tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54875862024-03-07T14:40:54.236+05:30Trivial MattersOleFor the GypsiesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.comBlogger461125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-66076466053749867582013-10-21T20:22:00.000+05:302013-10-21T20:22:03.580+05:30Call for Submissions : BLOWup Angkor 2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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For the last couple of years, we've (along with my friend <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/kapildas">Lenskap</a>) been playing with the idea of interesting public of photography in the streets of various cities. BLOWup Angkor now in it's 4th year is our flagship, where we descend on this Cambodian town with pictures from all over the world, all to pay homepage to <b><a href="http://www.angkor-photo.com/" target="_blank">our favorite photo-festival</a></b>.
We are calling for submissions for exhibitions and projections through an open call and thought you guys might be interesting in sending us something :)<br />
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<i>"BLOWup Angkor is an outdoor photographic exhibition which runs along side the 9th Angkor Photo Festival on the streets of Siem Reap Cambodia. Spread over the city the exhibitions explores the intersection between the street and photography.
This one will be like no other, and we hope for no shortage of things to do and see— we’re talking 35 exhibitions and street installations, 10 talks and projections, and 1 nighttime show and tell .</i></div>
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<i>Our projections & exhibitions are selected from a call for submissions; we want to ask you our community of photographers across the globe to share their work with the people of Cambodia.</i></div>
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<i>Send your submissions in at theblindboys@gmail.com</i></div>
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<i>Last Date for Submissions : 12th November"</i></div>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b> <a href="http://blowup2013.tumblr.com/post/64674572708/blowup-angkor-is-an-outdoor-photographic">[Look here more information on the festivities]</a></b></span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-28707351612718333832012-10-12T17:09:00.000+05:302012-10-12T17:13:15.321+05:30Diary from Murshidabad<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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October 2010, Murshidabad District, Bengal, India</h2>
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No particular intention had brought me a Murshidabad District in Bengal, I might search my excuses and I can fabricate several. Making some pictures for a friends mother's NGO perhaps, a made-up magazine assignment etc. The simple matter is that I had decided one morning to leave and gets on a plane and then a car and reach there that very night. I had it in mind to travel around for two weeks and then go back.<br />
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What was I looking for. I don't know myself. Looking back at myself through time, I have partly become a stranger to myself, feeling things utterly lost to me now. And yet I can explain him better than my present self, I was buried under my skin. My life was unfocused and directionless, I still had not made a home for myself after several half hearted efforts. All my belongings then were divided between an un-used flat in Bangalore and I spent months wandering around from one spare room in my parents house to another, mostly in Delhi. It had begun to feel as if I had never lived in any other way, nor will I ever settle down. It seemed that I couldn't seem to connect properly with the world. I felt this not as a failure of the world but as a massive failing in myself, I would have liked to change it but I didn't know how. In my clearest moments I had thought that I had lost the ability to love, people or places or things, most of all the person and place and thing that I was. Without love nothing has value, nothing can be made to matter very much. It wasn't a good place to be if you're a observer of the world, a photographer if you must insult me.<br />
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In this state travel isn’t celebration but a kind of mourning, a way of dissipating yourself. So I move around from one place to another, not driven by curiosity but by the bored anguish of staying still. I spends a few days in riding pillion on a borrowed motorcycle - from village to village taking pictures of village women stitching kantas for a calendar. It was a simple village,I couldn't produce the necessary awe to the simplicity of such a life. Even early in the day the air is heavy and humid, green leaves burn with a brilliant glow, perhaps the pictures are just better then words.
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Thank you for bearing with me.
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<!--page-wrap--></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-24634860984173763222012-10-10T17:23:00.001+05:302013-10-16T15:41:12.294+05:30Mornings on the Dal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Srinagar, Kashmir</h2>
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Azure tipped mountains reflect a thousands hues of blue into the waters of the tranquil shadowy weed-ridden Dal lake. Morning prayers from the white domed single minaretted mosque, the Hazaratbal, resound through the till then silent confines of the valley. Darker tones give way to gentle blues as our boatman Lasa, surges the shikara forward with his spade shaped oar. Dawn awakens to the music of a thousand birds and ducks swim by, as a fisherman waits patiently to catch his breakfast. A brown cheeked kingfisher swoops into the air and then maneuvers itself skimming the water for gnats as dapchicks make morning dives into the water in pairs disappearing and reappearing with tiny tadpoles in their beaks.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-15437115915589599622012-10-01T23:54:00.000+05:302012-10-01T23:57:27.056+05:30The Bhopal Legacy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">At around midnight on Dec. 3, 1984, a Union Carbide plant manufacturing the pesticide Sevin suffered a terrible malfunction, accidentally releasing poisonous gas into the air over Bhopal, India. Thousands of people died that night and in the days, weeks and months that followed. Since then, very little of the toxic residue around the plant has been cleaned up, while the local population suffers from a high rate of birth defects, cancer and other maladies that activists say are tied to the pollution.</span><span style="border: 0px; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">[ <b>First : </b>In 1989 Union Carbide agreed to pay $470 million to settle its liability in the accident. Five years later, the company sold its controlling interest in the site to its Indian partners. In 2001 Union Carbide itself was acquired by Dow Chemical. Today, the site, including its control room, above, are under the stewardship of the Madhya Pradesh government.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <b>Second</b> :Saira, 16 years,this body is underdeveloped because of severe cerebral palsy and multiple muscle dysfunction that appeared shortly after his birth. They continue in JP Nagar a colony on the South Wall of the former UC factory.]
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/8043183826/" title="The Legacy of the Bhopal Gas Tragedy - 3 by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="The Legacy of the Bhopal Gas Tragedy - 3" height="237" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8314/8043183826_79a99be9a2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">[<b>First</b> : On the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the disaster, the Bhopal Gas Tragedy Relief and Rehabilitation Ministry, which is currently responsible for the plant and its grounds, has declared that the facility shall be opened to the public for a week — in order, says a spokesman, "to get rid of the apprehension and misconception that the chemical wastes lying in the factory are still harmful and are polluting the groundwater of nearby localities."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <b>Second</b> :Among the many organizations that have sprung up to help the victims of the disaster is the Chingari Trust, which offers assistance, education, physiotherapy and advice to children whose parents lived through the disaster or who have become ill from consuming contaminated water.]
