No. 44

No. 44 is a Polish bank somewhere in Poznan. 

I did not see anyone entering or exiting it. It was a quiet day, or a quiet time of the day. 

I see a street lamp standing still. Off duty and unlighted for the night is still far away. 

Maybe there are days when the bank is a beehive of activities - town folks making deposits of their hard earned cash or making withdrawals for their needs and wants. Maybe tourists too, in need to exchange for the local currency. But not today, not at this hour of my shot.

Both the bank and the lamp have their place in our lives. Indeed, there is a time for everything under the sun. The bank, a storehouse of savings for a rainy day. And the lamp, a steady light for the Polish night.

Each has their purpose. So do we, and in our few short years of life, it's worth discovering our purpose and fulfil it. 

Pick your number. It doesn't have to be number 44. Right now I'm on number 47 coming to 48 in a few days time! 

And so, that's what No. 44 triggered in my mind. 

A Random Story

In life, human activities are often self-regulated. 

Each person has a mind of their own and they do what they please. And somehow, some of them converge in approximately the same area at the same time, and when the photo is taken, an unexpected, un-orchestrated story emerges. 

Individually, they have not thought of becoming a part of the larger narrative. But together, they are! 

In this picture, each character is going about their own business. The street photographer is not the director but an observer. He does not tell the characters what to do. He merely watch, waits, and snaps frame after frame. He does, of course, works at framing the shots and position as best he could. But I think that's about all. 

The camera does the rest. What emerges from each photo is a random story.

When you take time with each photo, more questions than answers will arise. But that, to me, is the beauty of it all. To draw a response of thinking and feeling - a personal and meaningful reflection. The story forming in your mind will be different from mine, and that's beautiful too!

Narrow Design

OK, here's another building with an interesting pattern, Already the pattern is interesting by itself, but what intrigues me is the width of the building! It does look narrow, and one wonders, if the pattern reflects the physical dimension of the building, imagine the kind of interior design and furnishing, not to mention the furnitures.

I, of course might be incorrect, as some of you might point out. Maybe, maybe not. In fact it does not truly matter, nor would I like to get all webbed up in a spidery entanglement of academic discussions. My photo shoots allow me to soar a little bit more, like that of a child. That's far more important than to decide the point of who is right or wrong. 

In other matters of life, there might come the time to make a stand for what is right and what is wrong, but I would fight for that in the matter of art. Values and principles yes, but not this.

If I do, I'd be, in my mind, just like the building - a narrow design. 

Miss Dainty

If you look carefully at the bottom left of this photo, there's the cute and I'd say, dainty hand, the left hand obviously hold a camera and framing a shot. I don't think she was aware that she was in my pic. I wasn't aware of this fact until much later, when I reviewed my shots. 

Have you ever wondered how in street photography, most times you might never get to know the people you've captured on your film or digital camera? This is true for me. Never been much of a conversationalist. It's like asking a duck to climb a tree. That's how I feel. 

In any case, I shall call her Miss Dainty. Yes, that will be how I'll remember her in this photograph as long as I live. 

Miss Dainty!

Patterns

Patterns, patterns on the wall, which ones are the dizziest of all? 

Sorry, can't help it. That comes to my mind before I shot the photo and after as well. It can be a bit disorienting visually speaking.

And yet, I find it fascinating with the care that was taken to create such a wall effect. It does add a dash of mystery as to who lives within and whether the occupant commissioned such a paint job. Perhaps the occupant is the owner and the painter, all rolled in one. Does the other projection reflect the dweller within? Or are they at odds?

Hmm. I shall never find out.

Pigeon on the Harp

Pigeons can fly. 

I wonder what if pigeons can play the harp!

But the harp is not the pigeon's strong suite. Never was, never will. One should never estimate a pigeon by what it can't do. 

Instead, look and behold the beautiful music of the pigeon, the solos of cooing and the soaring of wings into the clouded sky! It is never wise to measure a pigeon by what you can do. The pigeon will never measure up. For likewise, if the pigeon was to measure you by your flight ...

But I'm not really thinking of the pigeon. I'm thinking about people, human beings who foolishly measure others by their own strengths. So, cherish your strengths but don't thumb down others - they are not you. And you are not them. Celebrate the strengths, gifts and talents in others. And give thanks to God for your own strengths, gifts and talents - and put them to good use for the joy and strengthening of others!

You and me, we are pigeons!

