Flashes and Flashbacks

Amy van Wyk
26
Grahamstown

A bright flash lights up the darkness, and I'm pretty sure that the neighbours must be getting more than a little concerned about the lightning that appears to the eminating from the garage. The fact that it is followed by thunderclaps of giggling fits can't be helping much. But if I'm being honest, I'm not too concerned by what the neighbours might think. I'm too busy having a blast with Amy

Since unwrapping the gift on the morning of my birthday, I've been dying to test out the new lighting for my studio and have been looking for any good reason to play around. And what better reason could there be than an eager volunteer and a good catch-up session.

Amy was one of my first friends in Grahamstown, and during my first year of varsity we spent many a night staying up together, talking late into the night, drinking and wandering down streets singing our own renditions of Kelly Clarkson or Gnarls Barkley tunes at the top of our lungs. She introduced me to the wanders of varsity life and she was beside me every step of the way. So, when I heard that she was back in town, my heart jumped for joy. It couldn't have come at a better time either - barely a month after Kath left me to start on her Korean adventure.

Since her return, there has been a lot of catching up to do with Amy - finding our what's happened in the years that we missed out on and reminiscing about the good old days when the dawnie was the biggest problem that we faced. So, when I had the chance to photograph and spend time with Amy in amidst our two very busy scheduled, I jumped at the opportunity.

It was the first time that I was properly able to test out the lighting, and it certainly did take some getting used to. There was a lot of fumbling and more than a little hmming and haa'ing taking place, but the photos that came out of the session brought such a smile to my face.

I have never been happier with the photographs that I have taken in my studio, and I have Grant, Jono, Robert and Sharon to thank for the beautiful lights. But it would have all been for nothing without a subject. So I have got to thank Amy for the amazing experience.

THANK YOU ALL!

Sprinkling of Magic

Erica Wertlen
Grahamstown

“You know you’re still shining, right?”

I turn to my housemate, confused for a few moments and he just stares at me, a giggle hidden behind his lips. For a minute I think he’s finally lost it, an evitability when residing in the same house as me. And then it all comes back to me as I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window, the small dots of glitter reflecting in the light.

How it didn’t dawn on me earlier, I don’t know. The stuff is everywhere – adorning my bedroom, my car and my camera bag; refusing to be contained by the laundry basket that houses my glitter-stained clothing. It only makes sense that a speck or two would have clung on harder than the rest despite my best efforts. After all, I’m practically sleeping in glitter-soaked bedding. If anything, I’m surprised there isn’t more of the stuff on me.

But what is a party without glitter? One that doesn’t doesn’t involve Erika, of that I’m fairly certain. Which is why it was felt by all involved that a party celebrating her growing a year older, a year wiser, and celebrating another year that we get to spend in her presence, HAD to involve glitter and tons of it.

So, when Erika arrived at her party expecting nothing more than a quiet night in with her friends, the surpise kicked off with a glitter bomb hidden above the door, with friends waiting behind it to welcome her into her latest year of life. Friends who were dressed to the nines for the carnival theme and friends who all wanted nothing more than to see the look of pure, unadulterated love, joy and awe on her face when she saw the gift that awaited her.

Being the presence of pole-dancing in this small town, it was felt that little could capture the essence of Erika more than giving her her very own pole to light up the stage with. Well, nothing material would have matched it in any case. The box filled with photographs and messages of love from all those around her came pretty close as well. But an evening spent with those that she cares about was the icing on top of the birthday cake of celebrations.

So, when I catch my reflection, the thoughts that come back to me are of an evening of fun, friends and freedom filled with beauty and dancing and sprinkled with the little bit of magic that glitter provides.

“Oh well,” I announce in response, and turn away, the glitter sparkling in the light and bringing a smile to my face.

Lightning in the Dark

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"But Cherie got to do it."

"And she gave it up because she had to get up too early."

"I already get up early."

"The answer is no, Lara. And that's final."

The battle was lost, but the war was far from over. I never did get over the fact that I had been denied the right of all children to learn to ride a horse. What it did mean though was that I started to hold a special place for horses in my heart, a place of awe and reverence. Horses to me were always animals to be respected and, at times, feared. Beautiful creatures that I could look at, but not touch. Until Lightning.

