Earthquake Fatigue

There are probably many definitions of "earthquake fatigue". Every Cantabrian probably has their own interpretation of the term. Each is probably correct.

The original red zone, which, after Feb 22, 2011, was pretty much the massive area of city and land enclosed in the four avenues, has been shrinking daily as buildings have been demolished, spaces have been cleared, and regular human beings migrate back into the CBD and surrounding environs. Yesterday, the red zone became even small with the opening of a section of Cathedral Square. Pretty soon, the red zone will consist of a fence around the crumbling Christ Church Cathedral.

I am earthquake fatigued. It's not about the moving house; it's not about our driveway being dug up and having to park on the street for three weeks just as the frosts start; it's not about still having to add 20 minutes to any trip to any part of town. Those things and many more make every day a pain in the ass, but they are not the core of my earthquake fatigue.

Every now and then I decide to take a wander down town in the hopes of getting some photos, perchance even some photos of something interesting (to me). But I'm running out of subjects. There are only so many photos one can take of demolished buildings, and lord knows I've taken a few. I'm over demolished buildings. They used to be fascinating. Interesting. Topical. Now they're all just boring. Depressing. Old news.

The CBD is depressing. Certain factions would have us believe it is coming alive. I'm not convinced. There's nothing pretty in the CBD. ReStart mall is a smaller version of the shopping that was in the CBD before - boutique, expensive, niche. The Gap Filler installations are unique and inspiring, but they seem to be temporary, or poorly attended. There are splashes of colour...overshadowed but a dark depressing destruction.

So I walked the circle of the new cordon, looking for those things that jump up and scream to be photographed. Sadly, they are almost non-existent.

Most places are unrecognisable. I stood on street corners and couldn't for the life of me remember what used to be in that space. Or that space. Or that one.

One place I did recognise. We had dinner here, and watched a show. I have no idea what this place was called.

Now it's a shell. One of many shells. Empty. Meaningless, except for a tinge of sadness.

I seem to remember some controversy with this building, but...it may have been another one. There is so much controversy over so many buildings I don't care any more about insurance and heritage quibbles.

Regent Street. What were they thinking? Great fanfare about its reopening, as if shopping had returned to the stricken CBD. Yeah right. Most of the shops are still empty. Some are still run down and damaged. It's still a construction site. At either end of this "picturesque" street are demolition sites. It's dusty. If you leave your latte uncovered for any amount of time you have to scoop off a layer of debris before you can take another mouthful. 

What were they thinking????

The nicest part of being in Regent Street was meeting up with an old friend who is working on a new exciting project and wants me on board.

If this is how the CBD will be returned to us - one stagnant street at a time - I'll stick to the comfortable, stress-free malls.

And don't get me started about this place. It hasn't changed (it seems) in two and a half years. Politics, religion, money. It's a joke. Both sides are a joke. Everybody's talking, nobody's listening. And every time the place hits the news we have to put up with the droning monotone of the Mostly Reverend Matthews. He really needs to get some elocution lessons. And a personality.







The stroll was boring. The only people on the streets were disaster tourists and the six people who still work in the CBD. The empty spaces all blend together into one sink-hole of nothingness. I don't know the actual numbers but it seems there is more not there than there. That's disconcerting. I can't imagine how much more disconcerting it might be for someone who grew up in those streets.

I'm tired of living in a city that in parts looks like Beirut. I'm tired of waiting in traffic. I'm tired of walking and driving on bumpy cracked stony roads and paths. I'm tired of hearing about EQC dramas on Campbell Live. I'm tired of our garage flooding every time it rains (that's not necessarily because of the earthquakes, I just thought I'd say it). I'm tired of hearing trucks and jackhammers and diggers everywhere I go. I'm tired. I am suffering from earthquake fatigue.

Christchurch Earthquake Memorial 2013

   Tears flowed freely at the Earthquake memorial on Friday (22 Feb 2013), and only the bleakest of souls would have refused to shed their own at some point during the day. I shed a little tear when I wrote a short message to a long lost friend earlier that morning. And while I had a lump in my throat when the representatives of the first responders got spontaneous applause as they laid their wreath, I didn't really shed a tear until this guy (right) laid his wreath.

He was the first of the "public" attending to put flowers on the memorial. Then, all of a sudden, the reason we were there was real. 

   He was anonymous. I don't know his name. He wasn't wearing a suit. He hadn't addressed the crowd. He didn't say a word. He simply laid his flowers, blew a kiss, bowed his head, and left.

   And I thought that is what the day is about.

   There were touching moments during the ceremony on Friday. Sadly, the bulk of it was dull, uninspiring, and insulting. 

   You know, I have a religious history, and while I don't buy into a lot of it now, I understand that it is a comfort for some. But reading 1 Corinthians 13, in its entirety? Rote prayers from sullen, sanctimonious people who are 60% politician and 40% puppet?

