Compassion is the desire that moves the individual self to widen the scope of its self-concern to embrace the whole of the universal self.

Two (non-cute kiddie related) images today, and it continues my tendency to (either)

Equivocate due to an inexplicable loss of confidence in my ability to judge the merits of a photograph; or
Actively engage my audience into the creative process.

Both photos were taken this morning on my way to work. Not dissimilar to an image that I’ve featured before. Now, I really do like that photograph, but wasn’t satisfied with the reflection of the flag, which kind of ruins the shot. I narrowed down to two favourites from an original batch of nine. Originally, I felt that the image above was the clear winner, as it continues my fascination with getting down low into the shot and utilising a perspective that (wankery alert) “challenges orthodoxy”.

[There are a multitude of examples just in the last two months. Perhaps I feel it might hide the deficiencies of the camera (or its operator!)]

But, I dunno. In the shot below, I know that the colours and detail on the rope and chain are all washed out; but conversely, the reflection is far, far better. I thought about going black and white to minimise the muting of the colour, but then I lose much of what I like of the reflection.

I know that a lot of keen photographers follow this blog (many, if not most, far better than I), and am very much interested in your opinion. Are the flaws in that second shot beyond salvaging? And is the first shot as good as my gut tells me?

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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