I’m going to do a couple of back-to-back posts to show you some images that I captured in Melbourne in 2007. There is much in that fair city that appeals to my sense of whimsy. Melbourne, to me, seems simultaneously refined and edgy. That’s a scrumptious recipe.

Speaking of yummy stuff, I call this one Vegan Nightmare:

The meat is oversaturated (pardon the pun). Vegetarianism, for which Veganism marks the ragged edge, amuses me. Not because I think that it’s silly or overblown. I don’t. Well, maybe a little overblown. Hey, we’re omnivores, for pity’s sake.

I wanted to keep the natural market-place colours at the top of the frame, while emphasizing the goriness of the carnage below. I have a couple of Vegan friends who are going to feel slightly nauseous when they see this shot.

And then there’s the meatmonger. He put on quite a show. I think that he’s probably a local attraction. He was vociferously informing all the world of the quality of Tan Dat Meat.

Okay, pardon the nudity. I know that I have a couple of sensitive readers, but hey, its art, right?

Probably the only thing interesting about this image – aside from which it is probably famous, but I don’t remember any of that – is how I did it. Eunie and Val were pretending they didn’t know me while furtively looking about for cops or concerned citizens (Oh, people are very concerned in Melbourne – mostly about having a good time.) I lay on my back on the sidewalk and fiddled with my camera until I was satisfied. There were grim looks from both of them when I stood and brushed off my pants. I particularly like the skull imbedded in the wing.

This one puts me in mind of the beautiful bronzes in front of the Honolulu Hilton.

The last one sneaks clumsily into the arena of Art as Social Commentary. If you please, click it to enlarge:

I nearly deleted this frame when I first examined it lightly. I hesitated, and then began to listen to it.

The two people in the foreground are looking away from each other. This creates a sort of anti-symmetry that sets up the story line. Trapped in the long angular space, depersonalized by the indignity of being herded, their spirits diminish. They become the Ghost Riders.

It was easy to find the primary colours in the image and accentuate them. It was easier still to select the flesh and dilute the saturation all the way down to monochrome.

To me, the image speaks of the down-sides of modern city life. However, I say with a wistful grin, that Melbourne is pretty much the last place about which I would complain. Nevertheless, it is a big city with all the comforts – and mindless distractions.

I’m happy to live in a place where life feels more visceral.

Oh, yes. The sun came up again this morning. It always reassures me so when that happens. We actually had a rumour here a few weeks ago that the sun would not shine for thirty-six hours. It made the newspapers, so I hear. I don’t know, since I don’t read the newspapers – too depressing. Eunie tells me what I need to know. If anybody has firm information about this rumour (hmm . . . is that possible?), please let me know.

Anyway, the sun did come up this morning and it looked like this:

Not too shabby, eh?

For me, a rousing good sunrise is like a kick in the seat of the pants. It gets me moving.

When I turned around to walk back from the boat where I do the sunrise shots, I saw this:

The shadows on either side are coconut trees.

How often does one actually notice one’s shadow? I must admit that I rather take it for granted. Even on a sunny day, I hardly acknowledge its presence.

I took a couple of shots that didn’t do much for me. Then I stuck my arm out and waved. That was much better. Sheba thought so also – she came to investigate the moving shadow on the ground. I think that she thought it might be a pigeon at first. She loves to chase them. There are a dozen or so pigeons that roost on a house a short distance away. They strut around in our yard in the morning sun. Sheba loves to run as fast as she can at them while being as silent as possible. At the last moment, she barks and runs around snapping at them as they lift off.

I don’t think she’s ever caught one. I hope she doesn’t. It would spoil the fun.

On inspecting my banana trees, I discovered this big fly with red eyes. It’s what we would call a horse-fly if we were in Indiana – which I am forever grateful that I’m not. They bite like crazy. You’ll end up bleeding if you don’t swat quickly.

This one was happy to bask in the warm morning sunshine while posing:

All seems well.

Εάν η σκιά σας μιλά σε σας, μην ακούστε.

Man, sometimes it is so hard to get started. Some posts I plan days ahead. I always have a few that are in development – the photos, what I’m going to write about, or both.

But some days . . .

Today, I’m waiting for some ideas to germinate. Working on some angles. Letting the Muse do her thing.

So, what can I do? I’ve promised myself I will write daily.

I’ll ramble.

I live right next to the end of the airport runway in Madang. I’ve gotten so used to the noise of the aircraft taking off and landing that I don’t notice it any more. This morning, when I stepped out on the lawn I had just enough time to snap this shot of an Air Niugini jet on approach:

Quite a few years ago, an Air Niugini F-28 skidded off the runway in front of my house during a severe thunderstorm. These things happen all the time, you know – nobody’s fault.

Anyway, we were all out gaily snapping photos. Nobody was hurt in the incident. One wing was still up on the ground, so everybody just walked up the wing and jumped off. The party atmosphere changed to a bit of confrontation when the cops showed up telling us that we couldn’t take photos. Those of us with boats simply ignored them.

Later on, some Air Niugini guys showed up and started painting out the logo on the tail and the fuselage. I was one of the few who got shots before this ridiculous attempt to pretend that it wasn’t an Air Niugini plane.

Then somebody (I deny, deny, deny, but if I did, I didn’t inhale.) spoofed up this advertisement for Sea Niugini:

It’s a little blurry because it’s been carefully massaged to make it look like it was received as a highly compressed JPG that had been passed around a lot. Who could blame the creator? One wouldn’t want to have the original, pristine version on one’s computer. What if the Thought Police showed up?

So much for airplanes.

Moving on, I was suddenly taken aback by the stunning pattern on this false taro or whatever it is. I began to think green. Green grass, green trees . . . Ah! Wait . . . Yes, it’s coming . . . Green Roadmap.

I humbly suggest that ecological movements everywhere adopt this image as an icon symbolizing the need for a plan to save the planet:

That’s not too much to ask, is it?

Finally, I found this tiny little cave in a rock. It’s all full of cool green moss and tasty-looking Elf cabbage:

If you know of any little people who are looking for a cheap flat, send them my way. I have a deal for them. Please keep in mind that space in limited – it’s only about 6cm wide.

Я увижу вас завтра. *

* I might throw in a parting shot in another language at any time. If you want to see what it says, first figure out what language it is (probably Russian above), copy it, and paste it into Bablefish. Choose the correct “somelanguage” to English selection and decode the message.

Or, skip it, if you simply can’t be bothered.

A couple of days ago I showed you a few of my fishy friends. Today, I’ll show you the ones that cannot always be trusted. You know the kind I mean. Imagine being Tony Soprano’s next-door neighbour.

Our first unsavoury pal is the Papuan Scorpionfish (Scorpaenopsis papuensis). It is a camouflage expert. Consequently, it is very difficult to see. I’ve blurred the background in this photo to make the fish more visible. As do all the scorpionfish, it has poisonous spines in the dorsal fin. If you put your hand down on one of these fellows, you would be in a great deal of pain immediately:

Often the first thing that one will see of a scorpionfish is its eye. It is the only regular shape on the entire body and therefore stands out as if it were a traffic signal.

Here is another fish for which the sting is the thing. This is the Common Lionfish (Pterois volitans). Though the stinging apparatus is similar, you will have no trouble at all spotting this critter:

The scorpionfish and lionfish are interesting, but not very scary. Let’s move on to something more Soprano-like. This character seems peaceful enough until you start fooling around in his back yard. Meet the Giant Moray (Gymnothorax javanicus):

The menacing looking character above was in a hole near Pig Island. I spent about fifteen minutes photographing him. I never felt threatened, though maybe he did. If I would get too close, he would simply pull back into his hidey-hole. Most of the time the mouth was only moving open and shut a little as it pumped water through its gills. However, a couple of times it really showed me its teeth. Very pretty – must have a good dentist.

Getting back to sting from teeth, we have the Blue Spotted Stingray (Dasyatis kuhlii). I trapped this individual in a little cave and snapped away. I say that I trapped him, but to be honest, he could have left any time he wished. I wasn’t about to try to stop him. The eyes remind me of a goat’s eyes:

 I’ve shown you the Blue Spotted Stingray before here, and here.

Let’s have a look at a fish that has a bad reputation. While populations of Barracuda elsewhere may be obnoxious, the species in this area of the world are pussycats. Here is the Blackfin Barracuda (Sphyraena qenie):

The slim, barred fish are the barracuda. The stubby football shaped fish are Bigeye Trevally. They often school together.

I have, on many occasions, finned on my back under a mob of these and gently stroked a belly or two. They will take it for a couple of seconds and then twitch away from the touch. Sometimes they come back for more. It must feel like being petted by an alien.

Last, but by no means least we have the Banded Sea Krait (Laticauda colubrine). Most people already know that it has one of the most powerful venoms on the planet. This is true. Most people also know that its mouth is too small to bite you. This is most definitely not true. Many people die every year from Sea Snake bites – mostly fishermen clearing them from their nets.

I have been very close to these snakes and never even had one seem to notice me. Here’s one at a comfortable distance:

And, here’s one at a somewhat less comfortable distance:

The main thing to remember is that they are generally not aggressive, but simply go about their business. Part of their business, however, is breathing. That’s why you do not want to hover over one while you’re watching it. Stay to the side so that when the snake surfaces to breathe, you won’t both be frightened out of your collective wits.

And remember what your mama told you, “Don’t play with snakes and spiders.”

My fellow blogger Robert@PNG pointed out to me that my link to the Microsoft Photosynth site was bombing out. I have fixed it now.

I felt so sad that I had to take a picture to record the moment*:

The image above is one that you probably won’t  want to click to enlarge.

* Okay, okay. there was  a problem with the link to the Photosynth site. However, this entirely superfluous post’s only purpose is to show another example of the stupid tricks you can do so easily with the Photoshop Liquify filter. Believe me, you could teach your dog to use it.

I’ve been trying to take a little time each day organizing my photographs so that I have some small chance of finding something that I want. If I’d been smart, I would have found a way to organize all my photos as soon as I put them on my computer by keywords.

I tried assigning the keywords “underwater”, “anemone”, and “anemonefish” to the photo below. Adobe Bridge allows you to assign keywords (as many as you like) to each image and then search by keyword. I searched for “anemone” and, sure enough, this photo popped up. The only problem is that I have tens of thousands of photos. Probably half of them or more should simply be deleted. I can already see what I’m going to be doing on during my next vacation time.

As I was going through some photos yesterday, I ran across some old pals. I’d like to introduce you to some of my favourite fish.

These little beauties are obviously Anemonefish. Specifically, these are Spinecheek Anemonefish (Premnas biaculeatus):

The shot above was incredibly lucky. Out of 100 – 300 exposures that I make on an average dive, I feel lucky if a handful are worth processing with Photoshop. I’m joyful if there is one that really makes me grin like an idiot. The frame above was one in a thousand. Everything was copacetic.

Anyone who doesn’t know this little fellow must have been engaged in intense navel contemplation in a cave for the last few years. Yes, it’s everybody’s favourite fish, Nemo. If you’ve not been formally introduced, he is an Anemonefish, specifically a Clown Anemonefish (Amphiprion percula). This Nemo wannabe looks as if he is swimming onto the stage for a screen-test:

Much as I hate to discuss filthy lucre in this carefree space, I must admit that the next photo has enriched the meagre coffers of Clan MadDog more than any other. I have sold this image several times over. It’s been in magazine articles, on the cover of tourist information booklets, and sold as metre-wide wall hangings. Its title is “Buddy.” He will soon feature on one of the dozen Papua New Guinea post cards that I am producing.

Divers call their paired-up fellow diver a buddy, so the name is a natural. Divers are like Nuns, we always travel in pairs.

