Library of Congress photography collection

You know this photograph don't you!

Florence Owens Thompson and her children. Nipomo, California, 1936

Did you know that this photograph belongs to you and that you can have a print (any size you want), for the price of the paper.

How about a Walker Evans like the one above. This will cost a little more but it's definately affordable?

Dorothea Lange, Walker Evans amongst other great photographers, worked for the Farm Security Administration during the Great Depression, the images are in the public domain and are available from the LOC, Wahington. These are available to either download to your computer or buy for a small fee, so you can own a true original and genuine masterpiece.

All the scanned files are available in a range of formats, but you really want the "uncompressed archival TIFF" versions which will contain the most data and allow you to make impressively large prints. You can print the photographs at those "do it yourself" machines inside shops - look for Fujicolor Crystal Archival, or Kodak Archival printing, but you will have to convert the TIFF to JPEG (converter here). Personally, I wouldn't bother using an inkjet printer, the ink and the paper aren't really appropriate for photographs of this period.

The problem is, the Library of Congress has millions of photographs and is scanning hundreds more everyday. Last night I intended to spend an hour looking at historic houses but ended the search 3 hours later with a fine portrait of Sitting Bull.

I think it's wonderful that such special historic images are being made available to the people - long may it continue!

Rastro made from doors

Rastro (secondhand shop), Granada, Spain. Built entirely using old doors. Note the roof built around the street lamp! This rastro is run entirely by women, and they re-cycle absolutely everything that is donated to them. This is the place to go when you need just one particular type of wall hook, or a cup to complete your set.

View from inside the shop, looking out.

A few frames that were 2 euros each, yes I bought them.

I won't list everything in stock, (as it's a secret) but I found quite a lot of large, heavy, brass letters, they were 5 euros each. They were a nice serif font, and about 15 inches high. The alphabet was missing a few characters including my initials "T" and "I" but I did get a rather nice "L"................

Olives

I've been avoiding my neighbour all week, sneaking out after he's gone to work in the morning. The reason is - it's the start of the olive picking season, and I'm trying to avoid making excuses for not joining in with the picking.

When I first arrived in Spain, over 7 years ago I used to volunteer a few hours of my time to help the locals pick fruit during the season. That first year I helped pick oranges and it was a great fun day out that included a memorable 3 hour lunch. The following year I volunteered for a spot of olive picking which I can only describe as purgotory, it gave me more aches and pains than anything I'd ever done before. It also gave me an insight into the value of olives.

Spain produces more olives than any other country in the world. It has so many olives that it exports the raw olives to other countries around the mediterranean, where they're pressed and re-exported as native olive oil. This is something to think about when you buy Italian olive oil!

Most olives are produced by modern trees that are bushy and grow about 10 feet tall. These are easy to manage and the olives are harvested by machines that shake the trunk and catch the olives in a net. But where I live the trees are old, some as old as 2000 (yes, two thousand!) years, and very big, so harvesting means climbing the trees and first shaking the branches then finally knocking the stubborn ones off with a stick.


But that's not the end of it, oh no!
My neighbour's nets are not big enough to catch all the olives which fall amongs the cabbages growing in the soil below, so we crawl on our hands and knees picking individual olives off out of the soil. After a short while the boredom and repetition becomes hypnotic, I can imagine it's similar to practising a Gurdjieff lesson.

One old olive tree takes two people 2 - 3 days to harvest. It's hard on the back, neck/shoulders, legs, knees, and finger tips, which get stained purple. I have so much respect for the elderly men and women in this village who tackle this annual task without complaint.

So it's no to olives but I'm still happy to pick a few oranges.

Abandoned houses

I have no idea how many empty houses there are in the white villages of southern Spain.

Some houses appear to be abandoned, but then in the Summer they come alive with city dwellers visiting the cooler mountain regions.

In my own village there must be about 2% of buildings which truly are abandoned, but in other villages I visit there are whole streets of empty houses, which probably accounts for 10% of the village. The village below is one such place where houses with occupants are the exception.

I was shown around this casa by one of the residents. He said it belonged to his uncle who died 20 years ago. He now uses it to house his mule and store potatoes.

To some, a second home would be a liability, but this is just convenient (and rather quirky) storage space!

