NASA
AnasAbdin

JVL

tannertan36
Stranger Things

pixel skylines
tumblr dot com
wallacepolsom
Not today Justin
todays bird
Game of Thrones Daily
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni

Andulka
No title available
Jules of Nature
will byers stan first human second
🪼
No title available
DEAR READER
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Brazil

seen from Latvia
seen from United States
seen from Mexico

seen from United States
seen from Singapore

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from Singapore

seen from Germany

seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
@itspoppadom1
Art from Fleet Streets Finest
Bert Hardy , photographer .
Basement Blues , Life in the Elephant 8th January 1949
The work of Bert Hardy stretches forty years from 1936 to 1964 when he retired from photography to his farm in Oxted, Surrey.
His work is a record of ordinary life, lived by so many but rarely recorded . His photographs of poverty in Glasgows' Gorbals, in Liverpool and in London for the Picture Post are compelling.
The characters in the pictures invariably with a cigarette dangling from the bottom lip bear close examination.
The black and white images viewed now appear as if from a foreign land and alien to the way we are . How can it be that life just a generation ago looked so different from today?
Whether he was photographing poverty, Korean political prisoners or Hollywood stars it was always with respect.
But we may have never have had this remarkable archive of life if the young Albert Hardy had been able to multiply 13 by 13.
The first interview that he attended after leaving school was with a local garage where the owner asked the would be mechanic the tricky question.
The failure to come up with the right answer forced him to look elsewhere and a second interivew,this time with a local chemist who needed a 'lad ' was more succesful.
The chemist processed film and an interest in photography was formented and a career was born.
In 1936 he had some early success with a carriage shot of the of the King and Queen during a parade for their Silver Jubilee, taken on a plate camera that was balanced on the head of his smaller sister.
He printed two hundred 6x4 prints which he sold locally for 6d (2 1/2p)each ,encouraged by this he went to work for a a local photographic agency as a photographic printer and then enticed by the prospect of earning more money ,soon took the next step as a photographer.
More success followed and he found that much of the work he was producing was being published in the hugely popular magazine ,Picture Post.
In 1941 he sought and acquired a job at the Picture Post under the Editorship of Tom Hopkinson. Hardys documentary style photography led to many assignments, delving into the lives of the working class whose trust he gained enabling him to work closely with them.
Born in Southwark, South London, to a working class family and the eldest of seven children his affinity with the poor was well grounded .
Some of his succes could be attributed to his preference of using a Leica camera , a compact 35mm camera that was less intrusive than the large format cameras used by Hardys contempories.
In July 1951 he took what might be considered to be one of his most famous photos of two women sitting on the railings on the promenade at Blackpool using a single focus box brownie as a challenge to prove that the equipmentwas not the most important asset for a photographer..
In 1942 he joined the Army photography unit and was at the beach landings on D Day, and in Paris for the liberation and as the allies moved towards Berlin was among the first photographers to arrive at Belsen. Towards the end of the war Hardy was posted to the far East where he became Lord Louis Mountbattens personal photographer .
When the Army no longer required his talents he returned to the Picture Post and pursued many more gritty stories. In 1949 the Picture Post published a set of pictures documenting Life in the Elephant,a powerful observation of post war Britain.
He relates that he and the reporter Bert Lloyd “walked around, and I did a few shots, nothing that meant anything, but sort of using the camera.''
Returning each day looking for a lead they were approached by a woman who asked Hardy to take her photo .On discovery of their mission she became their guide to the Elephant takiing the two Picture Post men on a tour of the places and people .Hardy says in his autobiography 'My Life ' “After that,” Hardy says “it was just smooth; it went so smooth, it was unbelievable.”
1950 saw a trip to Korea with reporter James Cameron . The trip had far ranging consequences . The story that Cameron and Hardy brought back was about the abuse of Korean prisoners by South Koreans under UN supervision. Edward Hulton , the owner of Picture Post was reluctant to publish the story but the Editor Hopkinson insisted and published the story leading to Hopkinsons sacking.
Hardy contniued to work for the Post but the style changed under a new editor and its campaingning style became less on the edge and led to the ultimate demise as readers fell away lured by alternative entertainments such as Television. The Picture Post ceased publishing in 1957.
Bert Hardy turned to advertsising and claimed that it was during this time he made enough money to buy the farm to which he later retired .His interest in photography ,however , continued and he did talks and exhbitions thoughout his retirment.In his book he said , ''Everywhere I look, and most of the time I do look , I see photographs''
Bert hardy 1913 -1995
Las Vegas, Nv; Thursday April 26. 8 year old Andre Agassi is given some tennis lesson by Bjorn Borg. This picture and other by Michale Brenna is available from Fleet Streets Finest https://fleetstreetsfinest.com/product/borg-agassi-by-michael-brennan/
Edith Piaf by Marilyn Stafford
this picture and others by Marilyn Stafford is available from Fleet Streets Finest