   Does this woman ever smile? I know she's under a lot of pressure but it wouldn't hurt her cause to smile once in a while. She epitomises the surly religious tyrant, angry at the world because we're all going to hell but if only we would listen to her her job would be a lot easier. Maybe then she would smile? She certainly doesn't exude the "joy of Christ" I thought all Christians aspired to. I don't remember a single word she said at the podium. 

   Who knew this guy existed? Apparently he's the Christchurch Catholic equivalent. With all due respect (and I'm not sure why he automatically deserves any respect) I don't know his name, I don't know his role, and I didn't understand a single word he mumbled to the crowd.

   If these two people represent the spiritual heart of this city, then...well, one only has to look at the physical city to get a feeling for how its spiritual heart beats.



   Can someone tell me what David Shearer was doing there? Apart from a short stint at UCan, what connection does he have to Christchruch? I assume there's some political obligation for the Leader of the Opposition to be there, but isn't that the point? It's political. Who was he representing that Megan Woods or Clayton Cosgrove couldn't? I hate to think that his presence was solely about being seen. 


And even John Key, for that matter? At least he has deeper roots in Christchurch, but I suspect his presence was more about being seen, too. I didn't come to the memorial to hear politicking. I hoped, in vain, that there may have been some inspiration, some real words of comfort, some genuine insight into the future (did he write his speech on the plane trip down here?). Alas, none of that was to be heard.

I don't mind religion and politics that are heartfelt and genuine. But politics has long forsaken both of those things, and I suspect most of religion has excommunicated such sentiments as well. I don't want to hear Victoria Matthews' strange gruff accent; I don't want to hear John Key's semi-whiny, read-from-a-page stilting speech impediment. And to be honest, the way representatives of other religions and groups read short passages - "we remember them" - in unison was just silly. Cringe-worthy. Some of this footage will have been beamed around the world. At the same time I was proud and embarrassed to be a Cantabrian.

Next year can we hear from real Cantabrians? Instead of religious and political "dignitaries" can we hear from the families who lost loved ones? Can we hear from the first responders? Can we hear from some children? Can we not sing boring dirges that depress? Can we give interested parties real air time? Can we employ someone to give a really inspiring, uplifting positive forward-looking speech? But one, too that honours the real reason the memorial exists? The people who died (last year they read the names - I'd like to see that done every year. It's 5 minutes well spent, I think); those injured; and those of us who, to varying degree, all live with the daily aftermath of those devastating (and ongoing) earthquakes.

I know it's impossible to satisfy everyone, but I find it hard to imagine anyone would have been truly inspired or comforted by that stiff, rote presentation on Friday. 

"I Don't Get People"

"I don't get people."

Who's not said something like that? In these instances, "people" usually means someone specific who either for an isolated moment in time, or long-term represents a subset of the population in general.

A lot of people don't "get people." I suppose it's just a reflection of how different we each can be; how vague the rules can be that govern human interactions and relationships. I also find it fascinating how those interactions are now being translated from the IRL world to the online world of social media. It's seems there are similarities between the "people" I don't "get" online and IRL (maybe another blog subject).

A Mother's Journey

There's a photo I've been wanting to get for ages. A cursory glance through Google images and Flickr shows that nobody else has got it either. At least the exact shot I have in mind. It's probably out there somewhere, but I haven't seen it.

So, today I saw a mummy duck with a bunch of ducklings.

Update!

Well. What a week. Month. Year!

The planning for the next Addington Cup Day starts pretty much the day after the current one finishes. There are a million people (slightly exaggerated) involved but my point of contact has been the beautiful Charlotte Mooney of Addington Events Centre. We had a bit of a debrief the other day and I got a little insight into just what she has to deal with in the organisation and execution of your average run of the mill Cup Day. Except, this year was not your average run of the mill Cup Day. It was bigger and better and more specifically focussed.

Well done Charlotte!

Photographically, Cup Day must be one of the funnest days of the year. Rarely do you get such a concentration of gorgeous, snazzily dressed people. It never ceases to astound me how many gorgeous people there are in our city! I know such things are very subjective, but for me, with so many gorgeous people on display, whether in the competitions or in the public areas, it might be prejudicial at best to single anyone out. But I will anyway.

If I could be caught swooning it was mostly over this daring little number (the dress, I mean, though the model is gorgeous too!). I never thought it had a chance (as one dear, elderly patron told me, anything off the shoulder is totally inappropriate for the races!), but I loved it nonetheless. And it did make it to the final.

I'm no fashionista, but I know what I like. I loved this ensemble. But it's impossible to choose among so many beautiful outfits. Have a look at the rest of the line-up here.

The winner of Best Dressed Lady (right). I actually really liked it too!




With so many beautiful people on stage it's still impossible to ignore the other 22000 beautiful people not competing in the fashion stakes. 

And lest the impression be left that it's all about the ladies (even though it really is!) the guys are definitely not backward in coming forward to give the girls a run for their money.

