Doing Our Bit: A Haiti Fundraiser Event

Last Thursday I dusted off the camera kit for my first photography gig of 2010, a charity fundraising night organised by a gang of Brighton music promoters and community groups in aid of the Haiti earthquake emergency appeal. 

Despite the torrential weather, hoardes of revellers showed up to support this great cause and dance the night away to some of Brighton's grooviest bands. The performers, who all donated their time for free, included Manouchska, The Fat 45, Pollito Boogaloo, Kalakuta Millionaires, Fanfara and Nhasitafara.

There was a real festival atmosphere in the air as the packed venue buzzed with frantic dancing and feelgood factor from 8pm til 2am (and on a school night, too).  When bands weren't playing, there were DJs in every room, spinning everything from the Star Wars cantina theme to swinging Rock n Roll. I was in my element, capturing the action both on stage and on the dancefloor and throwing a few moves of my own at the same time. You can see the results of my efforts here in this slideshow, which is also available on Flickr.

As well as snapping away all night, I was also playing the part of intrepid reporter, interviewing unsuspecting punters, promoters and artists for the official video of the night (currently being edited together by filmmaker, Scott Lawson). All in all it was a super night, which raised nearly £3,000 for the Disasters Emergency Committee Haiti Appeal. A big slap on the back to all the performers and organisers who made it happen, not to mention the punters who dug deep and partied hard to make it go off with a bang.

If you couldn't make it along last Thursday, but would like to do your bit for Haiti, you can donate online here.

2009 in Photographs

The Christmas festivities are over, the New Year hangover subsiding. I'm thinking back over 2009 - a year of highs and lows, adventure and discovery - and looking ahead to 2010. While the memories are still fresh, I have chosen my favourite photographs from last year, which you can see below. What I love most about these snaps is that everyone in them looks so genuinely happy - there's not a forced photo-smile to be seen. I am very lucky to be surrounded by so many vivacious, passionate people and I look forward to spending more happy times with them all this year. A joyous and fruitful New Year one and all.

All the photos in this slideshow are from my Flickr stream. Come on over and see more: www.flickr.com/photos/rowstar

My Favourite Room

My bedroom as a teenager was a proper hippy den - an attic room, customised for occupation in true Stanfield set-building bodgit-and-scarper style by me and my dad and decorated in wacky colours (complete with oh so classy handprints) by me. Batik throws and an assortment of hangings and mobiles adorned the sloping ceiling, while one wall was completely covered in photographs of me and my friends in various states of inebriation. Incense would invariably be burning whenever I was in residence, as if the overwhelming smell of Body Shop White Musk perfume (at least it wasn't Mango) wasn't enough. I adored this small but cosy space, in which large chunks of my adolescence were dawdled away - listening to the Cure, Sinead O'Connor or one of many compilation tapes made in those days, writing my diary, reading trashy novels, daydreaming, or shooting the breeze via the now vaguely retro seeming medium of the land line telephone. Not much has changed in the bed half of the loft at my mum's house, and I always sleep up there whenever I visit. The photowall has been dismantled - with the intention of putting all those classic shots into an album someday - but many of the trinkets and decor remain. Even my old tabby cat still makes the hike up the ladder to sleep there with me.

I've never moved on much in terms of style since this formative period, and have always aspired to re-create the ultimate shabby-chic daydream den in the front room of mine and Ant's Brighton pad. I can't be doing with uber-designed living spaces that tell you nothing about the person who lives there; houses without books especially creep me out, because, honestly, how are you supposed to get the measure of someone without having a decent nose through their library and preferably stealing a book or two?

Ant is by nature a hoarder and clutter-freak, so our tastes have happily convened over the years to create a naturally evolved space that says a lot about us as individuals and as a couple. It's full of stuff we've picked up on our travels, inherited heirlooms and treasured gifts, as well as a decent combined library that is fast overflowing into other rooms. Other than the yellow paint on the walls (which we had leftover from our previous flat) we've never made any conscious design decisions about the space, and yet visitors often comment on how soothing they find it. Almost everything has a story behind it - from the box of percussion instruments to the two wooden cats - and it gives me great pleasure to recall the histories of all our bits and pieces - whether for the benefit of others or my own sentimental indulgence.

