A BFA (or Bad First Attempt)

The Web being what it is, sometimes it's impossible to find what you're looking for and sometimes you stumble upon it like some kind of...well, great old stumbling thing.

Today I found this website, which has lots of little helpful hints for using Photoshop and other CS5 applications, and thought I'd try my hand at retro-ing a photo.

I already have a bit of software for giving photos a Polaroid effect, but doing it via Photoshop is a whole different kettle of fish madness. However, as I'm currently doing my best to avoid a certain (paid) work-related task, I thought I'd give it a shot. Past experience has taught me that Photoshop can buy me hours of procrastination time.

This tutorial assumes I know more than I do (a little awkward really but I thought I'd try and fake it). It took me about an hour, and I fudged a couple of the steps. Really, it's a BFA if ever I saw one. The result is not so much retro-pic as cheesy B-Grade movie poster-pic. I'm half expecting Bo Derek to walk into the shot with hair braids and a white bikini. Still, now that I've got my first attempt out of the way, I can move onto what will hopefully be a SBSA (Slightly-Better Second Attempt). 

That should eat up another hour at least. Procrastination-City...here I come.

x

PS pre-Photoshop pic below...

For anyone interested in the location, it's beautiful Geordie Bay, Rottnest Island.

Photographer's Assistant take 2

You may remember earlier in the year we skulked around Fremantle working as Photographer's Assistants to my lovely daughter - she with my Nikon and me with my iPhone (which incidentally, I am going to be calling my iCamera from now on as the phone function on this nifty little toy mysteriously stopped working about three days after the warranty ended. But, I digress...).

Fast forward to now and we are assisting again, only this time we are a few hours from Perth on a farm just out of Pingelly. Not-so-much farming happening here though, it's more your junk yard type farm. (Think Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome minus Tina Turner).

Our model was one of my daughter's very good friends ,who obligingly balanced atop old trucks in the highest-of-high heels. Me and my iCamera just kind of hung around, snapping away happily.

Good (if a little dusty) times.

x

The good ol' B&W treatment.

I love the effect of changing a colour photo to black and white. It looks moodier, more artistic and definitely more interesting. The one above started out as this...

...an ok shot, but nothing to write home about.

The black and white effect seems to clear out the clutter and focus on the best aspects of the shot.

These shots below look more dangerous in B&W...

They make South Freo look less like a beachside haven for middle-class hippies and more like the kind of place you wouldn't let your daughter go after dark.

Here they are in colour...

See what I mean? No sign of a seedy underbelly here.

What I'd really like to do is give my life the B&W treatment. Clear out the crap rubbish and make everything look a bit more interesting and artistic. 

What's not to love about that?

x

So, it's finally come to this?

Yes, I'm blogging about my dog. Slow photography day? Just a little.

Not-so-much as blogging about my dog, but blogging about the lens with which I took this picture of my dog. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a new 50mm lens. Purchased yesterday, a new Nikkor 50mm AF-S f1.8g lens. If that makes no sense to you whatsoever, just know that the 'S' is the all-important bit. It stands for Silent Wave Motor, which means on my D5000 I can auto focus. Happy day!

The next most important bit is the f1.8. It means I can have a pretty-big-thank-you-very-much aperture. Not as big as f1.4, but about $600 cheaper. So, again, happy day.

And yes, these shots are horribly over-exposed. White dog + sunny afternoon + big aperture = over-exposed shots. But, you see, now I can shoot (with some degree of focus) at f1.8, and dammit I'm going to use it. 

I should have wound it back a bit, so that my poor-old pooch didn't come out looking like she was in a snow storm. But, I just couldn't. 

And when I looked at these shots, I kinda liked them. A white blur with a black nose. It pretty-much sums up my dog. 

x

Not happy Jan....

I know, I know....such a grumpy title to go with these peaceful-looking images. The fact is, I am back at work. Long-service leave over with a capital Oh-Dear-God-I-Just-Want-To-Sleep-In. As nice as it is to see all the lovely people I work with, staying home and playing around with Photoshop (whilst wearing my slippers) was infinitely better. I spent lots of time designing stuff to hang on my walls. Artwork I guess it's called. Strangely, designing was easier than working out how to get it printed to any kind of standard. Still, quicker than you can say "I'll have another IKEA frame thank you very much", I have some custom-made designs framed and hung. I even have one hanging at my sister's place.

