Separation Fence, Kerem Shalom, Israel 2019

**Separation Fence, Kerem Shalom,**

by **Shimi Cohen**

Pink Floyd's "The Wall" is a progressive rock album with huge cultural acclaim. It’s not simply a well written rock opera. It’s a political manifesto; a documentary on rock at the time; a personal story of an injured person and the poetry of a troubled band. Moreover, it’s a hard-hitting statement about modern man in the twentieth century.

Roger Waters – a witty and cynical man - wrote it, almost alone. This epic work is a scathing indictment of the entire society. He wept for his lost childhood; his father killed in a futile war; his cold and estranged mother; his treacherous wife; the rotten education system; neo-fascism; the corrupt music industry and the alienated television industry. To many, this was seen as proof that he was just a bitter guy, no more.

Perhaps those critics should consider the following: The separation wall between Israel and the West Bank; the fence between Hungary and Serbia and the US-Mexico wall. These are just a few of the obstacles erected in recent years, in an attempt to prevent foreigners and terrorists from entering. Since the Romans built stone walls to protect the borders of their empire, governments have continued to build walls to keep away invaders, occupiers and foreigners, and to control their population.

During the Cold War, the Berlin Wall became the most notorious in history. However, the most well-known images of the Berlin Wall are actually from its fall in November 1989, when East Germans violated orders and ‘tore it down’.

Since its fall, over 40 countries around the world have erected similar physical barriers along their borders. This is a cynical and controversial practice.

It’s a crying shame that the lessons from Waters’ masterpiece haven’t been learnt!

Chinatown by Don Scott

The light fog lingering on a chilly October morning is lifting as I walk up the steep hill to Chinatown in San Francisco. I am always struck by the vibrant colors of this city within a city. Here and there, shop keepers are sweeping the sidewalks in front of their stores. Chinatown is extremely tidy.

Chinese people arrived in the U.S. in the mid-1800s. Many found work in mines, on farms, and in the garment industry. Chinatown was established in 1877. It is one of the most densely populated cities in the U.S.; approximately 34,000 residents live in 20 square blocks. Despite Western influences, residents of Chinatown strive to retain their customs, languages, places of worship, and identity.

The old buildings in Chinatown stand in contrast to the modern buildings of San Franscisco. The architecture of these buildings is influenced by the temples and pagodas of China. Most of the street names are in English and Mandarin or Cantonese.

Produce shops are filled with Chinese fruits and vegetables. The produce store on Pine Street had items I hadn't seen before such as lotus root, dragonfruit, taro, and Chinese persimmon. The shop keeper took a few minutes to finish her animated conversation with a local resident while I waited at the register to buy an apple.

I have discovered that images of dragons abound in this town. They are on lampposts, in wall murals, over doorways, and in shops. Dragons are a symbol of luck, power, and nobility.

The main street in Chinatown is spanned by numerous strings of bright red paper lanterns. This street is lined with shops that draw in tourists from around the world. I am intrigued by all of the things one can buy; items such as incense, Buddha statues, paper parasols, Chinese clothing, and San Francisco themed t-shirts.

The park at Grant and Pine is a center of activity for many Chinatown residents. From morning until evening it is filled with young and old. There are groups of people playing games. I have only observed men playing Chinese chess and have seen men and women playing cards. Chess is considered a male-oriented game In China and in Chinatown. Groups of men stand wordlessly and watch these competitions in many places throughout the park. Children play on the playground equipment. Adults do Tai Chai. They also play badminton and hacky sack. People are so involved with activities and conversation that it is very rare to see a cell phone being used; in Chinatown, I see people connected to each other instead of connected to their devices.

Chinatown is a fantastic place for street photography. I will return again and again.

Two of my passions are teaching and street photography. I am a 5th grade teacher and I love being with my students every day. I enjoy watching them gain self-confidence and become better critical thinkers by year's end.

The light is frequently very bright where I live in Tucson, Arizona. However, this can often help create photos with sharp contrasts and intense shadows. I love the challenge that street photography brings; you never know what you might discover on the street. I enjoy the serendipitous moments one can capture, when the light and the actions of people on the street come together to create an intriguing image. I am interested in capturing interactions between people as well as emotions that make for an interesting story.

I travel to San Francisco three times a year on personal photo safaris armed with my Ricoh GR II. San Francisco is a street lover's paradise. The architecture is sublime and there are so many fascinating people on the streets.

I am always in search of new stories to tell.

“A street photographer has to be ever observant while on the street because most scenes only last for a few seconds before being lost forever.”

Don Scott

“Larry call a load of smoke in...” by Keef Charles

“Who knows whether, if I had given up smoking, I should really have become the strong perfect man I imagined? Perhaps it was this very doubt that bound me to my vice, because life is so much pleasanter if one is able to believe in one's own latent greatness”
― Italo Svevo

What do you do when you’re a teenager, wanting to feel grown up? Hmmm? You could spend some of the money you earned, washing dishes in the pub, on a packet of cigarettes. Least, that’s what me and some mates did; aged 14. First you decide who’s going to buy the cigarettes, then where to meet. Coombe Hill, rose up from our village in the Chilterns. Having met somewhere nearby, we’d stride with a sense of purpose, towards the summit; whereupon stood the monument. When we felt we were safe enough from prying eyes, we would stop and pull out the packet of cigarettes. Fighting the wind, there would be several hands cupped around one match, as it swayed either side of the waiting tobacco stick. Three, maybe four matches later, it was lit. Fingers were a little singed, but what the heck. The others could now be lit from the first. Like passing the torch.

Not only did we feel big, we felt clever. You see, we’d bought Consulate Menthol. No one was gonna smell the stale tobacco on our breath with that cheeky disguise… right? Yeh, right!

Didn’t matter that Government health warnings were emblazoned on every packet of tobacco products. You knew it wasn’t good for your health anyway, but it still seemed cool at the time. Remember, this was about feeling grown up.

In those days, racing cars still advertised the likes of Benson & Hedges cigarettes. So... smoking’s gotta be cool, eh? What boy didn’t fancy a bit of that adrenalin pulsing dream? The speed and power; winner’s rostrum; beautiful girls throwing themselves at you.

Then there were the Marlboro ads, alluding to the sense of freedom that sucking on these things gave you. Again male machismo. This time the gritty, pioneer experience that came with these modern day cowboys. Hard not to want to buy into this either.

These arguments seemed far more persuasive than the risks to our health. I mean come on, seriously? We were teenagers...these things didn’t happen to young people.

Hell, back when I was growing up, if you wanted bohemian, you stayed up and watched some French movie.....to the end! The plots weren’t always easy to follow, that’s for sure. They felt almost subversive at times. Bearing in mind colour television was positively exalted, the fact that many of these films were in black and white, massively added to the atmosphere. Let’s not forget, I was a teenage boy, feeling life and looking for inspiration. Sheesh, I even wrote poetry. It simply wasn’t a proper French movie, unless it was black and white...and the cigarette smoke practically seaped out of the television vents.

Is this what we were buying into when my mate and I dropped off the back of the school’s Physical Education cross country run? Phil and I would lurk behind the garages of a nearby housing estate and pull on our Gauloises. Sheesh they were strong! More kick than the toothpick roll ups I’d normally inhale, that’s for sure.

There were risks involved. Granted. We weren’t concerned in those days with our long term health, so much as getting an ear-bashing from one of the teachers and getting stuck in detention; missing the first available bus away from that place. You know, those risks were real.

Don’t get me wrong. This short article isn’t a health warning in disguise. It’s just an observation, a reminiscing.

There are many times nowadays I see shop workers and the like braving frost bite, as they get their fix leaning against some cold, hard, often grubby wall outside. Does that image make me want to pick up the old habit? No chance! It looks thoroughly desperate and miserable.

There are, however, many instances, when I see people on the Street, immersed in their own world for just a few minutes, as they take a smoke break. At times, they press those things to their lips almost as if it were the touch and kiss of a lover. That look of pleasure or abandon is almost serene. These are the scenes that compel me to take a shot!

“Larry call a load of smoke in, I wanna lose a couple days.” (...a line borrowed from Catfish & The Bottlemen: “7”)

Cremation by Bruno Lavi

“Nothing defines our very existence more than life and death.”
- Photographer Stephen Dupont (b. 1967)

In the past year, I have traveled in two special and sacred places for the Hindu religion: Varanasi on the banks of the Ganges River in India, and Pashupatinath on the Bagmati River in neighboring Nepal.

In those places, the cremations of dead bodies are practiced nonstop as a part of the cycle of life ritual.

