# 4 Sky, lights, road.

[Panasonic LX3, Aperture Priority, ISO 100, 1/2, f2.0.]

Just can't get off my fat ass, lately.
When it comes to anything other than Laura, it feels like the clutch between knowing what I'd like/should/need to do and doing it, is burned out.
I've got to ride it like a bastard to get myself in gear.
It's the little things, at the moment, that I struggle to do, even though experience tells me the benefits of getting them done are worth it.
Email to the boss instead of chewing on a gripe, update Benography, go for a walk, take a picture -- these things make me feel better, yet I can't be bothered with them. The camera has been left in the cupboard instead of coming with.
Can't help feel that I've been poor company, lately ... for that, I'm sorry.

Here's the photo that helped me realise this, took it tonight as I forced myself to post a letter. Brings me a smile. To me, it made the walk worth the effort, which wasn't really that big a grind, once I applied a little perspective.

Nice how an out-of-focus shot can show me a little clarity.

--Ben

For Sean, the boss who warned me never to come back with just one...

I take a lot of pictures.
I'm not talking Jo McNally a lot of pictures, or Chase Jarvis, but I do probably reel through about 300 or so each day and maybe 50 or so most weekends off. Way more on holidays.
A lot just sit around on hard drives and memory cards. I'm not good at throwing things out. Trouble is, I just like the whole click thing too much.
It's fun, sure, but, for me, it's practice. My first editor Sean said you can't take a good picture if your don't bang the shutter, and the more you squeeze it the better your chances are.
He was right. And always will be.
But what to do with them?
Only so many make the paper. And only so many of them are the ones I'd like to see there.
I can't print them out and hang them because we rent our place and every extra hook in the wall is another nail in the coffin as far as our bond goes.
The best thing about getting published is that people comment on your pictures.
"That one's cool."
"That one sucks."
"Dude, that one's blurry."
All feedback good.
So, I'm going to try and throw one up here at Benography every day (or so) and, hopefully, some will give cause for you to react to them. Even if you just like them in facebook, or send a smiley face. And if you don't like it, please say so too.

Thankyou, and Happy New Year.

-- Ben

ABOUT THE SHOT: (Aperture priority, ISO 80, 1/250, f2.8 @ 60mm.)
Taken on my Panasonic Lx-3, in Oliver's bakery in Ulverstone, Tasmania. They do awesome mini sausage rolls there, and I've noticed this smartly-dressed gentleman in there a few times. I'd lined him up for a quick snap when this young person popped into frame as my finger went down.
Instantly, I liked the whole picture a whole lot more.
Do you?
What would have made it better?

Two Claires, a guy and an after party (Part One) …

Two stories come to mind when I slide into this John Butler Trio scribble tee: The How-I-Got-It part, and the How-I-Didn't-Get-It part. Both make awesome memories and both take place in the second half of Year 12 ... that endless summer of 2003.

The How-I-Got-It part:

I owe it all to the Claires (Weston and Simpson). As my 18th birthday approached, Claire W organised me a thoroughly awesome ticket to join them at a John Butler concert at Sydney's Enmore Theatre, and I couldn't have been more stoked. I bought the tee at the shirt stand on the way in.

It's a bit faded now, and warped from being hung on the clothesline so often, but one glance at it spirits me back through time faster than a TARDIS ever could.
The Claires scored us tickets with seats. But because my birthday was some months after their birthdays, when they bought my ticket my seat was several rows back and all on its lonesome.

Well, almost.

Turns out I scored a seat next to some dude, his missus, and a baggie full of roofies he kept offering me.

"Want one, man? It'll totally amp your night.''

You betcha. "Nah, it's cool. Cheers, but."

Next thing, Dude's off to the bar and he comes back with a VB tinnie with it's topped popped, white froth fizzing out the hole.

"Have a beer then. Totally amp your night.''

Cheers, Mate. I dunno what he put in there, but the can's walls pulsed like an ill-maintained hedge clipper.

I mean, cripes, that beer was giving off fumes!

I could picture how I'd end up if I downed that beer -- hanging via atomic wedgie from a fire escape by my undies in Kings Cross with wet paint on my hands ... kicking back on a bed of ice with two small pangs in my lower back ... or walking into a motorcycle gang's dojo
and screaming "Bitches! Where are all the straight guys?"

