RIP - Ivan Sinnaeve aka Shrapnel Charlie

Today I learned that Ivan Sinnaeve, better known as Shrapnel Charlie, had passed away yesterday, via The Belgians Have Not Forgotten blog.  And the news continues out into the world, via those who knew him, everyone sad to have lost him.  He had a way about him that left people smiling.

I went searching, and found my story of meeting this remarkable man ... back in 2009. 

I met Shrapnel Charlie yesterday.  Meeting him was as a part of my quest to create a photography exhibition about the people out here on the Westhoek ... the people who take care of the memory of the soldiers who died in WW1.

Valerie was my guide, my patient guide, who drove me to Ieper where we both enjoyed meeting this lovely man.  He was quiet yet brimming full of fun.  It soon became clear that he was also a man known to many all over the world.

Ivan Sinnaeve is his real name but he explained that the Canadians had needed to find their own way of dealing with his ‘Russian-sounding’ name and then, failing with the Belgian pronunciation (E-van), they decided to christen him Shrapnel Charlie, in recognition of the magic he works with the old shrapnel found out here on the WW1 battlefields of Flanders. Shrapnel he said he had initially been accustomed to finding out in this vegetable garden, as  turning the soil anywhere in this area usually means finding some artefact from that terrible war.

A carpenter by trade, Ivan’s career was cut short when his back was broken in an accident, leaving him with constant pain and time on his hands.  He told us he fell into this business of recreating soldiers and regiments from long ago ...but not as a real business.  Ivan, like so many who work hard at preserving the memories of the soldiers who died on Flanders Fields, never charges anything that would see him making a profit from the war dead.

We took us out to his garden shed, a space considered holy by so many kiwi men I knew growing up ... but even I have to admit, his shed was magnificent.  I could imagine the kiwi blokes drooling a little, as they ran their eyes over the collection of ‘stuff’ Ivan keeps out there.  The shell - preserved so you could see how it worked internally, timers on the end and including the containers of shrapnel.  He took us through the process of making a shrapnel soldier and I ended up learning more than expected from my photo-shoot.

This was no passive photography shoot.  Ivan is a charming and amusing raconteur.  And charmed we were, by this man who has created so many thousands of shrapnel soldiers during his time.  We were sad to leave, as we could have easily spent the day with him however, it was time to give him back some of the peace we had shattered, while photographing him doing this thing and that.

Many thanks to Ivan, and to Valerie, it was a lovely way to spend a morning.

David duChemin, Photographer

Patience, curiosity, and a willingness to value and love our subjects more than the photographs themselves will, in the end, result in stronger portraits. This patience and care allows subjects to calm, to drop their walls, and make way for moments like the second frame above – unrushed, unplanned, and unrepeatable.

David duChemin, a world & humanitarian photographer, best-selling author, and international workshop leader. David uses his powers for good and not for evil.

I enjoy his wise words on photography and wandering the world.  Tomorrow he's releasing another of his truly excellent books.  This one: Forget Mugshots, 10 Steps to Better Portraits.


A Saturday in March ...

Yesterday was  a day of reorganising the space that we have here in the 3-storey tall narrow house.  Gert and I ended up working right through the day, simply because I had decided to create a space of no distractions ... a place to finish this book I've begun.

I have two novel manuscripts started too, and another of interviews with New Zealand climbers.  That one went through two very positive publishing meetings before being rejected.  Back then, the public wasn't so interested in the crazy beautiful lives of climbers and mountaineers.  Other publishers were suggested, those who might take the risk of low sales, but then my mum began dying, I had finally started university, and somehow the manuscript has become another thing that I carry.

There are poems too. A new one that came on the train that took me across Belgium a few days ago.  A  poem that I like, and I am my toughest critic.

But anyway, photography took over as my dedicated form of expression.  You can slip everything into an image.  Sometimes it's like a poem, other times it's a novel and tells a story but mostly there is the pleasure is not being sure of what you have captured until you are done.

So I have a writing space now.  A  huge IKEA table that serves as a desk, and enough shells and stones to break my current desk collection in two while maintaining a beautiful pile of beach treasure on both desks.  Facebook, phones and non- related books are all banned from the new space.

However, in moving my writing stuff, in taking my favourite images up there, in moving all of my books on Genova... I created what seemed like a huge space down here in the 'everyday' office place.  But even that was fun, moving that bookcase there, those images here, that scarf-hanger too. 

We had Paola and Simon over for dinner last night and they were curious to see these changes, the ones I had earlier mentioned being in the midst of over on facebook.  Well ... here in the everyday office space, I realised, when looking through their eyes, that these huge changes weren't really so obvious despite the fact that they had felt like a major upheaval.   My new writing space was approved of though.