Relatives bring their deceased loved ones to be cremated in these places, prepare the cremation ritual by performing prayers and cortege.

The dead bodies are cremated, their ashes were thrown into the river, in the belief that their spirits will enter the heavens of the Hindu gods.

On the banks of the rivers, children and adults look all daylong for godsends in the figure of remains from the rituals – decorations, coins or even a jewel.

Everything runs smoothly, the people seem to float around the dead body, all in gentle touches. There is perfect silence in the air, something peaceful. Slowly the deceased fades from this world until the eternal physical disappearance...

For Hindus, the ritual of incineration is considered to be a main part of the pathway to enlightenment.

Incineration has been part of the cycle of life rituals among different cultures since prehistoric times, yet with the spread of Christianity, incineration began to diminish in importance.

In physical terms, incineration is the process by which the body of a deceased person is subjected to a combustion process, with temperatures up to 1,093 degrees Celsius.
Those who choose to incinerate their loved ones, do so for a variety of reasons, including cultural traditions, the convenience of keeping the urn of their family member in the house, or turning the ashes into a wearable adornment.

Hinduism is unique among the world's great religions because it allows open cremation, calling it the “Last Rite,” (calledantim-sanskar) or “Last Sacrifice,” (orantiesthi) and being part of the 16-rituals of life.

Hinduism believes that incineration is not only the means by which the body can end this life, but also allows the soul to enter into its new life and reincarnate.

Cremation, institutionalized in Asia through Buddhism and Hinduism, is one of the most common techniques used by people in this region. Embalming is less commonly used, but can sometimes precede a cremation. In India and Nepal, the cremation takes place in the open air.

Although for me, as a Jew, cremation has a problematic connotation to the Holocaust during World War II, when the bodies of millions of Jews were burned in crematories at the death camps, I couldn’t help but be impressed by the poetic, quiet and even beauty of Varanasi and Pashupatinath cremation rituals.

I will definitely come back to these wonderful and spiritual places where the death rituals has literally dimensions of poetry and beauty.

Bagmati River in Nepal

Ganges River in India

- What is your camera of choice for street photography? Sony 7r IV 

- What is your favorite technique (lens choice ... fill-flash)? No flash, sony 24-70

- How do you manage color and B&W? Depends, some of my work works better in BW and other in color. 

- What is your primary software for post- production? Lightroom

Born in Romania in 1965 - Lives in Rosh Haayn and works in Jerusalem, Israel
I fell in love with photography about four years ago, at the age of 50, and consider it as a great gift for me! Photography for me is actually a multi-layered journey of material and human environmental discovery.
As with every journey, I enter into known or unknown areas, sometimes alone sometimes accompanied but always with the dream of discovering something else in the realm of creativity.
Most of my work is about people and contact. In general, the humanistic ethos is at the center of my interest where the human been with his attitudes, attributes, activities or thoughts is always at the center.
The psychological, historical or geographical view of mankind inspires curiosity and interest in examining it in the purest way I would like it to be reflected to everyone.

website

Flash Fashion by Massimiliano Faralli and Ohad Aviv

I love street photography cause I love being around people, talking to them. In my approach to work, I recognize myself very much with what the New York master Garry Winogrand said, when he said that "on the street he was captured by the energy of his subjects, constantly smiling or pointing to the people he had taken, it was as if the camera were secondary and his main purpose was to communicate and to establish a quick but personal contact with the people who passed by".

I don't have any recurring themes. I still have a lot to learn. I love the street, the people and the direct relationship with the scene.

The portrait is the consequence of a line of learning and a natural predisposition. Lately, I've been experimenting with other scenarios, trying to detach myself from the contact and widen the scene.

As I said my approach is direct so I feel comfortable inside the scene, my distance is very close, about a meter, I must feel one of my characters. Relationship and contact, respect and empathy are the fundamental characteristics of my approach.

I use fixed wide-angle lenses, 28 mm, lately I use more 24 mm.

I use mirrorless cameras with APS sensor, I also use a flash out camera.

Here I present a part of my work that I'm building in this period on the fashion week. They are mainly portraits taken from the streets of fashion people. Photographs taken in the street with my camera, my wide-angle lens in one hand and the flash on the other.

Massimiliano Faralli

Until a few months ago I was mainly relying on natural light for my photos and just from time to time experience with flash photography which always seemed like a stronger voice for me.

At a certain point, I felt I needed more out of the street, I wanted to be closer, to be more present in my photos then I have been before, so I did. I took my flash and triggers and went to the street. Using the flash allows me to express my rhythm on the streets and the way I see people.

Milan for me was a good opportunity to meet friends I really wanted to meet and to get more experience with my new .approach towards the street.

Ohad Aviv

My name is Massimiliano, I am Italian, I was born and live in Tuscany in Prato. I have always followed every form of art since I was a child when there were no distractions. I grew up reading comics and listening to lyrical music and I think this has influenced my character, my sensitivity and my creativity.

Surely for me, photography is an excellent medicine for the body and the mind. In particular, my type of photography helps me to deal with shyness and discontent due to previous situations that I can get out with the camera in his hand. I hope to have become better, I am certainly better with myself and with the people I photograph, to whom with respect and gratitude I will always remain fond. Each of my photographs has an important meaning, a moment of communication, of contact, which has improved me but I also believe in the subjects I photograph.I suppose the photograph has to tell something. Like any art form, photography must also cover the gaps in consciousness.

In my small way, I try to document moments and stories through a movement, a look, an expression.

Massimiliano Faralli

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My name is Ohad Aviv, 40 years old, street photographer from Tel Aviv, Israel.

After studying several courses in the leading school for photography in Israel I started working professionally taking photos in live rock concerts of leading musicians in Israel.
While doing that I started exploring the streets around me and around the world.
Since then I left the live show scene and focused mostly on Street photography. I am giving photography lessons and street photography workshops from time to time.

For me photography connects people. It does not matter if you are Israeli, Italian, Dutch or from Greece. But, there is a certain personal load a photographer takes with him wherever he goes.

You cannot and should not run from who you are but try to take the advantages it brings to you.

Exhibition:
Between 2016 and now I took part in several exhibitions both in Israel and abroad , the most important one was Local testimony exhibition 2018-19 in the Tel Aviv museum which is the biggest and most important annual exhibition for photojournalism, documentary and street photography in Israel.

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Merv Fitzhenry a great storyteller by Anat Shushan

About a year ago, I started coming across street images from a photographer I didn’t know.

I found his work fascinating. Each photo blew my mind and I could not wait to see the next one.

After a short while, I started to immediately recognize his work. Each image was telling a strong overwhelming story. It was obvious the photos were taken many years ago by someone who has photography deep in his heart and soul.

That photographer is Merv Fitzhenry, today a 90 years old man living with his wife in Gold Coast, Australia.

About a month ago I went on a short trip to Australia, knowing I had to meet him in person. For me, it was meeting a legend. Not less than that.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t meet for a long time, but I am so thankful even for the short time I got to spend with him. That made my trip complete. He is not only an incredible photographer, but also the kindest sweetest man.

But since I didn’t get to spend as much time with him as I wanted, and I didn’t get to sit with him for hours and listen to his stories like I wished, I had to know more about him…

Mervyn Fitzhenry was born in 1929 in Sydney, Australia.

Q: What where you interested in as a kid? What fascinated you?

My first big interest was to become a jockey. I left school at about 13 years of age and got a job at a horse racing stable had a few rides but got to heavy. After knocking out my trainer, I then left and became a Pro Boxer. I was 17 years of age.

Q: At what time in your life were you exposed to photography? Was it “love at first site?”

When I started Photography it was 1971. A friend of mine gave me one of his camera's. He put it on auto and it stayed there. I always use auto but I did lose a lot of photo's. I then went to a nearby park and these are my first photos. I think I was about 42 or 43 years of age.

This was my first photo 1971 and 2'nd photo. They were both not far from each other.

From then on I kept taking the same kind of photo's that's all I knew.

Q: Each and every one of your images tells a strong story. That’s why I fell in love with your work. Every time I come across an image of yours I have to stop and look. I think that what makes a great photographer. Being able to express the soul of the people in the photo. Can you tell us a little about the people in your photos? Who were they? Were they a part of your life?

The people I take are the same as where I grew up. The kids in the backlanes I was one of them, but over 40 years earlier I never found it hard to take these photos.

The people I photograph are all strangers. I take their photos and go. I like to take photos in their homes, that way I have to talk to them but they always let me in.

