subject, object, thing

Camberwell is my meditation focus, my artist date and my worst habit. Much of the truck load of junk I removed from my house and life over the last two months consisted of treasures found at this flea market. When I realised not only was I buying dreaming but was also using this as a means of avoiding writing my thesis I stopped.

Now my deal is to walk and find a photograph to take; buy a coffee and wander as I did priorly but don't buy junk. Its working well although choosing the image is often difficult.

To begin with I chose the relationship between buildings. The church dome in the background, office building in centre field, a truck with graffiti marking its side and the stall owners sitting in the front of it. A simple linear progression of images - I liked it. However, as I was taking my shot one of the Rotarians who oversee the market asked me what I was photographing and volunteered for a photo. I turned him down and showed him the shot I was after of the church et al.



Seconds later realising he was the photo I wanted. His was the story I was collecting I returned to find him but he was gone. Its a common situation - losing the possible in the search for the imaginary - I had decided what I wanted and in doing so disallowed the possibility of gathering a story and an image freely offered: which made me thinking about the relationships between object, subject and thing.

I revisited these thoughts the next Sunday with the taking of the photograph of the samurai and his mistress - the relationship between what is thought to be the candid shot of an unknowing subject and the stilted photos of subjects who pose.

is it simply the relationship between subject and object. In the first the photographer feels in control - the image in the photograph becomes object to her subject. In the latter the image feels s/he has maintained control - has shaped the photograph to a personal image - the photographer is object to the images subject.

Its all getting terribly complicated and I need to think more on this.

Here are two more posed images. One of an elderly stall holder for whom I have great affection - he sells garden pots and old tools and we talk about cats and rabbits and birds in the garden. he assented willingly to being photographed and explained to me he is often sort for photos when people come to record the market.

the second image is of an artist I meet regularly at gallery openings - again charming and kindly - I love that he is constructing a motley -a project for which I also have a yearning.

His pants are becoming more and more intricate and he has begun work on a jacket.

forbidden things

I was born in 1954; I'm post-modern, I'm female, Ive read the literature and I'm entitled to know what ever I want to know, what ever I want to discover and explore. the exploration of knowledge for its own sake and the pleasure it brings has always been a large part of my life - the functionality of knowledge and information for me is intrinsic; its interesting because I find it so. I allow myself to be the centre of this very specific and highly personalised universe. Its an heuristic universe; I include that which i find interesting and follow those strands of knowledge and information enjoying the intersections and sidetracks - I like to explore this world and expect little of it other than it entrance and engage me.

So I find limitations to my exploration difficult to accept; but what happens when we find something we have no right to, something we are refused access to - I find this difficult to accept. I truly have a problem with it.Which brings me to Sunday morning.

Sunday morning is my flea market morning. I like to wander and look for treasure. This could be as simple as a book or a photograph or something to use to cover a journal. I look for the beauty in the discarded junk of our lives and find it in abundance ((small reference to the Rocky horror Picture Show - a small one but it made me smile writing it down))

I saw a samurai. He was walking down one of the aisles with his woman. I hesitate to say girlfriend because she was more than that. Her physicality mirrored his sublimely as she followed a pace behind him. He walked calmly, arrogantly, completely at home in his surroundings and his world and I was entranced. So much so I walked ahead and took a photo as they wandered toward me.

Wanting more I stopped them and asked to take their photo. She intimated I should repeat my question and I did so; she repeated it to him and he with one clear look answered, 'No'. I bowed slightly and took a step back as they continued walking.

I have a photo I am not entitled to have; an image I was refused. I can deal with that, I have no need to reveal that image but am having difficulty dealing with my resentment at the refusal to allow me what was desired - what I thought I had every entitlement to take and there in lies the issue.