A woman watches Melbourne's rally for refugees from inside a blocked tram.
Thursday
Tuesday
I spend all my hard earned money on film instead of rent
But really.
Today I dropped off $150 worth of film to develop following an amazing shoot in the country over the weekend.
I had incredibly accommodating models who worked under quite trying conditions (read: icy night shoots, shearing sheds and spider infested gumboots) and I count myself super lucky to call these beautiful people my friends.
As is the risky nature of film photography, it's impossible to tell if the photos will come out alright. There's one shoot in particular that I am crossing fingers, toes, arms, legs and hair follicles in the hope that it works, despite my lack of materials (it was a bit spontaneous and I didn't have the right speed film or a tripod). Tomorrow I will collect all 7 rolls and trawl through them searching for a shot worthy of editing and publishing.
Wish me luck and check in again in a few days!!
B.
Today I dropped off $150 worth of film to develop following an amazing shoot in the country over the weekend.
I had incredibly accommodating models who worked under quite trying conditions (read: icy night shoots, shearing sheds and spider infested gumboots) and I count myself super lucky to call these beautiful people my friends.
As is the risky nature of film photography, it's impossible to tell if the photos will come out alright. There's one shoot in particular that I am crossing fingers, toes, arms, legs and hair follicles in the hope that it works, despite my lack of materials (it was a bit spontaneous and I didn't have the right speed film or a tripod). Tomorrow I will collect all 7 rolls and trawl through them searching for a shot worthy of editing and publishing.
Wish me luck and check in again in a few days!!
B.
Just an old old oldddddddd shot from Abbotsford Convent.
Saturday
Backyard Bandits
So after a few intense weeks of rehearsals, exhaustion, muscle spasms and fits of giggles, The Backyard Bandits performed. There was an air of uncertainty felt as we stretched behind the curtains, listening to audience members spilling through the gates. Will this work? Are we ready? Why the fuck are my suspenders not hooking to my underwear properly? Luckily, we couldn't indulge those thoughts for too long because the curtains opened (or rather, I awkwardly peeled them back and tucked them into the corrugated iron) and we were thrust out into the wild world of The Moulin Rouge.
I have to say, we were spectacular.
There were glitches here and there, but they were what gave it the charm. The audience went along with us, trusted our performance and our want to tell them a story.
In retrospect, I am kicking myself for not taking my camera to every single rehearsal to document the progress of what I can only assume will become a theatrically revolutionary performance troupe (RIGHT GUYS?) I did however, photograph the destruction of the shed, and these are what I have down here. The shots are unedited, but I will be playing around with them a bit more and will post any newbies.
In the meantime, hear our name, hear our voice and keep your eyes peeled for The Backyard Bandits.
I have to say, we were spectacular.
There were glitches here and there, but they were what gave it the charm. The audience went along with us, trusted our performance and our want to tell them a story.
In retrospect, I am kicking myself for not taking my camera to every single rehearsal to document the progress of what I can only assume will become a theatrically revolutionary performance troupe (RIGHT GUYS?) I did however, photograph the destruction of the shed, and these are what I have down here. The shots are unedited, but I will be playing around with them a bit more and will post any newbies.
In the meantime, hear our name, hear our voice and keep your eyes peeled for The Backyard Bandits.
Monday
Pathetic
Dear little blog,
I have been a terrible friend.
I have been ignoring you. I've been standoffish and awkward when I log in and look at you, and I think it's about time I gave you an explanation...
The truth is, I actually couldn't bare to write another entry that acknowledged I was no longer in London.
How pathetic is that?
It's up there with the time I burst into tears because my dog didn't jump up on the bed and I hastily concluded that she must really truly hate me. That level of pathetic.
What's even worse is my complete and utter lack of photography over the last few months. I can't justify that, I just can't. All I can say is film is expensive, I am incredibly poor, and Melbourne no longer seemed interesting enough to me. WHICHISALOADOFSHIT, and also incredibly pretentious.
SO, my little bloggy-boo, I am staging a self-motivating-intervention, and what better time to start then smack bang in the middle of exam period?! Because that is when I am at my most productive (side note here incase sarcasm isn't translated effectively on the online medium, I am terribly unproductive...for example, right now I should be writing a 2000 word essay due tomorrow...but here I am. Typing up a blog entry that almost nobody will actually see. Priorities.)