I only had trouble with one old lady she used to stand at her front door partly open with her dog. She lived on her own with her dog. she was very scared of strangers. At first she wouldn’t speak to me, I kept going back and after about 3 days she let me in and I got my photos. I always get my photo's.

Q: Photography has changes so much over the years. Since the digital cameras came into our lives, it feels like the “rules have changed”. Can you tell us what was it like, being a photographer back in the 70s and 80s?

Cameras.... I know nothing about cameras. They all take photos. It's what you take that matters. Never had a camera with motor drive.

Q: What made you connect to photography so strongly?

I worked on the Sydney waterfront as a wharflabour from the 50''s to the 90''s. 1971 after work I go walking the streets with my camera. I never take photos in a street with lots of people, always in the back lanes where there are not many people that is where I get most of my photos.

I never ask people if I can take their photo, I take it and go.

One more thing I like to mention …. I always go on my own, would not go with anyone else otherwise you all take the same photos.

People photos I like to see their eyes.

Merv never took pictures in colour, only B/W.

His first camera was a second hand Pentax, then he started using an automatic Nikon.

He always uses a 50mm lens and a 400ASA film.

His work, which is honest, telling true hard human stories in a brave and touching way was published in Time Magazine and others, museums, exhibitions, books and won a lot of international awards.

One of his tips, which is without a doubt my favorite, is to be selective with your photos. Very selective.

Not once got into trouble while taking pictures. A true street photographer!

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The young fishermen of El Nido by Shimi Cohen

The Parable of the Net

“Once again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake and caught all kinds of fish. When it was full, the fishermen pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away. This is how it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come and separate the wicked from the righteous and throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

“Have you understood all these things?” Jesus asked.

“Yes,” they replied.

He said to them, “Therefore every teacher of the law who has become a disciple in the kingdom of heaven is like the owner of a house who brings out of his storeroom new treasures as well as old.”

Matthew 13:47-52

In 2014, renowned tourist magazine Conde Nast Traveler's rated the list of the world's most beautiful islands, leading to the Philippine island - Palawan, the most dome in the world.

So what's so special about El Nido? Well, first of all, it's a secluded and virgin beach,

El Nido has not yet adapted to the characteristics of the tourist-laden beaches such as its counterparts in Thailand.

El Nido has white beaches with sand that feels like baby powder and clear water like a mirror. But beyond all these basic elements of a world-class professional beach, the most prominent element that distinguishes El Nido from all his competitors is his mesmerizing views. These are spectacular geological formations of limestone cliffs, marble cliffs, quaint and mysterious lagoons, ancient caves and beautiful waterfalls that make it one of the world's most unique islands.

As I was walking along the beach, a group of fishermen was discovered. The older one was 20 and the youngest was 6 years old.

I was fascinated by the collaboration between them, such a collaboration that resulted in their livelihood and dinner.

How simple life can be compared to our material life in the West.

Go to see, I promise you the most beautiful sunsets in the world.

An ancient Hindu festival...

Chhath Puja has evolved into a popular solar festival, and is celebrated with fervour across north and east India. While it’s classified as a solar festival, Chhathi Mai, wife/consort of the Indian sun god, Surya, is worshipped as well .

Chhath Puja has its origins in the Indian states of Bihar, Jharkhand and Chhattisgarh, and in Nepal, but its popularity has now spread not only across north and east India, but even across the world. The four-day celebrations attract so many people that city and state authorities often have to make special arrangements.

Celebrated six days after Diwali, Chhath Puja falls in the lunisolar month of Kartik (October-November of the Gregorian calendar). It’s often referred to as a solar festival since the principal god is Surya, the sun god; it is called Surya Shasthi Vrat, with the word chhat coming from shasthi or the sixth day of the new moon. The goddess Chhathi Mai/Usha, said to be Surya’s consort, holds a significant position of reverence and worship. Interestingly, this is one of the few solar festivals that start at sunset rather than sunrise. This is not a gender-specific festival, but has traditionally and socially been female-centric, partly also because Chhathi Mai is said to be the protector goddess of children, ensuring their longevity and good health.

Apart from the popular lore associated with Chhath Puja, the festival also has a connection with agriculture. This can be classified as a post-harvest festival, as the worship of the sun is a show of gratitude for the bountiful harvest in the season just ended, rice being one of the crops harvested at this time.

Earlier this week, thousands of Hindu men and women observed the Chhath Puja, an ancient festival dedicated to the sun god.

For four days, devotees from northern India and even Nepal fasted, made offerings of sweets and fruits, and immersed themselves in sacred rivers—particularly the Yamuna.

In fact, it’s the festivities around the Yamuna that were the most striking.

One of India’s most sacred rivers, it has turned into one of its most polluted as institutional neglect has allowed industrial effluents and untreated sewage to flow into it over the years. Environmentalists have now labelled it as “ecologically dead.” And though successive state governments have promoted plans to clean up the river, none have delivered as yet.

But for millions, the Yamuna remains a key water source and deeply resonates with their faith. So, for the Chhath Puja, thousands entered its waters covered in toxic foam.

The Guardian - Fri 8 Nov 2019 10.27 GMT

Delhi’s toxic politicians must be held to account for this deadly pollution

India’s climate movements are growing, but a unique political deadlock in the capital is creating a destructive inertia

Aruna Chandrasekhar

‘If India is to breathe better and survive the crises at its door, it could use a whole lot more irreverence and unlikely alliances.’Photograph: Manish Swarup/AP — **‘If India is to breathe better and survive the crises at its door, it could use a whole lot more irreverence and unlikely alliances.’**
**Photograph: Manish Swarup/AP**

see also: River Rejuvenation by Abhishek Singh — **see also:** **River Rejuvenation by Abhishek Singh**

the Chilean people woke up by Rene Stuardo

Against all odds, after thirty years of apathy, the Chilean people woke up. For many people this is a shock, so much Chilean society had seemed so far to comply without making waves to the rules of economic liberalism and those of a representative democracy of notables.

The apathy of the Chilean people had an explanation: a kind of pact of silence to avoid reopening the wounds of a military dictatorship that reigned in Chile from 1973 to 1989.

But, over time, the cost of this transition "Pact" was becoming increasingly exorbitant for Chilean society: a public education in tatters, an inaccessible health system, hungry retirement pensions and, the straw that broke the camel's back, an increasingly expensive public transport .

Chilean president replaces one-third of ministers to try to ease social crisis

More than a million people on the streets: is it to claim only the decline of the Santiago Metro ticket?

Of course not: this social movement demands to put back all the unfinished legacy of the military dictatorship, in the economic, political and even legal fields.

Chile has an appointment with its own story.

**Santiago de Chile. Days ago in this place they murdered young people. She wrote in this place kill**

Street Games by Neta Dekel

Street Games 16.jpg — **Street Games**

by Neta Dekel

Street photography fascinates me from the start of my photography adventure, in the early 1980’s. Photography in the streets has everything I love in photography – meeting new people, capture real-life, unpredictable situations, action and art. The best thing in street photography is that it is anywhere.

You don’t need to travel to Africa and wait forever to capture a good image of a leopard or a lion, you don’t need to travel to distant countries and wait for the right time and right light to have a good landscape photo. You are using light and small gear. It is everywhere, anywhere, anytime.

Photographing strange people on the street, usually without prior consent, can be un-pleasant, scary and tricky. You cannot anticipate the reaction of the subject to the camera. After years of street photography I can say for sure, that most of the people doesn’t care to be photographed, and moreover, find it flattering. If I need to assess, I would say that over 85% will not object to be photographed.

The key things to take street shots without objection are to give respect to the people and be nice. Don’t hide your camera. Street photographers are not thieves that steal a shot. Before, or even after, taking the shot, be nice. Give a nice smile, say some greeting words. You will be surprised how people are reacting. Show the result on you camera screen.

One of the most important things is to be aware to the local culture and environment. For example, in some countries in South and Central America, the local people believe that taking their photo, is capturing the soul, so extra sensitivity is needed. On the other hand, Taking picture in poor or crime zones can be interpreted as to invasive and cause to violent reaction.

After years of walking with camera in the street of many cities in the world, I start building themes. Similar situations that capture my eyes. One of the unique things I have noticed, is that people all around the world is using the public space for leisure activities. I was fascinated from the people that gather in the street to play board-games. We might think that board-games requires quiet place the enables concentration, with some drinks and snacks. But seems that all over the world, people enjoys gathering in public places to play.

People are playing in the streets anywhere - it can be in Manhattan or Beijing in china, from Tbilisi in Georgia, to London, Tel Aviv or Arusha in Tanzania.