Every now and then, I get an evening at home alone in which to recapture my contemplative teenage years, and will sit and enjoy the comforting sanctuary that we have created. This evening I was doing just that when it struck me to compile an anecdotal itinerary of the room, to photograph it for posterity, as I wish I had done with my bedroom in Eastbourne before moving out. In the interests of authenticity, I didn't change or tidy anything, just picked up the camera (which is always handy) and started shooting. If you look closely, you will see that I have even caught one of the cats unawares and in a rather undignified pose.

So there you have it: the museum of me, the anatomy of a lounge, the entirely self-indulgent story of us as told by our front room. A bigger version of the above collage can be seen on Flickr; the stories, however, are kept in my head, ready to be served on demand along with tea and cake to our honoured guests.

Merry Christmas from the Golden Goat

Either I'm getting snobbier, or Christmas cards are getting tackier by the year. For most of the people to whom I send them (local friends and family are given verbal greetings only), Christmas cards are a once-a-year reminder of my existence, and I want them to say something about me. I don't want them to be particularly religious, overly sentimental, or in any way reminiscent of ironic wallpaper. Also, I prefer them to be recycled and in a good cause - because I always tut disappointedly when opening other people's non-charity cards (why wouldn't you?) and it would be hypocritical not to ride my own high-horse.

Having been uninspired by the cards on sale in recent times, this year I used an online service (moo.com) to get some printed using my own photographs. A little narcissistic perhaps, but much more personal and much more 'me'. My favourite of the four pictures I chose is this rather splendid golden goat (pictured above), who we discovered in a funky little bar in Cologne last December. He says much more about my perception of Christmas than any dusty crib scene or cutesy fluffy baby seals rolling in the snow (much as I adore fluffy baby seals). You can see the other designs I picked on Flickr.

For the reasons stated above, I hadn't intended to send out very many cards, so only had 25 printed. These have already run out (if you got one, especially a goat, you are one of the lucky few!) and so I was forced to scour Lewes at lunchtime today looking for a supply of extras (it's too late to get more printed). Even Oxfam, who can usually be relied upon to offer something vaguely tasteful, left me swaying in wide-eyed horror at the crap vileness of their selection. In the end I had to swallow my pride and pick the least offensive. So, apologies in advance to anyone who receives one of these sub-standard variations - please consider this blog post as your official Christmas card instead.

I Saw Nick Cave Smile (Maybe)

The last time I did Glastonbury Festival, back in 1998, one of the most memorable gigs was Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds; the gloomy weather and sullen band suited each other perfectly. It was also the one and only time I've spotted myself on TV at a festival, when I watched the coverage (kindly recorded by my mum) back at home afterwards. Standing there swaying along to 'Red Right Hand' in the rain with Michael (my boyfriend at the time), sporting my delightful fluorescent yellow kagool (which I still own) - I looked thoroughly depressed, but I was having a good time, honest!

The next time I saw Nick Cave live was with his other band Grinderman (essentially a pared-down version of the Bad Seeds) at this year's Latitude Festival, almost exactly ten years later. I was livid with myself when my camera battery died (I have since bought a spare) right at the start of the gig and I failed to get any shots of the eccentrically photogenic star. But it was still a great show, and Cave had lost none of his trademark aloofness - delivering the amusingly titled 'No Pussy Blues' with glorious deadpan sincerity.

Then when the opportunity arose to review a Bad Seeds gig in Cave's (and my) adopted hometown of Brighton last weekend, I jumped at the chance. Usually I would avoid the soulless Brighton Centre like the plague, but was trusting in Cave's profusely theatrical charisma to invigorate even this most dreary of venues, and thankfully he didn't disappoint. Shaking me firmly out of a torpid Sunday hangover state, the ageing rockers delivered an awesome set that was just as good, if not better, than when I first saw them in that muddy field in Somerset a whole decade ago. Seeming noticeably more laid back here on home turf, Cave was on top form, strutting about and bantering with the enthusiastic crowd. At one point I thought I even detected the tiniest hint of a smile beneath that roguish moustache. It seems the scowling goth is mellowing in his old age, or perhaps he was just happy at the thought of sleeping in his own bed after the gig - I know I would be. You can read my write-up of the gig at: www.thedetour.co.uk and see more photos at: www.flickr.com/photos/rowstar.

And should you be concerned that I'm turning all mainstream stadium gig-goer on you, here is a review and photos of Peggy Sue's altogether more lo-fi happening at the Hanbury last week.

