Midnight in Antwerp, on New Year's Eve

It just went crazy here at midnight, in that Belgian city where fireworks are illegal on New Year's Eve.  Just before midnight it sounded like a warzone.  19 minutes later and there are still explosions but it's no longer the ENTIRE city anymore.

Kids on the streets, neighbours too, some rain, and cloud cover.  Weather Underground tells me it's 7 celsius as I write this.

And so it is, 12 hours after New Zealand crossed over into 2014, we've arrived too.  Happy new year to you.  I'm posting a shot taken in New Zealand around this time last year.  The tree with the red flowers ... the NZ Christmas tree.  The Pohutakawa.  Cooks Beach.

Note: In Belgium, in general, it's only illegal if you're caught ... or that's what the locals tell me.

New Zealand in Antwerp

It seemed I only needed to roar a little and voila, the words came bubbling up afterwards.

I sent the advert text away before rushing out and across the city on the Thursday school pick-up.  It's a half-day, like Wednesday.  So now I just need to do the bio and locate some photographs of Genova.

But the happy news from today was that Miss 9 and I stopped for lunch at the new New Zealand shop located in the heart of Antwerp.  Pies ... Buzz bars, L&P, and etc.  We love it.

Miss 9 is a fairly radical vegetarian at the moment and so she chose the vegetarian pie which, to me, seemed like a very big waste of 'pie'.  I had the Stoofvlees pie ... a pie filled with the rather divine Flemish beef and beer stew.

L&P was our choice of drink.  Miss 9 because she finds it delicious and me because it takes me straight back to those childhood days where it was always summer.

Fortunately, before devouring too much pie, I remembered to stop for a photograph.  An imperfect image but I was far more interested in eating it.

Winter Blue ...

I posted, over on Facebook, that some friends in Genova will no longer believe me when I tell them I go there to escape the grey skies of Belgium.  Roberto and Doris flew in from Liguria on Monday, just as a high pressure weather system stalled over us.  They have enjoyed deep blue skies these last 3 days ...

We have had our first frosts here but a lot can be lived with if deep blue skies are involved.  I mentioned the fact that I had laundry drying on the clothes-line outside ... not completely drying but still, it was out and it was drying some, and she asked if I had photographed my lovely December clothes-line.

The thing is, once I pick up my camera, the difficulty is in putting it down again.  So rather than simply photograph sheets and duvet covers drying on my clothes-line outside, I wandered round our little pocket-sized garden.  I noticed the honeysuckle has been fooled into flowering again and that the raspberry leaves look rather divine in their autumn state. 

And so, a collage ...

Vapor Trails ...

I’m looking up and in the sky there is the shiny glint of a jet airplane caught in the sun’s grasp, pushing silently east; I’m thinking there are four hundred people going somewhere else. I’m hoping that most of them realise the freedom of being 38,000 feet up and headed somewhere new.

Anik See, from A Taste for Adventure

I've been noticing the vapor trails jets leave behind lately.  So many planes pass over Belgium on their way to someplace else. So many.

Last night, a sliver of a moon showed up early, the sky was blue but with a rose-tint, the one that appears in the sunset hours.  I pointed my camera up from my seat here by the window and took a series of photographs. 

I think I captured something of what was out there ...

A Grey Sunday Post

I am allergic, or perhaps intolerant, when it comes to grey Sundays.

There were more than a few while I was growing up on the east coast of the lower South Island of New Zealand.  And back then everything closed on a Sunday.  Telephone wires hung from poles rather than being buried underground and sometimes, on a particularly miserable Mosgiel Sunday, the wind would whistle through the telephone wires.  It was deadly and there was nothing that might perform a 'distract and save' mission.  A grey Sunday could suck the life out of me faster than anything ... joy, pleasure, hope, energy, drive, all gone.

Now, when looking for someplace else to live, I always imagine how this place or that would be on a grey Sunday.  Small villages in Belgium seem especially deadly.  Red brick rows of houses, skies that do grey regularly, and the complete silence of empty streets.

I'm suspicious of French villages too. Germany, where all is closed on a Sunday, feels flat and listless to me when the sun is hidden.  And it's not about the distraction of shopping.  I dislike shopping.  It's about the absence of life somehow.

