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.
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.
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.
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.
It's been a week full of people and stories but along the way, I got to spend some time taking photographs ...
My way of seeing involves using my 70-200mm lens in ways that most people wouldn't.
The bulk of my portraiture work is done with that telephoto lens. The bulk of my photography actually ... I'm always a little bit sad when I have to change to a wider or more 'appropriate' lens. I do it but only if I must.
I keep finding folders full of work I haven't really explored. This was taken back in 2009, stored away, and not examined again until now.
A poppy in a garden in the city of Mesen, Belgium.
It's a hot muggy night here in Belgium. I believe all risk of snow is finally gone but I seem to have some lingering issues with the winter that was ...
Oh, you noticed.
Tonight was the night where I wrote a long reply to Laura and afterwards, inspired by my written 'conversation' with her, I wandered into this beautiful performance by my favourite Belgian jazz musician, Toots Thielemans, and Stevie Wonder.
They were playing as I read through Justine Musk's latest post, on finding your passion.
She wrote: We forget – if we were ever even fully aware — that passion is rooted in suffering. As Todd Henry points out in his excellent book DIE EMPTY: Unleash Your Best Work Every Day, the word ‘passion’ is rooted in the Latin word pati which means “to suffer or endure”. Our culture’s distorted understanding of the concept has created what Henry calls “the passion fallacy” as well as “a false notion of what it means to engage in gratifying work.”
So perhaps — when we try to find the great work of our soul and build out an epic life for ourselves ...
She suggests that we should ask... “What work am I willing to suffer for today?”
I'm aware, that when I wander in Genova, it reads as if it is all beauty and joy but it's one of the more difficult things I do to myself. I fly high on the beauty I find there, on the people I meet ... on the experiences I have but I empty myself in the high and then ... sometimes, I crash.
Reading Justine's words I thought, Well yes, Genova is a passion. My passion for that city isn't without suffering. Sometimes I feel like I fly so close to the sun, as I explore the city's history, colours, culture ... sometimes I go back to the apartment and attempt to recover from something that feels not unlike Stendhal Syndrome.
Realisation over, I read on, catching up on my incoming and voila, there was this ... and it made me think that I must blog tonight's finds. Titled 40 Inspiring Workplaces from the Famously Creative ... see what you think.
I thought it exquisite.
Below, I'm posted a fragment from an ancient painting I loved back in Genova ...
“I am young, I am twenty years old; yet I know nothing of life but despair, death, fear, and fatuous superficiality cast over an abyss of sorrow. I see how peoples are set against one another, and in silence, unknowingly, foolishly, obediently, innocently slay one another.”
- Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front
I was feeling quietly devastated by the loss of life represented by the 1,000s of Commonwealth headstones we saw stretching out in all directions, on Friday, out there on Flanders Fields.
I'm always left imagining the ghosts of those brave and beautiful young men who believed they were saving the world when they agreed to fight in the 'Great War' ... I imagine them standing round as we visit their graves, and I wonder how many are bitter.
And then a butterfly arrived on the flowers in front of one those tombstones.
The Commonwealth War Graves Commission does a magnificent job in taking care of the memories of all those who died. The flowers, the closely-mown lawns, the pristine white headstones.
Dead but not forgotten. Never ... Meanwhile our governments go on creating new wars, borders and boundaries. I suspect nothing was learned.
I photographed a first communion celebration yesterday, out on Flanders Fields and I'm delighted with what I captured. I blame the family. They're entirely inspirational.
When I photograph any kind of family event, my objective is to tell the story of the people involved, to capture them as they are, interacting, loving, simply being themselves.
This is Steven, one of the nicest Belgian's I know. And he has a most beautiful family.
Last night, as I downloaded and viewed the images captured from a day where his son's milestone was celebrated, my soul sang. It was a good day.
It's been busy lately. Really busy. But I guess that's nothing new however, on the list of things that make me smile, this song arrived on Saturday night. Peter and Julie are back in Berlin but they read of my plush new office chair over on Facebook. Hilarity followed, as they penned and then sang me a song.
Then yesterday was a beautiful blue-sky Sunday so Gert and I got up early and wandered off to Waterloo. There's an antiques/flea market over there. 300 stalls. Europe. It's delicious. A 5 euro leather coin purse was found. The gorgeous Wendy was there too and, somehow, we bumped into each other in the crowds.
We came home via the most glorious bakery ... I exaggerate not. Located not too far from Waterloo, the La ferme du Hameau du Roy makes the most stunning baked goods I've tasted in a long time. Gert took the photograph at the end of this post, using his iPhone. We sat on the bench outside, with our food, enjoying the idyllic scene laid out in front of us.