My Grandma Is Johnny Cash

The latest addition to Brighton's thriving music scene, XVII The Hangman, played their debut gig last night upstairs at the Prince Albert, supporting the skinny-jeaned Dirty Socials. Declaring itself "the most Rock n Roll pub in Brighton", the distinctly divey Albert can certainly claim to have played host to more than a few future luminaries in its time. And based on last night's impassioned performance, there's every reason to believe that XVII The Hangman will be the next proud notch on the pub's metaphorical musical bedpost. The 'sounds like' section of the band's obligatory myspace page reads: "A bit Cave a bit Waits a bit Doors a bit Ceefax music... and some gypsy type jazz tango things thrown in because we can" which is exactly how I would have described them, had I got in first.

I was there in the capacity of official photographer and friend to the lead singer, Nick Sheldon (formerly of Low Frequency Dive - pictured right). When I asked Sheldon afterwards how he felt the gig had gone, he seemed uncharacteristically ebullient, gushing: "I've never felt more alive. I will die happy one day, and tonight has helped me towards my cause of smiling my arse off when I'm dead." He then tried to palm me off with some feeble Lark Trap about the band members having met and bonded in the dark during a power cut, but it actually transpired that they had found each other using community website Gumtree. By this point, a sizeable crowd had gathered outside, led by the inevitable smoking contingent, and there was a real post-gig buzz in the air. Throwing myself into the throng with notebook in hand, I asked a few of the punters for their first impressions of XVII The Hangman. Here's what I got:

"Dirty, dirty and a bit sort of gritty, but definitely dirty. Absolutely." Vicky

"I nearly wet my pants." Erin

"A big bleached cake-hole." Anonymous

"They were great - black and gold like a duracell battery" Lee-Roy

"The Dirty Socials - they're the ones." Moxie

"Orgasmic!" Harriet

"Awe-inspiring. I'd like to hear more." Dylan

"No comment." Dan

"I hate hypocrisy." Mat

"The first time I've seen the real Nick Sheldon on true musical form." Brian

"I didn't even see them." John

XVII The Hangman will next be playing at the (free) Shoreham Beach Dreams Festival on Sunday 8th June. Sadly, I won't be able to make it, as I'll be rehearsing for my own musical comeback - a charity concert at Hailsham Pavilion which will take place later that same evening. But if you have the luxury of motor transportation, there's no reason that you can't do both. Oh, and if you want to know the significance of the post title, you'll have to ask Mr Sheldon.

Life Through a Lens

Last night, on my way back from a big photographic exhibition in Birmingham, I popped in to see my brother in Sutton, also hoping to catch my three-year-old nephew before his bed time. After an initially frosty reception from the little boy - "I'm not talking to her" (he can be a bit of a drama queen sometimes - no idea where he gets it from...), I managed to lure him in by producing a camera (grown-up toys are always so much more interesting), and had the honour of teaching him how to take his first ever photographs. He soon got carried away, announcing, "I'm going to take a picture of daddy's hand...uncle Ant's nose....this wall...etc. etc." and the results were amusingly abstract, but he was totally mesmerised by the experience.

I can distinctly remember the thrill of capturing a moment on film (nowadays I guess it would be on screen) for the first time - when I was given a (sadly soon to be obsolete) Polaroid camera at the age of nine. The instant gratification of this format was particularly inspiring, and I can recall enlisting members of my family, often with various soft toys or long-suffering pets in tow, to pose for me around the house. Restricted by the cost of film for this type of camera, I soon moved on to the classic long thin 110 model - I think I had two of these - which served me well on family holidays and the like for the next few years. When my Nana died, I inherited her 126 Kodak Instamatic, which made a satisfyingly mechanical clunk when you took a picture, and required a separate disposable flashcube. Although this was in many ways a more retro model that either of my 110s, I loved the chunky shape and solid feel of it, and best of all, the cute square prints that also had a wonderfully vivid quality, much like the 'lomo' style, that is currently experiencing something of a renaissance. On my 18th birthday, my brother bought me a Nikon compact - my first 35mm model - which was my main camera for over ten years, and took some fantastic shots. I'd rarely go out without my little Nikon, and as a result have an unrivalled record of my times among my peers - earning me the title 'archivist of things you actually would never want archived' on a Facebook group of ex-theatre colleagues recently.