Anywho, the idea is that I will be putting photos up here weekly, shooting weekly, and rediscovering my lust for photography and my love for Melbourne.
I have no plan what I will be shooting, but rest assured, my grainy 35mm presence will return to the interweb.
Bonnie out.
Proof that she DOES love me:
I have been a terrible friend.
I have been ignoring you. I've been standoffish and awkward when I log in and look at you, and I think it's about time I gave you an explanation...
The truth is, I actually couldn't bare to write another entry that acknowledged I was no longer in London.
How pathetic is that?
It's up there with the time I burst into tears because my dog didn't jump up on the bed and I hastily concluded that she must really truly hate me. That level of pathetic.
What's even worse is my complete and utter lack of photography over the last few months. I can't justify that, I just can't. All I can say is film is expensive, I am incredibly poor, and Melbourne no longer seemed interesting enough to me. WHICHISALOADOFSHIT, and also incredibly pretentious.
SO, my little bloggy-boo, I am staging a self-motivating-intervention, and what better time to start then smack bang in the middle of exam period?! Because that is when I am at my most productive (side note here incase sarcasm isn't translated effectively on the online medium, I am terribly unproductive...for example, right now I should be writing a 2000 word essay due tomorrow...but here I am. Typing up a blog entry that almost nobody will actually see. Priorities.)
Anywho, the idea is that I will be putting photos up here weekly, shooting weekly, and rediscovering my lust for photography and my love for Melbourne.
I have no plan what I will be shooting, but rest assured, my grainy 35mm presence will return to the interweb.
Bonnie out.
Proof that she DOES love me:
Thursday
“Go where we may, rest where we will, Eternal London haunts us still.”
Thomas Moore pretty much had it spot on when he wrote Rhymes on the Road, which included this little gem.
London is all consuming; it permeates your soul, it's rich with culture, personality and vitality. Every second spent in London is a second I have cherished, and no doubt every second spent away will be a second aching with longing.
Today I made the trip from my little dingy flat through the icy fog into the city to spend a few hours at Senate House Library. I sat at my desk for about 2 hours and wrote 1000 words about The Sublime. After that I began to feel restless, and peering out the window all I wanted to do was wander aimlessly around the city that I have fallen so deeply in love with over the last 5 months.
It really was incredibly cold today, and whilst my hands were numb and my lips frozen solid, I trailed through the streets of London. Coffee in one hand, shitty little android phone in the other. (So, apologies for the poor quality photos, I didn't have my Nikon on me today-these will just have to do)
I suppose listening to my "london playlist" really didn't help the situation, but I felt an odd mixture of nostalgia, melancholy and utter awe as I walked past buildings I have walked past a hundred times without looking twice, or sat in gardens I have only ever used as short-cuts. Sometimes it is not only important to take a few hours out to yourself, but it is necessary. I only have five days left before I go home and I want to soak up every little piece of London that I can.
I sat on a bench in Bloomsbury square wandering to myself if there was anything I would do differently if I were given the time again, or if there was anything I regretted. Quite simply, the answer is no.
I have done everything I could, should and wanted to do...of course, there's a list about a thousand miles long of things that I haven't done yet and in reality, probably won't be able to do, but I don't get sad at that thought. Rather, it is an incentive to return.
Over the last five months I have collected a psychological library of memories.
The very first day, I arrived by bus from Oxford and got into a little black taxi. The driver's accent was cockney thick and we spoke about his son, and his desires to be an artist. He turned off the meter and drove me through the city of London, pointing out landmarks and the best pubs in town. I had forgotten about him until today when I saw a girl my age lugging 2 large suitcases into a taxi as the driver helped her, tipping his cap.
Or there was that time that I had to take myself to the hospital following a bad fall on a dance floor the night before. I didn't know it at the time, but I was hobbling through East London in the pouring rain with ripped tendons. Awful at the time. Hilarious upon reflection.
I drank cocktails out of teapots and I learnt that scotch whisky blend is not my friend, but is a truly perfect ice-breaker.
I danced in the kitchen to Macklemore, in an underground bar to The Cure, in a grungy pub to The Beatles and in a confusing Brick Lane club to incoherent mash ups of techno and Frank Sinatra.
I drank Pimms in Hyde Park whilst watching adorable babies chase butterflies and lovers paddleboat on the lake.
