What would the title of your photography autobiography be?

This post was inspired by Neale James of the PhotoWalk Podcast, who posed the title question.

In the Australian winter of 2024, I decided to spend less time working and more time doing what I enjoy. I negotiated Fridays off from work and started a weekly focused practice in the photographic genres I most love: insect macro and candid street.

The Australian city in which I live, Sydney, has the chronotype of a teenager, typically not exhibiting anything more than the necessary rote signs of human life until around lunchtime. On the other hand, insects begin their quotidian insect-y business the second their haemolymph thaws in the warmth of our east coast sun. Except in insect diapause, my Friday photographic walks loosely follows these rhythms.

In the morning, I head out in my local suburban bushland or to one of the Sydney public gardens to photograph some of the beautiful and bizarre tiny creatures who live there.

Honeybrown Beetle, Mount Tomah Botanic Gardens, Blue Mountains, Sydney © Kari Price
Palm Planthopper Nymph, Taronga Zoo Gardens, Sydney© Kari Price

By noon, it’s often warm enough for all but mad dogs and crazy corporate joggers to do anything but seek out shady respite, and having walked about 7km by this stage, I head into the Sydney CBD for some lunch.

But here’s the thing: early on in my Friday jaunts, I discovered a café that serves the most delicious coeliac-friendly burnt Basque cheesecake, and then later, one that freshly bakes to-die-for gluten-free chocolate croissants, and more recently one that dares you to choose between the softest, creamiest double-layer chocolate mousse cake and the crunchiest, chewiest espresso butter, almond & chocolate roulade, or to indulge in a bit of both! And because coeliac-friendly fare in the ‘burb’ cafes where I live is generally heavy on texture (the kind that sticks to your teeth) and boringly from the same commercial bakeries, on Fridays, I abandon healthy lunches and eat delicious city cake instead.

Then, having consumed all the calories (and more) that I burnt on my morning walk, I attempt to burn more by heading into the Friday afternoon city crowd to photograph some of the beautiful, quirky and bizarre Sydney street life.

Mischief in the Making, Chinatown, Sydney© Kari Price
Marmite, braving the vegemite-loving streets of Sydney© Kari Price

So, while I’m unlikely to ever write an autobiography of any kind, least of all a photographic one, if I did, perhaps an apt title would be On Fridays I Eat Cake.

Delicious mini GF Black Forest cake at the NSW Library Cafe, Sydney© Kari Price

Mabel

Mabel’s mother had warned her to stay in the middle of the leaf, not to stray towards the edges, but being Mabel, who created her own adventures, she had gone exploring. Now, her life literally hanging by a thread, she wished she had listened.

But…what strange, giant creature is this that’s come to rescue her?

Torpedo Bug, suburban bushland, Sydney, Australia. 1/60, f7.1, ISO 200, flash, handheld single shot

Jethro

Jethro had enjoyed his dream sleep, comfily suspended upside-down by a silk thread throughout the starlit night. But now, out hunting his breakfast, he was on alert for the dumb, fluffy cat who frequented his patch of garden.

Fluffy-bum, as her Human called her, was hardly cunning enough to intentionally stalk him, but in an undiscerning act of curiosity, she might smack him into oblivion with a giant paw.

Just as well he has eyes in the back, front, and sides of his head

Jumping Spider in my garden, Sydney, Australia. 1/100, f7.1, ISO 200, flash, handheld

Imelda

Imelda, grumpy at discovering just that morning that only the male of her species grew wings, had a tussle with her dreadlocks iron. Now she was on her way to a plant sap festival, her hair a hot mess.

Cotton Mealy Bug, Sydney Royal Botanic Gardens, Sydney, Australia. 1/50, f5.6, ISO 200, flash, handheld,

Horace

Horace did not see the Human at first. He was too busy trying to extricate himself from the web of an orb-weaving spider in the silver spruce on the driveway.

But now they clocked one another…

Australian Stick Mantis, in my garden in Sydney, Australia. 1/25, f3.2, ISO 100, ambient light, handheld,

Mr Tait

As I ride pillion through this primeval forest, I don’t think
of the ancient trees, how they give us the smooth paper leaves
on which we love to press down with granite
made from the centre of the earth; 
nor of the fungi beneath, how one fruiting body brings us certain death
and another alters our consciousness
with its saprotrophic strangeness;
nor of the native bees, how their furry-bodied industries
sustain our food security and survival
as a species;

but instead

of Mr Tait, whose smile 
was a warning, and how he taught
us to bookmark a book with its own pages
without damage, and how he showed us how to mitigate
injury from possible falls when using a chair 
as a ladder, and how he use to call 
all the boys Fathead!

©️2020 K Price

Snow Monkeys of Jigokudani

The friendly, helpful staff at Kanazawa Station Visitors’ Centre advised me not to attempt a day trip to the Snow Monkeys from Kanazawa. Not unsound advice, but I ignored it anyway (as I only had time for a day trip) and caught the 8:58am Hakutaka567 Shinkansen (bullet train) from Kanazawa to Nagano. On arrival at Nagano Station, after asking directions, I flew down a couple of escalators and bought a day pass to the Jigokudani Yaen-Koen. The pass included the return trip on the local Yukemuri express train (or the express bus) between Nagano and Yudanaka on the Nagano Dentetsu line, the local bus between Yudanaka Station and the park entrance, as well as admission to the park.

From the local bus stop to the park main entrance, it’s a short uphill walk along the road, and once you’re in the park, you climb a set of stairs, walk approximately 1.6km through the forest, and then climb another set of stairs at the end of the trail to reach the macaques.

The park’s visitor advisories stress that visitors ensure they wear appropriate footwear, but humans being what they are ignore advice when it doesn’t suit them (yes, I know, I ignored advice not to attempt the day trip), and I saw many people attempting to walk the snow- and ice-laden forest trail in the most ridiculous footwear, including one chap in sandals and socks.