So I waited a bit, bought the next round, and left the noxious brew at the bar, which by that stage twitched by itself like it had done three rounds in a paint mixer.

Then he paid again. Same routine.

I'm drinking my beers, so somewhere in the second hour, I'm struggling to remember which is brew is tainted.

That's when the T-shirt stepped up.

If I hung the tee over my left shoulder = my round. Down that fella.

Right shoulder = spill it on your jeans.

By the end of that sweaty, three-hour gig, I reckon I had the wettest crutch in Sydney. Who knows what the Claires thought when they saw me.

Should I have undone the top button on my girls' blouse and guzzled his beers? I still think no.

Still, despite the subterfuge, there were some ace tunes to be heard, and the two Claires and I had an awesome night.

And the Dude?

Well, by the end of the show, Dude and I shook hands, bro-hugged while he swore he'd call me on the seven-digit phone number I left him, and his Missus nanna-pashed my cheek and told me I was cute as I left.

Just proves hemp shirts don't have all the fun.

B --

Cotton candy for the lady ...

This T-shirt -- Laura’s favourite (on me, not her) -- reminds me of a major problem solved.
What in heck do you wear on a first date?
No, not just a first date, the flutters in waters said, the first date.
Since I met Laura Lambert at that party , I didn’t ever want another first date.
So it had to go well, which meant I had to choose my shirt wisely.
No stains or crinkles, but not over-ironed ... just an effortlessly understated statement.
Crud.
It was March in Batemans Bay, which meant the weather was awesome and warm, so it had to be shorts and T-shirt.
Wear pants and sleeves and she’d think I’m an Emo, or worse, a Mormon.

"So which shirt?’’ I asked the laundry basket.

Not one I’d worn on any date before (which eliminated about one from the pile), and not one that was dirty (which, sadly, ruled out plenty more than the aforementioned).

Hmmm -- gotta be a band shirt.
But which band? Choose wrongly, and the implications were ugly.

AC/DC = Bogan.
John Butler Trio = Hemp lovin’ hippie.
Jimmy Eat World = Emo cutter.
Green Day = Pre-pubescent emo cutter.
Butterfly Effect = Keep away from sharp objects.
Bad Religion = To impress the Minister’s daughter? Idiot, Ben!

The pile of discards grew large on my bed.

(For the record: I love these bands. Just giving you a look inside the panicked mind of a boy faced with the terrifying prospect of going on a date with a gorgeous girl.)

Then it hit me. The Streets tee. Pale blue with palm trees.

Peace was declared in the Middle East of my mind and everything the horizon touched turned golden.

I bought that shirt at a Big Day Out with Zeb because I kinda liked the band, just not enough to actually go see their live set, so I got the shirt, instead.

It was still a dicey call. I only really knew about one of their songs ... (``Your fit, my God, but don’t you know it ...’’), and if Laura ended being a fan and wanted to trade trivia, I’d be sunk.

But she wasn’t. Aces!

We ate fish on the floating jetty on the Tuross River ... sat on the bank a while, and ... um, while there is still some conjecture as to who actually kissed who first (it was so her), the main point is this.

We did kiss, it rocked -- still does, matter of fact -- and in no small part, I owe thanks to that 35-dollar cotton tee.
(Either that, or my legendary ability to generate affection out of pity.)

Love you Laura. So glad you dug the shirt.
B --

Wellsy gets the gong!

Check it out!! The power of the internet. I start a blog a week ago, a bloke on facebook reads it, then nails the first shout out I put on it. STOKED!!

We posted this picture a few days ago and asked if anyone knew where Laura and I took it.

Turns out Grant did –- Table Cape, near Wynyard. Please extend the man all your kudos, awe, reverence and lustful glances in the ``comments'' below.

Specifically, it's a photo of Aquila Barn, the most awesome bed and breakfast We've ever seen or stayed at. Laura and I spent the first three nights of our honeymoon there, and soaked in the spectacular scenery, great weather (by Tasmanian standards) and, it goes without saying, delightful company.

It's been handcrafted inside what was originally a barn by owners Kay and Brian, who, believe it or not, came from Nelligen, near Batemans Bay, NSW ... small world, huh?

