A Rose By Any Other Name

Rosa Brandt
22
Grahamstown

It's been a busy day for photography, and clothes and props are strewn across the studio floor in between empty glasses of wine and bottles of "cheerleader beer". Laughter and giggling can be heard ringing through the garden and the house beyond as my friends and I chatter between shots.

"I love this jacket," Rosa announces as she slips it on over her dress and poses for a shot or two in it. It's one of my favourites - the black leather one from my days in Korea - and it suits her perfectly. But the jacket is just the beginning, and before long the studio has turned into an extended wardrobe for outfits to be tried and tested and fun to be had. It's like going clothing shopping with your best friend, and knowing that you won't end up spending any money - you just get to look great in an outfit for a few minutes before moving on to the next one. It's like the fashion shoot that I have been dreaming of, and Rosa makes a wonderful model for it with her slim frame and her outgoing personality.

It's not just the clothes that get the Rosa treatment, but the props as well as she picks them up and transports us into her imagination. She jumps from socialite to entertainer, from naughtiness to innocence with an ease that brings out the actress in her, and it's wonderful to witness and capture. It's easy to remember while I watch her why it is that we are friends - her easy going nature makes her a pleasure to be around and brings out the fun side of me that often gets ignored and lies dormant for months at a time.

It's the last shoot that I have a chance to get with her, her Grahamstown visit a short one this time around, but it's one that will linger in my memory, bringing a smile to my face for a long time to come - tiding me over until the next time I get to see her.

Scheherazade

Amy Goodenough
23
Grahamstown


I'd never noticed the tattoo before - the font that twirls around itself to tell a story just like its namesake. Though it's not loud or bold, it speaks volumes about its owner. "Scheherazade" it reads. The storyteller.

As she pivots herself on the edge of the chair, as her hair sways back and forth and as she lies on the warm white rug, Amy Goodenough tells me her story through the way that she moves and the ring of her laughter. I have known her for years, but it feels as though this hour spent in the studio has granted me some kind of insight into her person that I didn't have before.

She reads through her favourite book, selecting passages to read aloud to me. They are passages that I have heard before, but hearing them in her voice makes all the difference, and the words ring through the studio leaving their echoes in my memory so that each time I think of Lemony Snicket, my mind will immediately jump to this afternoon spent together.

As she writes in her journal, I watch her hand fall across the page, her concentration, her word weaving, and I am left in awe. I cannot think of a tattoo more apt for her than Scheherazade, and I will think of her ever more as the story teller.

A Part of Their Story

Michael Marabini and Vicky Heideman
Grahamstown

"Hey, Mike."
Grant moves his chair away from the desk as he answers the call - never the world's best multi-tasker - and begins to pace around the house. Into a room one minute, out the next, up and down the hall - his typical phone call routine, but this is no typical phone call.
"You want me to do what?"
I motion with my arms trying to catch his attention and involve him in a game of charades so that I can figure out what's going on.
"Yes, she is."
He catches my eye, but refuses to participate any further than that.
"Yes, she does."
I narrow my eyes now, wondering what exactly it is that I "do".
"Okay, bud. Meet you there."
He hangs up the phone and sidles back in front of his computer, ignoring the glares that I am sending in his direction.
"What's going on?" I finally shout, giving in to my frustration and curiosity.
"Oh," he says as though he's just realised that I'm there. "We're meeting Mike and Vicky at Home Affairs in half an hour."
He turns back to the PC.
"Uh... why?"
"Just as witnesses."
"To..."
"Their marriage."

Fast forward three years, and there I am, my camera in hand, snapping shots of Mike and Vicky. They're fresh from their honeymoon and standing before friends and family in full wedding attire saying, "I do." It's an anniversary party, really - a reason to celebrate three years of happy marriage with those that they love most. And once again, I am a part of their happy moment. I'll also be the one to remind them of their anniversary a year down the line.

A year and a half later, and Mike and Vicky stand in my studio under the harsh, bright lights. I like to think of the pictures that I take as family photographs - a monument to the life that the two have built for themselves around each other, and a testament to the love that they share. They laugh and make fun of each other, they tease and taunt and compliment. They try to stay serious, but they just can't do it for more than a few seconds at a time - can never take themselves too seriously. It's just not who they are. Five years in and Mike and Vicky are just as in love as the day they got married. It's not something that can be said for every couple, not even for most. But I look at them, and I think to myself that I can see them being just as happy in five, ten or twenty years to come.

Thank you, Mike and Vicky, for allowing me to be a small part of your story.

Dum Di Dee Dum

Dee Ellis
22
Grahamstown

By far the best photography sessions that I have done have always been those were the subjects are having fun. And by a long way, the person who's had the most fun in front of my camera (with Mike & Vicky coming a close joint second) has been Dee.

Someone who is far from shy, Dee lit up underneath the lights in more ways than one. From the first click of the shutter, it was fun and giggling, funny faces and rock star poses. I was head banging and Gangnam-Styling and non-stop smiling from start to finish. Even the attempts at serious poses were short-lived, and the photos came out all the better for it. Looking at them brings a smile to my face, and hopefully to those of others.



And the studio session was just the beginning. It was quickly followed by drinking games galore as the fun and laughter spilled over into the rest of the house, truly making it an evening to remember (or forget, depending on one's alcohol tolerance.)

So I want to say a giant THANK YOU to Dee this time around for helping me have a most memorable photo shoot and a fantastic Saturday night.

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.

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Photographer

I love taking pictures. If you hadn't realised that much by now, then I don't know where you have been. Perhaps not reading this blog or around me when I have my camera. But more than anything, I like taking pictures of people.  Wedding photos, studio sessions or just out and about around town, there is something about taking photos of people that makes me happy.

It's the hidden looks and the personality that shines through when  you least expect it. It could be during a studio session with a person who feels uncomfortable behind a camera. You shoot, you instruct, you try to bring out the best light and the best details, but the photographs are nothing without that little smile that comes with the thought of how silly this all is.

It could be during a recital when a person is singing away, part of a large group, part of a whole and you just see the music overwhelm them, you just see the joy in their eyes that comes from doing something that they love, and you manage to capture that joy in one quick shot.

It could be someone who has not even noticed you standing there, someone who is simply happy for one reason or another. You don't need to know the reason, you don't need to understand to see that the person is just simply, blissfully happy.

It's those photos that make me feel that I have accomplished something. I have a feeling that if someone were to take pictures of me taking pictures of people, that is the kind of shot that they would get. Me, at my element.

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?