I had a very special assignment for the afternoon. I got to hang out with The Ridges. Of course, not that much hanging out took place. They were swamped with adoring fans and full on the whole afternoon. But we managed to get a few snaps.

Colin Mathura-Jeffree is a regular attraction at Cup Day, and I've never been ashamed of the little man-crush I have on him. And I have to say that the Ridges were thoroughly charming and engaging, and so accommodating with the crowds who demanded their attention and a photo-opp. There will be more photos of The Ridges on the Addington page any day now.

THEN! Yesterday was another racing day at Addington. It was Lindauer Race Day, a more family oriented low key affair. But just as much fun! Jordan Luck entertained between races and rocked the crowd. What a showman.











And wouldn't you know it - it's Race Day, and MORE beautiful people!!!!

The collective sigh of relief was palpable Wednesday morning. Another Cup Day done and dusted and, from the fringe outside, it appeared to go swimmingly. More credit to Charlotte and the team! Do check out the photos on the Addington Facebook page. We'll be adding more over the next few days and weeks. Bernard and Gudrun did a fantastic job and took thousands of awesome photos!! Thanks guys...pleasure working with you :)

Kate?

I couldn't resist. I was going to avoid the much-vaunted Kate Middleton topless photos out of principle. I'd like to think that, as a photographer, viewing such photos online would only encourage more such ridiculousness. But also, as a photographer, not only was I fascinated by the legal wrangling that will undoubtedly take place, I was intrigued by more mundane, technical things like, what could the photos possibly look like quality-wise?

I assume the photographer was a fair distance away from the couple (I heard it was a kilometre).

Deep Breath

My first thought was to put up a massive headline. Like this.

FREEDOM OF SPEECH TOLD TO 

FUCK OFF AT PROTEST

But then, my kinder gentler side kicked in and I took a deep breath. He's angry. Hurting. Pushed to the edge by bureaucracy and financial ruin maybe. Or something. Here's how the conversation went (sort of):

What Balloons Do When No One's Watching

When I was about 8 or 9 (early 70s) I seemingly out of nowhere began to suffer from severe headaches and hallucinations. I remember being taken to Dr. Wilcox ( a gruff old bugger typical of GPs of the time) whose best guess was migraines (keeping in mind that it's all a bit hazy for me now). What he could not explain was the hallucinations. I would spend night after night terrified, screaming and crying.

One of the things that terrified me was the feeling (hallucination) of being tiny in an incredibly huge warehouse/train station. I wan't tiny in a normal warehouse; I was normal size in an incredibly oversized space and the feeling was literally overwhelming.

One Day Down at the Implosion

What do you do, when you are at an "event" to take photos, and realise that every second person has a camera and the "event" will probably be one of the most photographed events in your city since it fell down on its own?

You lose a little bit of interest and start thinking outside the square.

I read a thing on the Internet (so it must be true) recently about how now that there are so many cameras around, a lot of people have started missing big events. Specifically, it was about weddings, and the reason many people were "missing" the event was because they were too busy checking their camera screen, settings, etc and the event passed them by. Sure they were there, and they had some photos of it for posterity (hopefully). But they couldn't actually remember much of the specifics of the ceremony. They were to busy recording it and waiting for that one special moment to take a photo of.

So I wondered how many people this morning missed seeing the event with their own eyes because they were watching it on the LCD screen of their camera/iPhone/video recorder.

I'm one of them. I didn't "see" the building come down with my own eyes. I watched it in my LCD screen. And, of course, it was over in less than ten seconds and all that was left was the memory of it on my SD card and in my ears. So I got to taking some sneaky photos of as many cameras that were around me as I could, being a bit bored and knowing that every man and his dog would have photos of the actual implosion as good as or better than mine.

It intrigues me how technology has changed the way we do things. There were photos and video of the implosion on Facebook before I got back to my car. Admittedly I hung around a bit (taking photos of people taking photos), but still. Within ten minutes the whole event was online and going global.

So, in light of there being a million photos of this mornings implosion out there somewhere, I am proud to present my mornings work. I call it:

Photos of people taking photos moments after the Implosion.

I'd like to think this was a unique idea, but I just saw on Facebook a photo of a camera taking a photo of the implosion, so pretty much I should have just stayed in bed this morning.


RIP Radio Network House

Married According to the Mob

I think everyone has an idea of what the word “marriage” means. It can, and does, mean many things to many people, but I would hazard a guess that for most “marriage” is generally understood to mean something like a man and a woman have the ceremony where they are pronounced man and wife, they live in a house together, have children and live happily ever after. That’s what “marriage” means in the Western mind.

Undoubtedly, however, we live in changing times. As little as a hundred and fifty years ago, humans flying somewhere was incomprehensible. Travelling anywhere of great distance required months of hardship and the chances of death en route were as good as arriving safely. Just two generations ago space travel was the domain of nutters and science fiction writers. Within my life time, television was a miracle. Colour television was unheard of. Computers were the domain of the aforementioned nutters and science fiction writers who droned on about space travel.