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">[ <b>First</b> : Union Carbide 2012.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <b>Second</b> : Many of the families living near the disaster site are poor, urban slum dwellers unable to afford the cost of relocating. In a city where safe drinking water is already a scarcity, they are forced to drink the affected water lying underneath their homes.]</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">[ <b>First</b> : Union Carbide 2012.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <b>Second</b> : Sachin, 18,centre after getting out while playing street cricket. He is paralyzed from waist down from birth,in Oriya Basti, one of contaminated slums.]</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Originally commissioned and published in Yard Magazine, France.
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-22881490265919660512012-09-13T12:29:00.000+05:302012-09-13T12:31:33.513+05:30Kubuswoningen, Rotterdam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Just some stuff I've been looking at - the Kubuswoningen in Rotterdam - designed by architect Piet Blom and based on the concept of "living as an urban roof": high density housing with sufficient space on the ground level. Especially good if you're looking for a travel agent for a trip to Cape Verde.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-90727293756064232732012-08-28T02:06:00.000+05:302012-08-28T02:11:02.713+05:30Amsterdam Itinerary - Hortus Botanicus & Natura Artis Magistra<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">There is something magical about being allowed into a secret garden. This is particularly true in a city like Amsterdam where, although it is said that residents rarely draw their curtains, the impassive façades of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century canal-side houses give little hint of what is concealed behind. I guess I found one - except for this one cost 6 euro 50.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">[The Tropical Enclosure, Hortus Botanicus]</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/7852504470/" title="Untitled by lecercle, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8435/7852504470_fa5db5312a_z.jpg" width="640" height="427" alt="Untitled"></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-48470929638568956052012-08-23T22:42:00.000+05:302012-08-23T22:42:25.025+05:30A study of Urban Landscapes in Amsterdam.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A exploration of contempory dutch landscapes in and around Amsterdam. I'm trying to present photographs of spaces redeveloped in the old docklands - built in the last few years (away from the old merchants’ villas, the Jordaan’s charming lanes or the lush Vondelpark ) . These suburbs have all experienced, at their own scale, a significant expansion - as a push toward building new housing. A small exercise and walking around looking at these new age topographical landmarks.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/7845267718/" title="Kid on IamAmsterdam Sculpture, outside Station Sloterdijk by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Kid on IamAmsterdam Sculpture, outside Station Sloterdijk" height="427" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8433/7845267718_27109c748f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/7845268752/" title="Untitled by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="427" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8441/7845268752_9216c7ef42_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/7845270680/" title="Untitled by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="427" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8442/7845270680_d1862ca42d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/7845342370/" title="Blijburg Aan Zee, Amsterdam by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Blijburg Aan Zee, Amsterdam" height="427" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8292/7845342370_00b293b182_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-6869035359996533962012-08-22T15:15:00.000+05:302012-08-22T15:15:05.769+05:30Erik Kessel's Album Beauty at the FOAM Amsterdam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/7836994574/" title="Display of Erik Kessel's Album Beauty @ Foam Amsterdam by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Display of Erik Kessel's Album Beauty @ Foam Amsterdam" height="226" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7264/7836994574_2822c46c45_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
[Erik Kessel's Album Beauty at FOAM Gallery]<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4d4d4d; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.983333587646484px;">Erik Kessels a collector of nostalgic found photography and in his spare time run an advertising agency (or the other way around). One of his previous exhibitions at the FOAM Gallery in Amsterdam- Mr Kessel</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> printed out what is supposedly a million pictures (allegedly every photo uploaded onto flickr on 1 day) and dumped them in Amsterdam’s Foam Gallery.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9AILfNUIjhJHJ9ChrvWSjOqetLHv2pflNeOe421K9fLz0utxQ-6OM_sOZtNPDbMlB4jEfHujGhnDeMZCvJfzl-B6dwk8SLvFQ2oaLpYxtJ88wTj5eLs8ovVAnnZecFTt2dDb/s1600/erikkessel.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9AILfNUIjhJHJ9ChrvWSjOqetLHv2pflNeOe421K9fLz0utxQ-6OM_sOZtNPDbMlB4jEfHujGhnDeMZCvJfzl-B6dwk8SLvFQ2oaLpYxtJ88wTj5eLs8ovVAnnZecFTt2dDb/s320/erikkessel.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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[One Day’s Worth of Flickr Uploads]
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Such is Erik’s mode for presentation is again unorthodox - but jubilantly fun once again pushing the curated experience of a photographic exhibition. As a show, <i>you're in Alice of Wonderland </i>exaggerated scalee and interactive elements as viewers are invited to walk about this “visual anthropology” of intimate and ambiguous family photos that Kessel’s has collected.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip40g8eHF4ona4MBUu6ONUzduVXgsNxyRClJE4zKz79n5VoCp-y-Iz3sqJRmhZe77x3GQCZNBEwH6-dQFnqJ2fpoKkHTFvdWAq_vyotneOP4Oh71ctJLTbMymcmYiPgQ-2KWTz/s1600/eric-kessels-Untitled-3-C-Anonymous.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip40g8eHF4ona4MBUu6ONUzduVXgsNxyRClJE4zKz79n5VoCp-y-Iz3sqJRmhZe77x3GQCZNBEwH6-dQFnqJ2fpoKkHTFvdWAq_vyotneOP4Oh71ctJLTbMymcmYiPgQ-2KWTz/s320/eric-kessels-Untitled-3-C-Anonymous.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #4d4d4d; font-family: Georgia, Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.983333587646484px;">It is an “ode to the vanishing era of the photo album” today we mostly see photographs increasingly as snapshots in exclusively digital spaces. Viewing them as huge wallpaper-like surfaces, the blemishes and scars of their physicality are also enlarged, hinting at the impermanence of the medium but also the personality of such things. And, as portraits and group shots reach human scale, it’s easy to imagine the viewer as part of the sequence of photos.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4d4d4d; font-family: Georgia, Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.983333587646484px;">You don't see so many interesting in the far flung outposts such as Delhi - so it was quiet a breath of fresh air. There were even quiet a few Indian photo albums on display from 60s and 70s.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4d4d4d; font-family: Georgia, Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.983333587646484px;">"Joanna was born in breach candy hospital today. She looked beautiful" - someone had scribbled text to the picture.</span></span></div>
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<em style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Album Beauty</em> will be on show until October 14.</div>
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Further reading:</h4>
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<a href="http://www.foam.org/press/2012/erik_kessels" style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); border-bottom-style: solid; border-width: 0px 0px 1px; color: #33ccff; display: inline-block; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">www.foam.org/erik-kessels</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-27172260374999052442012-04-22T16:57:00.000+05:302012-04-22T16:57:42.206+05:30On the Road in Rajasthan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6996686601/" title="On the road in Rajasthan. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="On the road in Rajasthan." height="533" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6213/6996686601_bfd1764cf6_c.jpg" width="800" /></a>