Strictly Come Dancing

The Tower Ballroom, Blackpool

There's a lot in the news about a TV programme called "Strictly Come Dancing". I saw the programme last time I was in the UK but I must be one of the few that didn't become addicted. I can tell the programme is a success because I read something about it (on the Internet), every day. It made me wonder how many of the 8.9 million (which must be more than 10% of UK population) viewers actually dance.

I've spent plenty of days and evenings photographing ballrooms and I can tell you, the photograph above is very typical, four couples and an organist!

My Desert Island Discs - Number 3 John Cooper Clarke - Chickentown

I'd need something on my desert island to remind me of the north west of England where I grew up. If I could remember the almost continuous rain and grey skies I used to live under, then my desert island might not seem such a bad place.

In truth and despite the weather, I love the north of England and my desert island disc is a poem by the great performance poet John Cooper Clarke, with an atmospheric video of a train pulling out of a station in Manchester (I'm not sure which station, Manchester used to have seven).

While I was looking for this poem I found a version used to end an episode of the Sopranos. I didn't get the connection but it works well.

Styl Mag

I'm delighted to be associated with Styl magazine who have used a bunch of my photographs for their launch edition. Styl magazine discuss indie fashion, culture, and living. It's an intelligent read, published in Europe and available worldwide via subscription.

It's always such an honour to be featured in a new venture - I'm thrilled.
I wish Styl magazine every success for the future!

Public art

Public art at the mirador in the Lecrin Valley, Andalucia. The dog is mine!

Naughty French Postcards

Until quite recently you could buy old French postcards (of a naughty variety) in France, but in recent years they've become scarce and expensive.

Due to my ongoing clear out of junk, I've recently sold my small collection of French postcards, but I scanned a few favourites to share with you. I found all of these cards in Africa, from Kenya to Tunisia, almost every second hand goods shop, flea market or store has a shoe box of postcards and if you're lucky you'll find something exotic at a good price.

I tended to collect the more absurd postcards which were created to get around the obscenity laws of the time. These cards were produced between 1870 and 1900 in Paris. During the late 19th century a nude image would be highly illegal in most European countries, unless the nude was of educational value, as these cards most definitely are.

The titles are from the reverse of the actual postcards.

Women wrestlers - How to execute a headlock

The correct way to fall when ice skating


The left hook

Riding a tandem


My personal favourite - How to drink beer

Correos boxes

Yesterday I went to a little junk sale in the Sierra Nevada mountains. There were a couple of trendy sellers who had just moved from Ibiza and were selling an enormous pile of clothes. I picked up a fleece jacket for 5 euros, for my skiing assignment later in the month. I'll have to live with the fact it's last years design. I also bought 2 self help books for 50 cents each. The books promise to make me wealthy and happier, so I'm looking forward to the new me.

While I was in the mountain villages I spotted a couple of old correos boxes, one of which is a beauty, which I share with you here:

This is the new style box, it will improve with age

It's a public holiday in Spain today and I'm off to find some racing cyclists to photograph. See you tomorrow.

My Desert Island Disc - Number 4 Vanessa Paradis, Joe le taxi

This post is in response to those who wanted to know when I'm going to finish off my Desert Island Discs, you know who you are!

I'd have to take 'Joe le Taxi' on my desert island as a record to dance to, while I'm getting ready to go out for the evenings............... I think it would lift my spirits!

Vanessa Paradis has enjoyed a great career as an actress and singer. She's enormously popular in France, where she's made some great movies. I'd highly recommend 'La fille sur le pont', if I was ever to make a decision about my desert island movies.

ITV day

Today was the day that every car owner in Spain dreads, the ITV (MOT in the UK - a strict compulsory road-worthiness test). It was also a very hot day, we're having an indian summer.

The ITV comes around every year on the birthday of your car, you get a reminder in the mail that you must take your car to a government testing centre for inspection. For me it's a miserable procedure that I don't look forward to even though my car is relatively young and healthy, but for my neighbours who drive things like 1960's Renaults and the odd ex-army Jeep, it's a time of deep reflection, even depression.

One of my neighbours who drives an ancient Citroen van, swaps his bald tyres for his brothers new-ish tyres before he takes his van for the test, then swaps them back the following day.

