Recycled Charm

Genuine Whatman Filter Paper :: Abbie // C-Type Plate // No flashOver the years I have collected lots of little vintage packaging items. I don’t merely put them on display (dustcatchers, I call those collections) – I actually use them, and find them much more charming for it.

This little cardboard box originally held 100 circles of chemically prepared filter paper; some kind of photographic consumable presumably, but I’m not sure exactly what it was used for. I used a darkroom in high school and art college, but can’t recall using this kind of filter then either.

Today it resides in the top left drawer of my vintage wooden desk, and holds paper clips – as well as a whole lot of charm. Much nicer than some kind of plastic modern equivalent.

An A–Z of Tintypes

U is for Utensils :: Tinto 1848 // D-Type Film // No flashThe Tintype, still my favourite HipstaPak from the Hipstamatic app, comes with the Tinto 1848 lens and two films: the C- and D-Type Plates, in colour and black and white respectively.

Based on the old Tintype cameras of the mid nineteenth century, the lens cleverly uses iPhone technology to focus on the eyes of a subject and blurs the edges of the frame. The films feature the ragged frames of original tintypes, dirt, dust, scratches and general grunginess – what’s not to love? Who needs the super-sharp clarity of digital cameras, revealing every pore and flaw?

D is for Dishes :: Tinto 1848 // D-Type Film // No flashI decided to put together an alphabetic collection and searched through my archives for my favourite photos. There were a great many contenders for most letters; a few that I loved far above the rest (U, D, R and T); and a couple that needed a little focused attention (pardon the pun). J and X were difficult. I had to shoot J specifically for this set, and hit upon jewellery as a very likely subject.

R is for Refraction :: Tinto 1848 // C-Type Film // No flashOf my favourites, the utensils I shot last Christmas at my sister’s house, and the stack of dishes and cutlery in the laundry trough I came upon serendipitously one day in the communal laundry in my block of apartments. R and T were both shot the same day last summer: the refracted light caught my eye in Flinders Lane, and not far away in Federation Square I caught the boy in the striped tee pausing in the threshold of the temporary sculpture Ballroom, by Patrick Dougherty.

T is for Threshold :: Tinto 1848 // C-Type Film // No flashX was interesting. I really hate those lame ‘x’ words in any A–Z list, especially words that abbreviate the prefix ‘ex’, such as ‘x-treme’. I could do better than that, I decided, and heaved open the OED (the Oxford English Dictionary).

X is for Xeriscape :: Tinto 1848 // C-Type Film // No flashAdmittedly the words filed under ‘x’ are not easy subjects, but when I came upon the word ‘xeriscape’ I knew I had it. A xeriscape is a landscape of succulents and cacti, both types of plants that I love, and I just happen to live next door to Melbourne’s Royal Botanic Gardens. There is a cactus garden there that I often wander through. I love the utter stillness of it, especially in wild weather when all the other trees around are tossing violently in the wind, and not a breath stirs amongst the prehistoric-looking cacti.

As for the collection, there are some likely suspects, and some not so likely. Click here to look through. 

Sundays Have No Soundtrack

The Clouds :: Tinto 1848 // C-Type Plate // No flash

Some days have no soundtrack. When all you can hear is the wind in the trees, and the happy cheep of birds and the crackle of the fire*. The clouds move in fast-forward and the faraway drone of an aeroplane whisks me off into holiday mode; I wonder where all those people are going. And the best of those days are Sundays that are quiet and contemplative, when I don’t have to rush around anywhere.

But today is not one of those days. I’m heading off to the family home for lunch and a day of bedlam – which is wonderful too.

This photo gallery celebrates Those Days With No Soundtrack.

*I’m totally being poetic here: ‘crackle of the fire’ translates to ‘quiet hum of the gas heater’. 

The Rain :: Tinto 1848 // D-Type Plate // No flash

Let Them Eat Chookas!

Chookas! :: Loftus // DreamCanvas // No flashHere’s some trivia on Australian theatre for you: instead of saying ‘break a leg’ to wish a performer good luck, we say ‘Chookas!’ Apparently it refers to days of yore when it was considered the performers would dine well if there was a full house in the theatre for the evening’s performance – dining on chooks (Aussie slang for chicken) rather than plain bread. It is not a very elegant expression however, it must be said.

In a new tradition established only last Friday night, if there were not enough theatre staff on hand that day to sign the congratulatory card for the Opening Night of a performance, the nearest designer is called upon to fill the gap with a drawing. With moments to spare and only an unforgiving pen to hand what does said designer hastily doodle-do? Why a chook of course. 

Some Days Have No Soundtrack

Some Days Have No Soundtrack :: 17 November, 2012On those quiet days when I walk in the gardens and the wind blows in my hair as fiercely as in the trees above … those days have no soundtrack, just the murmuring of my thoughts – and drifting daydreams.

Trees at Dusk :: Tinto 1848 // C-Type Plate // No flash :: 29 April, 2013