"Can I," I ask Kim without taking my eyes off him. His coat is gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, and all I want to do is reach out and touch it, but not knowing how he will react, I am hesitant.

"Of course!" It is as though I have asked if I can breathe. "They need all the attention they can get," Kim announces as she explains that a number of the horses at Grahamstown's paddocks have owners who are not able to come and ride them nearly as often as they would like. 

"Horses are meant to be ridden," she says matter-of-factly. And I can see it in their legs, the muscles bulging, in the flow of their manes that whispers of a will to be running, to be galloping, to be free. Horses are meant to be ridden, not to be cooped up in pens out of the sunlight.

I reach out a hand slowly towards him, half expecting him to buck or to shake his head as though swatting away a pest. But instead, he continues with his meal of as much grass as he can get, and my hand runs over his velvet coat. It is as soft as it looks, softer in fact, and my fingers tingle under the touch.

The weather is refusing to cooperate with us, the sun hiding behind clouds rather than providing the golden light that I had been hoping for. But the clouds set a peaceful mood which suits our needs as we make our way to one of the paddocks.

"Lightning," Kim warns as she sees him head straight for the grass that lines the fence. She leads him instead to the solitary tree in the middle of the field, and here he stands, awaiting instructions, for all of three seconds before making his way back over to the fence.

"He's still young," Kim offers as an explanation. Like a typical teenager, I think to myself. Learning how the world works and marvelling at its every offering.

"Maybe he will be better in the other field," I offer as a suggestion, and we take him next door where there are no trees and less long grass to offer distraction. Just emptiness, with me on the sidelines trying to capture it. 

"Come on, boy," Kim announces with a clap, trying to get him to run. And run he does, straight towards me. I duck instinctively as he passes, and the camera clicks just a second too late every time, impossible to catch his full frame in a single shot as he races past like his namesake. He reaches one side of the paddock and turns to run in the opposite direction. His eyes are wild with joy and confusion at the freedom.

"He's never been told to run before," Kim explains, as her own eyes fill with concern. "He doesn't know what's happening."

As he reaches the fence, he tries to go further and finds himself blocked in at every corner, the only way out is forward and he tries his best to make his way out, running into the fence before scaring himself.

"It's okay", Kim coos, as I stare wide-eyed, not knowing how to react, not knowing what it is that I have done. Her voice calms him almost instantly, and he stops running and lets himself be comforted by her words, her soft touch.

"Good," she says, resting her head on his chest, running her hand down his back. "Is it okay if we head back now," she asks, and I nod happily, not wanting to frighten him any more than I already have.

As we make our way back to the stables, Lightning returns to his normal self, stopping to eat as much grass as he can manage along the way, his stride slowing as his heart rate lowers. Kim walks him back to his stall, and it is back to the darkness, but suddenly the cool of the stall seems more inviting, the pen offering a soothing familiarity. I take one last shot, and I know that it is not going to be perfect, but I love it anyway. I have captured the Lightning in the dark, and it feels right.

Devious and Delightfully Disco

“Do I have to come in?”

“You don’t HAVE to, but I imagine that you will be pretty bored in the car.”

I can see her weighing up the options, clutching her coat tightly around her, and I can see why. With her fiery red curls and her ‘60s style dress and grey stocking, Debbie is looking far too sexy for a trip into Grahamstown’s Pick ‘n’ Pay, particularly on a Wednesday night with nothing else going on. It would be another story entirely if this were Trivarsity, or a weekend, or even just a Thirsty Thursday. But instead, it is a Wednesday night in the middle of the month and there is nothing happening. She joins me despite her misgivings, the neon colours just poking out underneath her black coat, not enough to raise any eyebrows. With the supplies for dinner procured, it is time to head home and let the fun begin.

