street photographer

Had this little beauty in my inbox this morning, an invitation to join a community, the Street Photography Now Project, in association with The Photographer's Gallery, London, and Sophie Howarth and Stephen McLaren, authors of Street Photography Now. (Unfortunately, it involves posting our efforts on Flickr - why they didn't set up their own unique platform, I really don't know.) The gist is, they'll post a weekly instruction for you to take to the street, make an image, and upload it to their Flickr group. You don't need a squirrel monkey; just a camera, a town, and a lot of brass neck.

Here's a brief slideshow promoting Howarth and McLaren's new book which contains some fun, funny, and inspirational photos, and the kind of thing I imagine they're looking for;

Street Photography Now from Johanna on Vimeo.

Addendum: Seems to be a bit confusing over at SPNP's Flickr page. I've found this which seems to be where the prompts are. Then you have to marry it up to the right Flickr group. Why, oh why, oh why et cetera et ad infinitum....

a borrower be

Support your local library. Before they cut it.

Even though our numbers are falling, I'm proud to be in that number. I've found a new use for my membership - CD rentals(and I've also spied some interesting foreign films on the racks). For £1 a week (or just 50p if returned within 24hours) I borrowed a copy of Tuesday Wonderland, by Esbjorn Svensson Trio. I've been listening to it at work. Wonderful, even though it's not Tuesday. This band has often been cited as the future of Jazz, or Europe's best Jazz group. But I'm sad that I shall never get to see them when I consumate my new found love affair with Scandinavia. Esbjorn died in 2008, aged 44, whilst scuba diving.

Also from the library, I'm currently into the Best of McSweeney's Vol. 2. A collection of modern American short stories. So far these have been fabulous little gems; some mysterious (think Twilight Zone) and some very funny. The McSweeney's website also looks fun, but not intuitively explorable. At least I'm struggling, but I'm specifically trying to find the stories and there's nothing to say there are any. There's a page of lists though, some of which are quite funny.

Also this week, and not a long bus ride from the spirit of McSweeney's is the brand new culture superblog, The Dabbler. Today's post is from Frank Keys, (Hooting Yard) on the poem, Jubilate Agno, by Christopher Smart (1722-1771 ). Essentially it's a list pairing a biblical hero with a named critter, some familiar, some absurd, so that hero can praise God with said beast. It's a shocking three hours long but you can hear it all here. It's worth at least a quarter of an hour. I put in about 20 minutes and then fast-forwarded - I think it's safe to say the best bit is at the beginning.

I think that's all. Back to E.S.T....

People Matter

I began reading E.F. Schumacher, Small Is Beautiful: A Study Of Economics As If People Mattered, today. I requested it from the new library; it was in central storage and took some time to track down, I don't expect it gets much of an airing. It's a book I think I should have read in the 70s but I didn't know of it then. The writing is of that period, quite text-bookish, not the chatty, let-me-explain, easy style of most recent books on ''serious'' issues. I find myself going over paragraphs again, getting into the style; often it seems to be written for economists: there's jargon and terms I can only guess at the meaning and he has an annoying habit of putting many terms in inverted commas.
Despite this the overall message so far is familiar. There's even parallel sentiments I recognise from The Ragged Trousered Phil. Just how far back does this wisdom go? And why hadn't I noticed then, and why are people not noticing still? The so called ''Business As Usual'', I guess.

public library

I am difficult to impress. It is something I've hated about myself for as long as I remember. It has caused me to seem an ungrateful boy at Christmas and, later in life, to be misinterpreted as 'cool', aloof, dull, miserable, and on occasion antisocial. I'm pretty sure I'm none of these things for most of the time.

You should never read an autobiography of someone you don't know from a bar of soap. I borrowed Roger Scruton's, Gentle Regrets from the newly revamped town library expecting it to be as stimulating and enlightening as the Lovelock book I had just finished. I suppose it didn't cost me anything. Well, no more than I would have to pay for the service even if I didn't use it. But I did wonder why I was spending time on it when I'd also borrowed Steinbeck's East of Eden. It felt like a moment when you take a seat on a bus and the stranger next to you starts telling you his life story - yes, exactly like that! - and it's irrelevant and meaningless, and you just want to look out the window and enjoy the familiar and real meaning of the journey.

At this point, you could simply change seats or stand, but that would appear rude so you get off before your stop because waiting for the next bus, even in the cold and rain, is better than this. With a book, a book from the library, you simply return it early. God, I do love the public library!
~

I borrowed a third book that day. (Three seems to be a natural number.) It was John Humphrys' Beyond Words: How Language Reveals the Way We Live Now. It was well written and convincing but I found I agreed far too easily and was bored with the cause before chapter three was over. Never mind, I was heading for the library anyway...