It wasn't until my mid-twenties that I discovered 'proper' photography, when I was given a second-hand Olympus OM10 SLR as a birthday present. Already a a prolific picture-taker, I now had the power to not only capture a moment on film, but to really get creative with my shots - and it was like a little light switching on inside me when I realised the possibilities. Last year I had to finally replace my trusty Nikon point-and-shoot (still handy for taking on nights out, and when you don't have time to faff about with focusing and metering and such), forcing me kicking and screaming into the digital age, I chose a Canon Powershot as it looked and felt the most like a 'real' camera out of the wide variety of models on offer. Whilst I have grown to appreciate the immediacy and money-saving aspect of digital photography, I really miss the thrill of taking in a film to get developed, never quite knowing what to expect. Many times have I sat laughing to myself on a bench outside Boots as I flicked through the evidence of a drunken weekend, prompting memories which would have otherwise been lost. Which is why I will keep the OM10 going, even though I now also have a digital SLR - a Nikon D40x. It's quite refreshing to be able to go back to the mechanical simplicity of a film SLR after tackling the seemingly endless functions and intimidatingly huge potential of its digital counterpart.

I hope that my nephew, Isaac, will have as much fun with photography as I have over the years - from his initial enthusiasm and impressive dexterity (for a three-year-old) last night, I would say there is a fair chance he'll take to it with the same gusto. Like his exhibitionist auntie, Isaac also enjoys posing in front of the camera - which I maintain is all part of the process of learning to take better pictures. And that's not just me trying to justify my propensity to pose (honest) - feeling comfortable on both sides of the lens allows one to empathise with the subject, and helps build a well-rounded relationship with the camera that can prove invaluable, especially in people photography. Already I am researching 'My First Digital Camera' options, (even though the boy's birthday is not until September) and am amazed at the choices on offer. As the excellent BBC4 series, The Genius of Photography recently demonstrated, we've come a long way since the first permanent photograph was made back in the early nineteenth century, and it's good to know that amongst all the technology and inventions available to today's generation, the good old fashioned (even in its advanced era) camera still has the power to excite and inspire.

A selection of my OM10 shots: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rowstar/sets/72157600364795694/

Some photos from my pre-digital, point-and-shoot era: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rowstar/sets/72157594561981195/

My first foray into compact digital photography: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rowstar/sets/72157600238724322/

A recent set taken on the Nikon D40x DSLR: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rowstar/sets/72157603558215940/

Restoration & Recreation

My poor bicycle, I call her Hedwig, has been sat in the hallway looking a bit sad for the last six months, since we were both damaged in an accident that resulted in a broken jaw and smashed up teeth for me, and a blown tyre and a few scratches for her. I finally got round to taking her in to get fixed at the weekend, with a view to getting back on the saddle in the next few weeks. Now that the weather is improving and the evenings are getting lighter again, cycling to work is becoming a more enticing prospect, and I think I am about ready to tackle the psychological challenge. So I dropped Hedwig off at G-Whizz, a great little second-hand bike and repair shop down in Hove borders, which is also handily only a stone’s throw from my favourite café in Brighton & Hove, The Sanctuary. At first glance, the damage was apparently not too bad, but she will be given a good once-over, and I will be able to collect her next weekend. This was a small but significant step for me in getting over the whole ordeal, and now that plans are also afoot for a Hungarian dental trip, I’m starting to feel a lot more positive in general. A celebratory lunch at the aforementioned Sanctuary café was inevitable, as was a visit to Taj, the best ever food shop (in Brighton anyway), also just around the corner. The clement weather only served to reinforce this upbeat mood, and sunlight was streaming through the windows as I sipped my mango and passionfruit smoothie, and wolfed down a plate of delicious potato wedges with garlic mayonnaise.

An obliging Nikki, apparently mid-sentence, on the South Downs Way

A long overdue girlie night ensued on Saturday evening, with a trip to the Hanbury in Kemp Town for We ♥ Pop, the perfect cheesy night for one very excitable gay man and five willing fag-hags. We danced our little socks off to everything from Kylie to the Beatles, and enjoyed the laid back vibe of the refurbished venue (it was done up a while ago, but this was the first time I’d been since the change in ownership), complete with ironic wallpaper and an extremely well-stocked spirits bar. A remarkably hangover-free Sunday brought more delightful weather, and a chance to get out into the countryside. My photography homework this week was ‘portraits’, and Ant was very long-suffering in letting me take endless snaps of him sitting in trees, pausing at gates and even tucking into a hearty brunch from the little café in Stanmer village. The intense winter sun was perfect for capturing the surrounding colours of the countryside, already sporting the first signs of spring - with the odd crocus bursting up, and even blossom on some of the trees. Nikki joined us for a walk, giving Ant a break from the constant modelling, as I subjected her to some paparazzi action on the way up to Ditchling Beacon. Brian was waiting outside, keyboard in tow, when we arrived home, and we rehearsed for next weekend’s big wedding – my first same-sex civil ceremony – at which we shall be performing ‘Nobody Does It Better’, with tongue firmly in cheek. This pleasantly eventful weekend was rounded off with the hilariously bad Ghost Rider, starring a typically hammy Nicholas Cage, complete with dodgy toupee. It is certainly a strong contender for the ‘Top Ten Best Bad Films’ blog, which I’ve been thinking about for a while, and am now newly inspired to write, so watch this space.