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<i>"Singh struck out in his own direction by using color photography, disparaged at the time, rather than black and white. More than a dozen books followed, each focused on different parts of urban and rural India; the images in this show are drawn from them. The documentary-style vision that emerges is neither sugarcoated, nor abject, nor controllingly omniscient." </i><br />
- <b>Holland Cotter</b>, "Raghubir Singh: Retrospective", New York Times, <a href="http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9D02E3DE153EF935A15752C1A9629C8B63">26 November 2004.</a><br />
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It's hard to have an impersonal view on photographing India. Many of my western counterparts seem to travel around the country looking for a peculiar Indian abjection - sometimes even a '<i>beauty as seen in abjection</i>'. I find it a fundamentally western concept. I'm with Raghubhir Singh on this one - beauty as seen in abjection - which suited neither him nor India, hence he created his own Indian style and aesthetic - "<i>a documentary-style which was neither sugarcoated nor abject, nor controllingly omniscient.</i>"<br />
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On recent trip to Rajasthan, I tried and failed perhaps to channel Raghubhir. The Tata Indica fails as an camera obscura when compared to the ambassador.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6850573348/" title="On the road in Rajasthan. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="On the road in Rajasthan." height="533" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7210/6850573348_e24fca0be1_c.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6996680805/" title="On the road in Rajasthan. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="On the road in Rajasthan." height="533" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6112/6996680805_99c8cff818_c.jpg" width="800" /></a>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6850608080/" title="On the road in Rajasthan. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="On the road in Rajasthan." height="533" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7240/6850608080_be1b1224a0_c.jpg" width="800" /></a>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6996717029/" title="On the road in Rajasthan. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="On the road in Rajasthan." height="533" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6237/6996717029_f866601bec_c.jpg" width="800" /></a>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6996705757/" title="On the road in Rajasthan. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="On the road in Rajasthan." height="533" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7079/6996705757_86b2e1c2c9_c.jpg" width="800" /></a>-<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6996749149/" title="On the road in Rajasthan. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="On the road in Rajasthan." height="533" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7103/6996749149_c84c88297d_c.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6850619848/" title="On the road in Rajasthan. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="On the road in Rajasthan." height="533" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7238/6850619848_c240291656_c.jpg" width="800" /></a>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6850612734/" title="On the road in Rajasthan. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="On the road in Rajasthan." height="533" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7220/6850612734_4a42df43c9_c.jpg" width="800" /></a>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6996695051/" title="On the road in Rajasthan. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="On the road in Rajasthan." height="533" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6110/6996695051_2cd1e0f793_c.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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Well atleast I've learnt to fall out of love with western abjection and let the story tell itself.
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com3Narlai, Rajasthan, India25.3158941 73.534381625.287186600000002 73.4948996 25.3446016 73.57386360000001tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-61330716510512613412011-12-22T15:37:00.003+05:302012-10-06T17:15:44.962+05:30Scenes from a Comfortable Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5597313838/" title="A Comfortable life by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="A Comfortable life" height="424" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5262/5597313838_bbb52dcda5_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<b>Last winter. Life in Delhi. Various Formats. All film.</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5590967187/" title="A Comfortable Life by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="A Comfortable Life" height="640" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5109/5590967187_0159c2c417_z.jpg" width="619" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5597314694/" title="A Confortable life by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="A Confortable life" height="424" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5264/5597314694_302a17469f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-87403724282637004802011-12-06T16:08:00.001+05:302011-12-06T17:07:04.222+05:30Provoke. and ellicit a reaction.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465237191/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7006/6465237191_e786b290b0_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's a simple game. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wear your blurry-little-ricoh around your neck, be confrontational and leave your flash ON. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Get into people faces, don't be scared. Take a picture. Show them the picture. Leave. Repeat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A new delhi night club is perfect place for this little game - a game you play for your own drunken entertainment</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465181151/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7007/6465181151_923ce79ed0_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Provoke. <span style="font-size: large;">and ellicit a reaction</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465187363/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7022/6465187363_493124ef22_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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In 1968, a group of Japanese photographer including the likes of <a href="http://www.thememagazine.com/stories/daido-moriyama/"><i>Daido Moriyama</i></a>, <i><a href="http://www.japanexposures.com/2009/03/04/yutaka-takanashis-field-notes/">Yutaka Takanashi</a> </i>and <i>Taki </i>published a magazine-style photobook called <i>Provoke. </i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">An attempt to capture a momentary reality (not represent it but <i>be</i> it)</span></blockquote>
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The first volume of <b><a href="http://www.steidlville.com/books/197-The-Japanese-Box.html">Provoke</a></b> begins with their manifesto, as ascribed to photographers <a href="http://www.americansuburbx.com/2010/06/takuma-nakahira-portrait-of-takuma.html">Nakahira</a>, Taki and Takananshi and poet Takahiko Okada. <br />
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Here is an excerpt<br />
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<i>The image itself is not a thought. It cannot possess a wholeness
like that of a concept. Neither is it an interchangeable code like
language. Yet its irreversible materiality–the reality that is cut out
by the camera–constitutes the opposite side of language, and for this
reason at times it stimulates the world of language and concepts. When
this happens, language transcends its fixed and conceptualized self,
transforming into a new language, and therefore new thought.</i><br />
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<i>At this singular moment–now–language loses its material basis–in