It's been like that, the sublime mixed with the mess of everyday life.
It's life.
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 ...
I have more images to add but I've begun work on a photo gallery titled the Yoga Series.
I loved working with these guys. Light conditions varied wildly and the series was created over a couple of months but I'm pleased with the end result. More to follow in the days to come.
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.
It's so pretty there ...
I'm making a Miss 8 date for lunch there next week. She will love the cups too.
I love this cafe. Recently discovered here in Antwerp, it's like a small oasis of good food and coffee, friendly people, and excellent music.
There's an interview coming but for now ... today's lunch and a small glimpse inside Escobar.
Go early if you want a table at lunchtime. I went back after the lunch rush for the interior shots, having enjoyed meeting the loveliest New Zealander and her 5-week old son just after midday. It was a most excellent day really ... with sunshine!
It was a 4 celsius, grey-sky flat-light kind of day but an interesting place to wander.
Yesterday, and I was sent off in a new direction.
More to follow.
I cleared about 10cms of snow and ice from the sidewalk this morning ...
Winter continues but perhaps I am beginning to wake, to shake off this winter lethargy, inspired by the kindness of old friends and new. I've been living a hermit's life lately, curling up in the cave of this Antwerpen winter.
Midday found Diana and I chatting on skype, bringing each other up to speed and talking of winter and workshops. I find her writing inspirational and this blog post helped shine a little light in on the greyness here.
And the other day ... the day after the day of drama and sadness, Miss 8 convinced me about buying the beautiful Nepalese shawl you see pictured below. It's a little like wearing my own private version of the sun.
We discovered Nepal Handicrafts on Hoogstraat which is part of our 'pretty way home'. Miss 8 and I share a passion for finding the most beautiful ways to reach home ... the prettiest way to go anyplace really. The journey is our destination and we must, if possible, enjoy it.
We have an animal spelling game for the days that are bleak and the trams full. She starts with 'elephant', for example, and then I have to find an animal whose name begins with the last letter of her animal. More research is required as we're running out of animals known to us. It helps that we both have Dutch spelling too but the tram journey is oftentimes longer than our memory or knowledge.
I feel more posts are long overdue. Life goes on and the sadness that has filled me simply must go. It's time.
Yesterday became chaotic suddenly.
Off the scale really...
I took a phone call from my daughter. She was collapsing on the side of the road with chest pains but she wasn't sure of the street name. She couldn't even stand up to put the bike away safely. And friendly city that Antwerp is ... no one would help her. Not even with the name of the street.
No one.
I went back there today, to pick up the bike the ambulance people had locked for her, and it's a busy street. This European city breaks my friendly little New Zealand heart sometimes. What made those people so cold and uncaring?
Yesterday I called Gert, not knowing what else to do, and he called her. He managed to recognise her location and called an ambulance. All of this, bouncing between people and phones, with the added stress of knowing Miss 8's after-school centre was closing and I had to find a way across and through the city's rush-hour gridlock.
As the ambulance people were covering her with equipment to monitor her heart, I was making an emergency call to a really kind Belgian I know. Sarah saved the day, as did her mum who was able to jump in the car and pick up Miss 8 just as her teacher was calling me, wondering where on earth we all were.
Quite shaken, I set off on a tram to begin putting my family back together. Jess was in a city hospital, precise location unknown but able to reply to sms's, Miss 8 was safe with good people. I picked Miss 8 up immediately because it was something I could do.
Later that evening and Gert finished his meeting. He arrived at the hospital, after calling the emergency phone number again to find out exactly where she had been taken, just as the hospital were releasing her.
It wasn't her heart, it was a stomach blockage, she was told. I went searching. They're incredibly painful, a collapse on the street is quite understandable as it can feel like your heart. Today I was able to be amused, as I read that coca cola is the 'drug' of choice ... achieving a 91.3 success rate in terms of a cure.
And so today has been an all over the city day. School drop-offs and pick-ups, and a return midday for a school play. The bike rescue, the long icy bike ride home.
I'm sitting here, wrapped in a beautiful Nepalese shawl Miss 8 convinced me I needed - after 4 days of putting it back. And I have a glass of red wine, and some good music playing. I'm exhausted.
Actually, further to the story of the people on that Antwerp street ... someone did come and help Jess eventually. A lovely Morrocan guy. And when I think about who I see giving up their seats on the trams or helping young mums lift pushchairs on and off trams, I'm not surprised.
To the others who passed by that young woman on the footpath in a state of collapse. She only needed a street name, not your blood nor your time. Just a name ...