Some Small But (mostly) Beautiful Stories.

Sometimes I open a page here, to write a new blog post then sit, trying to find beautiful things to share with you.

I have this idea that we need so much beauty in these days.

I did find this beautiful story, told by Laurie Anderson, talking about the love she shared with Lou Reed, in Rolling Stone Magazine:

‘Lou and I played music together, became best friends and then soul mates, traveled, listened to and criticized each other’s work, studied things together (butterfly hunting, meditation, kayaking). We made up ridiculous jokes; stopped smoking 20 times; fought; learned to hold our breath underwater; went to Africa; sang opera in elevators; made friends with unlikely people; followed each other on tour when we could; got a sweet piano-playing dog; shared a house that was separate from our own places; protected and loved each other. We were always seeing a lot of art and music and plays and shows, and I watched as he loved and appreciated other artists and musicians. He was always so generous. He knew how hard it was to do. We loved our life in the West Village and our friends; and in all, we did the best we could do.

And the marvellous Maria Popova wrote: ‘14. Choose joy. Choose it like a child chooses the shoe to put on the right foot, the crayon to paint a sky. Choose it at first consciously, effortfully, pressing against the weight of a world heavy with reasons for sorrow, restless with need for action. Feel the sorrow, take the action, but keep pressing the weight of joy against it all, until it becomes mindless, automated, like gravity pulling the stream down its course; until it becomes an inner law of nature.

If Viktor Frankl can exclaim “yes to life, in spite of everything!” — and what an everything he lived through — then so can any one of us amid the rubble of our plans, so trifling by comparison. Joy is not a function of a life free of friction and frustration, but a function of focus — an inner elevation by the fulcrum of choice. So often, it is a matter of attending to what Hermann Hesse called, as the world was about to come unworlded by its first global war, “the little joys”; so often, those are the slender threads of which we weave the lifeline that saves us.’

Then someone called by, at this Manapouri house where I live, and after picking up the fridge Helen was giving away, he pulled a huge Rainbow Trout out of his backpack. It was in there with a Brown Trout too. He had caught 5. And so, that was my Labour Day Monday, seeing just how much I recalled of the Australian fly fisherman’s trout gutting and cooking lesson.

It worked. It is divine. I do love trout, baked - stuffed with onion and tomato, creating a divine juiceness.

Thank you for teaching me how to gut and cook trout, Rob Nabben.

the rainbow trout, and my french pocketful.jpg

And I dug out my French Laguiole pocket knife, from Thiers, France. Bought back in those days when the Belgian bloke and I were summer-holidaying there (in that town where they were making swords for knights 700 years ago). It turns out it is useful beyond the wine corkscrew option. It’s incredibly sharp, and quite a special little art work.

In other news, I recently joined the rest of the world, and discovered the music of Snow Patrol. I play them … a lot. Those who have lived with me, know what ‘a lot’ means. ‘More than most’ really. My favourite collection, currently, is Snow Patrol: LIve & Strpped Back at Porchester Hall.

I particularly love the way the lead singer, Gary Lightbody, says what he says in his story - beginning at about 3.10 minutes. I feel this could be a useful response to some of the silly people I find myself to listening to sometimes :-)

Much is happening, down here, in the south-west corner of New Zealand. Most particularly in my life. News will follow. I am currently caught up in chasing my own tail, and turning in giddy circles. Joy has been much more of a thing in my day-to-day life, and I believe I can claim I am heading towards the next grand adventure.

I think this is it for now,. New Zealand’s election went well, and we have Jacinda Adern, and the Labour party, in power. I am happy with this, as I see some of my most favourite folk going back into lockdown as Europe battles a resurgence of covid-19. My heart goes out to you all.

Much love from down here xx

Two Beautiful Souls...

Above all, I know that life for a photographer cannot be a matter of indifference..              Robert Frank.

a beautiful soul.jpg

I love when I get to work as a photographer.   There is so much joy to be found in the place where photographs happen.

And these guys, they were so kind, in allowing me to quietly follow them around, trying to capture something of their souls via my camera.

another beautiful soul.jpg

Joy. Just Joy ...

Sometimes, I should confess, some Genovese are shocked by my passion for their city. The waitress on Sunday ... she couldn't believe that I had chosen Genova, over the UK and New Zealand!!???

But honestly, at the moment, my life feels like I'm a child again and so joy is the simplest thing really.  Small things ...

In these days, joy can be found in succeeding down at the shops. This morning I bought sweet tomatoes, and a pile of focaccia - because there's a party in the mountains tonight and I'm going.

But best of of all, I bought an abbonamento mensile integrato.  A month-long bus ticket, so much cheaper than the 10-ticket book I've been using. Thank you to Outi for that idea.

And everyone was so kind to me, to this non-fluent child of the South Pacific, wanting to live in their city.

The photograph ... here's me, casually writing, ohhh, that's just the bounty of my magnificent success!

And there's Coco, my beautiful cat companion here in the city.  She came to check out my purchases. We talk. Well really, I'm her slave and I ask her if she needs anything. She likes to wake me in the night, wanting me to rub her belly, to stroke her head and honestly, she taps me on my nose if I try to ignore her and cover my face.  Or she kneads my hair ... which is quite disconcerting at 3am.  Running her claws through the length of it but never touching my skull.  I'm quite impressed but remain disconcerted that she can even do that.

I'm fairly sure she thinks she's hilarious. I find her more amusing during daylight hours however, I have been known to laugh weakly, as she insistently works on waking me up a couple of times every night. 

And yes, I could close my bedroom door but I can't.  I think it would upset her and anyway, I guess it's nice to be checked ... you know, that I'm still breathing.