https://fleetstreetsfinest.com/product/edith-piaf-by-marilyn-stafford/
Frame, Focus, Click.
Marilyn Stafford
During our lives we sometimes bump into the occasional celebrity, notorious character or great star.
Born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1925 Marilyn Stafford’s life seems to have weaved its way between so many famous people, that we ordinary mortals could only dream of.
Albert Einstein, Robert Capa , Henri Cartier Bresson, Indira Ghandi , Edith Piaff, Twiggy and so on it goes.
After training as a singer and actor and aged 23, Stafford found herself in New York with a passion for photography. She was given work by photographer Francesco Scavullo as a general dog’s body, as she describes it.
At that time friends of hers were involved in making a documentary about Albert Einstein and asked her along to do the stills.
‘’on the way there I was handed a 35mm camera, which I had never used, given instructions and told that all I had to do was frame ,focus and click’’ The picture was a success and as a reward the Director gave her four prints , which she still has, not the film , which the Director kept.
In 1948 she left New York and travelled to Paris, where she was planning to work as a singer, but a chance meeting with war photographer Robert Capa took her back on the photography route.
She was later introduced to Henri Cartier Bresson who became her mentor and encouraged her to concentrate on street photography.
She used this documentary style of photography and applied it to fashion.
Ten years later she travelled to Tunisia to photograph Algerian refugees and she achieved a first for her, the front page of the Observer.
Stafford travelled widely, working in France, Italy, Lebanon and India
Where she photographed Indira Ghandi.
Her work covers continents and ranges from portraits to war to fashion. In the sixties Marilyn settled in London where she worked mostly for newspapers, especially the Observer
In 2017 the Marilyn Stafford Fotoreportage Award was created , and is now in its third year it will be awarded later in 2019 and updates will be given on Marilyn Staffords website for more news
The award is to a professional woman photographer working on a documentary photo essay which addresses a social, environmental, economic or cultural issue.
FORT KOCHI We zoomed across India from the East coast to the West coast it took a couple of days and then we were there, Fort Kochi in the district of Kerala. A vibrant town with lots to do and very popular for tourism. Kochi(Cochin) has been,it seems of interest to the Europeans since the 16th century with Vasco de Gama being the first to set foot here and died here. He was buried In the local church until the Portuguese wanted his body back. We stayed at a home stay.The Indian equivalent of bed and breakfast at the three hundred and fifty years old home of Coral and Francis Bernard a beautiful home that had previously. been the Dutch ambassadors residence until the British arrived and threw the Dutch out in the 1800s After all the stresses of the journey we arrived as the third and fourth to arrive, the first having arrived on the back of a truck after it broke down and unable to locate the part in time they hired the truck and travelled for forty hours sitting in the Tuk Tuk on the back of a lorry to get to the Finish line. Good effort by the Aussie team who were both in their sixties. The Tuk Tuk of another team broke down soon after the start and the three we're kindly adopted by another team who stayed with them to the end. They abandoned their tuk tuk and had it sent to the finish line by parcel post.it could take a few days more to arrive. They covered two thousand ks with five people in one Tuk Tuk, great bonding from two teams one from the UK and the other from USA who have now become friends for life but only met at the start. We handed over our keys to the Rik with some regret Poppadom1 had travelled 3412 kilometres and never let us down,remarkable. I found the food of India fantastic, I suffered no ill affects from either breakfasts that cost us twenty five pence or meals in four star hotels that cost us ten pounds We travelled from the top of India to the bottom we saw poverty that you would not believe and some very rich people too. The one thing I can say is that whether the people were rich or poor they were generous with their time and their smiles, and always helpful often beyond the call of duty. I loved every minute. I loved the people, I loved India
DASH FOR THE FINISH The roads along the coast were very good and we were able to rack up some kilometres, in fact. We did 450 ks in one day as we decided to head down towards Chennai and then cut across country. The beach resort of Visakhapatnam had a modern style holiday complex that had been around for twenty years and it had a swimming pool which we made use of. The resort definitely had European feel to it and as we left early the next morning people were out jogging, this is how middle class India lives and it's a different world from the poverty we had seen in the North. There was money here and It seems like a place with aspirations. We arrived later at Sri Kalahasthi, bustling,busy streets, honking buses Tuk tuk drivers whizzing around people fill the streets of this town that plays host to many pilgrims for the nearby temples. We stayed at an MGM hotel with a vegetarian only menu and no alcohol permitted, and as this was india Independence day, there was a ban on alcohol sales throughout India. I read in the local paper later that 68 people had been arrested for breaking the booze ban. Makes you wonder what would happen in the UK if you banned booze for a day, a riot I suspect!