Once in the safety of the garage, the coat comes off and the colours come to life. Her shyness dissolves under the studio lights, and the real Debbie, the one that I know and love, comes out. With each click of the camera, I can see her becoming more comfortable and, despite her attempts at keeping it serious, her fun side starts showing through. And so we take ourselves back to the disco era as I let the colours pop, knowing that I wouldn’t dare convert any one of these into black and white. Debs turns into a runway model, swinging her hips as she walks, running her hair through her hands and pouting in between giggles and smiles. Disco Debbie takes over, and she is a good icebreaker to say the least. By the first wardrobe change, Debs is back to being herself, her nerves no longer existent, and it’s time for her next role.

With a swish of colour and a swab of wine red lipstick, it’s time for Devious Debbie to strut her stuff. A figure-hugging black dress with a plummeting neckline shows off her figure, and the mood of the photos shifts accordingly. But, as I said, Debbie is a good actress and takes the change in her stride. The outfit highlights another side of Debbie's personality, but it is not one that she is entirely unfamiliar with. Before my eyes, I see her change into the sultry seductress that lurks belong her bubbly exterior. But even with the sexy librarian taking the leading role, I can still see my Debbie with shining through as we laugh and chat and I shoot away. 

And with one final outfit pulled out of the bag, it is Delightful Debbie's turn. A short sleeved Oriental shirt to match her bright hair, a pair of worn jeans and sneakers mean that it's time for Debbie's most natural role, the outfit and the personality that she will wear for the rest of the evening. This time it's all laughter, and Grant comes and pokes his head in the door to see what is going on, not used to me being so loud when I am working. Puddims takes the opportunity to push his way into the spotlight, and Debbie far from objects, taking the chance for a new kind of pose. 

"And," I ask as the night draws to a close, as I turn off the lights and plunge the studio into darkness, hardly reminiscent of the room that we have spent the last hour and a half in.

The smile on Debbie's face says it all.

A Day of Royalty

I can tell as Lwando got into my car that he’s excited.
“Lara,” he announces, his broad smile filling his face and extending to his eyes, “this is Nonkosazana.”
The name flies from his lips naturally, easily. I blink back at him, trying to bring up the courage to attempt the pronunciation myself, and they can see my unease, but rather than taking offense, they giggle to themselves, a shared secret amusement at my English-locked tongue. It reminds me of the giggles that I used to hear in class whenever I spoke Afrikaans in my overly-English, bordering on British, accent.
“But you can call me NK,” she says with a grin, and I smile back, relieved.
“It means Princess,” Lwando informs me, and it strikes me how appropriate that is. She looks like royalty in her cream dress, her hair haphazardly plaited and falling elegantly down her back. Lwando’s princess.

I start driving to our house, and I chit-chat with Lwando in the front about work and life in general, while NK sits in the backseat, silent, taking everything in. We arrive five minutes later, and I walk them through the house, letting them greet Grant as I open the studio, and then leading them into the garden and the garage beyond it. 

I close the door behind them and darkness fills the room, engulfing us in its shadows. I turn on the lights, one at a time, and can feel the heat of them instantly. This will need to be a quick one – hot days are not conducive to long studio sessions. The two of them stand in front of the camera, uncertainly, and I take my place behind it, smiling at them reassuringly before my face is hidden entirely.

And so it starts.
“Look at me.”
“Look at him.”
“Back to back.”
“Change places.”
“Stand up.”
“Sit down.”
“Smile.”
“Kiss.”
I feel like the puppetmaster, pulling on strings as the photos come together perfectly, as I had pictured them in my mind.

After half an hour, I shoot my last studio shot, and turn off the lights. The relief is tangible, flowing from them like sweat.
“How did you find it,” I ask NK nervously. She has been so quiet that I do not know what to think. I don’t know her well enough to tell if this is her personality or if she is uncomfortable. I wait in anticipation, but am not left waiting for long.

"Fun!" She sounds surprised, and I'm taken aback. "I was expectinng it to be so serious!"

I laugh at the thought of a serious photo session.

"What would be the point of that? No one would see your personality!"

With the formalities over, it is time to move our session to the Botanical Gardens for a little more fun. Here, I can tell that both Lwando and NK are in their element. There is no need for direction as NK jumps from bamboo branch to bamboo branch, forgetting about the camera for minutes at a time. This is not acting, not posing, this is who they are, and this is what I love. Soon they are stealing kisses at the fountain, for themselves more than anyone else, their laughter filling the air as I fade into the background.