An Angry Statue

I'm thinking and almost feeling the wrath and the anger emanating from this statue! It was shot in Poznan. But anyway, it's not about the location, but the emotions conveyed.

There's a sense of foreboding. It's as if something major is about to erupt, like the building up to a crescendo in an opera. Something's boiling within and growing in heat and strength. It's like strength being summoned to be released soon, very soon. There's obviously something that will be the target of this pent up energy.

He's looking dangerous. The finger is pointing perhaps at the object or the subject of his anger. Is it anger over being hurt, or perhaps he is defending his city, the last man standing between the enemy forces and his beloved birthplace? 

That trident looks dangerous too. Like it is ready to do its job, to fulfil its very purpose of existence. For it is in doing what it was created that the trident actualises its purpose. The trident looks sharp. And ready. 

Waiting

She's waiting. 

And just maybe there's someone else who's waiting, waiting for a girl like her, someone to love. 

The one who only looks but doesn't make the move is a chicken. Just looking out from a two-dimensional picture and not daring to enter the three-dimensional world of love and relationship.

I find my thoughts drawn to the song by Foreigner -

"I've been waiting for a girl like you, to come into my life. I've been waiting for a girl like you, a love that will survive. I've been waiting for someone new, to make me feel alive. Yeah, waiting for a girl like you, to come into my life."

Most people yearn for such a love, for such a life. They wait and wait for the right one to come along.  And when the right one comes, they are frozen in time, and wait, and wait, and wait. 

May you find true love. Stop waiting. Start living. Start loving. 

Friends

Friends are who you want and need on a journey of life.

Not “Facebook friends” which may number in the thousands - those are a brutal abuse of the term “friends”. No offence, but you know what I mean.

Not “fair weather friends” either - the ones who flock around you like seagulls because you’re having your fish and chips. The ones who are ought to get some benefit from you.

I mean true friends. And such friends are as difficult to find as diamonds in your backyard. But there are such friends around. Your spouse is supposed to be such a friend. I know this isn’t true all the time in a world of infidelity and divorces. But there are marriages of love and friendship that outlast the seasons of life.

If you have one or two friends who are truly friends, consider yourself blessed.

James Taylor sung it best -

“When you're down and troubled and you need a helping hand
and nothing, whoa, nothing is going right. Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there to brighten up even your darkest nights. You just call out my name, and you know where ever I am, I’ll come running to see you again. Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, you've got a friend.”

I appreciate my friends.

Chickens on the Menu

Chickens are on the menu. 

But where are the customers? 

The chairs invites openly, desperately, forlornly, but there are no takers. But wait, there's potential for something to develop. There's a tourist staring, pondering, perhaps weighing up the costs of calories or the price of lunch in Polish Zloty. 

Me? I've had my lunch and I'm a happy man. But today, chicken's not on my menu. 

The Magic of Typing

No, I don’t mean magic in the strict sense, but the feeling of typewriting on an old typewriter.

It’s nostalgic. It brings me back in time, the sense of it rather, for no one can go back in time. It’s in the mind, and the mood.

It’s clickety-clackety loud. That makes my typewriter alive!

It’s imposing. It imposes an ordering of words on the page. It stamps the author’s authority with every click and clack of the keys. It’s something you don’t get typing on an iPad.

It’s just different. It’s unique. It’s rare.

I think it cool.

Flight

Flying is a wonderful experience. The first time is always exciting, unnerving, and memorable.

But after countless flights, both short haul and long haul, the novelty washes off, like ink in the rain. You get used to it. You take things for granted. What increased your heart rate now is just a part of travel from one city to another.

We take all too many things for granted. The very notion of flying through the air at hundreds of kilometres per hour belongs to the mental asylum a century ago. It takes so many inventions and innovations, all assembled logically and precisely to become an airplane. It is mastery of technology of the highest order.

Flight. I took my first flight when I was twelve. Yes, it was magical then. And yes, right now, I’m grateful for the tremendous value of flight.

Amazing.

Contrasts

I have a love for strong colours and contrasts.

This I knew from the day I learned drawing and painting more than two decades ago. Since then the paint brushes have laid silent.

I grew up.

But I never lost the love for contrasts in art and in pictures. It was as recent as two months ago that I took a child-like delight for black and white photography. And with that, came the surge and the urge to take photos in this medium.

As I blog on, I'll be posting originals, photographs that feels special and meaningful to me, and I hope  that you will enjoy the experience too. This blog is a combination of my love for pictures and words.

Life is short. Take time to enjoy and reflect on the meaning of life. This is my journey.