Christmas comes early Gopalpur-on-sea fitted into my English perception of what a seaside town looked like . That might be because it had been established by the British as a sea side resort during the days of the Empire . It had a lighthouse, some fast food joints in the Indian style of course ,not your KFC style, and like most seaside resorts in Britain had now fallen onto thin times with a feel of dereliction and disrepair. According to Lonely Planet it had regained some popularity with the Indians in the '80s and when we arrived we surprised to see the beach busy with the donkey rides of the English resorts replaced here by a much more exotic camel who was doing a very brisk trade. The hotel we booked into ,The Seaside Breeze, already had accommodated several other Tuk Tukers and they were milling about with a beer in hand. The hotel was on the beach we had rooms at ground level and you could listen to the waves crashing onto the beach all night , it was a gem, and for eight pounds per night for a double room it felt like Christmas had come early. We showered , joined the other Adventurists and stood around clutching a beer and watched the crowds on the beach slowly clear and head for their hotels. Later we walked along the sea front seeking food and found a little place that fried fish . Joined by a team of six from France we ordered five of everything on the menu (about six different dishes ) and shared the evening comparing notes on the journey so far and when we settled the bill , the dinner for five English and six French came to under twenty quid and judging by the smile on the face of the staff who got the tips for them Christmas had come early. Sent from Janes iPadI
The coast We reached Shandipur on Sea in the afternoon and our spirits lifted as we realised we had achieved a target. Shandipur is not like Southend, West Cliff or even Frinton on Sea or any other on sea that you can think of. The beach was blessed by having its own dead cow and slot machines were hard to find, in fact I gave up.No candy floss fish n chips or kiss me quick hats . We stayed. At the Arpita Beach which was ok and left early for our next destination.
I Decisions decisions We had lost time and our whole plan was now in danger of collapse. Our journey via Varanassi was in doubt. Today we needed to make some kilometres Potholes seemed to be an expected part of the Indian motoring experience but little could have prepared us for what lay ahead. There was no road but miles and miles of inter linking potholes for two days we bounced along roads weaving between potholes herds of animals and other weaving motorists often on the wrong side of the, road, as was we. When you hit a hole the spine jars, teeth clash together and passengers cling on for all they are worth for fear of falling out. Most of the next two days were travelled in this style. The roads were dry and the huge lorries filled the air with dust and diesel fumes so much so that lorries had their headlights on at noon so that they could be seen. It seemed the decision was made we must head for the coast.
DECISIONS DECISIONS We had lost time and our whole plan was now in danger of collapse. Our journey via Varanassi was in doubt. Today we needed to make some kilometres Potholes seemed to be an expected part of the Indian motoring experience but little could have prepared us for what lay ahead. There was no road but miles and miles of inter linking potholes for two days we bounced along roads weaving between potholes herds of animals and other weaving motorists often on the wrong side of the, road, as was we. When you hit a hole the spine jars, teeth clash together and passengers cling on for all they are worth for fear of falling out. Most of the next two days were travelled in this style. The roads were dry and the huge lorries filled the air with dust and diesel fumes so much so that lorries had their headlights on at noon so that they could be seen. It seemed the decision was made we must head for the coast.
DECISIONS DECISIONS We had lost time and our whole plan was now in danger of collapse. Our journey via Varanassi was in doubt. Today we needed to make some kilometres Potholes seemed to be an expected part of the Indian motoring experience but little could have prepared us for what lay ahead. There was no road but miles and miles of inter linking potholes for two days we bounced along roads weaving between potholes herds of animals and other weaving motorists often on the wrong side of the, road, as was we. When you hit a hole the spine jars, teeth clash together and passengers cling on for all they are worth for fear of falling out. Most of the next two days were travelled in this style. The roads were dry and the huge lorries filled the air with dust and diesel fumes so much so that lorries had their headlights on at noon so that they could be seen. It seemed the decision was made we must head for the coast.
Warts 'n' all We were up at five and on the road again and this day we made some progress. 253 kilometers on very rough roads we reached Kishanganj In Bihar province. Bihar is one of the poorest regions in india with a population of 104 million. It has a reputation for lawlessness, and we later heard hat two tuk tukers travelling alone had been mugged. Because of its reputation ,tourist, especially western ones are not common and when we did find an hotel it seemed they were not keen to let us have a room. The idea that my nephew and his wife would share the room with his brother was a complete no no . When we finally understood what the issue it was simply solved by hiring another room for Martin. This was not the only time that there were objections to this family group sharing we had the same problem again in Bihar and this time the reception suggested that we put all boys in one room and the girls in another. We were happy to accept that and they were prepared to turn a blind eye to the fact that we didn't do that. It's a funny place india. Kit stashed safely in hotel room and Tuk Tuk parked off the street the next challenge was to find somewhere to eat. The Hotel owner was asked for his recommendation and suggested the local canteen. I thought that this was in the style of a Mexican cantina but it was a works canteen. To make sure there was no confusion he sent his daughter with us so that we would find it. When seated the usual small crowd gathered and a bloke that looked like Groucho Marx came and sat beside us. For younger readers he was a member of the Marx Brothers and no relation to Karl Any way he was clearly in a position of authority because everybody paid attention and because this works canteen was one for the maternity hospital we assumed he was a doctor. Groucho sorted out our dinner told us about his family and his bedside manner was so good Stuart proceeded to ask him how to cure a wart Groucho took a long look and wrote down the medication needed and prescribed it twice a day. It was later we discovered he worked in the marketing department. As I said, funny place India