short its reality–and drifts in space, we photographers must go on
grasping with our own eyes those fragments of reality that cannot
possibly be captured with existing language, actively putting forth
materials against language and against thought Despite some
reservations, this is why we have given Provoke the subtitle,
“provocative materials for thought.” </i></blockquote>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465215057/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7146/6465215057_dba1361ee9_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Sorry I'm going to be and shape the only tangible reality available to you my viewer. Well unless you were there.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465204539/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7151/6465204539_2c85ddf048_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465167241/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7007/6465167241_e776603688_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465148271/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7024/6465148271_2b1fba5d7f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465253845/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7162/6465253845_761375268b_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465258923/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7015/6465258923_a3df964795_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465196183/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7159/6465196183_f069657a66_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465270653/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7019/6465270653_07b74b5452_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465153899/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7029/6465153899_d9542c1470_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
Yomit
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465209955/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7153/6465209955_f8e4c3ce03_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465223053/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7023/6465223053_da81cffc86_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6465285749/" title="Sirroco by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Sirroco" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7144/6465285749_65ae0e6854_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-65489903759296664042011-12-01T16:37:00.001+05:302011-12-01T16:51:09.983+05:30Guernica Magazine : Iron Lady<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/6435658831/" title="Guernica Magazine - Iron Lady - December 2011 by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Guernica Magazine - Iron Lady - December 2011" height="607" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7145/6435658831_81033002e7_z.jpg" width="589" /></a><br />
<br />
A picture I took of a senior member of the Meira Paibi is in this months <b><a href="http://www.guernicamag.com/features/3282/mathur_12_1_11/gu">Guernica Magazine, in a story about Irom Sharmila</a>.</b><br />
<br />
<i><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/sets/72157617292280758/with/3452798484/">Here are some more pictures from trip from Manipur in early 2009</a> </i>and the <i><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/sets/72157617292280758/with/3452798484/">blog post</a></i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3452798484/" title="Meira Paibi by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Meira Paibi" height="427" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3299/3452798484_8e5eb9d0ed_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-81607719173321830322011-11-22T14:48:00.001+05:302011-11-22T14:56:41.686+05:30Metal Works from Batuva<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5903032750/" title="somewhere in russia by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="somewhere in russia" height="640" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5152/5903032750_eb88a05e32_z.jpg" width="449" /></a></div>
<br />
found photograph. <br />
<br />
photographer : unknown.
i love it.<br />
<br />
I found it here</div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4972046205/" title="Abandoned Textile Factory, Ludza by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Abandoned Textile Factory, Ludza" height="427" src="http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4106/4972046205_9000ba7264_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
An abandoned textile factory in Ludza, Latvia.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4973067887/" title="Abandoned Textile Factory, Ludza by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Abandoned Textile Factory, Ludza" height="427" src="http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4131/4973067887_87337fc26d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Translation</b> [thanks to <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mezze/">Mezza</a>]
<i>Metallo Obra Batuvajushi</i> - Metalworks from a firm from/in/named Batuva etc </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0Ludza, Ludzas novads, Latvia56.545137 27.727037956.405085 27.411180899999998 56.685188999999994 28.0428949tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-89477861931127277192011-11-21T14:01:00.001+05:302011-11-21T16:35:08.898+05:30Colors / Black. Bombay<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just a small vignettes from Bombay. Short early this year.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
<i><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">That darkness is what I think about
when I think of black. I was going to write, the color black, but as
every child knows black isn’t a color. Black is a lack, a void of light.
When you think about it, it’s surprising that we can see black at all:
our eyes are engineered to receive light; in its absence, you’d think we
simply wouldn’t see, any more than we taste when our mouths are empty.
Black velvet, charcoal black, Ad Reinhart’s black paintings, black-clad
Goth kids with black fingernails: how do we see them?</span></i></blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
1
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5643172306/" title="Bombay/. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Bombay/." height="427" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5002/5643172306_1a187932a4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
2
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5642635893/" title="Bombay/. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Bombay/." height="427" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5147/5642635893_944645754e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
3
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5642679541/" title="Bombay/. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Bombay/." height="427" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5104/5642679541_2fa15f31fc_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
4
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5643225858/" title="Bombay/. by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Bombay/." height="427" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5028/5643225858_67c237d2a7_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0Mumbai, Maharashtra, India19.0176147 72.856164418.7774257 72.5403074 19.2578037 73.172021399999991tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-73632075377615389882011-11-15T13:46:00.001+05:302011-11-15T14:04:12.171+05:30What The Remains of the Watson Hotel<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5150555488/" title="The Remains of the Watson Hotel - 2 by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="The Remains of the Watson Hotel - 2" height="461" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1193/5150555488_58610bfc9b_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
One of my favourite buildings, the cursed Watson Hotel. Shipped from England. The first talking pictures in Asia were shown here, and where Mark Twain wrote about the crows outside his window. All now lies in ruin - subdivided into small crummy offices - the Chungking Mansion of South Bombay.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5149947577/" title="The Remains of the Watson Hotel - 1 by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="The Remains of the Watson Hotel - 1" height="471" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1129/5149947577_8de9c91e20_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
