Joburg Street Photography

Street Photography In Montego Bay, Jamaica

It's not easy taking photos on the local streets of Jamaica without attracting attention, but I worked out a system for stealth. Equipped with a beach towel and my Canon wrapped around my neck to keep it concealed, my motion motto was - see-shoot-conceal. Here is a quick selection taken in Montego Bay with a 400d and a 50mm.

Conversation With A Egyptian Activist

...Do I drive like Egyptian? Like I’m crazy? Like a step in front of me is a one-hit death? Mashallah, (God has willed it) we speak collision. There is always smoke curling from our engines, see the Souk? You call it market? Our spices are the colours of eruption. That’s why Soldiers impose curfews from streets, and we keep our fires in, house parties held behind every door, these were nights of hashish and tipsy-talk, but my friend, no Champagne leaves our shelves with the military barb wiring our roads, you’d have to load your tongue with Arabic to skin scrape our red African revolution. Change is the slowest train you can catch in Egypt, we’ve lost blood and patience waiting for it...

Five Days In Cairo (Photography)

This Week In Pictures (Plus Pop Up Poetry In London Screen Shot Previews)

Hope > Beauty 

£1 To Build Europe... I mean... Africa.

More white men to the rescue.

Electricity Box.

Oh'... Random protest!

 Screen Shot Previews Of Pop Up Poets in London (Short Film by Jon Baker coming soon...)

Ruby Kid & Me 

Adam Kammerling & Ken Arkind

Poems On The Underground With Jon Sands

Masol Behind The Lens

This Week In Pictures (On Eating)

To Eat.

To Eat With A Man With A Signed Copy Of Allen Ginsberg's Collected Poems.

To Eat A FishFinger Sandwich In Newcastle.

To Eat Your Mate Who Is A Massive Cake Of The Week.

To Eat And Shut Em' Down, Open Up Shop!

To Eat & Forget.

To Eat & Not Know What It Will Cost.

Some Things Are Just Beautiful

Extract from the Travel Journal.

It’s hot, very hot. It’s called South Africa in December. I’m walking down the street, past houses that look like giant shoe boxes. They are painted colours that glow in the sun – cream white, peach yellow, red toffee. I am on my own, imagining how she would look beside me, what she’d wear on a day like this, how we would look to the rest of the world. (Brazilian supermodels maybe? You know, nudist beach material). I would be walking closer to the road, I would sound like royalty as I tell her “the gentleman always walks closer to the road”, she would laugh but I would laugh harder (yes, I’m one of those laugh at your own joke types). She would point out my farmers tan; she would tell me my body has nothing to hide. It is a beautiful body, it belongs in the sun. I would not pretend I’m not thinking about sex, she is not telling me her father has Alzheimer’s and she has a younger brother who is afraid of loneliness. No, we would not talk, would not need to as our mouths open on each other… now I don’t know why I’m thinking this… why I feel so happy right now but feel the happiness enhanced by the imaginary presence of her. Isn’t this freedom? Complete freedom? Walking alone, down the street under an African summer? I could be thinking about swimming with penguins, hiking into caves, diving into the sky but here I am, holding strings and trying to attach them to things that have already disappeared.

Some Things Are Just Beautiful.

 

 

Pictures vs. Words Q&A w/ Bristol Based Poet Byron Vincent

I have sent a set of questions and one of my photographs to six poets around the country and asked them to respond.

First up its a poet from Bristol. Cynical, satirical, witty and generally, a nice bloke Byron Vincent.  He's won nine poetry slams including Shambala, Secret Garden and the BBC Manchester Literary Festival.

Q. What does your writing desk look like?

Byron: It’s got a heart shaped ashtray on it which contains a mountain of festering roll up butts. I refuse to see any symbolism or irony in this.

Q. What is on your to do list?

Byron: I currently have faux Essex girl and literary homunculus*, Molly Naylor visiting me. This morning my to do list read:

Phone calls
Invoices

When I returned from the bathroom it read:

Phone calls
Invoices
Improve face
Develop ability to grow beard
Don’t go all mental
Feed Molly
Iron doilies
Write shit
Lunge
Explain what wall paper is
Given the input of a second author, I don’t know if this still technically qualifies as MY to do list?

Q. What's more important, talking or listening?

Byron: Well that entirely depends on who’s doing the talking. If Slavoj Žižek was in full flow, I’d be all ears, but if Richard Littlejohn was flapping his gob, I’d probably feel the urge to interject.

Q. What makes a better story - pictures or words?


Byron: Again, that would depend on the perceived qualities of the picture or piece of writing and the imagination and sensibilities of the person experiencing them. If like me you’re undecided, read an Allen Moore comic, they render partisan decisions on this issue unnecessary. Also, reading comics makes you sexy. Yes it does. Shut up.

*Don’t feel sorry for her, she’s called me MUCH worse.

Q. Lastly, respond to this photo

Byron: ADORN RAINY LIFE

London Riots (Hackney Cleaned and Boarded Up