The game can be photographed from a lot of perspectives – from above (my favorite point of view) or from the eye level. Even close-ups can be amazing.

Holy Fire by Shimi Cohen

Lightroom

"I am the light of the world, which I have come to by the believer, who shall not dwell in the dark." Jesus, the Gospel of John, chapter 12 verse 46

Light and darkness years are whole; The meaning of one is the existence of the other as a means of defining it.

At the Christian ceremony marking the resurrection of Jesus, the holy fire descends from heaven, rising from its empty grave and igniting a series of candles from which it will be distributed, as part of the celebration of the resurrection.

Thus, the description of light and darkness returned in religious ritualism and together and alone. A golden hypnotic glow is thrown on stone walls like light returning to the Obsidian face of a crowd the people in white

In the Photos: Ethiopian Community Ceremony, Jerusalem, April 2018

The Sacred Fire Ceremony takes place every year, on the Saturday before Easter at the Tomb of Jesus in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. This ceremony is considered to be most important in the ceremonies of Eastern churches, and the eyes of members of these churches throughout the world are married to Jerusalem in those moments.

The ceremony is conducted in accordance with the customary status quo rules in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. These rules were set in the Firman of 1852, and are enshrined in the Berlin Treaty of 1878.

The ceremony is led by the Greek-Orthodox Patriarch, who represents the Orthodox Church. The main ceremony is an Armenian bishop's partner; Copts and Assyrians have attendance rights, as well as participate in the encirclement of the Edicole after the ceremony is over.

Each of these testimonies has rights to attend church attendance at the time of the ceremony, while the Catholic Church does not share in the ceremony.

According to tradition, at 9:00 AM, the Armenians open the church doors, and thousands of parishioners and pilgrims pour into the church and settle in all its branches according to the status quo.

The entry rules are also dictated by the status quo rules. At 11am, the tomb guards and key owners leave the tomb Edicole, having carefully checked that there is no fire pit or fire-burning tool.

Under the supervision of the heads of government and other community representatives, the tomb was waxed.

At 12:30 a parade leaves with flags and flies of the Patriarch and surrounds the Edicole three times. The patriarch came in after removing the fancy ceremonial clothes, he was left in plain white attire when not carrying matches or lighters.

The patriarch enters the chapel, followed by an Armenian bishop, and the door closes behind them. After a long prayer that the Patriarch says, a fire is lit in the chapel.

Evidence of past patriarchs includes some descriptions of how the fire goes down, rises from the grave, and ignites the four 33-candle-lit chapters (about the age of Jesus at the time of crucifixion).

The Greek Patriarch and the Armenian Bishop send the fire to the Armenians and Orthodox believers outside through the circular openings on the sides of the Edicole. After the patriarch knocks on the closed door from the inside, the tomb doors open, and the Assyrian and Coptic representatives come in to take the fire for their congregation.

They wait while the two senior members of the church come out of the Edicole and pass the fire on to the ardent believers who stand throughout the church and read in different languages: "Christ is risen!" (In Greek "Christ's Anastasia"!)

The fire is passed on to the faithful, and runners rush with the fire to the various altars in the churches in the city.

The fire is transported in a procession to major cities such as Bethlehem and Nazareth, where the local community heads receive it by a majority of: The various denominations, including Catholics and Muslims, attend the celebration and even take the fire home.

(Translation from Hebrew by Shimi Cohen)

Wikipedia

History, pageant and a colourful feast for the eyes!

Did you know that St.Werburgh is the patron saint of Chester? No? Not surprised...me neither. Not until I did a little research; curious as to why geese were so well represented in the parade. Apparently, the goose represents this Anglo-Saxon princess who died in 700AD. That’s quite some time ago.

A little more recently, however...around this time last year, I ventured into Chester for a bit of Street shooting and saw a huge throng of people amassing by the ‘Cross’ of this old Roman City. When I say ‘huge’, I mean by Chester’s standards. It’s a city on account of having a cathedral, rather than it’s size. Anyway, I digress...

Seems I’d turned up just in time for the Midsummer Watch Parade; celebrating the Summer Solstice. One of the country’s oldest and most colourful Street celebrations.....

Got a load of shots and a bruise just above my left wrist. Seems I couldn’t believe my luck and had been pinching myself.

This year I planned it. Put it in my diary, so to speak. Panicked on the 26th; thinking I’d missed it..until a friend pointed out we were still in May at the time. Oops. So...good fortune again.

Drove to Chester in good time, opting to use just my 18-200 lens to get me right in the action. I had no idea of this year’s route; turns out, neither did most of the performers. Never mind...I found some of them congregating down a back alley that opened out onto a reasonably wide but little used thoroughfare.

It was here I caught up with the band of percussion musicians who marched behind the towering Devil effigy. Despite the large band of Samba drummers, this group was, for me at least, the most dynamic at last year’s parade. They didn’t disappoint this year either.

Having established where the procession would head initially, I went to the old City Cross and waited. I’d heard a little warm up drumming and whistling, reminding me of the excitement I felt last year but .....sheesh!

The goosebumps still rose when they marched down from the Town Hall. Primordial, insistent drumming: Bmmbmm (lead drum), Bambam (responding troop). Bmmbmm, Bambam! I’m excited again now, just recounting it. Bmmbmm, Bambam! Live, dynamic music, coupled with the adrenal surge of Street Photography. Hard to beat!

As I said earlier, I’ve done a little research as I was curious about this event’s origins and characters. Not only that, I was kind of interested in how long it had been going.

I soon discovered that it started in 1498 and was a popular public event, with occasional disruption, until the 1670s. It’s written that one puritanical Lord Mayor banned it, back in 1599. But such was it’s popularity it was soon reinstated. Apparently, he objected to the frivolous nature of it; encouraging ordinary folk to enjoy themselves on the streets. Ooof! Whatever next?!

300 years on, the City decided this was a venerable slice of history and it started anew. I’m so glad. What started out as exhibits of the City & Guilds craftsmen, became something that schools and community centres got involved in. The standard of the banners and figures is wonderful. I know from my time as a Governor in a small village Primary School, that this sort of involvement is a fantastic way to bring history alive for kids.

So...brief history lesson over, back to the procession.

Last year the route was a fairly wide tour within the city walls, encompassing several major streets. This year, however, the organisers opted to send the marchers down from the Town Hall to The Cross. From there down one particularly narrow Street; looping back up. Then on from there down a wider street; looping back up to The Cross again. From there, a short march to the finale outside the Town Hall.

Given that only pedestrian precincts were used, the organisers were, it seems, wary of traffic issues. Funny how a change of route can make such a difference to the dynamics but never mind...those congregated in the city centre certainly benefited from repeat sightings.

Strange though...mayhem could have ensued as the wonderful and somewhat unwieldy ‘creatures’ passed each other in these ancient streets. But fortunately the only scuffles were good natured and no one tripped over anyone else. The march became almost a Pavane in places; so slow the pace and dance-like in nature.

“Aaaarhh, there be those that make music with the Devil!” cried the pirate.

In response, the tambourine player smiled her beautiful smile and joked; whilst the lead drummer turned to face them defiantly. Hammering out that mesmeric rhythm even harder, ever louder. Bmmbmm..Bambam, Bmmbmm..Bambam!

These were just two groups of many. There was an incredible array of characters in evidence. Little wonder really, given over 500 years of history. There were:

Woodfolk and the Tree of Life...not specifically associated with Chester but something that runs through the veins of British myth and history.

Many bright yellow suns. A reminder, if we needed it, of the long summer days to be enjoyed.

Angels, including some on maniacal looking chariots. An obvious inclusion, given Chester’s impressive cathedral and many an opulent church.

Dragons...oh, yes...dragons! Significant on account of Chester being just a few giant hops from the Welsh border.

Sailing ships, pirates (aforementioned) and fish...reminding people that centuries ago, before the sea receded, Chester was a more important port than Liverpool. Yeh...it’s true.

Vikings..no explanation required. Party animals right?

Geese...representing St.Werburgh. Remember her?

Angels

Dragon

Geese

Ravens...celebrating the fact that wild ravens (unlike the wing-clipped versions in the Tower of London) have chosen, since 1997, to nest on the Cathedral and raise 4-5 fledglings each year. You know, there are wonderfully dark images associated with ravens (and carrion generally) on account of Edgar Allen Poe...amongst others. They added a certain gravitas to the proceedings.