[Remnants of the Old Ball Room]<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="secondPar">
Built in 1871, the hotel was once a majestic
structure ahead of its time that served as the grandest hotel in Mumbai –
then Bombay.</div>
<div class="thirdPar">
Designed by Rowland
Mason Ordish, who is known for his detailed work on the single-span roof
of St Pancras station, and named for its original owner, John Watson,
it was the height of colonial opulence.</div>
<div class="fourthPar">
"Watson's
is supremely historically important," said Abha Narain Lambah, a
conservation architect with the Urban Design Research Institute in
Mumbai.</div>
<div class="fifthPar">
Mark Twain stayed at the hotel in 1896, where he wrote about Bombay's crows from his window in *Following the Equator*. </div>
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
[via the <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_2004615636">"<i><span style="font-size: small;">Mumbai's Watson's Hotel to shut 140 years after being shipped from England </span></i></a><br />
<a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/india/5437686/Mumbais-Watsons-Hotel-to-shut-140-years-after-being-shipped-from-England.html"><span style="font-size: small;">" telegraph.co.uk</span></a>]</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjtLdAhP10rSZCMt1d2IUwWC9lh0xk47FCvNJHWeGIb8Na_WVWniXFfv2a-J98rYii95tT6t4jmpLftxqpxoM5ufXO9-XAQ7fBA3dPCW31l1c84jyvApXa3QvuUfQfJV7HxpSK/s1600/Watson%2527s+Hotel+Bombay+%2528Mumbai%2529+-+19th+Century+Photograph.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="599" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjtLdAhP10rSZCMt1d2IUwWC9lh0xk47FCvNJHWeGIb8Na_WVWniXFfv2a-J98rYii95tT6t4jmpLftxqpxoM5ufXO9-XAQ7fBA3dPCW31l1c84jyvApXa3QvuUfQfJV7HxpSK/s1600/Watson%2527s+Hotel+Bombay+%2528Mumbai%2529+-+19th+Century+Photograph.jpg" width="768" /></a></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com1Kala Ghoda, Fort, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India18.9307214 72.833084918.9157014 72.8133439 18.9457414 72.8528259tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-69819420386264157652011-11-15T00:48:00.001+05:302011-11-15T00:49:34.480+05:30America in Medium Format<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<a href="http://blindboys.org/blog/?p=136"><strong>[Read also Dharavi in Medium Format]</strong></a>
I bought the Mamiya a new lens 50mm super wide. I've sort of fallen in love with the results.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4053203147/" title="America on Medium Format by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="America on Medium Format" height="428" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2531/4053203147_20006bab10.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
[A man looks shifts through bargain art at a Thrift store in Boston. It's also the first place (and probably last) I've ever bought an alarm clock.]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4053203907/" title="Untitled by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="" height="428" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2521/4053203907_13525166ba.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
[A truck stop for the bolt bus to Boston. I ordered a burger, the bacon was soggy.]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4053203819/" title="Untitled by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="" height="428" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3525/4053203819_05e0482d56.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
[If James Dean wasn't blonde. Harvard Bookstore, Boston]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4053203465/" title="america120-2-2 by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="america120-2-2" height="428" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3510/4053203465_6c321c2dff.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
[A Girl at Spring Street. When I took one train too early.]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4053203339/" title="america120 by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="america120" height="428" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2680/4053203339_79912905c9.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
[Boston. Umbro ( Sons Construction)]</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-76554713166649078022011-11-14T20:27:00.001+05:302011-11-14T20:29:47.829+05:30Kashmir's Lost Generation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3742924504/" title="No time for love. Srinagar. Kashmir by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="No time for love. Srinagar. Kashmir" height="333" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2672/3742924504_edd58a8485.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
["Jaddu ki" (Magic) Cigarette - usually hash]<br />
<br />
As Harzatbal's evening call for prayer resounds over the Dall, Ajaz walks through one of Srinagar's many martyrs' graveyards.
The young man in worn-out jeans and a body hugging tee swaggers past unkempt tombstones counting friends and family that are buried there - there were 21 of them. He tells me how he can still see the smiling face of Mushtaq, who was his senior at school, who would have been 27 this January. He tells me about another friend, Javed, who was his parents' only son. The day he died, he was wearing Ajaz's clothes. Javed had come to our house in the morning through the and changed there. Javed was 23, and Ajaz still remembers even six hours after his death, when they took him for burial, blood still oozed out of his bullet wounds. Every epitaph standing on a grave tells a story - a tragic story of a generation.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3742015377/" title="No time for love. Srinagar. Kashmir by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="No time for love. Srinagar. Kashmir" height="333" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2607/3742015377_8d73a8b127.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
[Ajaz, 23 has no interest in studying or any real quantifiable aspirations, except for having fun. He is apathetic to the political situation. He hangs out at 8 ball snooker den, a place where he can the violence and bandhs of the old city.]<br />
<br />
Ajaz lingers for a bit, starring-glassed eyed into a distance, till he eventually snaps out out of it.
"Enough of this tragedy, let's go have some fun."
Ajaz is part of Kashmir's "lost generation", an entire generation of youth who have growing up with in Kashmir ravaged in 20 years of turmoil. They are a generation numb with no real ambitions or motivations, just pre-occupied with a struggle for survival. Ajaz spends his days at 8 Ball, a smoky snooker den at Lal Chowk, in the city center. The parlour is inhabited by 15 to 20 year olds, innocent and trying hard not to be. Some were tougher than others, but there was a limit to how much trouble they can find at 8 Ball. This is their home turf, a place they escape the tear-gas and rubber bullets of the old city - to gamble and smoke all too many cigarettes. Some of the older boys like Ajaz sometimes walk to the football ground nearby showing off their hair, their sunglasses, their cigarettes, their tattoos and sometimes even their girls.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3745287927/" title="No time for love - Srinagar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="No time for love - Srinagar" height="313" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2472/3745287927_61309f54b7.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
[A parlour scene at 8 ball snooker den. The parlour is inhabited by 15 to 20 year olds, innocent and trying hard not to be. Some were tougher than others, but there was a limit to how much trouble they can find at 8 Ball]<br />
<br />
<br />
Ajaz puts flame to a little block hashish and watches it crumble into his palm. Sajid, a boy with the hard cheekbones and a black jacket with a woven trim, empties tobacco from a cigarrette with his long and delicate fingers. He looks mad for some reason but continues on diligently. If you look at them closely you get a sense of over grown teen-age urgency and escape, the sense that all these details-- the part in the hair, the length of the fingernails, the jacket trim, the cigarette grip -- matter greatly.
"Smoking up is Haram. But I can't go through a day without rolling one. It help us forget," Ajaz tells me as Sajid grunts in approval.