They are two amazing people who are well worth a chat when you stay there. They truly spoiled us on our stay and gave ``the rest of our lives'' a well-proper, luxurious kick off!

Here's a few pictures of ours we fired off on our Panasonic LX3, but their website, www.cloud9destinations.com.au, really does the place justice.

Oh, and here's an article written by some dude at The Advocate: http://www.theadvocate.com.au/news/local/news/general/from-dairy-farm-barn-to-quaint-bed-and-breakfast/1436547.aspx

.

Is this cool ... or crud?

I don't usually understand the rhythm of `arty shots'. (In fact, I'm certain I rarely do.)

Flowers and a bowl? Chair in the forest? What? C'mon, lets see a person - is how my brain is wired. It's a bit like landscape photography in the sense that I'm not very comfortable doing it, and I'd rather shoot something with a heart beat (or a motor), nearly every time I'm with camera.

You see them on websites and think ``yeah, that rocks'', or, more often and not in my case, ``nup, that doesn't''. So I steer clear and never bother with them.

But just because it's hard doesn't mean I should have a crack, so I'm putting up this offering for your ruthless appraisal. Don't just give me a stroke ... I'd be really stoked if you'd leave a thought or two that might slowly make me better at this sort of stuff.

I was stuck waiting for a while at the Burnie Regional Art Gallery one night to take a few socials at an opera night and this caught my eye. Regardless of your thoughts, Greg, the gallery manager, Is an absolute gem of a bloke, and if he's reading, thankyou again for the snacks and sandwiches. (And flexibility - I was more than 40 minutes late to this job thanks to some prior ego I had to photograph and he reorganised his night to make sure I had some pics to front my boss with.

Nice guy. You should buy a painting off him!

GEAR: Canon 40D, 17-35 f2.8 wide open, about 15th of a sec if memory serves.

(BTW -- Still waiting to hear from someone with regards to the mystery shot in my last post. C'mon guys -- North-West Tasmania ... how hard can it be? If you're thinking about 20 minutes west of Burnie and near some flowers you are in the right ballpark.)

We made it...

More on this later, but the seagull won...

... Yes! Nice! The Advocate ran with our beloved seagull shot. SWEET! Even cooler was that it was taken on a dinky point-and-shoot... albeit a kick-ass Panasonic LX3.
It was taken in Ulverstone in Tasmania, Australia, about 25 minutes east of where Laura and I live at Burnie.
Thanks again for the sweet comments too! I know this is a new blog, and I'm learning, but I'll keep at it and hopefully you guys will too.
Cheers,
Ben

See how the seagull goes...

So. Here it is. My first post. On my first blog. SWEET! Okay … it might be a little geeky … but I read recently that there’s like one blog for every three people on the planet ( or was that 30, or 300 or 3000?) … anyways, that’s not important. The thing is, if there’s that many people doing it … who cares.

Besides, it’s a good writing out for me, as I’ve just shifted from reporter/photographer to full-time photographer at The Advocate newspaper in down-town North-West Tasmania.

The picture here is in the running to become the Advocate’s Pic of the Week … and I like it for all sorts of reasons:

* It was taken on one of the rare sunny days in Tasmania at a kick-ass park in a place called Ulverstone. (I swear the thermometer busts past 20 degrees about six times a year, at best.) Laura and I were having a picnic and it was awesome.
* I like it because it was taken on our filthy sweet new compact camera called a Panasonic LX3. This thing rocks! It oozes rangefinder cool – is unassuming and takes stellar pictures. I have this camera on me more than my wallet lately … and we bought it with the proceeds of the gift money we were given at from our wedding. So Thankyou!!
* The seagull was damn plucky … barely a handspan away! He flapped and inched forward, squawked, back-tracked, then came in hard with wings up all-a-menace!! Pushed through the fear for the sandwich crumbs to join the ranks of the truly brave.

HOW WE DID IT: Throw down the sandwich chunk, pre-focus, hold that trigger halfway, and wait … wait … wait … CLICK!

We’ll know on Saturday morning when the paper hits the driveway if it makes the cut … there are some killer photogs at the Advocate and I’m new so we’ll have to wait and see.

(BTW – I know there’s a few bits I could’ve cloned out of the background, like the light pole, bits of brown grass et al, but as a newspaper guy I’m still kinda uneasy about all that. What do you guys reckon?)