Giants...who were around long before Roald Dahl’s big friendly one. Always the stuff of myth and folktale. Aside from a family of giants, Chester boasts the Unicorn, the Elephant and the Camel.

The Devil...enough said

So...there you have it. A wonderful, action packed, noisy and colourful spectacle; concluded all too soon. I particularly enjoyed the finale. A trooping past the Town Hall before the age old struggle between good and evil was re-enacted. This year the leader of the parade was killed, whilst trying to protect the city from the dragon. His son took up his sword as he lay dying and slew the powerful beast; much to the delight and relief of the amassed onlookers.

It was a nicely choreographed piece but alas, the shorter route meant that it was over all too soon. Unless, you happened to be one of those kids covering their ears or crying.

Certainly the musicians wanted to keep it going and members of the ‘cast’ revelled in the opportunity to dance. Even the lead drummer of my favourite group was there, adding weight to the drumming:

Bmmbmm...alas no response.

Bmmbmm...lone drummer

Bmmbmm...unwilling to let the party end.

Stop Brexit! by Robert Bannister

“You may never know what results come of your actions, but if you do nothing, there will be no results.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

Indeed a great quote by Mahatma Gandhi and personified by the peaceful warriors in parliament square.

It was getting late in the evening and the light was diminishing all the time, I wandered through the congregated activists with my X-T2 and 12mm Samyang wide angle lens, to have a little taste of photo journalism. It felt like I had got to a battle field after the main fighting had finished, the gun smoke was still hovering but little skirmishes were still happening. The battle hardened groups were passionately giving their opinions to any politicians and journalists willing to engage, as other groups continued to bare their flags and placards, all be it with a fatigued sway.

“Stop Brexit”! the cry goes out, like a propaganda recording, drip feeding a front line into submission. The man that continually shouts that statement, Steve Bray, left his home in Wales to take up residence in parliament square to try and get results, along with many others from all parts of the country. These flag waving and banner toting folk, take democracy by the hand to promote their disapproval. Of course everyone is happy to have their picture taken to bolster their message far and wide through social media.

‘Bramm Orth Bretmes’ A traditional Cornish curse, meaning a fart to Brexit, definitely negative and odious in description, I am not sure how effective the curse would be, but they hope for positive results in ending Brexit.

There is no doubt that the nation has been divided on a subject that has become painful to all. In days of less peaceful demonstration, civil war may have proffered forced opinions. The main colour theme of these beret wearing fighters though was the united nations blue, to hammer home the advantages of sticking together and to not Brexit.

Lucia Pollan travelled down to London with her mother, to join the amassed campaigners. After previously taking part in youth strikes for the environment, Lucia felt strongly enough to act and take part like the activists of old. Let’s face it, had it not been for the Suffragette movement, may not have had a vote at all, result!

Thankfully today, my images are less dramatic than the violent clashes of the past, but hopefully can lend a hand to the passionate messengers. The Brexit debacle has seen off technically two prime ministers, one after the initial referendum and the second after a failed attempt to appease both leavers and the remain faction.

After three years of failed negotiations, maybe it is time to stop Brexit.

The Galaxidi flour war by Anat Shushan

As street photographers, we always look for interesting occasions to shoot in, interesting locations, and at some point being in the streets is just not enough anymore. We're getting hungry for action.

On March 2019 I got the amazing opportunity to do just that, feed the hunger. I took an incredible trip with a group of dear friends to central Greece, and the highlight of the trip was the Galaxidi flour war which takes place once a year.

Galaxidi is an adorable small village which throughout the year is very peaceful and not being visited by many tourists. But on the day of the flour war, it's a whole different story!

The tradition of this festival started in the 19th century and indicates the ending of the festival season. In the days when this tradition started, it was prohibited to have celebrations, so the people colored their faces with black coal so that they won't be recognized.

I guess nothing stopped them from celebrating.

And that's how the preparation of the flour war starts. In the memory of those days, hundreds of people are gathered at the village entrance and color their faces blue.

It's like wandering around in a Smurfs village.

Anyone participating in the flour war brings a full body and face cover, which is a hint to what is about to happen. It really did feel like preparing to a battle, only with amazing good atmosphere, colors and costumes.

And then out of nowhere the war started!

It was like a volcanic eruption! Endless amount of flour was thrown all over, on everyone and everything. That outstanding parade went from the village entrance through the narrow streets down to the gorgeous bay. No one escaped from being hit.

Shooting on that day wasn't easy! Although we covered our cameras and ourselves very thoroughly, my camera was hit endless times with flour, not to mention the fact that half the time it's almost impossible to see where you're going. Visually it looked like the end of the world, just like a crazy science fiction movie.

As the parade reached the bay at the end of the village, the party started. It was an incredible mixture of people all covered with flour, crazy costumes, music and a burst of energy I haven't experienced before. It was impossible not to be carried away with it.

The party went on for hours, but unfortunately we had to leave in order to get to our next stop of the trip and we had to take time to clean ourselves and our dear cameras, which surprisingly survived the whole thing. This without a doubt was the most challenging, exciting and unusual photography experience I've had and it fed the hunger for quite some time.

After this, I will never look at flour the same way I did, and neither will my camera.

That whole trip made me, again, so grateful for being a street photographer. The things we see, experience, the places we get to and shoot are truly remarkable and can't be taken for granted.

Street photography opened my eyes and my heart to the world in a way nothing did before. Can't wait to go on my next adventure!

Seoul’s Older Generation Takes it to The Streets

Seoul - April #1710 TC-IS-TC-DSS.JPG — **Seoul’s Older Generation Takes it to The Streets**

**by Michael Kennedy**

A very worthy person, whose virtues I highly esteem, once offered me some sound advice: “If you do not think for yourself, someone will do the thinking for you.”

History is too much on the side of this modest proposal, and entire countries have abdicated their collective wits to a madman, a lunatic, a moral douchebag, a spam-sucking piece of pure trailer trash. The 20th-century is perhaps the worst example in history.

Many of the older generation of South Koreans living in a First World republic are unwilling to allow President Moon Jae-in to do the thinking for them, and so they routinely conduct peaceful political protests on Saturday afternoons through the streets of downtown Seoul … because social change only occurs from the bottom-up.

What President Moon Jae-in is trying to sell is rapprochement with North Korea, a totalitarian prison camp operated by Kim Jong-un, the third generation leader of this wretched gangster state. For the majority of 25-million people in the world’s largest internment camp, the only way to leave North Korea is through death.

Some times known as the Moon Jae-in regime, the South Korean President permits these demonstrations, yet any and all coverage is banned in the mainstream media.

Orwell was correct: “He who controls the past, controls the future; and he who controls the present, controls the past.”

President Moon Jae-in’s willingness to work with Kim Jong-un towards some form of a unified Korea only tells half the story.

UPI Chief Asian Writer Elizabeth Shim, specializing in the Korean peninsula, has extensively covered politics in this region.

“The frustrations among South Koreans,” Shim said, “cover a range of issues traditionally tied to conservative concerns: a ruling government too easygoing on North Korea, expensive welfare schemes, and perhaps most importantly, the abrupt ouster of former President Park Geun-hye and her imprisonment for 25-years.

#15. Demonstrations #350 BW-Skylight.JPG

Back Story

The Korean War - a civil war between the North and the South (1950-1953), has never ended with a formal peace treaty. What put a stop to the conflict was an armistice signed on July 27, 1953. Technically, the game is still on - albeit a proxy war between the U.S. and China. Yet this may be the longest armistice in modern history.

As geography is destiny, the Korean peninsula is in a tight spot. This country, once ruled for 700 years by the Joseon Dynasty, is merely an extension of China. Then there is Russia on the doorstep as well. And, of course, Japan is nearby.

Based on the past, the Chinese and the Koreans have a bad history with Japan. But now that China is back from the dead, both Korea and Japan have very good reason for an alliance.

With all that is going on in the world, one might neglect to notice that China has recently built artificial islands - military outposts, in the South China Sea, flouting international law about long recognized maritime border rights of sovereign nations. A case against China was brought before the UN by the Philippines in 2016. The UN ruled against China, which has shown nothing but contempt for the verdict.

At the same time, Chinese President-for-Life, Xi Jinping has launched the massive Belt-and-Road Initiative as a pre-text for empire building, much the same way the United Kingdom used the East India Company - with military backing in the 18th and 19th-centuries to dominate Indo-China well into the first-half of the 20th-century.

Geo-politics are heating up on the Asian-side of the Pacific Rim.

History always repeats itself - but each time the price goes up.