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Forest trail to the Snow Monkeys © 2018 Karen Price

The walk is beautiful but quite treacherous even for those in sensible footwear. You need to watch out for iced sections; I saw people land flat on their backs without warning. And while the unfenced forest drop-off is not exactly sheer, it is precipitous, and you’d need rescuing with ropes if you slipped on the ice and disappeared over the edge, so a good sense of balance comes in handy. And bear in mind that you’re walking at altitude, even if it’s only 850m, so you need at least a basic level of cardiovascular fitness. Many visitors seemed to struggle along the way.

Is it worth it?

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Snow Monkeys © 2018 Karen Price

The monkeys are utterly fascinating to watch, particularly those bathing in sleepy bliss in the hot spring, and I wish I’d had the time to observe them for a bit longer.

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Japanese Macaque – Jigokudani © 2018 Karen Price

However, it’s not quite the scene of simian serenity depicted in the brochures. It’s not so much disturbed by the constantly scrapping, screeching macaque troupe romping about in the surrounding snow, but rather by their human cousins behaving badly. Contrary to the blurbs that advise that the monkeys ignore humans, this is not what I observed, and my guess is that the situation has developed due to our endless stupidity. The park provides many clear warnings to visitors to not bring packets or foods into the area and to not attempt to interact with the monkeys in any way, all of which were ignored by some people on the day I was there. I watched as a macaque went for a girl who attempted to retrieve a torn packet of junk food rubbish from him. Another bystander amused himself by throwing snowballs at the animal, which it blocked with a fascinating human-like action. And the way that macaque sat and stared long and hard after the idiot as he walked off down the path chilled me to the bone.

Jigokudani means ‘Valley of Hell’, and in Jigokudani Yaen-Koen, Hell is other people.

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Bliss © 2018 Karen Price

A few things to note if you’re planning a similar visit:

  • The JR Rail Pass is incredibly good value for getting around Japan (not to mention much more convenient and relaxing in comparison to flying), and I cannot recommend it enough. But it doesn’t necessarily cover all local train routes, so check beforehand (in my case, it covered all the local train trips I took except the local train from Nagano to Yudanaka).
  • Although the Shinkansen (bullet trains) are equipped with all the modern conveniences including impeccable toilets, many of the local trains do not have toilets, including the local train from Nagano to Yudanaka, so make sure to check, and take your comfort breaks before boarding.

Evocation of Art

‘Anti-mimesis is a philosophical position that holds the direct opposite of mimesis. Its most notable proponent is Oscar Wilde, who opined in his 1889 essay The Decay of Lying that, “Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life”. In the essay, written as a Platonic dialogue, Wilde holds that anti-mimesis “results not merely from Life’s imitative instinct, but from the fact that the self-conscious aim of Life is to find expression, and that Art offers it certain beautiful forms through which it may realise that energy.”.

What is found in life and nature is not what is really there, but is that which artists have taught people to find there, through art. As in an example posited by Wilde, although there has been fog in London for centuries, one notices the beauty and wonder of the fog because “poets and painters have taught the loveliness of such effects…They did not exist till Art had invented them.” ‘                                 Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life_imitating_art

 

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Nature creates art in the Dr Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden, Vancouver

I don’t agree with Mr Wilde; surely the fact that artists painted the fog is because they saw its beauty in life, and thus art imitated life in this case (chicken vs egg). But I concede that art provides us ways of seeing and appreciating life from a number of different perspectives which we may not otherwise notice.

Treasure Hunting

Shopping is one of my least favourite activities, so I usually try to avoid it. But when I’m travelling, I love to shop for small, unusual gifts for family and friends.

Shopping prep, Granville Island. Photo by Vi.Shopping prep, Granville Island. Photo by Vi.

My husband’s not an easy giftee. He has everything he needs, and although he doesn’t have everything he wants (who does?), my budget doesn’t extend to Beneteaus and Breitlings. So his gifts from my travels are somewhat (ahem) eclectic. This is the latest.

Miniature Solar-powered RainbowMaker designed by David Dear

It’s an elaborate yet simple piece of engineering (to delight a child of any age).

Rainbows…go, catch some.

 

 

 

 

 

Careful

My husband and youngest niece are the most observant people I know, invariably picking up on details which other miss. (They should start their own detective agency). I’ve learnt to be more observant, particularly in nature, from them both. But I’m still no master at it.

I was so busy taking photos in the Butchart Gardens that I almost missed this wormhole in the hedgerow to another galaxy. 😀

Take care to notice the world around youTake care to notice the world around you.

Is it just my impression, or is technology making the human race less observant?

Extraordinary

About 19 years ago, I spent two months working in Vancouver during the Summer but never got to Vancouver Island. However, in mid-November, I was fortunate enough to return to Vancouver  for work, and my brother said I absolutely must try and get to Vancouver Island and see the Butchart Gardens and Victoria. So on a gloomy, grey Fall day absolutely deluged with rain, I made the 90-minute ferry trip to the island, and, although I ran out of time to see Victoria, I managed to spend a wonderful few hours in the Butchart Gardens, an extraordinary place of beauty.

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Butchart Gardens

 

 

A Sure Sign of Autumn in the Antipodes

On a windless day, a rustle in the plane tree on the verge…

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..hmmm, the frangipani still has some buds and blooms…

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..but the Tibouchina’s showing signs of an imminent purple explosion…

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..and there’s that familiar plop followed by those chatty squawky squeaks…

..which can only mean one thing…

..I know you’re in there…

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Aha!

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And who do you think’s going to clean up your Autumn feasting mess?

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That’s your problem; I’m eating!

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