All of which relates not-at-all to these shots taken with my Nikon way-back-when my teenager was still little-ish. Having had no time at all to take pics (a fulltime job 'll do that) I was scrolling back with a hefty dose of nostalgia (and not a little grumpiness - hence the title), and came upon these. They were taken with my 50mm lens (the one I have trouble focusing), with my camera set to manual mode. I bravely waded into manual as I wanted a shallow depth of field with a fast-ish shutter speed. A good portion of them were terrible, but some were not-too-bad. And, addicted to Photoshop as I now am, I have made a little collage for y'all. 

So, tomorrow it's back to the real job - the one that pays the bills. But tonight, I'm happy to be back in my slippers one more time.

x

We camped, we fished, we left.

Last weekend we stupidly went on a camping trip. Don't get me wrong, we had a great time, it's just that sleeping on a half-inflated mattress in the damp and cold does not say "five star hotel" to me.

Surprisingly, we have all the camping gear. The big tent with three rooms and a "sunroom", the outdoor table and chairs, the kitchenette. And yet, there is just no escaping the fact that camping is dirty and sandy and not-at-all comfortable. So, why do we go?

Why do we do anything my friends?

Guilt.

My gorgeous and very practically-minded eldest daughter said one night at dinner, "We should go on  camping trip".

For me, the killer is the word "should". She may as well have said, "You two are bad parents who make no effort to get your children away from every electronic device known-to-man. If you don't get us out of the house and into some fresh air this instant I'm going to report you to child welfare."

It's that word "should", and all its guilt-ridden connotations.

So, we packed up and left for Moore River. It's a pretty little place on the coast about an hour and a half from home. 

We spent lots of time walking, taking photos, playing card games and getting rained on. And it was fun.

 In a stroke of parenting-genius we went fishing. There must be lots of good-parenting points in that. We caught nothing, but got our feet wet and sandy, got rained on again, and laughed more than we have done in a while. 

You see, the thing about camping is that there's no getting away from anyone. 

And that was lovely.

x

Therapy anyone?

I'll take baking over therapy any day. I was having a particularly bad day last week and decided to do some baking to turn it around. I'm not sure why baking can turn a bad day into a borderline-good-day, but it works for me, especially if the baking involves yeast. There is something about waiting for a dough to rise that fills me with great contentment. Strange, I know (perhaps it is therapy I need after all).

I took out my terrifically food-stained copy of Nigella's How to Be a Domestic Goddess, and turned to the chapter on bread and yeast. I knew ordinary-old-bread wouldn't cut it, it needed to be something sugary and sweet (remember that a significant part of the healing process is in eating the finished product). Enter.... Norwegian Cinnamon Buns.

Here is the recipe. If you have the book it's on page 322 (and if you don't, shame on you.)

Combine 600g plain flour, 100g sugar, half a teaspoon of salt and 3 sachets of dry yeast (21g). In another bowl whisk 100g melted butter with 400ml of milk and 2 eggs.

Add wet ingredients to dry and mix to combine. Next, knead the dough by hand or use a dough hook on your mixer. (I had to add extra flour here as my dough started out looking more like soup.)

Place the dough into an oiled bowl (I just used the mixing bowl from my mixer), cover with clingfilm and leave it to rise for about 25 mins. (Here's where I go and make a cup of tea and start to feel better.)

NB. Ensure no small, hairy animals go sniffing around your dough.

Once your dough has risen, take one third of it and roll it out to fit the bottom of a greased and papered roasting tin (33x24cm). Roll out the rest of the dough onto a floured surface to make a rectangle measuring 50x25cm. (Am I the only one who keeps a ruler in the kitchen?) Spread this dough with a mixture of 150g soft butter, 150g sugar and one and a half teaspoons of cinnamon.

Next, roll this into a sausage shape starting on the long side.