On any given day, one should assume that among the crowds strolling through the trendy part of Myeongdong in downtown Seoul, near the old Joseon Palace grounds, are Chinese operatives, Russian spies - and especially North Korean agents who have entered the country on fake Chinese and Japanese passports.

There is no reason to read a John le Carré novel. Come to Seoul - a city larger in population than New York City, and enjoy the fine street food with a side order of intrigue.

The only other place that compares to the intrigue on the Korean peninsula is Dubai, the money laundering capital of the Middle East - where the Sunni, Shiite and especially the ultra-conservative Wahhabi from Saudi Arabia all mingle, as the Iranians and the Turks are never far from view.

If you want a crash course on the Middle East conflict, spend several hours watching David Lean’s masterful Lawrence of Arabia - with Peter O’Toole perfectly cast as T.E. Lawrence. The superb British film director is spot on in depicting centuries-old Arab tribalism that Churchill and others tried to squelch with the poorly contrived Sykes-Picot Agreement that now fuels the bloodbath in Damascus, the city Lawrence of Arabia pledged to return to the Arabs after the Ottoman Turks were driven back to Istanbul in 1918.

The Cast

I. President Moon Jae-in

Moon Jae-in’s willingness to extend an olive branch to Kim Jong-un is one issue that greatly troubles many South Koreans - especially the older generation, some old enough to be veterans of that civil war on this peninsula; others certainly old enough to know the years-long deprivations of living in Seoul, when it was in near ruins, and now dazzles as a premier First World city.

Perhaps the most pressing issue that concerns the older generation of South Koreans is how Moon Jae-in gained the presidency. Many South Koreans regard him as an illegitimate President and a Communist.

The political demonstrators who have been marching regularly through the streets of Seoul for nearly two years now want Moon Jae-in removed from office and former President Park Geun-hye re-installed in office.

For those keeping score, Korean family names may seem odd - though try keeping up with Russian surnames. It ain’t easy. First, the main Oriental cultures: China, Korea and Japan adhere to family name, then given name - just the opposite of Christian cultures.

II. Former President Park Geun-hye

Secondly, Park Geun-hye is the only woman to be elected President of South Korea. She served in office from 2013-2017, and has been rotting in jail ever since.

Park Geun-hye’s life could have been scripted as a Shakespearian tragedy - not unlike the the Kennedy political family in the U.S. the Gandhi’s of India, and the Bhutto’s of Pakistan.

Park Guen-hye’s father, Park Chung-hee, served as initial dictator of South Korea after the armistice, and then became the elected President. He is credited with laying the foundation for South Korea’s spectacular rise from the dead and transforming the country into an economic powerhouse in East Asia.

You dig K-Pop and the recent appearance of BTS on SNL. You appreciate a fully loaded Hyundai medium-sized car. Travel with complete confidence on Korean Air, a premier airline company. Want to kick back for some weekend binge-watching of Peaky Blinders on your wide-screen Samsung TV - after calling friends on your Galaxy S9?

All these accomplishments have their origins in policies initiated by Park Geun-hye’s father years and years ago.

In 1974, a North Korean sympathizer took aim at President Park Chung-hee during a performance in the National Theatre of Korea - in shades of Lincoln’s assassination at Ford’s Theatre in 1865. The gunman missed his target and killed The First Lady, instead.

Five years later, President Park Chung-hee was shot dead by the chief of South Korea’s version of the CIA.

This background is important for understanding Park Geun-hye’s history - and rise to power in the completely male-dominated South Korean political culture.

When Park Geun-hye ran for President in 2012, she was the conservative candidate and took a hard line regarding the Kim Dynasty in North Korea. Her opponent was the liberal Moon Jae-in, who favored rapprochement with an adversary who routinely threatens the destruction of Seoul - only 50-miles from the DMZ and a network of artillery guns that could never be destroyed quickly enough before inflicting massive casualties to the population.

By 2017, President Park Geun-hye had become embroiled in a series of political scandals that culminated with millions of South Koreans protesting in downtown Seoul both for-and-against her.

President Park Geun-hye was quickly removed from office through Impeachment on March 10, 2017, and sentenced on March 30, 2017 to 25-years in prison on various charges of corruption.

Politics in South Korea operate like a bullet train compared to the United States.

Park Geun-hye’s long-time political opponent, Moon Jae-in, was elected President exactly two years ago. Meanwhile, she is in prison with no hope of release during her lifetime.

The perceived injustice to Park Geun-hye is the clarion call for the faithful weekend protestors.

III. Kim Jong-un

Among the group of protestors there is one more pressing agenda, and that’s the call for the U.S. to kill Kim Jong-un - which would bring an end to the uncertainty of Rocket Man destroying Seoul, and would prove cheaper than paying off the Kim Dynasty to go away for a while.

Most South Koreans refuse to grasp that Donald Trump - the unbalanced Tangerine Generalissimo of the Republican Party, does not conform to the American archetype of Shane, the lone gunslinger who will set the unjust world right - much like Kurosawa’s Yojimbo (The Bodyguard) about the masterless samurai who saves a town from violence.

Trump is a textbook narcissist with failing cognitive abilities - greatly limited at the outset, who is likely suffering from some mild syphilitic derangement incurred during the late 1960s, when he faked a medical deferment to avoid being drafted for the Vietnam War - which allowed him to brag that he served in two world whores.

Trump has no interest in reading, analysis, foreign policy, South Koreans, or anything - except to raw dog an aging female porn star, and his late night simian antics on Twitter.

Trump’s only regard for Kim Jong-un is the deranged fantasy that he might possibly garner the Nobel Peace Prize by brokering “a deal” - like the deal of paying a $2m bribe to North Korea for the release of 22-year-old American Otto Wambier, already beaten into a vegetable. Yet Trump’s desperation for “a deal” with Rocket Man is strictly fueled by his racist resentment that Barrack Obama achieved this status … an American President with African heritage.

The demonstrators in Seoul are unaware that the Con Artist from Queens is severely outmatched by the young Kim Jong-un, who had his uncle executed by firing squad with machine guns, and his older half-brother killed in broad daylight at the Kuala Lumpur airport by two women using a cloth tainted with a highly lethal nerve agent - as they posed as video producers of a reality TV show.

Epilogue

If you do not think for yourself, someone will do the thinking for you.

Guardian columnist George Monbiot said it best:

“Of all the varieties of media bias, the deepest is the bias against relevance. The more important the issue, the less it is discussed.

There’s a reason for this. Were we to become fully aware of our predicament, we would demand systemic change. Systemic change is highly threatening to those who own the media. So they distract us with such baubles as a royal baby and a vicious dispute between neighbors about a patio.

I am often told we get the media we deserve. We do not. We get the media its billionaire owners demand.”

This means that the first duty of a writer, a journalist, a photographer, a photojournalist, a street photographer is to cover neglected issues.

So I want to direct you to the older generation of South Koreans who gather regularly every Saturday in front of Seoul Station to march peacefully past the old Joseon Palace, and give voice to their genuine concerns about the present, and what this means for the future of a country that has experienced an extremely turbulent and violent period over the last one hundred years.

These people, with admirable dignity, are not afraid to think for themselves.

- All photographs taken with a Ricoh GR II

Sir Don McCullin Experience by Robert Bannister

**Sir Don McCullin Experience**

**by Robert Bnnister**

Photography isn’t about seeing, it’s about feeling. If I don’t have some kind of feeling for what I’m shooting, how can I expect the person who looks at it to feel anything?
Don McCullin

I found Sir Don McCullin by chance, a little bit like as he says “photography found him”

I had been to the Media Centre in Bradford and if you have not been there before, I can definitely recommend it. On a few floors, photography and cinematography is presented throughout the ages. There is even stage sets where you can play at being a cameraman, the images go straight to the television screens around the studios.

On the exit, I wandered through the gift shop, perusing the photography books. I was stopped in my tracks by the ‘thousand yard staring’, shell shocked marine. I then found myself browsing away time, in the dark world that is and was Sir Don McCullin. I say dark world, because of the trauma he has had to live with and the underexposed images that he produces to reflect this.

I did not buy the book at the time, unfolding my pockets to find a dusty segment of chewing gum, string and a screwed up tissue, which had probably been there since Hasselblad had come on the scene. Needless to say not many coins, so I digested as much material to my memory banks as possible and headed for the door.

Although my main passion is street photography rather than photo journalism, I did find that in the early part of Sir Don McCullin’s career, it was actually street styled journalism. The impact and realism certainly would have made you splutter your tea as you opened the pages of the Sunday Times magazine. It undoubtedly made me realise that reality in black and white was the way to go for impact, mood and soul. Black and white is a favourite format of Sir Don for similar reasons.

