Submission and skilled poet

Sooo, the final session of the photo course went over my expectations. Of course everyone was nervous as f*ck and some even said that their pics weren’t that good anyway, so the lowest expectations was set in beforehand. Everybody delivered though, and I must say that from only using Lightroom for two weeks I got a bit of a hang to it. The group had pizza and wine ( wine = very instant boost for the self confidence) before we had a seat and continuously watched everyones best shots, frame by frame.

I think my photographic skills has improved heaps. To be honest, I’m a little embarrassing to watch my pics from the community night in my portfolio. I had no idea what I was doing, and I popped the ISO up so high every single noise is noticeable. But hay, I gladly share my mistakes to you guys, I’m just happy to see my improvement over all. Entering this jungle of new knowledge is really empowering and I’m grateful for that change.

Speaking of change! My street photography trip to Melbourne went well. I actually submitted all my final top best pics from that trip. I will post some of my submission in my portfolio. I tried to limit myself for a focal length of 35 mm the entire trip. Somehow I found that limiting myself actually makes me more creative. I also had a silent promise that I would go up to street artists and let them tell me their story, how they ended up where they are now. Since I’ve never done that, I was brutally nervous. Heart. Beating. Fast. I feel so privileged in my position, and asking for their story makes me feel… guilty. I know I got nothing to be guilty of, we are all different with different outcomes in life.

I met this poet, writing a poem in any topic of your choice in 5 minutes. Angelina had a manual typewriter in front of her and a sadness to her that I really wanted to capture in a portrait. So I did what a normal Scandinavian would do: I circled around her for a while to increase my courage, and then I went for it. She was such a sweetheart, and made me a fantastic poem from only my brief story of how I got to Australia. Topic she got was “change”:

The whimsical tides
mirror our lives, yet the years
lack the depth
of the ocean – she knows this
she seizes the chance
to dance; dizzy and gracious
to a tune of her choosing,
embracing the freedom of being strange
The treasure in newness,
a blank slate here
in this chessboard city,
she pauses for beauty
and poetry.


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