People, Finally

After two weeks in a row of landscapes, a subject about which I am generally quite photographically uninspired, I was finally allowed to shoot some actual people for my latest photography homework. The remit was to experiment with the various white balance settings on the camera, whilst also telling a story over 20 pictures. Since I was meeting up with the family on Saturday anyway, I thought it would be lovely to use them as the subject, and simply tell the story of a family meal round at Mum’s. I did get accused of being like the paparazzi as I was relentlessly snapping away over lunch, but it was worth the effort, as I ended up with a few good pictures, and got to know my camera a bit better in the process. Here are a few of my favourites:

What, No People?

After spending all of Saturday night photograhing pirates and wenches (see previous post), I was less than enthusiastic about doing my landscape photography homework on Sunday, ready for my second class of the course. I find it hard to inject energy into a composition without people, or at the very least, animals in it. But I am enthusiatic about learning to use my camera, and becoming a better photographer, so understand that this is all part of the process. To make matters even more difficult, the weather was pretty dire all weekend, the Downs shrouded in fog, and everything remotely landscapey looking rather grey and dull. My best bet was to head for the woods, where I might at least find some interesting textures, and hopefully some moss, to inject a bit of colour into my shots. So we drove out past Lewes, armed with the OS map, and took a chance on the first bit of accesible woodland, which happened to be near Chailey. It was certainly more colourful in the woods - the damp weather making everything look lush and vibrant. There was moss aplenty, of every kind, and some striking orange lichen to boot. I even managed to snap some lively geese, though unfortunately that particular photo was out of focus. It was frustrating not being able to delete the duff shots, but again, a good discipline to observe, enabling one to analyse what went wrong afterwards. Out of the 20 shots, I was really only content with one of them, though the rest were mostly OK. Our next assignment is 'urban landscapes', which I guess could be interpreted in a number of ways - I suppose at least one is more likely to see actual people in an urban setting! So, while I put some thought into potential locations for my next project, here's the one half decent snap I took on Markstakes Common:

Back to School

It'll be ten years this summer since I graduated from university, and apart from the odd work training course, I've done little in the way of formal learning since those happy years studying at Roehampton. So it was a bit of a shock to the system to find myself re-entering the pedagogical environment last night, for the first class of my photography course at Varndean college. I'd signed up last year, after giving in to the digital revolution and getting myself a swanky Nikon D40x digital SLR camera - having been previously happy with my trusty old Olympus OM10 (which I do still use by the way). My recent foray into gig photography necessitated the change, and having access to endless photographic books and magazines via my work, I was eventually convinced to make the transition. Overwhelmed by the amount of functions and unused potential of the new digital beast, I went in search of help online, and stumbled across an evening class entitled 'Creative Digital SLR Photography' which seemed absolutely perfect for my needs. I also let my friend and flickr buddy Shaun know about the course, as he'd recently acquired a Canon EOS 350D, and felt, like me, that he wasn't making the best use of it (although I happen to think that his photos are already far superior to mine - partly because he's also more savvy with the photoshop trickery!). Our first lesson was mostly a general introduction to the course, and a chance for the teacher to assess what people were hoping to get from it, but already I'm feeling inspired, and raring to get snapping for our first assignment. We've been tasked with taking 20 photos, in succession, with no editing or deleting - the subject being 'landscape'. This is a slightly intimidating prospect for me, being much more of a people photographer, but I shall certainly rise to the challenge with new-found enthusiasm. Meanwhile, here's a rare landscape snap of mine from a recent holiday, taken in the picturesque town of Bouillon, Belgium, first thing in the morning:

More photos from our wonderful pre-Christmas jaunt can be seen on my flickr page: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rowstar/sets/72157603558215940