I read recently the updated memoirs of Sir Don McCullin, ‘Unreasonable Behaviour’ This again I can recommend, it will keep you rivetted to the tale of a man who was born out of Hitler’s bombings to dodging bullets through countless war zones. It leaves you exhausted by the social depravation in Britain during the seventies and places like the disease ravaged Bangladesh.

Although Sir Don McCullin does not like to be known as a war photographer, it is evident he witnessed the sickening brutality one human can inflict on another around the globe.

During the festive period, I was gifted the signed first edition of the book I had seen in the media museum, simply called Don McCullin with the US staring Marine as cover. I used this book hand in hand as a reference with ‘Unreasonable Behaviour’ it blew my mind away and it begged the question why his hadn’t literally been blown away.

Synchronicity seemed to be afoot as I finished the books, a programme came on BBC 4 called ‘Finding Britain’ Sir Don was retracing steps of images he had taken in his early photojournalistic career around Britain. But now he was photographing again as a street photographer. The programme had been released in conjunction with an exhibition of his works at the Tate Britain in London. Synchronicity indeed, and I had to go.

I purchased my ticket and asked the question if I could bring my cameras, to record the impact on the faces of the Sir Don McCullin pilgrimage. The response was that photography was permitted as long as flash was not used, so I was pleased and ready to attend. From a street perspective in a public domain, I wanted to give the viewer a taste of the impact the photo journalist could have.

I arrived at the Tate Britain with my X100s and X-T2 cameras, excited yet reticent. I gave my ticket to the smiling curator who in turn pushed the content warning signed door ajar. A warning for good reason, the modern interior and halogen lights doing nothing to lift the mood of what was to come. Even though I had seen most of the images in books before, there was something different about consistently sized images presented in their categories of horror. It was like wandering along a train carriage, looking out at the scenery of carnage created by man. In between the images, quotes adorned the walls of thoughts from the voyeur that was there.

All the images processed by the man himself in his ironic escape from the outside world , underexposed admittedly to show the viewer the darkness Sir Don McCullin has had to endure after the abhorrence he has seen. The images were all framed similarly in black frames and about A3 size with white card borders, complimenting the intense black and white images.

As you looked at the imploring eyes from around the world, one could only stare back as a bilious nausea consumed your very being. If only it would have the same effect on the worlds political leaders. I watched and clicked, as the public in a trans like state shuffled past the images, original magazines, slide show and quotes on the wall. They all leaned into the images, clinging to invisible handrails, so as not to fall into the sickening trauma. The only respite were the landscapes, yet still dark and foreboding. Ironically his street photography of typical Brits by the seaside, reminded me of why I prefer this genre to photo journalism. As a street photographer the only conflict we really know, is the occasional demand to delete an image. Why should we be scared? I looked at these historical shots as I am sure most did and wondered how the images were not afflicted by camera shake, even at the highest shutter speeds.

The gallery visitors, their eyes widening from image to image as if hearing the desperate silence of the stills, reading the quotes and helpless to do anything, as indeed was the recorder of time. As a street photographer you can learn a lot as our genres cross paths, stories, impact and composition, presenting that moment in time. Also a return to analogue imagery can teach us a thing or two about making each photograph count. Under fire, Sir Don was known to take light meter readings, proffering the philosophy, and I paraphrase ” what is the point of being dead, if the images you have died for are poorly exposed”

I know the life works of Sir Don McCullin or any other photo journalist, ideally would stop man from doing this cruelty ever again. The darkroom continues to beckon, in the hope that further copies will have just that effect. I have my doubts, but those moments as ours are recorded for future generations to see.

I exited the adjoining galleries after getting my series of images, to buy a catalogue of the exhibited work. The lady at the till asked if I would like a carrier bag, I duly accepted and she popped the book in upside down. Spookily a sign came back to me, the word ‘NO’ through the plastic was all I could see. Take from that, what you will.

Photographers can learn a lot from exhibitions around the world, let us hope the world learns a lot from the photographer.

Sir Don McCullin Chronology taken from the exhibition catalogue.

1935 McCullin is born

1958 McCullin photographs The Guv’nors in a bombed out building, leading to work for the Observer.

2017 McCullin is knighted in the new year honours for services to photography.

The years between are left to his nightmares and posterity.

donations are welcome to Progressive Street

Gothic

“How do the Angels get to sleep, when the Devil leaves the porch light on?”

When was the last time you got proper dressed up?

Guess for me it was the fancy dress party at my kids’ school. I went as Robert Smith from The Cure. That was a mistake. First and last time I wore lipstick. Running repairs all night and smeared all over the pillowcase the next morning.

Anyway... It does relate.

You see, each year, at Easter and Halloween, the seaside town of Whitby is invaded by Goths. Something that’s been taking place for quarter of a century now.

Why Whitby? You may ask.

Well, Whitby is the tiny port (more a walled sheltered harbour) where Count Dracula’s ship landed...way back when.

These days the Goths are joined by Steampunks and various others looking for a venue to meet up and parade. On the whole, the locals are fairly relaxed about the whole thing.

I was first made aware of the event when I saw a photog mate’s shots in a club. I was intrigued; stayed over with him and his family; venturing into the town on the Saturday.

It was quite the spectacle. Gotta be honest, I was like a kid in a sweetshop that first time. Took so, so many shots. Got some decent results but learnt next time to hang fire; be a bit more discriminating.

That was last April. Met up, stayed over again in the October. A little of the novelty had worn off, of course, but it still had that new and shiny feeling.

The bonus that day was the wind. At the base of the 199 steps that lead up to the famous Abbey, the wind blew off the sea; channeled by a street that wound it’s way up the hill.

This was cool, adding the extra element to the shots. Hope they didn’t pay too much for their hair does...some of them looked like Medusa, others like they’d seen a ghost; their hair stood up on end.

It’s cool up the top as well, because before you reach the walled abbey, there’s a church and splendid graveyard. A wonderful setting for Goth shots.

Back down the 199 steps or, if you prefer, the treacherous donkey track..it’s back to the cobbled streets; back to the fancy dress parade. On busier days it takes a while to get through the throng, especially given the wonderful array of characters. Push on down towards the centre of the old town and your eyes may alight on the fabulous fiddler singing old shanty songs; working a hideous looking marionette. The place alive.

Unfortunately, owing to a change of date and a schism in the Goth movement, the latest gathering, this April, was undersubscribed and very low key. Not only that, but the harbour was being renovated and was largely unvisited; certainly not as picturesque as on previous occasions.

The problem for me is, with less people about and less interaction, there aren’t that many ‘stories’.

Too many of my shots, this time around, were more akin to Street Portraits; not really what I look for. This also makes things tricky, as many of these guys shell out serious money and/or invest plenty of time in making their own costumes. But for some it’s not just dressing up, it becomes their persona for a day, maybe the weekend. So I learnt that getting candid portraits can be an art. You just have to persevere, and find the moment.

Preferably when they don’t look like they’re shouting “I WANT ATTENTION!”... to quote a certain young lady.

I guess we all have days like that. Absolutely gagging to get back to a favourite venue, adrenaline rushing, ready to perfect that shot. Then it just doesn’t happen. Still, we adapt, we have to. Got some material; albeit different from what I expected. The shots I present here are samples from all three visits.

It’s Steampunk next for me. My appetite has been whetted by those I first saw here in Whitby.

Slightly disappointed I didn’t see anyone dressed as Morticia from the Addams Family ..but hey, pretty difficult to walk along cobbled streets in a dress as tight as that...right?

Anyway...sure I’ll go back, sometime. There’s a wonderful vibe and fantastic characters. Just hope there’s a decent turnout next time.

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Fire Stick by Robert Bannister

“I didn’t like having to explain to them, so I just shut up, smoked a cigarette, and looked at the sea.”
― Albert Camus, The Stranger

“Get yourself some sweets at the same time and ask for Twenty Super Kings” my mother would say to me. The man behind the counter would tower over me and chuckle as he confirmed with a smoke induced gravelly voice, they were not for me.

I grew up in a world of smoking and promoted by every actor or actress on TV. It was always the last thing anyone had before dramatically passing away in a movie scene or having sex. It was cool to stink and up the odds of getting cancer during a time of medical innocence. Luckily it never appealed to me, as I drew on my last confectionary cigarette, before dying from an arrow shot at me by Big ‘Chief Sitting Bull’ I did manage to pull the arrow out and snap it in half as an act of defiance, like my hero, ‘Big Leggy’, John Wayne. It was more proof of a time when smoking was glorified and not vilified.