I celebrated Guy Fawkes night, and made an absolute fool of myself on tower hill bridge.
I wandered through the halls of world famous galleries and museums, and looked at some of the most breathtaking art I have ever...and probably will ever, see.
I trawled through endless markets, spent too much money on vintage clothing and ate too much food from international cuisine stalls.
I had bagels at 2am more than once.
I made friends with people from all across the world; some of whom are now my best friends and who I am going to miss more than the city itself.
London, you've been incredible, and I will miss you the moment the wheels of the plane leave your ground, but it's time to go home for now. I am looking forward to seeing my family, my friends and my socially retarded dog.
Last word goes to Samuel Johnson:
She that brings to London a mind well prepared for improvement, though she misses her hope of uninterrupted happiness, will gain in return an opportunity of adding knowledge to vivacity, and enlarging innocence to virtue.
London is all consuming; it permeates your soul, it's rich with culture, personality and vitality. Every second spent in London is a second I have cherished, and no doubt every second spent away will be a second aching with longing.
Today I made the trip from my little dingy flat through the icy fog into the city to spend a few hours at Senate House Library. I sat at my desk for about 2 hours and wrote 1000 words about The Sublime. After that I began to feel restless, and peering out the window all I wanted to do was wander aimlessly around the city that I have fallen so deeply in love with over the last 5 months.
It really was incredibly cold today, and whilst my hands were numb and my lips frozen solid, I trailed through the streets of London. Coffee in one hand, shitty little android phone in the other. (So, apologies for the poor quality photos, I didn't have my Nikon on me today-these will just have to do)
I suppose listening to my "london playlist" really didn't help the situation, but I felt an odd mixture of nostalgia, melancholy and utter awe as I walked past buildings I have walked past a hundred times without looking twice, or sat in gardens I have only ever used as short-cuts. Sometimes it is not only important to take a few hours out to yourself, but it is necessary. I only have five days left before I go home and I want to soak up every little piece of London that I can.
I sat on a bench in Bloomsbury square wandering to myself if there was anything I would do differently if I were given the time again, or if there was anything I regretted. Quite simply, the answer is no.
I have done everything I could, should and wanted to do...of course, there's a list about a thousand miles long of things that I haven't done yet and in reality, probably won't be able to do, but I don't get sad at that thought. Rather, it is an incentive to return.
Over the last five months I have collected a psychological library of memories.
The very first day, I arrived by bus from Oxford and got into a little black taxi. The driver's accent was cockney thick and we spoke about his son, and his desires to be an artist. He turned off the meter and drove me through the city of London, pointing out landmarks and the best pubs in town. I had forgotten about him until today when I saw a girl my age lugging 2 large suitcases into a taxi as the driver helped her, tipping his cap.
Or there was that time that I had to take myself to the hospital following a bad fall on a dance floor the night before. I didn't know it at the time, but I was hobbling through East London in the pouring rain with ripped tendons. Awful at the time. Hilarious upon reflection.
I drank cocktails out of teapots and I learnt that scotch whisky blend is not my friend, but is a truly perfect ice-breaker.
I danced in the kitchen to Macklemore, in an underground bar to The Cure, in a grungy pub to The Beatles and in a confusing Brick Lane club to incoherent mash ups of techno and Frank Sinatra.
I drank Pimms in Hyde Park whilst watching adorable babies chase butterflies and lovers paddleboat on the lake.
I celebrated Guy Fawkes night, and made an absolute fool of myself on tower hill bridge.
I wandered through the halls of world famous galleries and museums, and looked at some of the most breathtaking art I have ever...and probably will ever, see.
I trawled through endless markets, spent too much money on vintage clothing and ate too much food from international cuisine stalls.
I had bagels at 2am more than once.
I made friends with people from all across the world; some of whom are now my best friends and who I am going to miss more than the city itself.
London, you've been incredible, and I will miss you the moment the wheels of the plane leave your ground, but it's time to go home for now. I am looking forward to seeing my family, my friends and my socially retarded dog.
Last word goes to Samuel Johnson:
She that brings to London a mind well prepared for improvement, though she misses her hope of uninterrupted happiness, will gain in return an opportunity of adding knowledge to vivacity, and enlarging innocence to virtue.
Tuesday
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