Sometimes, just sometimes I read something I feel the need to share. This is one of those times …
The Park Bench
By Author Unknown
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,
For the world was intent on dragging me down.
And if that weren’t enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, “Look what I found!”
In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn – not enough rain, or too little light.
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,
I faked a smile and then shifted away.
But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise,
“It sure smells pretty and it’s beautiful too.
That’s why I picked it; here, it’s for you.”
The weed before me was dying or dead.
Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red.
But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and replied, “Just what I need.”
But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,
He held it mid-air without reason or plan.
It was then that I noticed for the first time
That weed-toting boy could not see he was blind.
I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
As I thanked him for picking the very best one.
“You’re welcome,” he smiled, and then ran off to play,
Unaware of the impact he’d had on my day.
I sat there and wondered how he managed to see
A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.
How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he’d been blessed with true sight.
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see
The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.
And for all of those times I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see the beauty in life, and appreciate every second that’s mine.
And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
And smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in hand,
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.
The Park BenchBy Author Unknown The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree. Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, For the world was intent on dragging me down. And if that weren’t enough to ruin my day, A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play. He stood right before me with his head tilted down And said with great excitement, “Look what I found!” In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, With its petals all worn – not enough rain, or too little light. Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I faked a smile and then shifted away. But instead of retreating he sat next to my side And placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise, ”It sure smells pretty and it’s beautiful too. That’s why I picked it; here, it’s for you.” The weed before me was dying or dead. Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red. But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave. So I reached for the flower, and replied, “Just what I need.” But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, He held it mid-air without reason or plan. It was then that I noticed for the first time That weed-toting boy could not see he was blind. I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun As I thanked him for picking the very best one. ”You’re welcome,” he smiled, and then ran off to play, Unaware of the impact he’d had on my day. I sat there and wondered how he managed to see A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree. How did he know of my self-indulged plight? Perhaps from his heart, he’d been blessed with true sight. Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see The problem was not with the world; the problem was me. And for all of those times I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in life, and appreciate every second that’s mine. And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose And smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in hand, About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.
Gorgeous then, gorgeous now.
With Valentines Day coming up there’s no better time than now to push our makeover shoots at Antonio’s premier salon, Great Barr every Saturday in February. The shot above has been our GF promotion image for the last 18 months and although I still love it I think it may be time for a change. With the inspiration from the SWPP convention still ringing in my ears; Quality products secured and new ideas for the coming year sparking around my head, the upcoming month will be spent in search of the right models and locations to implement this years game plan.
7.30am Thurs morning, Starbucks, Hammersmith, London.
I’m sitting watching the world go by whilst on route to the SWPP Convention at the Novotel just across the way. Steams of people pour across the pedestrian crossing just in front of me and a young girl no more than eighteen stands under cover of the building, selling newspapers out of reach of the pouring rain that is colouring this scene in ever increasing shades of black.
Fifteen minutes earlier I had been walking from the municipal car park head down, hands in pockets and camera safe in its bag over my shoulder.
7.15am and all of life is here.
It’s still dark, the pavement is shiny black with rain water and all around me are people; a sea of umbrellas, all going to the same place, but going their own way, I past a delivery van full of flowers, delivery man collar up against the weather and a small deli / sandwich shop just setting up for the day busying themselves within a room so small that three costumers would fill it. In the distance the tree’s of Hammersmith are full of lights adding to the shine of a pavement that is mainly obscured by the minions on there way to work.
On the opposite side of the road there’s a small advertisement poster of David Cameron airbrushed to within an inch of his life proclaiming a safe and prosperous nation under he’s leadership, this seams to be in stark contrast to all the dark and wet of the surroundings..
Had this been a street photography project I could have happily spent an hour here filling my boots, however I have a seminar to attend and there is a cup of coffee with my name on it only a couple of hundred years away.
Cities I think, have a unique charm in the rain. A couple of years ago Val and I were in Florence, an ancient city the center of which is pedestrianized and whilst there we experienced a down pour that rendered the city a wash with umbrellas not far removed from the scene in Hammersmith. The photo above was taken shortly after that down pour.
2009 images
First blog of 2010. Let me firstly wish you a happy new year, new decade, new future and say that I am looking forward to sharing my journey this year with you, dear reader.
I love January, for the same reason I have a thing for train stations
( something I think I’ve touched on before ).
Because at this point in the year anything could happen, the world is
our oyster and with more ideas for this year than you can shake a
stick at I for one can’t wait to get underway.
First port of call for me is the SWPP convention in Hammersmith next
week, these events are generally full of ideas and inspiration; only
20 percent of which is retained after the event.
So this time around probably won’t be any different but hey, I can but
try.
As ever should you wish to see more of my word please feel free to check out my main site www.johnfisheruk.com
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A couple of weeks ago on a rainy and cold Tuesday night Val and I had the pleasure of visiting The Jam House in Birmingham for the Ben Drummond Acoustic Sessions.
The purpose of our visit was to see Raven Vandelle, local hero’s striving for well deserved success, this is definitely one of the perks of being a photographer; having an excuse to go to midweek gigs and watching talent at close quarters.
My about me page on my
website is entitled ” Bohemian at heart ” which ain’t a bad description, but another word that springs to mind lately is romantic, I quite like the sound of that ” old romantic at heart “, this came to mind this week after a chance hearing of R Kelly’ s classic “Bump and Grind”. Yes I can hear the note of disdain from here dear reader, there’s nothing romantic about bumping and grinding I hear you cry, but the suggested intimacy in this song does lead my mind to more romantics notions .
Australian based wedding photographer
Yervant points to old European films as sources of inspiration, romance being a key player in many European classics .On our quiet Sundays Val and I occasionally take a stroll through Birmingham and check out the galleries, it maybe art imitating life, but the work of artists like,
Rob Hefferan and Fabian Perez I find inspiring, even though these images may not all be obviously romantic in there subject mater. For example Fabian Perez paints the prostitutes from his fathers brothel (and yes we do appear to be back where we started ) not a typically romantic idea, but from his, at the time young view point ” beautiful women who could seduce a man “simply by lighting a cigarette” must have seem very romantic indeed.
Romance then it seems is in the eye of the beholder/receiver, but as a photographer what can be more romantic than kissing a form with light and capturing the image in camera .
( Is that too cheesy? I can never tell ).
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It’s amazing how this year has panned out, one minute I’m excited about the coming months, the next I’m in the thick of it enjoying the challenge and the thrill of the chase, then in a moment of charm after the storm I find myself again looking at all the possibilities open to me with the wide eyed expectation of a child waiting at a train station en route to the seaside ( that is when I was a child, before that invented motorcars ) and my current situation does feel akin to that.
I have acquired a love of train stations and airports over the years, although I’ve never been one for train spotting , sitting for hours in a cold station collecting numbers. And ok not one for anoraks either ( I’m more of a duffel coat man myself ).
I think it’s the idea of the anticipation, stations generally being places where people collect to travel some place else looking forward to something new.
So here I am standing at my virtual station in anticipation of the next leg of my journey, but where to next ?
It seems lately I have been doing more than my fare share of music photography. Last weekend I had the pleasure of trying to make cold and at times snowy Swindon look like California, not the easiest of tasks, but hopefully I think we managed it. A sunny day in California may have been tricky, but your average gray overcast California wasn’t to difficult (but believe all you read, California is really cold and bleak, honest !! ). My subject was singer song writer Arron Luther and the images are to be use to promote has lasted recording. hope you like them.
