Since the age of ten, when I was given my first camera, photography had been a part of my life. There was something about looking through the viewfinder that entranced me; I didn't know why.

Then, at the age of twenty-eight, the light went on.

One night I walked out under a full moon (don't ever do that unless you are serious!). I promised myself and the moon that one day I would be one of the world's most outstanding photographers.

With nobody to teach me, I taught myself. Every night, I would spend at least an hour learning everything I could, reading books and devouring as much information as possible.

When I couldn't find the answer, I found people who would answer the question for me. Eventually, I met Richard Poole, one of New Zealand's grand old men, who would be my mentor for twenty years. He taught me things about photography, the darkroom and studio lighting I have never seen written down.

Time and time again, I tripped and fell, usually into a debt hole, but somehow I picked myself up, dusted myself off and kept going. Photography was never really a passion. But, it was more than that-it had the quality of addiction.

In 1990 I brought my first body of work to the Centennial Exhibition of the Dunedin Photographic Society, where I met Peter Adams. Peter was travelling the world, interviewing the greats of the medium and gathering material for a book. He had interviewed and photographed people like Don McCullin, Irving Penn, Jean-Loup Sieff, and Annie Liebowitz.

"I would like to photograph you for the book," he asked. It never occurred to me what he was really asking. However, I was happy to oblige.

The years went by, and, from time to time, I would wonder what had become of the project. Nevertheless, I continued onwards, moving through portraiture, documentary and wedding photography (but never babies, children and pets!).

Then, two years ago, he made contact.

Finally, after thirty years, $500,000 and countless air miles, the project was coming to completion. In total, he had photographed 500 of the worlds most significant photographers for a book to be entitled A Few of the Legends. He had whittled those numbers down to 300 and wanted me to be in the book. "Would you give me an image for the book," he asked.

I was stunned.

The book stuttered into life. Now it is shipping.

If you love photography, you owe it to yourself to order a copy while you still can. You can order it here or follow the link below. It is a beast of a book, 600 pages and 5 kg!

Each photographer featured has a portrait made by Peter (see mine below), a piece of text (that man can write!) and a sample of the photographers work.

I can't wait to get mine.

I had an eerie moment of synchronicity last week.

Don McCullin, the great war photographer and one of my photographic heroes, hung up his Nikons after 30+ years of photographing the hell holes of the world.

He then returned to England, where he bought a medium format camera and spent his time photographing the landscape and flowers.

When you have seen it all and photographed it all, what is there left to say?

You give thanks and move on.

It is time for a new journey.

I wrote to enter last week, and he sent me a beautiful reply.

Fevered Mind Links (to make your Sunday morning coffee go cold)

Peter Adams — www.peteradams.com

A Few of the Legends

Witness the majesty of moths taking flight at 6,000 frames per second — aeon.co

An extraordinary short film!

Dissolve into the immersive, entrancing rhythms of a Sufi chant — aeon.co

EXCLUSIVE Tarikat 17 minutes

The Pattern Inside the Pattern: Fractals, the Hidden Order Beneath Chaos, and the Story of the Refugee Who Revolutionized the Mathematics of Reality — www.themarginalian.org

I have learned that most things in life are better and more beautiful not linear but fractal. Love especially.

“Peace Train” featuring Yusuf / Cat Stevens | Song Around The World — playingforchange.com

PLAYING FOR CHANGE AND THE UNITED NATIONS ANNOUNCE “PEACE THROUGH MUSIC: A GLOBAL EVENT FOR THE ENVIRONMENT”

Winter Solstice

The Winter Solstice, or Midwinter, is celebrated around the world by a variety of cultures.  It marks the shortest day of the year (the longest night), and when the sun is at its lowest on the horizon.  This usually occurs around December 21-22 in the Northern Hemisphere.

From respair to cacklefart – the joy of reclaiming long-lost positive words

“Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them”: words of positivity from the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius.

How To Cook a Perfect Pot of Pinto Beans (and Use Them All Week Long) — www.thekitchn.com

2020 is the year many of us turned to beans as a pantry-friendly source of sustenance. Canned beans are no stranger to my pantry (there’s always a variety lining the shelves for an emergency), but over these past several months at home, I’ve become a dried bean convert.

Caring for the vulnerable opens gateways to our richest, deepest brain states — aeon.co

Fascinating and enriching

11 epic mysteries scientists totally can’t solve — www.vox.com

What is the universe made out of? When did the anus evolve? Can humans live to 150 years old? And more!

Hum chitra banate hai (We make images) — psyche.co

Beautiful

End Papers

On Teaching and Mentoring

I have forgotten how much I love teaching.

Perhaps sometimes, we overlook the things we genuinely love.

After forty years of chasing a photographic dream, I'm not sure if I have anything left to say, but time will tell.

Now I realise that the medium has given so much to me.

It is time to give back.

For the last couple of months, I've been mentoring an Auckland photographer who has made extraordinary progress. Her progress has been meteoric. I am even beginning to wonder if she needs me anymore. They say that it is a success when the student surpasses the master.

And there is an absolute joy in watching somebody's progress across a field you both love and knowing you played a small part in their journey.

If you feel you would like a friend for your photographic journey, maybe I can help.

I suppose, in a way, it's all about legacy.

If you are interested, please get in touch.

On 2022 and a new year

So here we are, tipping over the edge of a new year. Not knowing what lies ahead of us all, and hoping that this year will be better than the last. Perhaps things will become a lot better.

Perhaps.

I wish you all joy, peace and an easier journey through the months ahead. Goodness knows that we all deserve it.

And finally, in case you're wondering, here is my image from the book.

Piopiotahi. Milford Sound, my soul place.

Ka mihi arohanui ki a koutou.

Much love to you all.

― J.R.R. Tolkien