A spark that seems extinguished in some places.

The remedy.  A beach, a forest, a lake, a river ... or maybe a drive.  Movement. 

I love Nature and yet I loved my life in Istanbul too.  City of 14 million+, there was always a feeling of life, an energy of some kind, pulsating in the air there.

I suspect it simply means that I need to live amongst people who like to be outside.  In Genova, down by the sea on Corso Italia, there is life.  People walk and jog there, talk there, move.  I loved Salmanca in Spain for it's Plaza Mayor and the life that appeared there in the evenings.

Even Te Anau, that small village in Southland ... a tiny population enriched by tourists who always move outside of time.  It's never a Sun-day in a tourist area, it's a Holi-day and I feel the difference most powerfully.  That energy, when managed in a good way, energises me.

I can choose then ... work, curl up in my warm bed with a book, or wander into the life outside.

Today is a grey day here in Belgium.  The streets are empty of both people and cars.  I am feeling the bite of not traveling already, only one month after that quick trip to Paris.

It's a grey Sunday today but it seems I never photograph them.  I can't show what I am writing about but here's an image from that other grey day, that one that wasn't a Sunday, when I had to go into the city.  I took my camera ...

Puerta Del Sol & Botart de Amberes, 2013

Founded in 1998, Puerta Del Sol is my wine shop of choice here in the city of Antwerp. The quality of their wine leaves you knowing they really care about wine. They visit each of their suppliers, check-in during the harvest to see what techniques are used and, over the years, have developed the ability to know immediately if the wine has been enhanced in ways that fail to meet their quality control standards.

I wasn't surprised to learn that Puerta Del Sol was born out of a passion for wine and Spain shared by owners – Guy, Frank and Jules. They host wine-tasting weekends several times a year, an open-door day, where people are welcome to come along and taste what they have in stock.

Something I find relatively common here in this Flemish city is modesty… a failure to beat the drum loudly. And so one day, in a conversation where I asked the right questions somehow, English-speaker that I am, I learned about a rather exciting art initiative organised by Puerta Del Sol. 

BOTART is an art project that began in Mallorca, with Araceli Servera, oenologist and member of a  family that has been creating Ribas wines since 1711.

The Ribas website explains that BOTART is all about 'uniting the world of wine with the world of creativity'. The central ideas is about raising the profile of artists living and working in their respective regions in Spain. That said, over the years, the Spanish version has extended its reach and in amongst those Mallorcan artists already featured are German and Egyptian-born artists. The Antwerp version, known as Botart de Amberes, is still all about artists here in Antwerp.

BOTART acknowledges and celebrates the creativity that goes into both painting and the art of wine-making. Honoring the fact that passion and imagination are required in both disciplines.

As retailers of the Ribas line of wines in Antwerp, Puerta Del Sol decided to answer the Spanish BOTART with their own version here and so Botart de Amberes was born. Heading the project are Guy Voet from Puerta Del Sol, Ernest Van Buynder of Mukha, and Adriaan Raemdonck from De Zwarte Panter Gallery. Together these three invite artists to take part in Botart de Amberes.

The 2013 event was not just about celebrating the two new artists - Guy Leclercq and Leonard Leenders - but it was also about the fact this is their third year running the project.  Previous barrel artworks have come from Frieda Van Dun, Carolien Huber and Nick Andrews, with each barrel  painted in a style that is representative of the artists usual work. 

And just in case you're thinking these guys sound like people you might want to buy wine from, English and other languages  are absolutely no problem.  They're Belgians from Flanders.  They do languages ...

You can find them and their divine wines at their shop here in Antwerp - Puerta Del Sol, Ter Rivierenlaan 118, 2100 Deurne.

The shot that follows was taken during speeches made at this years Botart de Amberes, on the evening when the two new artists were announced.  I love looking for shots that are a little unusual and this was taken without flash in the offices of acerta, hosts of the event.

Nina Coolsaet, Bodega Mas L'Altet

I was out photographing an event for friends on Wednesday night and while there I met a lovely woman called Nina Coolsaet.  She is a Belgian Bio-Engineer living in Spain and she has the most delightful story about her Spanish family  and their vineyard located to the north of Alicante.

