Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for October, 2016

2773-naxos

Naxos, September 22, 2013

There’s a Fleet Foxes song titled “Mykonos” which became a theme song for this trip to Greece in 2013. With its curiously nostalgic and mournful tone, it also expresses a certain hope and liberation accompanied by a sense of loss and acceptance of such. The song seems to be about a journey, about love and rejection and the need for connection, though one can only interpret this as best as possible from the sparse lyrics. It offers more of an impression than explicit clarity, which is perhaps the reason I love it so much. Around two minutes into the song, a change occurs where, in that heartrending harmony so typical of the Fleet Foxes, they sing: “Brother you don’t need to turn me away, I was waiting down at the ancient gate.” And, although this song is titled Mykonos, I’ve always associated this with the standing remains of the door to the temple of Apollo on Naxos.

2962-the-ancient-gate-temple-of-apollo

2765-ancient-gate-naxos

Temple of Apollo, Naxos

I first saw this splendid ruin from a ferry in 2001, when travelling between islands on my way back from Santorini. I didn’t alight at Naxos on that occasion, though the ferry docked there and spent some time in the port and I spent the entire time staring at this temple ruin and thinking of all the many wonders across the islands. Years later, when I first heard this song and fell in love with it, all I could think about was this striking, standalone temple gate on Naxos. I suspect the reference is actually to the ruins on the island of Delos, which are most easily visited from Mykonos and a key reason for going to that more lively island, though this is just a guess. Either way, this is one of my favourite songs of all time. Something about the combination of “Mykonos” with the image of the temple, and the idea of perhaps travelling there with my brother in what would be a historic first trip to Europe together, work to create a powerful mood of yearning and nostalgia. When I dream of my ideal paradise, it is always a vision of travelling around the Aegean by ferry.

This may all seem irrelevant in combination with the image presented here, but this shot is in fact taken from that ancient gate, looking the other way towards the old town on the rugged and beautiful island of Naxos. We had been listening to the song repeatedly in preparation for and during our journey, and it was very stirring and emotionally satisfying to find myself standing beneath its giant lintel. It was a windy day and plumes of spray whipped up off the water on one side of the harbour wall, while on the other side, the sea was contrastingly calm. The foreground focus on V in this case and resulting haziness of the backdrop makes this image seem appropriately dream-like and evokes intense nostalgia every time I look at it. It is for these reasons, irrespective of technical and compositional qualities or lack thereof, that this photograph is one of my all-time favourites.

Read Full Post »

Siem Reap Market, June 28, 2009

Siem Reap Market, June 28, 2009

Food markets the world over are often very similar places. Outside of the more polished, and middle class inner-city farmers’ markets that have become so popular in western cities, the older-style markets can have a very familiar character. They are crowded and busy; practical rather than pretty; no-nonsense, down to earth, and often messy with food scraps littering the grimy floors. No amount of scrubbing and hosing can quite clear the stains nor remove the lingering smells of fish, fruit and vegetables. They are also often dimly-lit places, with bare globes hanging from high warehouse ceilings, or fluorescent lamps suspended over the stalls. And the people who work there are a special breed of trooper – hard-working, early-rising and more often than not, looking like they’ve been through the wars.

Before I was born my father used to work at Paddy’s Markets in Sydney, doing twelve-hour shifts after working as a journalist to earn extra money. His stories of how hard the work was seemed incredible to me at a young age – throwing fifty kilogram crates of pineapples from trucks, slogging it out all night without sleep – and visiting the markets was made more interesting by these accounts. Since then I’ve always felt a respect for market workers, who exuded an admirable roughness and toughness – broken toothed smiles, calloused hands, dirty clothes, pens and cigarettes behind ears. They were friendly and generous to me as a child and formed, in my young mind, a lasting working-class archetype. My dad, being an old-school socialist, always taught me to respect the workers.

This shot was taken in the covered market in Siem Reap, Cambodia and it reminds me of just how exhausting, demanding and tedious this kind of work is. One can hardly blame this lady for taking a well-earned nap in the uncomfortably heat under the sun-baked roof. As much as I enjoyed its colourful shabbiness, I found it difficult to spend much time in here on account of the smell of decomposing seafood which I can still recall with disquieting accuracy; a rich fug of putrescence; sickly sweet, like a warmed and suppurating aquatic durian. I did wonder how the workers could stand it, but in a town with such awful levels of inequality, with the disgusting decadence of the tourist streets right next to the crushing poverty of the less fortunate locals, marginalised by the riches of Angkor Wat, I guess at least these people were luckier than those left on the outside by the tourist economy.

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: