Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!
I took a couple of photos this week as I was out and about in the land of hope and glory, and I’d like to tell you a little bit about them.
You see, there’s a lot more to just the photograph that’s sitting there in front of you. Oh yes. Oftentimes a viewer doesn’t realise the stress and trauma a picture taker has to go through but I’m here to tell you all about that.
Waiting for God
Example 1: Bloke sat outside the church on a bench.
Sometimes, I just like to have a wander around outside because the architecture and doors are marvellous and I have a peculiar thing for doors, as you well know.
Anyway, I had my new Osmo Pocket with me as I wanted to test out its 3×3 photographic ability and quality. It’s a very teeny-tiny gadget and the viewing screen is hard to read but there’s an adapter that allows you to plug it into your smartphone thus using the phone as the screen touch window making it easier to see. So that’s what I was doing – wandering around the church grounds like Inspector Gadget. I spied the old man sitting alone on the bench outside the church. A picture of quiet contemplation. The father waiting for the Father. Bereft but blessed. All that malarkey that makes a quality shot including rather perfect soft lighting caused by lack of sun.
I love candid street photography – it’s my favourite. However, I hate doing it because it stresses me out. You have to be super stealth-like in the middle of public areas which makes you look a bit dodgy and a lot mental. This is the only way to proceed because the subject might take umbrage at being photographed if they spot you.
If you’re kind enough to ask the subject if they’d mind, you are generally met with a person asking 20 questions followed by the worst kind of unnatural forced pose which isn’t what you were after, or, an outraged psycho that thinks you’re going to sell their soul and market them on dubious sex sites.
I crept slowly toward the old man on the bench, stopping every now and then and pretending to analyse the detail on the gargoyles that I have seen a gazillion times over. Just as I was about to take the shot he turned around and exclaimed, “A very good morning to you!”
I nearly took the head off my Osmo gadget at being caught in the act and jerked around a bit as if I’d received a shock from my equipment. After I composed myself, I gazed at the windows above him, angling my phone and Osmo in that general direction as though they were the intended capture. Seven attempts it took me. Seven. And right after the shot he boomed, “You must go into the church and have a look inside!”
In order to protect my cover I couldn’t refuse and swanned through the great doors with fake drama. Straight away I was accosted by a member of the clergy demanding £5.00 for pictures. That was my Costa Coffee up the spout.
Treesy Not So Peasy
Example 2: Nature
There’s nothing better than twilight for great pictures. In the winter months it’s much nicer because the sky takes on a dusky, ethereal mauve that makes any subject matter look like it’s painted onto the sky. I hadn’t gone out with the intention of taking photos and the only device I had on me was my phone. I happened to look out of the window of my house as the light was fading and thought it would be rather pleasant to go for a ramble in the country, through the farmer’s crop fields that are just across the road. I reckoned I could get through a few pastures before the light faded and I was back on the pavement again.
You can’t just get onto the land from across the road because there are high hedges so you have to walk down the road a while and then cross over and go down a country lane until you come to a stile. By the time I’d got there the light was fading fast. Not enough for me to turn back but enough to make me a tad wary. But onward I tromped. And I mean tromped. The fields were sodden and churned up by vicious cows. It was much like paddling. In quicksand.
As soon as I spotted the tree standing in all its majestic glory I searched my many pockets for my phone. I took the photo and felt proud of myself for going on a random evening walk and witnessing nature at its finest. Until I tried to walk away and left my walking shoe behind and nearly slipped a disc, dropped my phone, socked foot, and cheery demeanour in the squalid mud in front of me. My other shoe, now supporting most of my weight as I tried to pivot on it, sank deeper and deeper into the soggy trench as I tried to locate my lost one. In the dark.
It’s amazing how quickly the the horizon disappears and the abyss looks back. Now way too far in to turn back, I had to continue half blind with feet three times the size of what they were due to the clay casks that had developed around them. And then there were the haunting noises from rabid animals in the distance. Or supernatural hybrids. The ones you can’t see but you know can see you. And smell you from 70 miles away. I totally got the fear and skidded/plodded as fast I could overland to the next exit and lamplit concrete before I got eaten.
I’ve had cramp in my thighs from this experience for two days and when I went to crouch down to fetch something from under my table last night, I couldn’t get back up without hauling myself up with almighty force using the kitchen counter as support.
Talk about stupid. But I’d rather you call me something nicer and since it’s “Get a different name day” today, I’d like to be known as The Queen of Arts.
What would your new name be? Tell me in the comments below and make it good or I’ll have to chop off your head.