So that's how we spent our Saturday.  Dinner was delightful ... aperitivo by Paola and Simon, an Italian rib and sausage casserole by Gert, followed by one of his delicious cherry Clafoutis.  Excellent conversations, good people ... a really excellent Saturday.

I'll leave you with one of those photographs that surprised me.  I saw this tap dripping in Istanbul, in one of the many ancient places there.  I photographed it, ignoring the hustle and bustle of people around me, in that city of 14 million people.  Today, I have it here next to me, in a 30x45cm format ... I have to rehang it later but just having it here, so close, made me really see it again.  I really love it but couldn't have imagined this capture at the time of taking because it was so beautiful and how do you capture beauty ...

 

 

 

View from the MAS Museum, Antwerp

I went out into the city searching for beauty today.  It had started well this morning ... there was blue sky and sunshine but I moved too slowly and voila, by the time I left the house, it was grey.

A few weeks ago, I had made one fast family visit to Antwerp's relatively new MAS museum and had found myself wondering whether the top floor might not feed my need for a view.  It's not bad but, by crikey, it's flat here. 

And then I found something beautiful ... De Veer van César

I left the MASS Museum and walked back through the grey city, carrying my heavy camera bag, wondering why an earth I had taken it out on a such a dull day.

I stopped to look through the window at my favourite art gallery here in the city.  It's the place where I consistently see art that appeals to me ... which is no mean feat.  And it's easy to pass-by, located in Maalderijstraat, between the Cathedral and Grote Markt.

Anyway, I decided I would blog about it and so asked Minske if she spoke English.  Of course she did.  Most Antwerpenaars speak English.  I asked if I might take a photograph of the gallery and share it with you here but  then ... I got distracted.

I asked Minske Van Wijk how she had ended up with the gallery and somehow, we kept talking and it turned out she had also made a short film titled De Veer van César.

I was curious to know more and, at some point, realised this film might be 'the beautiful thing' I was searching for in the city today.

And so it was.  I came home, organised my little world here, then sat back to watch.  It's delicious!  It has English subtitles (and French too), and it gives a delightful sense of this place.  A behind-the-scenes glimpse.   Oh I need to write of this in a better way but for this first taste, you only need to know that it is poetry, and beautiful cinematography, and wonderful animation ...

You can find out where to buy your own copy of the DVD over here.  Meanwhile, the trailer is below ... without subtitles.

The Cheetah, Planckendael

There were cheetahs too, at Planckendael Wildlife Park.

We wandered all over the park for almost 2 hours and then, just as we were leaving, the sun came out.  At 5pm, the light was stunning out there in the carpark ... sigh.

There were two cheetahs, pacing the fenceline, so very interested in park staff on bicycles. 

I took this photograph through a glass wall.  Not perfect but not bad for a low-light kind of day.

 

Remembering Rome ...

I was looking through my photo files ... there are 1000s of images that never see the light of day.  And I found one of my Rome shots which inspired me to go wandering through old blogs I had written about Rome.  I found this which is good because I have been missing Rome today.

I remember when I fell madly and passionately in love with Rome. I had gone there expecting to be disappointed by a myth fallen on hard times but found something else ... 

Rome was a city that was more than I imagined a city could be.  It was a mix of ancient and beautiful, of sophistication and of real people who wanted to chat.

I stayed on Campo de' Fiori in a hotel with the same name.  The entrance was stunning, it was like stepping into a story. There was a daily market there in the square,where I could buy flowers and food.  There was a superb little bookshop where I found a good book and, on another corner, a delicatessen with wine and cheese for my evening because ... I was in Rome and one must have some chianti and cheese while reading that new book.

It was a city of angels.  Bernini and his students had sculpted a series of them on Ponte Sant'Angelo in the 17th century.  There was the arrogant angel by Raffaello da Montelupo.  I loved his 1544 rendering of the Archangel Michael, and Peter Anton Verschaffelt's rooftop Michael, sculpted 1752, too.

Angels and archways perhaps. I felt so comfortable with the architecture there. I spent hours in Castel Sant'Angelo, fascinated by the history and feeling of that ancient place . It was originally built as a mausoleum for Hadrian, as in Hadrian's Tomb, but was converted into a fortress for popes in the 6th century. It was magical wandering along old passages, or just sitting in the sun trying to comprehend that that really was Rome's River Tiber below me.