Avi, Catalan for 'grandfather', is the name on the label of wine being tasted today and it is produced on their bodega called Mas L'Altet.  This morning I had the pleasure of beginning this misty cold Antwerpen Saturday over at Puerta Del Sol, interviewing Nina.

Interview to follow.  The photograph that follows, Frank, Nina, and Guy at the Botart de Amberes Event, 2013

Merel - Life is an Art, Art is my Life

Merel is a Belgian artist who lives and works in the centre of Antwerp since 1980 and devotes herself entirely to the practice and distribution of her art. 

Extract from Merel's book, Life is an Art, Art is my Life.

I recently had the pleasure of attending one of Merel's art exhibitions. An opening reception for  Life is an art, art is my life, at Leonhard's Gallery, here in Antwerp.

My lovely Belgian friend, Ruth, had introduced me to Merel's art and invited me along to the opening.

There we were, it was almost time to leave, and I was looking through Merel's exquisite hardcover coffee-table book while Ruth and Merel chatted.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered the page photographed below.

There was some surprise, much laughter, and conversations about how it happened.  Anyway, I really admire her work ...love it, wouldn't mind some on my wall.  One day, when I'm working again, I'll go buy a copy of her book.

As always, Ruth, thank you for another lovely adventure.

A Beautiful Window in Antwerp

This beautiful window is located at the end of Tram's 10 and 11, in Melkmarkt. 

I love it and stopped to photograph it today.  Later, editing it, I was bemused by the way there were almost no straight lines, beyond the window frames, on the ancient building that houses it.

The warmth of the window, the way the instruments are displayed, the light ... it all called to me so much more than the building itself and so I cropped the image down to the window. 

Autumn Scenes in Antwerp, Belgium

It's a grey and miserable autumn day here in the city and that was me, out the door and on the tram, on school run by 7.30am.  To complicate things, Wednesdays and Thursdays Miss 9 's school closes at midday so I get an hour or two at home before I'm back out and across the city to pick her up. 

Who knows why I imagined I could handle my red umbrella and my camera but I did.  I created a couple of montages - photographs taken as I wandered across Antwerp city.  A tram from the suburbs to the city centre, then a walk that wends its way through cobble-stoned backstreets and ancient buildings ...

4.30pm, it's still raining and we're losing the light fast.  It's not even winter yet.  But anyway, my adopted city ...

There's the tree-lined street ... that I don't live in.  The tram tracks curving off into the distance.  And the beautiful park I live near.  The one that often has a 'beautiful mist' softening the scenes there.  'Beautiful mist' because, pretty as it is, it is actually the horrendous pollution created by one of Europe's busiest highways just next-door there.

The next montage was made up of images I found in the city.  Antwerp is a city of painters.  Rubens also lived here and there are statues all over the place. 

Reflections, taken on the street I call the street of the antique shops.  I loved the soldiers and the wine glasses... I tried to capture them while including the street scene too.  It made what might have been a miserable day almost fun.

Teaching Miss 9 To Take Photographs ...

I spent a few hours teaching Miss 9 about photography yesterday.  Just a slow introduction to the most basic ways of using an SLR.  We talked of composition, light and exposure.  We did a lot on focus.

And eventually, as per the story that follows, we went to photograph the  giraffes.  Once there I shared my passion for reflections. 

She took it on board but I love what she did.  So different to mine but that is the beauty of photography.  No one ever sees and captures the same thing.  It's always about your own individual way of seeing.

We ran this image through PicMonkey this morning, added a frame and cropped it a little.  The light and colour, the composition except for a small crop, it's all hers. It's how she saw ...

And I love it.

An Afternoon at the Antwerp Zoo

In my photography, there are themes that recur, images that I don't realise I'm chasing ...

Reflections would fall into that category.

Today was a sunny autumn day here in Antwerp.  Miss 9 and I wandered off to the zoo.  School holidays.   And I had to smile as we worked on a miniature photography workshop while exploring the zoo together. 

Her joy, as she worked out shutter speed and focus, was lovely.  She really got it. 