Ajaz's cellphone rings to a polyphonic rendition of song from Ghajini, it's Farhana. They flirted awkwardly on the phone, the conversation seemed no different than one two lover would have in Mumbai. There was some romance in Srinagar after all. Ajaz first stopped at Broadway Cinema, a bombed out theater the upper floors of which have been now converted into a bar. A couple of beer cans were procured and cigarette cartons refurbished. He then waited at the earlier decided rendezvous point. Farhana waited till she was in the rickshaw still she let Ajaz light her cigarette. She was dress respectably in a salwar kameez but she admitted that she only like wearing jeans and tops at home.
"I want to go to Delhi or Mumbai, so that I can wear a skirt and be free - just like in the movies," she told me as the rickshaw sped toward the Dal Boulevard.
Ajaz waited till they were on the Shikhara to suprise Farhana with a can of beer. She popped it open and sipped as the boatman frowned yet at the same time maneuvered them further away from the orthodoxy of Srinagar. They steel a kiss as a dark pummel of smoke makes itself visible over the city.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3745290589/" title="No time for love - Srinagar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="No time for love - Srinagar" height="313" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3513/3745290589_80899627d9.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
[Ajaz and Sajid smoke at the Fair Grounds in Sringar. The conversation meandered, as it always does in Kashmir, into what they call the ‘Kashmir masla’ — the issue. “Keep us this side or that side, how does it matter, we just want to get on with our lives,” said Sajid]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3746082476/" title="No time for love - Srinagar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="No time for love - Srinagar" height="313" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2662/3746082476_8abc3a4db0.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
[Kashmir finds itself in a new the grips of a new found religious orthodoxy, where it is not socially excepted for young Kashmiri women to wear western clothing. Where as young men have almost abandoned pheran for t-shirts and their salwars for jeans.]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3746084186/" title="No time for love - Srinagar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="No time for love - Srinagar" height="313" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2580/3746084186_2bc9f7c30a.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
[Scuffles break out often at The 8 Ball snooker parlour in central Srinagar. They are usually results of bets gone wrong, the older boy usually break them up before it gets ugly.]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3742052481/" title="No time for love. Srinagar. Kashmir by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="No time for love. Srinagar. Kashmir" height="500" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2497/3742052481_52fbb0f3c7.jpg" width="333" /></a><br />
<br />
[Farhana, 21 is Ajaz's girlfriend - sips her beer as she laughs on a Shikhara on Dal Lake. It is one of the few places she can be herself away from the prying eyes of Srinagar's moral police. Farhana drink and smokes discreetly and thinks the two habits to be both an act of rebellion and modernity.]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3746081904/" title="No time for love - Srinagar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="No time for love - Srinagar" height="313" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2597/3746081904_44c71f3f39.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
[A broken fountain behind the Hazratbal Mosque in Srinagar. Signs of violence are never far]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3745289055/" title="No time for love - Srinagar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="No time for love - Srinagar" height="313" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3505/3745289055_796e25eec6.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com1Srinagar34.0836581 74.797368133.9784501 74.6394396 34.1888661 74.9552966tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-42968733946313943442011-11-14T19:43:00.001+05:302011-11-14T19:47:03.222+05:30Few hours of being in drenched sunshine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hong Kong 2011<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
In one night<br />
And one morning<br />
That seemed like forty<br />
Days and forty nights,<br />
The raindrops came---louder<br />
And louder---breaking<br />
Mountains, roofs, and<br />
Bridges, knocking glass<br />
Building into their<br />
Foundations, winding<br />
All birds and plants.<br />
<br />
Storms<br />
Open the dark rooms<br />
Of Heaven---<br />
Everything drops out<br />
Of clouds in buckets.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5951437784/" title="Last train to Tin Shui Wai by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="Last train to Tin Shui Wai" height="328" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6009/5951437784_ba613aee8c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5950885499/" title="Untitled by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="" height="328" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6144/5950885499_c3f19f4b03_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5950889717/" title="Untitled by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="" height="328" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6144/5950889717_67049f7c13_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5950892871/" title="Untitled by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="" height="328" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6126/5950892871_2ba201a252_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
ENJOY!
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com0Hong Kong22.396428 114.10949722.161534500000002 113.79364000000001 22.6313215 114.425354tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-82745631009131090282011-08-29T13:08:00.001+05:302011-08-29T13:09:58.647+05:30In the Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i>Pigeons come </i><br />
<i>To me and I</i><br />
<i>Think of your </i><br />
<i>Duplicity.</i><br />
<i>Though for food</i><br />
<i>and such they crowd,</i><br />
<i>Touching them is not allowed.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">All images taken in Cubbon Park, Bangalore</span></i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5677223165/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title=". by lecercle, on Flickr"><img alt="." height="266" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5142/5677223165_68bf88490c.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com1Cubbon Park, Sampangi Rama Nagar, Bengaluru, Karnataka, India12.9747421 77.5929808999999312.9688211 77.587595399999927 12.980663100000001 77.598366399999932tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-43072085255949895162011-02-09T15:32:00.003+05:302011-02-09T16:16:05.371+05:30Modern Day Taxidermists<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5430013003/" title="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 404px; height: 398px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5253/5430013003_a33293cb16.jpg" alt="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar" /></a><br /><br />The world outside is largely inconceivable. Yet here we are making pictures - pigeon holing people as quick after-thoughts. I guess all we have turned into in the end as we bleed our visual cliches are modern day taxidermists. Shooting, cataloging, and projecting our ideas and beliefs on our pictures. What we should be doing instead is leaving the inconceivable in its crudest form.<br /><br />Here are some pictures I took on a walk from Chawri Bazaar in Old Delhi to Kinari Bazaar where I incidentally ran out of film. I had two cups of tea on the way, I had every intention of getting lost but failed.