 Cut the sausage into 2cm slices and place each piece onto your dough in the tin, cut side up. They don't need to touch as they spread out quite a bit. Brush them with a beaten egg and leave to rise again.

(This time I'm wise to my dog's antics and I put them up high.)

Leave them for 15 mins, and then place in a hot oven (230 degrees) for 20-25mins. Nigella says not to worry if they 'catch' (by which I think she means burn). Mine did a bit, but looked almost identical to the picture in Nigella's book, so as advised, I didn't worry.

They were a sight to behold when they came out of the oven - buttery, glistening and smelling like a Norwegian Bakery (I'm guessing here, as I've never been to Norway, much less been into a Norwegian Bakery).

As soon as they had cooled enough to be touched, we dug in, adding extra butter for good measure.

And, yes, they were truly magical in their healing powers.

x

You may be the Chosen One, but just look at my lights...

There are lots of things that we put up with in our homes - the things that we'd like to replace one day when time/money permit. Some things are best lived with for a while until the right decision can be made. However, some things are just so brutally ugly, so poke-my-eyes-out-with-a stick ugly, that they cannot, and should not be borne. Example A, the box of light fittings in the picture above. Surely these could only be at home in a little-old-lady's house with doilies and musty smells.

Just to convey the true horror, here they are in situ.

Admittedly, the slightly phalic light globes are not helping matters.

So, where does one go when one is unsure of what to buy, but needs it quickly? Ikea of course. A quick trip on Saturday saw us return with bellies full of breakfast and three new light fittings. Two matching lights for the open kitchen and family area, and one for our Room of Requirement (another Harry Potter reference). Our Room of Requirement is at the end of our entrance hall and is a bit like a foyer (but nowhere near as grand or posh), with no real purpose at the moment  except to house our piano and a few other musical instruments. If you are unfamiliar with Harry's Room of Requirement, it gives you what ever you are looking for/need at the time (I think he wins as his is much more exciting).

But I digress. A few hours later and, thanks to a husband who quite happily tackles small electrical tasks (with the power turned off of course), we now have lovely lights that wouldn't know a doily if they were draped in one.

These in the kitchen and family room...

...and this spectacular number in the Room of Requirement.

I bet Harry is just a little bit jealous now.

x

Memory Lane (well, Silver Street actually)

There is a whimsical block of streets in South Fremantle which is so mouth-wateringly-pretty that it always makes me think of lollipops and sugary sweets (so what's new?)

If you are ever down that way, take a walk down Silver Street, along Coral Street and up Gold Street - even the names are magical.

I found these shots going through some old photos. I love the mustard colour of the combi van and the muted reds and browns. 

I may have blogged some of these before, but worth a trip down Memory Lane I think.

Just along Coral Street there is a tiny park (we called it Surfboard Park in honour of the one piece of play equipment).

Have a glorious weekend.

x
PS - a new header for my blog, made with the program I love to hate - Photoshop. 

Isn't it romantic?

At first it was romantic - the way the leaves would quietly drift down from the pecan tree. I had images of my family, wrapped in scarves and wooly mittens raking leaves into piles in the back garden, and then trotting inside for hot chocolate. You get the picture?

Well, do not be fooled. The romance has gone. There is no hot chocolate to be found - only me, out there again, raking, raking, raking. 

I wish I could tell you that this shot was taken a week ago, when there were still plenty of leaves on the tree. No, I took this picture today, after raking up another lawn-full of leaves, the leaves that fell on my nice, tidy lawn during a three hour period when I was out yesterday. I came home to find the entire lawn covered. Looking up at the tree, I half expected it to be completely bare, having lost its leaves Whomping-Willow style (that's a Harry Potter reference for those of you who are wondering what I'm talking about). But, no, plenty of yellow leaves still hanging on, and a frightening number of green ones that seem to think it's still Spring. Oh dear.

Today's effort...

...even Tess looks confused and perturbed.

I've left them in a pile on the lawn, unsure of what to do with them. I had been raking them into the garden beds, but am alarmed to find that the garden beds are now about a foot higher than they were a week ago.

Hmmmm. This tree had better give me a lot of pecans come nut-season.

x