Pictures
Contrast and Glass
I took my camera gear into my office yesterday hoping to do some shots across London but the engineers weren’t available to get me onto the gantry. On the plus side I got to play tourist in my home town and snap some contrasts on my walk through the City and West End on the way home.
Sometimes it would be rude to refuse the shot just because it is obvious.
The walk started with this near St Paul’s, it pits earthly love in contrast with heavenly love. I’m now toying with this image as an alternative cover for Older Gods.
Young Love
Between the Banks
Bringing up the girls between two worlds.
Between the Garbage and the Flowers
I heard Nina Simone’s version of Suzanne before Leonard Cohen’s. I love both. They bring out different colours and textures in LC’s beautiful words. Nina hit a better intensity and crescendo here: “She shows you where to look between the garbage and the flowers, there are heroes in the seaweed there are children in the morning, they are leaning out for love and they will lean that way forever…”
Between
The mirror between the line of tiles, the choice between the way forward and the way back.
Now you see me
Now you see me
I was taking close ups of the flowers, it was only back at the laptop that I saw something extra in the picture.
Doodle Time
You’re at the airport, your flight is delayed for six more hours, and none of your electronic devices is working. How do you pass the time?
Some of us still travel with pen and paper.
Room to Live
Even out in the open we are crowded, boxed by unseen eyes, every step recorded and cast in stone.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Twisted
The desire to mark territory, or to simply leave a trace of our existence is irrepressible.
Twisted logic, to place the mark on nature, or a microcosm of mankind and the planet?
The Art of Storytelling
The Morning After
At first glance this may seem like anti-art; just an old scratched photo, the original clearly badly lit, and poorly shot.
For me the interest and the art is in the story, the ability to draw the observer into the narrative, to make them ask “why?”
In this case the wreckage of a party, the brilliant morning sunshine, the wistful gaze…
The picture also allows an insight to my writing process, which spirals out of a catalytic image: from here, for example, it would be a journey of the imagination to put together the sequence of dramtic, tragic, comedic, suspenseful events that put her on the window seat, on her own on the morning after.
Except in this case, of course, I know. I took the picture.
END
If you are interested in my storytelling look here
More memories from college collated here
Ali Abbas 