I had lunch with Paolo, a friend of a friend, and we wandered the city for a while.  He told me his stories of the city he loved. An old friend took me home to his family for dinner on the back of his scooter,  and his wife cooked a beautiful Roman feast, introducing me to mozzarella di bufala and prosciutto, followed by veal, artichokes and chard ... and then there was a midnight tour of Rome on the way back to the hotel.

I bought a painting from another Paolo, in Piazza Navone ... the place where the artists gather.  He took me off to a cafe for coffee and we talked for a long time.  He had been a history teacher until his art had become self-supporting. We talked of movies, books, writers, societies, children and life ... it was magical too. His painting, the painting I bought, was a titled 'Diving into Life' ... it seemed like something I had to have.

I loved Piazza San Pietro in Vatican City and bought the ticket that allowed me to climb the 300+ steps to the cupola on top of the Basilica.  You reach the top and voila, there is Rome, far below in all of her beauty.

Inside the Basilica ... the sculptures were outside of my ability to describe them. I stared for a long time, perhaps hoping to comprehend the beauty via some kind of osmosis. Michelangelo's Pieta was stunning but Bernini's monument to Alexander VII was almost overwhelming ... somehow, Bernini had made heavy red marble seem like soft velvet.

I loved it all ... the Pantheon took my breath when I turned a corner and found it unexpectedly there in front of me. The Trevi Fountain, even the Spanish Steps at midnight, all but abandoned.

I have to go back, and soon, there is no other solution.

Wendy Towers, Psychotherapist

Wendy Towers is one of those special people you sometimes get to meet along the way, and having experienced her at work as a therapist, just by the way, I wouldn't hesitate in recommending her to anyone looking for an English-speaking therapist here in Belgium.

Wendy is a London-trained humanistic psychotherapist, a New Zealander living and working Belgium, with her husband, Patrice van de Walle. 

She believes that the power of therapy emerges out of the relationship that develops between the therapist and client.  She works on developing a relationship based on openess, honesty and trust.

Wendy is available for one to one sessions, both on skype and in person.  She also runs Womens Groups in Brussels and Villers la Ville. Don't hesitate to contact her if you would like to know more.  She's a beautiful soul.

Her website is over here, and you can also find her on LinkedIn.

 

Patrice van de Walle, of Web Video Impact

 

Yesterday I spent the day, someplace else in Belgium, photographing Patrice van de Walle of Web Video Impact.  His company is a European leader in Client Led Video Marketing.  One of his current projects is working with companies who want to highlight the engagement their clients have with products or services.  

Web Video Impact's stated objective is to place the client, as much as is possible, into the production and distribution of advertising videos.  It's exciting and I loved the concept. I viewed some of his work yesterday, and was impressed.

Francesca Puccio, a much-admired interior architecture and renovation specialist and friend here in Belgium, has a beautiful sample of Web Video Impact's work up on her website.

And then ... as I worked on, with my second photoshoot of the day, Patrice filmed me at work ... just for fun.  So, if all goes well (and I can deal with the sadness of not actually looking like Sandra Bullock) you may get a taste of how it is to be photographed by me ... captured by the maestro himself. 

The photograph below, shows Patrice filming me, with one of the smaller more portable video cameras in his stable of cameras.

 


My Great Big Photographic Hero ...

My Great Big Photographic Hero ... David du Chemin, posted news that rocked my world.  In a bad way.

David is a talented photographer, a man who wanders the world, capturing scenes, telling stories, and sharing his wisdom in ways that delight me. 

I've just come from reading his blog, a post where he tells his story of being denied entry to the United States of America.  But I'll let him tell it: '

But after 5 hours of questioning, an extensive vehicle search, and a second interrogation, I was told I was being denied entry to the United States of America, because “we have no proof you’ll return to Canada and we worry you’ll try to live here,” which nearly had me on the floor with laughter because, ahem, how do I put this? I like living in Canada. I have no desire to live in the United States. I want to travel the U.S., I want to photograph it, but I have no desire to leave my home. Which, as it turns out, is good, because they aren’t letting me. God knows they wouldn’t want a Canadian stealing the job of a Mexican. I just wanted to visit, man, not invade.

I was finger-printed, photographed, and made to sign transcripts of the interrogation on top of the line that said, “Signature of Alien,” which made me want desperately to sign, “E.T.”, “Mork”, or “Spock.” I couldn’t decide, so I signed my name on the form, and got back into the Jeep, grateful they’d only used the latex gloves while they searched the trunk of the Jeep, and not the trunk of, uh, ahem, me.

He will, and is, handling this with grace but he has planned this roadtrip for a long time, he'd already started out on it before his accident and now, it's over.

There's nothing more to say ... is there?