  

         

 And as the afternoon finishes with a stroll by the river, I realise that I haven't stopped smiling since they first got into the car - Lwando and his princess, a young couple and their closeness.

Farewell to Friends

Music rings, emanating from the tent in the corner. Pop songs from the 80's fill the air merging with the purple-pink bubbles that float for an instant before being popped enthusiastically. Laughter abounds mingling with the snippets of conversations that can be heard.

"Remember that time..."

"I wish I had..."

"We should..."



I sit in the corner, my camera poised, taking it all in. I watch as the smoke filled bubbles scatter, exploding in puffs at the slightest touch, and as the glitter balloons are passed from one person to another, never touching the ground, until, all at once, they pop scattering the shards of golden light around the room and all over the already glittered gathering.

We're here to celebrate, and the atmosphere is perfect. Booze line one table, snacks another, and wherever you look there are people talking, laughing, enjoying each others company and reminiscing about the time spent together before the year draws to an end. One last hurrah before the flurry of exams and packing to spread across the country and the world. The final goodbye to the town that seems to be a halfway house somewhere in between high school and where your real life begins. The jol is over, the schlep must start - finding a job, keeping it, paying rent, taking responsibility.

But just for one day, there is no need to think about the joys that adulthood holds. Today, we are not worrying about what is to come, but remembering what has been, basking in the friendships that we cherish, recalling the mistakes that we have made fondly, knowing that they are small when compared to the happiness that we have found in this little  place that we have called home for the last 3, 4 or 5 years.

And, at the end of it all, we leave with a tear in our eye, knowing that things must change, that people must come and go from this place in what feels like a heartbeat, but  always holding that special place for the years spent at Rhodes and in Grahamstown.

To the friends that have left, know that I think of you always. To the friends that are leaving, know that you will be missed. And to the friends that are staying, I look forward to the memories that have yet to be made.

Fashionista

The experts say that part of becoming professional in photography is to find your niche. You need to narrow down your field so that you don't become a jack of all trades, but a master of none. I have always found this difficult to do, but I have found it particularly difficult when it comes to portraiture. 

There are different kinds of portraits that a person can take of course, and these range from different lighting situations (flash vs. natural, etc), to different locations (studio vs. outdoors), to different subjects and different themes. What it boils down to is the question or "What are these photos being taken for?" The biggest difficulty that I find is in the difference between "regular" portraiture and fashion portraiture. In my mind, the two are incredibly intertwined. When taking a person's portrait, I am always trying to focus not only on the person, but trying to bring out their clothing and what their choice of clothing says about them. I understand that fashion portraiture will tend to emphasise the clothing more than the person themselves, but I like to think of it as a combination of the two.

Take the shoot that I did last weekend as an example. A friend asked me to take some photographs of one of some of the scarves that she had knitted in an effort to promote an ebook that she is working on and to sell patterns for those items. Of course, taking photos of a scarf lying on a table is not nearly as interesting as taking photos of them "live" so to speak. So she called in a favour from a friend, and voila! There was a model to pose for some photos. When it came to deciding where the photos would be taken, it was a fairly easy decision. We wanted somewhere natural, somewhere a scarf-wearing person might be found frollicking. And so we walked down the street to a field and started the session.

The emphasis for the photos was clearly supposed to be on the scarves, that much had been made clear, but taking a photo of just the scarf was not going to draw attention. And the photos that were taken ended up being less about the scarf itself and more about the sophistication of the design, the fashion mixed with the feeling. I wanted the photos to have warmth, to have emotion. I wanted feeling to come across in them and I think that it did.

In the end, and I may be rambling to get to this point, but I feel that it is a point worth making, I find that you cannot put what you do into a little box. You need to bring parts of your photographic experience in to whatever it is that you do. You cannot have fashion photography without a sense of the people involved, you cannot have portraiture without bringing an aspect of fashion photography into it as well. It is not as easy to separate the two as you may think.

 What do you think of the photos from the weekend session?