Anyway, she was given a zoo map when she paid for her ticket.  Oh my, there were some conversations where I suggested her map-reading skills were dodgy.  She laughed and, of course, we ended up at that funky slide over in the playground ... 

Not so dodgy it seems, perhaps we were simply on different missions.

Eventually I was able to arrive at the giraffe enclosure.  It's one of my favourite places there in the zoo but what I had forgotten was that there is a water course that runs round the edge of their space.  I don't know what it is about the water but it reflects exquisitely.

The image that follows ... Antwerp's blue sky reflected with the stripes and paint on the giraffe house.  Miss 9 and I could have stayed there all afternoon but for the fact we were cold and getting hungry.

Dank u wel for a lovely day, little Miss 9.

Life as a Cascade ...

Last Thursday Peter and Julie arrived. 

Actually, I should write ... the fantastically talented Tenor, Mr Peter Furlong, and the exquisitely talented  Julie Wyma, Soprano, arrived last Thursday.

They were here for a private performance.  Hosted by lovely friends, Ruth and Marc, all reports tell me that it was very very well-received.

But back to the beginning of this cascade, this avalanche of people and events ... on Saturday, the incorrigible Baritone and Pianist, Chas Elliot arrived to stay too.  Meanwhile, Gert's parents were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary and there I was, on Saturday night, abandoning our guests to eat my first-ever Thai meal, at the Sombat Restaurant here in Antwerp.

Without exaggerating (I may say that often in this post), I can tell you that it was the most exquisite meal ...

Sunday.  I wandered off to Brussels to capture a First Communion celebration for Irish/English friends. It was just lovely.  The people were some the of nicest people you could hope to spend time with and the weather was perfect.

Sunday evening, a small nap on the train home before meeting up with Gert and heading over to Marc and Ruth's house for dinner ... where we caught up with the 3 opera stars, who had managed to impress their Antwerp audience.  We were all exhausted but very happy.

And suddenly, NYC was in the building.  Stefano and Shannon would surely have loved it.  'Dawg' and 'cawfee', and other 'w' words, flew round the table.  And then came the stories.  No one can tell stories like those three.  It was hilarious.

All of this AND Marc was sharing his quietly spectacular supply of red wine from Puerta Del Sol.  Las Ocho 2009, from Bodegas Chozas Carrascal would have to be the most divine red wine I have tasted ...  Ever.  It was that good.   I'm not exaggerating.  Not at all. 

Actually, when a wine is really good there is no hangover and it's true, on Monday we were all fine.  Exhausted because we had pushed ourselves as artists but no hangover. 

Monday.  We talked but lacked the will to attempt much.  Chas managed to leave after expressing a desire to stay but I'm sure he'll be back.  Peter and Julie had a round of meetings with various people in the afternoon and then we had the good fortune to end our day at Puerta del Sol. 

Well yes, that is the wine shop I love best in the world.  They import Spanish wine to Belgium but only after rigorously checking the quality.  Guy, Frank, and Jules really love Spanish wine, and Spain too.  It shows in the quality of what they sell.  (No, they really don't pay me to  write things like this.)

Today it's sunshine and laundry for me, and quite some work to catch up on...still.  I've sent Julie and Peter out to the park to relax before they return to their Berlin world tomorrow.  I think we're just all really pleased with how this week has unfolded.  The ongoing nature of good people, fine wine, and experiences that were kind of divine.

They will be back.  And maybe I can organise my next party around them and their remarkable voices. 

Meet Peter ...

 

 

The Problem with Mr Toad ...

He's a rebel.  He wants inside ... our Mr Toad.

Now the warmer days have finally arrived, I have the door to the garden open.  Well, I want to have the door to the garden open but picking up a toad and repeatedly carrying him back outside just isn't my idea of a good time. 

Nope nope nope!

So far, he has jumped all barricades placed in his path.  He's an Olympic toad. 

His goal is my kitchen.

I don't even want to know why.  He hides, he hops, he tries to evade capture.  I admire his tenacity but really, I prefer him outside.

I photographed these two the other day.  They tolerate me wanting to photograph them ... just.