Meet Buddy, another Anemonefish. Buddy is an example of the Orange Variation of Clark’s Anemonefish (Amphiprion clarkii):

I snagged the next image on The Henry Leith near Wongat Island. One can only describe it as a handsome fish. He displays a certain smug dignity in his tweedy suit. Formally, he’s known as Epinephelus miliaris. He introduces himself with a Bond-like smirk as Grouper, Netfin Grouper:

Soon, I’ll write about the less congenial denizens of our salty, wet neighbourhood – the ‘friends’ that we keep at arm’s length.

We all know people like that. Fish are no different.

You will find other photos of anemonefish on Madang – Ples Bilong Mi here, here, and here.

Photography is about many different things. However, as my dad used to say when he was teaching me, “Composition is King.” It’s hardly innovative – artists of all breeds have held fast to this doctrine since they were painting horses on the walls of caves. It is especially true of photography because photography is all about the image. Materials, technique, process, and other aspects of production are meaningless unless the image speaks – authoritatively. A photograph that fails to find its voice is akin to a book containing only blank pages.

More than any other art form photography is dependent on light and the way it interacts with our physical world. Painters have known this for centuries. The great masters were technicians with their pigments, but near gods in their understanding of light. Photographers have it easy in a way. The pigments and basic form are supplied to us by nature. All we have to do is play with the light. That, along with composition, is really all there is to photography.

I have shown you several sunrise single frames and panoramas here, here, here, here, and here (among others – search for “sunrise” in the search box). You’ve seen several dramatically different interpretations of exactly the same scene. There are only two things that make them different. First, there is what is going on with the light. The second, is how do I want to interpret what the light is saying to me. What language do I want to use when I tell you what I saw:

In the version of the harbour scene above, I was playing with light. Nature gave me everything I needed, except an idea.

It was very hazy. The water was glassy. The sun felt close and hot. I had great difficulty seeing the screen on my camera because of the glare. It made my eyes water. The boat was sighing slowly through the tepid, reflective liquid. Colours were exhausted nearly to extinction by the battle with the blazing star. These simple observations seemed to be to be the voice of the composition speaking to me. It doesn’t take a fancy camera or great knowledge of photography to turn snapshots into art.

You just have to learn to listen with your eyes.

I’ll show you another simple example of my point. Here’s a little coastal cargo boat about a hundred metres in front of my house. It was morning and I was facing into the sun. The boat was about two thirds of the distance from my house to the other side of the harbour. As you can see, the scene was backlit – the light is coming from behind the subject – usually a difficult situation unless you’re doing it on purpose.

I could detect with my eyes, but not see on the screen, that there was a haze near the water, but above the haze, the air was clearer. The sky was nearly featureless – indeterminate shades of grey. People on the boat noticed me taking a photo. A fellow pointed at me. A woman setting next to him waved. I wanted to give the photo some life.

Here is the original:

Here is the same snapshot on steroids:

I wanted to keep the hazy layer near the water, so I did little with that. I made a graduated mask starting at about the top of the boat and getting stronger as it went to the top of the frame. I boosted the contrast in this masked-off area to let the haze seem to fade into clarity – as I saw it with my eyes. It had the side benefit of bringing up the clouds in the sky. All that I had left to do was to increase the contrast and the strength of the colours (saturation) in the area of the photo not covered by the mask. This brought the boat closer and gave it some life. It also accentuated the reflection of the tarpaulin in the water.

The whole process took about ten minutes and cost me nothing but my time. I paid that price gladly. It’s still pretty much a snapshot, but now it’s a more interesting snapshot.

I heard several comments about the photo that I showed to you of Karen and the blue fish at Pig Island. I decided to work up the other shot that I didn’t think was as good. I’m glad I did. It’s better than I thought it would be:

Here, the light is doing all the work for me. The only two problems were to control the red glow in the hazy water created by the sun reflecting from Karen’s tan and to return the black on her bikini to black instead of a dull red. It took a bit longer for this one, but it was worth the effort.

A friend asked me recently if she could really trust any photograph to be true – to truly represent reality. I told her possibly yes, if she watched the photographer capture the image on film and then took the film from the camera herself and observed it being processed and printed at a lab.

Otherwise, forget it. Assume it’s faked.

Or, at the very least, very gently massaged.