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5430619472/" title="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 402px; height: 405px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5212/5430619472_31ecb237a4.jpg" alt="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5430620386/" title="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 401px; height: 406px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5217/5430620386_c28e3bb82c.jpg" alt="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5430013373/" title="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 399px; height: 417px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5011/5430013373_39876eb51b.jpg" alt="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5430619132/" title="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 400px; height: 406px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5137/5430619132_878297f915.jpg" alt="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5430620642/" title="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 402px; height: 404px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5053/5430620642_8dbecdf3c3.jpg" alt="Walk from Chawri Bazaar to Kinari Bazaar" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-24453276110173542572011-01-26T12:24:00.006+05:302011-01-27T11:10:54.154+05:30The Sullied Fibre Glass Windows of ISBT<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">[notes from a series I'm shooting on Modernist Buildings in Delhi]</span></span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5260731472/" title="The Death of Modernism by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 430px; height: 288px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5248/5260731472_8b0be7149b.jpg" alt="The Death of Modernism" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">[Main Departure Hall, ISBT, New Delhi, 2010]</span><br /><br />Bus terminals always induce this feeling of nausea in me. It might be the diesel fumes, but come to think of it - vaporous diesel has never really bothered me. It is probably the pent up anxiety of a long journey to come. I'm sure it has everything to do with school buses.<br /><br />Walking through the subterranean levels of <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">ISBT</span>(Inter State Bus Terminal) Kashmere Gate, my hypochondriac self, swallows tufts of dust to put that feeling in my stomach straight. Dim-lit bare concrete columns block out the the mid-day winter sun. The cacophony of grunting state transport buses mixes easily with the apprehension of waiting travelers and the slow high pitch calls of bus conductors. It is hard to walk through the soothe and shadows and not perceive , perhaps wrongly an element of danger. It is a different feeling from the nausea, this one hits you a little higher in the diaphragm and makes your heart beat a little faster. It's difficult not to feel alive in a bus terminal in India.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5260731294/" title="The Death of Modernism by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 430px; height: 288px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5130/5260731294_b36e2b52e6.jpg" alt="The Death of Modernism" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">[The bus arrivals and departure levels of ISBT, 2010]</span><br /><br />I climb a level higher into the waiting area and the world changes. You see glimpses of the bloodlines of Le Corbusier's vision in Rajinder Kumar's design. Broken fabricated chairs and derelict ticket counters fall into a certain insignificance under the rhythm and scale of the three storied columns, rising like a great forest in the dulcet light. It is this light, filtering from above from sullied fibre glass windows, that draws my eyes upward to the higher reaches of mildew covered concrete. There is never politeness in scale, it always meant to be imposing and remind you of your insignificance. Only welcoming when seen in whole, even then it hits you with a certain decibel level. They should be playing Wagner on loud speakers but instead the only thing you hear is the tired shuffle of weary travelers.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5260731156/" title="The Death of Modernism by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 431px; height: 290px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5169/5260731156_b9e14368b6.jpg" alt="The Death of Modernism" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">[The geometry of the conical light windows sullied by Delhi's dust and grime, 2010]</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5260122973/" title="The Death of Modernism by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 428px; height: 287px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5130/5260122973_19bfc66162.jpg" alt="The Death of Modernism" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">[The upper atrium of ISBT. 2010]</span><br /><br />Up a narrow ramp and you bear witness to the building's facade. A geometry of concrete windows, stacked rhomboids rise over a terrace to the sky. On the inside the light get dimmer as the angular parallelograms go to work painting incomplete triangles of light and shadow. The light is where sleeping men in patched up blankets find solace from the Delhi winter. I emerge onto the terrace again and into the winter sun. Where bored <span style="font-style: italic;">babu-log</span> huddle together in a small circle, eating their lunches.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5260123083/" title="The Death of Modernism by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 431px; height: 289px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5164/5260123083_3c253110c6.jpg" alt="The Death of Modernism" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">[The geometry of the facade of ISBT, where babu-log eat their lunches, 2010.]</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/5260123225/" title="The Death of Modernism by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 430px; height: 288px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5164/5260123225_3bc6aa4c9a.jpg" alt="The Death of Modernism" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">[The geometry of light and shadow in incomplete triangles painted by the front facade of ISBT, 2010]</span><br /><br />Lying around me is the mish mashed mosaic of the Old city. Remnants of the now broken wall of the walled city, remind me Delhi is an ancient city older then Rome. Yet the this medieval wall co-exists with the modernist geometry of ISBT and the even newer glass fronted metro station a few meters away. The irony being that Delhi is also a new city, it's collective memory not more then 100 years old. What I hope to do through this series(and coming posts) is plot the anxieties of the '<span style="font-style: italic;">nation building</span>' generation of 50's and 60's through modernists spaces, outcrops of the Nehruvian dream and see what relevance they hold visually in in 2010s.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-35311048470109922242011-01-25T09:45:00.005+05:302011-01-25T22:46:31.047+05:30Hello Again.<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3833278858/" title="Dharavi on Medium Format by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 429px; height: 361px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2598/3833278858_8c92daaae1.jpg" alt="Dharavi on Medium Format" /></a><br /><br />I started this blog, I can safely say many years ago as means for an exploration. First there were the faltering steps of a confused engineering dropout. I was new to this world and there was much my sheltered middle class upbringing had not deemed to teach me about myself and the country I was now an adult citizen of. Having falling off the well institutionalized path, that would have eventually promised me a job and a share of great Indian middle class dream - I had to teach myself by the ways of the university of life. I spent the last year of my teenage youth in my room at my parents house in Bombay, pretending to be a photographer and sometimes even giving my mind the liberty to think I was a journalist of some sort but the only thing I was sure I was - was a failure. The only salvation I found was on the comment sections of this very blog.<br /><br />The second more important salvation came on the streets of Bombay. The pictures were at best mediocre studies of neighborhoods and class. I could easily say, large parts of the city I had lived in almost all my life were an invisible mass and like most of middle class India I barely interacted with it beyond my class. The camera is a great tool to build that personal intimacy, it gives one license to talk to or at the very least acknowledge people and places you would otherwise miss. I was earnest and coupled by my mediocre insight - my pretending paid off and instead of writing my IGNOU economics paper I shot my first assignment for <span style="font-style: italic;">Tehelka</span>. <span style="font-style: italic;">Rahul Bhatia</span> who how works at Open, wrote the story, ironically it was titled, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Dating a Gorilla</span>" on soap stars in Bombay. My life with photography has been like 'Dating a Gorilla', or perhaps an orangutan with a gorilla like grip.