My issue is not the car, but the actual test. You arrive at the test centre and present your documents. Then you return to your car and wait until you hear your registration being called over a (not too clear) loud speaker. They also play a local radio station over the loud speaker, but they don't fade the music enough when they announce which car is next. Everyone who waits is trying to desipher if the announcements are for their car or just an advert for a new car. We're all looking at each other and shrugging.

I was sitting in the car for 20 minutes when I heard something that ended with 3 numbers that could possibly fit in my registration. It was a lucky guess and I drove to the entrance for the test to begin. The inspection area is big, large enough to examine 5 vehicles, each vehicle having its own lane. There's the sound of engine noise, horns, random banging, shouting and local radio. The inspectors doing the test are humourless and serious.

I'm called forward and the inspector examines the usual things: lights, seat belts etc. But then he goes down some steps and is directly under my car, he starts shouting instructions - "brakes, hand brake, turn left, turn right". I can't hear everything and get confused, turning the wheel in the opposite direction to what he wants. I'm sweating, which is something I manage to almost avoid throughout the summer.

Anyway I got throught it and so did the car. It passed! I have my new sticker for the windscreen and to put the memory behind me, I drove to the beach for lunch and a siesta.
Till next year.......................

Round house

This is a very good house in the mountains of Andalucia. The view between the columns, below, is of the Mediterranean. With views like this there's not a lot for me to say other than - the mill stones make great tables!

Peineta (comb)

Peineta

Autumn colour in Spain

In the land of the bourganvilla Ivy makes a nice change in the shady parts of my garden. The varigated ivy below is cascading from a Victorian chimney pot that my brother in law found in London. Southern Spain doesn't have that many hardwood trees so autumn colours are few and far between. But I do have a creeper that grows around the door to the garden. This year it's 'creeped' to my office and is framing my view out of the door.



I hope to see some snow on the top of the mountains within the next couple of weeks. If we have rain in the villages - they have snow on the top of the mountains. I like the look of snow, but I prefer to view it from a distance. This winter I'm planning a big photographic project at the ski resort here. I don't yet have any appropriate clothing for working on top of a mountain in the snow, advice on avoiding hypothermia would be very welcome. I'll keep you posted.

Bill Traylor

Several years ago I flew from London to Orlando, Florida, then spent a couple of days driving up to Montgomery, Alabama, mainly to see an extraordinary exhibition of work by the artist Bill Traylor.

Bill was born into slavery in 1856 and remained on the same farm until the 1930's, when he was evicted. At the age of 80 he moved to Montgomery. Homeless and sleeping on shop floors he started drawing scenes from his childhood and early life and selling his art to make a living. You can read more about Bill Traylor from the link above.

Bill was an outsider artist, an artist with no training and little exposure to art. But it never ceases to amaze me that I keep seeing common threads with Bill's art and other artists. Obviously, I expect certain similarities with other modernists, Lowry to name just one, but it goes deeper than this.

Last week when I was in London I spent a couple of hours in the National Gallery where I saw this painting titled "Saint Michael triumphant over the Devil with the Donor Antonio Juan", it's by Bartolome Bermejo, painted between 1460 and 1498.

See Bermejo's devil!

Bill Traylor - Scary Creature, 1939-1942
Collection of the Montgomery Museum of Fine Arts

In praise of Patrica Highsmith

I've just finished reading Beautiful Shadow: A Life of Patricia Highsmith "Beautiful Shadow" the life of Patricia Highsmith, and by coincidence Patricia Highsmith's 1957 novel "Deep Water" is to be made into a movie, not a day too soon in my humble opinion.

Deep Water is a psychological thriller about a couple in small-town America, whose seemingly perfect marriage comes under scrutiny when the wife's extra-marital affairs, are thought to have resulted in the deaths of several men.

Her most famous book and my favourite is the "The Talented Mr Ripley" I bought this book while on holiday in India, before it was made into a film. I remember lying on a beach quite unable to believe what I was reading, the novel's "hero" is a psychopath, and a likable one! Utterly gripping and creepy, one of the books that you never forget.

Born in Texas but spending her working life in Europe, she was as odd as the characters in her novels. Her life story would make a great film.