Another day of woe We were up at five and on the road by six, today we really had to get some miles under our belt. 11 kilometers later Krazy Jalfrezi came to a halt, The workmanship of our young mechanic had not stood the test of the road and we were left powerless by the roadside, As we stood and scratched our heads A fella came down the road from his house to see if he could help. His English was good, he had a mobile and yes, he had a friend who was a mechanic who he 'phoned even though it was still just past six in ther morning, We pushed the Auto to his garage and they set about doing the same work as yesterday. Another four hours were spent answering all sorts of questions while we waited by the roadside. The only thing to lift the spirits was the cricket score as I read in the local paper that England had given Australia a thrashing. We were beck on the road but now two days behind everyone and the pressure was beginning to show. Tempers were short, morale was low
TARGETS 300k was the target for the day and we left the Lodge with a spring in our step. 94 kilometres later Krazy Jalfrezi rolled into the side of the road and as I pulled up Martin said "no power" I am no mechanic and it was beyond me but it seemed we were not going any further without some help. We were on a major road and within minutes a sizeable group had gathered to be joined almost instantly by an ice cream seller who must have thought our misfortune to be a business opportunity not to be missed. In a decent size crowd we would hope to find someone with a mobile, someone who has a friend who is a mechanic and someone who speaks English. Luckily we found all three in one man. The mechanic didn't look old enough to have left school but he methodically went through the process of checking the engine. After a while he decided it was more than he could do by the wayside so we towed krazy jalfrezi to the garage about a mile away, We spent the next four hours on the kerbside attended by a an ever changing group of about fifty. As some got bored with the latest piece of street furniture a fresh wave would arrive all wanting to know answers to questions about where we live what we are doing in India and our families. Some pictures from Janes hand bag proved a winner, especially the one of our pet chickens! At last, repaired we set off again and as the day began to draw to a close we headed for Barpeta to find another garage that could supply oil that the last garage didn't have.! Barpeta had a feeling of the wild west about it with a crazy main drag that was nerve jangling as the buses zoomed along heading for their next port of call.the buses here are like hell on wheels, they do not give a damn about anyone else and their insistent multi toned hooters leave the ears and nerves shredded. After failing to find the man who would sell us oil we decided we needed to find somewhere for the night. A couple of sweeps of the area and the prospect of a decent hotel seemed very distant Luckily Caroline spied a policeman and we stopped to ask him what was the best hotel in town. Keen that we shouldn't get lost he mounted his motor bike and led us to a tourist lodge. We were the only guests and we were treated royally. For the fee of six pounds we had a room on a quite backstreet of Barpeta with off street parking for the Tuk Tuks and when we asked about where to eat, no problem, the staff organised a meal for us and served us at the lodge.indians are so generous its amazing. We looked forward to the next day and our target 300.
Breakfast at the lodge If there is a web site and its locally sign posted you would bank on something existing. But, not always so it would seem. Research on the internet had suggested an idyllic hotel and spa in its own grounds with lake as a possible first nights stay . Driving through tine back lanes of a village near Guwahati and asking directions from many we finally found it ...............but two months early.it was still being built and we had invested considerable daylight hours finding it. Special pleading by the ever resourceful Caroline for somewhere to stay for one night was given consideration by the builders and we were taken to The Lodge. A community project to accommodate tourists. The kindness and generosity of the Indians we have met is boundless . The lodge hadn't been stayed in since last June when Two Germans used it's facilities and it was showing. The toilets didn't flush and I couldn't bring myself to use the shower ,it had holes in the window frame and a resident spider big enough to put a saddle on. However efforts were made and within a while toilets flushed and dinner was provided and served under the stars sitting on a bamboo chair. I can't say it was the best nights sleep I ever had but the views in the morning as sun rose over the surrounding countryside made it mystical. As we prepared to leave at six in the morning a cup of black tea, boiled eggs,great chunks of white bread and a very English pot of jam was produced from nowhere by attentive locals. Now for our first full days motoring and plans to get as close to three hundred kilometres as possible