<br /><br />I must admit to having made some mistakes since, the foremost being plagiarizing a travel piece I wrote for the Hindustan Times on Byllakuppe, in Karnataka - a mistake that made me concentrate more on photography and even more on the art of the multi-level photo-story.The rest is pretty much in my archives, except for the last 2 years when I decided to say goodbye to this place.<br /><br />After some thought I have decided to restart Trivial Matters. I return to it eight years after I started it, 25 and a confident and I would like to think a respected practitioner of the photographic art. I have just moved to Delhi and it will help me piece together and articulate my stories better. I hope to find the same salvation here, that I found many years, that made me believe I could do something and was more then a nineteen year old failure.<br /><br />I'll leave you with some pictures from my last two years. More posts to follow.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3742935602/" title="No time for love. Srinagar. Kashmir by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2616/3742935602_c24100f846.jpg" alt="No time for love. Srinagar. Kashmir" /></a><br />[Lost Generation of Kashmir, 2009]<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3746083308/" title="No time for love - Srinagar by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 403px; height: 253px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2642/3746083308_f30b738865.jpg" alt="No time for love - Srinagar" /></a><br />[Lost Generation of Kashmir, 2009]<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3844699575/" title="Koshy's Again by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 403px; height: 269px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2588/3844699575_d0155b8739.jpg" alt="Koshy's Again" /></a><br />[Girl at the Cashier' at Koshy's,Bangalore. 2009]<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4053203635/" title="Untitled by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 425px; height: 365px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2478/4053203635_326242245d.jpg" alt="" /></a><br />[Man Inspect Painting at a Thrift Store in Boston, 2009]<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4353393054/" title=". by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 428px; height: 286px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4047/4353393054_17d0040b1d.jpg" alt="." /></a><br />[Girl at Chai Shop in North Goa, 2010]<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4425112519/" title=", by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 403px; height: 269px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4051/4425112519_64bd397834.jpg" alt="," /></a><br />[The night I stayed over, 2009]<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4947119023/" title="Kaushik and Noor by lecercle, on Flickr"><img style="width: 400px; height: 411px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4099/4947119023_d990269f03.jpg" alt="Kaushik and Noor" /></a><br />[Kaushik and Noor at Gangaram Hospital, 2010]<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/4866167536/" title="Fish Out of Water by lecercle, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4074/4866167536_92a74771cd.jpg" alt="Fish Out of Water" height="500" width="333" /></a><br />[John Second in a Ezerzala - Ludza, Latvia. 2010]Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-49349535140687290222009-07-14T01:32:00.002+05:302009-07-14T01:47:11.112+05:30Goodbye TrivialMatters6 years on, I've decided to shut this blog down - or well put it into a deep freeze cryogenic chamber kind of like MJ would have liked it.<br /><br />Don't worry you'll see me on the internet (<a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/">flickr</a>,<a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://twitter.com/lecercle"> twitter</a>,facebook, email etc.) but not just here.<br /><br />For those 2-3 people (hi mum and dad) who still want to see me blog - I've bought myself a time-share at <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://blindboys.org/blog/">blindboys.org/blog</a> [<a href="http://blindboys.org/blog/?feed=rss2"><span style="font-weight: bold;">feed</span></a>]<br /><br />Speaking of <a href="http://blindboys.org/"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Blindboys.org</span></a> its an excellent place - grab a feed and link to us<br /><br />Here is a little about us.<br /><br /><blockquote>Blindboys.org is a magazine exploring Photography and Shared Territories in and from a new ever-changing Asia. In addition to being a platform for new visual perspectives from the continent, Blindboys.org also dreams of creating a community for a better synthesis of art, media, and Asian cultures leading to a holism of new Asian visual identities.<br /><br />In its current form you can discover photography from Asia and various points of view: documentary, fine art, photojournalism, poetic, personal, abstract, human, and street photography. We gear ourselves to be a free platform for inclusion, collecting perspectives that otherwise would have been left under told. Taking these perspectives on to the streets to foster better dialogue and taking the photographic medium into communities to galvanize and curate a visual self expression.<br /></blockquote><br /><br />Anyways, it was great sharing all this with you. Till we meet again.<br /><br />I guess this is the first post in 4 years with no picture in it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-48468156610075910542009-05-14T16:09:00.004+05:302009-05-14T16:23:03.467+05:30An excuse for a website<p><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Finally</span> after many years of procrastination I have a website - which I will use mostly as a web-portfolio for the pictures I've taken.</p><p><br /><a title="Attempt at a website by lecercle, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/3530672866/"><img style="WIDTH: 439px; HEIGHT: 276px" height="313" alt="Attempt at a website" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3556/3530672866_f024745783.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br /></p>Presenting<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><strong><a href="http://www.akshayphoto.com/">http://www.akshayphoto.com<br /></a><br /></strong></span></span><br />You would remember most of the work but I have included some photographs that I haven't shared at any of my other web-real estate. Namely an essay on the <a href="http://pa.photoshelter.com/c/akshaymahajan/gallery/Gulabi-Gang/G0000SuZkjBEbH.E/"><strong><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Gulabi</span> Gang</strong></a> (expect a post on them soon).<br /><br />Enjoy ! Any feedback is appreciated.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03198959729143779613noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5487586.post-2308115657455328122009-05-06T14:20:00.006+05:302009-05-07T23:35:30.499+05:30Running the risk of sounding cliche<a title="Untitled by lecercle, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/2890740154/"><img style="WIDTH: 439px; HEIGHT: 293px" height="334" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3038/2890740154_4afa492a13.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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<br />Walking around India, I always seem to imagine her to be populated with characters R.K Narayan could have dreamed up, characters who could be fussy, tricky, harmlessly rebellious or philosophical — but who were always believable. Running the risk of sounding cliche she(India) teems with life, abounds with color. The joy of wandering any street, peer through windows or to push open a door is to encounter a character and through it India's character.
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<br /><a title="Doing the Homework- Pune India by lecercle, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lecercle/2890724772/"><img style="WIDTH: 439px; HEIGHT: 307px" height="334" alt="Doing the Homework- Pune India" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3236/2890724772_fc2805fd3e.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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