The crooners wafted the smoke around as they serenaded the beautiful ladies. You knew they were ladies, as they had cigarette holders like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Breakfast At Tiffany’s. All the men had nicotine stained hands, so they were pleased to be in an era of black and white. In the army, people smoked to calm the nerves and more often than not just to have a break from marching and digging. After the world wars, smoking was as ingrained as the battle scars that came back with them. ‘Smoko’ was the terminology used for a break whilst at work.

At school, all my friends would gather around at break time to have a crafty fag, looking out for the passing duty guard, wafting their hands frantically to disperse the clouds. With the discovery of kissing, I decided not to take part in Sir Francis Drake’s discovery. I did not want to taste like an ash tray, as many of my willing kissers did. Sadly I have never been a James Dean, so I had to take what kisses I could.

When I left school and discovered pubs and beer, I found they went hand in hand. A night on the town guaranteed a wash of all your clothes the next day. Your eyes would smart as the fog hung in the bar areas. According to statistics, from 1948 to the early seventies, eight in ten people smoked. That is a very smoky room and one did not even have to smoke a cigar, to have the squinty eyes made famous by Clint Eastwood.
I suppose the only time I have been tempted to smoke, is the cigar kept warm by Monica Lewinski for president Clinton, but even then, I would not inhale.

Today though, beyond the world of pipes, cigarettes and cigars where the once sociable groups have been cast out to the doorways of the world, are down to two in ten people smoking.

There is no doubt, that smoking has been seen as quite sexy in photography and cinematography. I myself, with this portfolio have taken advantage of that fact. The onset of vapes have increased the dramatic smoke clouds, I do not know what the health benefits of those are, but the increased image benefits are many.

Keep your shutter speeds high and with high ISOs to give’ grungy, grainy and gritty images. I just hope nobody dies to produce such moody pictures.

Worldwide cancer incidence and mortality reflects smoking prevalence, among other factors.

Worldwide 1 billion adults (800 million men and 200 million women) currently smoke cigarettes. This is an underestimate of total tobacco exposure worldwide, as it does not include childhood smoking, smokeless tobacco or second-hand smoke. Cigarette smoking prevalence varies widely around the world, and over 80% of the world’s adult male smokers, and half of the world’s adult female smokers, live in low- or middle-income countries.

Tobacco use kills almost 6 million people worldwide each year, with nearly 80% of these deaths in low- and middle-income countries. Each year 600,000 non-smokers worldwide die from exposure to environmental tobacco smoke. By 2030 tobacco will kill a predicted 8 million people worldwide each year. Tobacco use caused 100 million deaths worldwide during the 20th century, and if current trends continue it will kill 1 billion people in the 21st century.

Worldwide smoking prevalence is overall increasing. However, different countries are at different stages of their tobacco epidemic, a model in which smoking prevalence increases, stabilises and eventually decreases, and some decades later the proportion of tobacco-attributable deaths follows a related curve of increase, stability and decrease. Low- and middle-income countries are generally in the earlier stages, with smoking prevalence increasing, therefore the proportion of tobacco-attributable deaths in those countries is expected to increase; in contrast most high-income countries are in the later stages, with falling smoking prevalence and stabilising or falling proportion of tobacco-attributable deaths.

If you want to see true smoking images that show legitimate outcomes, look at a packet of cigarettes. Formula one sponsors are no more and advertising has been driven underground. The once sociable gathering of smoke rings has become a frowned upon doorway annoyance.

Now where is that Cuban cigar, kept warm for me by Ms Lewinski?

Box Night by Pacho Coulchinsky

"Box Night in this neighborhood club on the our hometown, the same one we used to accompany our father on the occasions when we were children, to see the reality of a somewhat different lifestyle for which we grew up.

40 years have passed, however, everything remains almost the same, as if time was at an almost magical dead point: the boxing ring has not changed at all, nor the walls, nor the lights that fade, witnessing an old moment of certain splendor in the midst of lack of means, the same passion for this fun.

However, this time, something seems to be different and I fall quickly. It is very likely that the rung of these modern warriors is not as good as the previous ones, which seemed to have shone when we were children.

Today, to put it simply, there is not a budget as big as for the fearsome gladiators of the past. However, those who are here tonight seem to have gathered behind these young people with a clear goal in mind, to help them escape the vicious environment of violence, drugs and imaginable consequences that so many young children could have in some social challenge.

Truth be known, boxing is not my cup of tea. It may be due to the fact that I am not familiar with the rules of the sport, something similar to my distaste for the bullfights that some of my Spanish friends appreciate. Most likely, if I meet a true fan of both, I regret what I'm missing, but I dare say they will not change their minds.
I love imagining what goes through the minds of both fighters. Two people who greet each other with such respect at the beginning of the fight and a second later, fight with all their might to defeat the opponent, but when the fight ends, they greet each other with the feeling of being privileged. gregariousness.

Of course, at the end of the day, it's a sport and there has to be a winner in most cases, but one thing is to win most of the rounds and quite another to see a poor man knocked down on the floor of the track . Sound after suffering a brutal beating and that, ladies and gentlemen, it is difficult for me to swallow. So there you have it.

It was very motivating to make some shots during that night and as in general we all know each other here, I moved very comfortably.

Once the gaze is focused on what I see through the lens, you immerse yourself in another world and you forget the environment, it is like disappearing and entering another dimension. In addition, you realize how happy they are, both up and down the ring, to see that a camera is perpetuating that moment where they test the forces that can turn you into the next champion, even knowing that you will never get to Las Vegas ."

Carpe-Diem by Robert Bannister

Seize the day or seize the moment, and where better than in Rome and Italy, the home of this Latin language.

As street photographers, that is exactly what we are doing, seizing moments. It had been quite a few years since I had wandered the streets of Rome, and a return was well overdue. The last time I visited was in the early noughties and the place really did feel dishevelled. It looked like it had not had a lick of paint since Roman times. Obvious now, there had been some serious investment, and rightly so. This was indeed a place to seize moments. The magnificent grandeur of the well trodden narrow streets, history at every turn, beautiful welcoming people eager for your coin. Like any other tourist destination, the camera is as accepted as the skirts worn by tough gladiators in days of old. Drift along on the balmy air currents and snap away, stop only to grab a fix of rich flavoursome coffee or pasta to fuel the journey.

All Roads Lead To Rome

A medieval saying that did relate to the actual roads, but now the saying relates to many methods giving the same result. We all have our chosen weapons to fight the lions, hopefully we come up with similar results. Images that please the crowds and evoke stories of greatness. Your camera does not have to be the sharpest sword by any means, but the gladiator must know how to make the fatal blows. Hard light is a huge factor in Italy (usually), always look for the direction the sun is coming from as you twist and turn with the shadows. A polariser is a great shield from the harsh sun Gods, adding colour saturation and clarity to clouds, the polariser is also a great tool to remove reflections from windows and water, so don’t leave the polariser in your chariot when the light is strong.

When In Rome, Do as the Romans do

A worldly used phrase, encouraging one to blend with the locals, not a saying telling you to take part in orgies and quaff wine until you have the courage of Caligula. Although the second suggestion would be nice, let’s go with the first. Not just in Rome, it is always a good idea to dress accordingly and disappear into the crowds to become invisible. I quickly had to lose my Roman toga and high heels as it was not working for me, people were staring. When I returned to my Indiana Jones hat, shorts and shirt, nobody gave me a second glance. I swapped between my 12mm wide angle lens on my X-T20 and 23mm primed X100s depending on situations I incurred.

Ad Nauseum

Labouring a point, going on and on.

It is easy to see why the Italian photographers like to use the technique
Chiaroscuro (English: / k i ˌ ɑː r ə ˈ s k jʊər oʊ /; Italian: [ˌkjaroˈskuːro]; Italian for light-dark), in art, is the use of strong contrasts between light and dark. Like any photography techniques or effects, panning, movement, people walking by, juxta can all become “Ad Nauseum” so it is best to keep mixing it up. Keep the viewer thinking and dreaming. Keep changing your point of view, but always aim for quality and bare in mind the direction of light.

Romanicus (Romance)

Rome was a pleasure, the transport, food, accommodation was easy and safe. Go and enjoy, feel at ease with camera in hand, life around the Colosseum is much more laid back and a great place to steel photos of newly married couples in the street. The highlights of the city are far too numerous, so it is probably wise to plan your sights with the likes of a Lonely planet book. A romantic city indeed! Go!