Saturday, 24 December 2011

Photography on Trips

It's odd, but I do feel the social pressure to document my trip a little. I remember that I used to take photographs, write and observe to a ridiculous extent. Time however has proved that the extensive documentation serves no purpose but to remind myself of the type of person that I used to be. Now, instead of finding my camera a necessary delight, I find it quite tiresome. I'd much rather stick my hands in my pockets and stride unencumbered down the streets of wherever I happen to be with my head looking up instead of through a camera lens. Instead of trying to capture the moment for future reliving, I'd rather just enjoy it there and then.

Perhaps its because of the nature of photography. To take good shots requires great concentration and an eye for composition. Its terribly annoying to be looking around at everything trying to ascertain if it makes a good picture. Worse still if I don't, because then all my pictures would stir up in me a rising discontent and dissatisfaction which rather taints my enjoyment of the day.

So I choose to leave my camera behind, and I rarely regret doing so.

Friday, 23 December 2011

Durham













Spitalfields


Where Monica Ali's Brick Lane was situated...






Saturday, 17 December 2011

Kenwood House

London has been a blur of cold air, the metro, red buses and the muddy waters of The River Thames. It is beautiful, but for the last few days, I just kept feeling like something was missing. There was a disconnect somewhere.

Therefore today, I tried to find the England that I have always imagined as a child. I grew up reading Austen and the Bronte sisters; the England in my head has always been a mass of green, dotted with stately estates and acres of parks.

The Kenwood House. I even managed to see an incredible self-potrait of Rembrandt.