Category: Ilford hp5

FAGUS | Cradle Mountain

May 10, 2021 No Comments

Fagus at Cradle Mountain on black and white Ilford HP5 film.

Also known as Tanglefoot owing to its twisted ground-hugging branches, Deciduous beech (Nothofagus gunnii) is Tasmania’s only deciduous native. People flock to the Tasmanian Highlands during April and May for the ‘turning of the fagus’, as the tiny crimped beech leaves turn from green to yellow to flame red, and finally fall to the ground. […]

Hasselblad 500cm, Ilford hp5

FRANK STREET

March 10, 2021 No Comments

Portrait in Frank St Launceston on Ilford HP5

A narrow lane. Inveresk | Hasselblad 500cm | Ilford HP5

Hasselblad 500cm, Ilford hp5

MONDAY MORNING

March 6, 2021 No Comments

Father and son at Princes Park Launceston on Ilford HP5

Originally a brickfield and site of raucous political rallies and even the hanging of two bushrangers in 1834, Princes Square is now an historic park with mature elm and oak trees, a fountain and a statue of Dr William Russ Pugh, the first to use general anaesthetic for surgical operation in the Southern Hemisphere. The […]

I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don't worry. It's all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It's a dream already ended. There's nothing to be afraid of and nothing to be glad about. I know this from staring at mountains months on end. They never show any expression, they are like empty space. Do you think the emptiness of space will ever crumble away? Mountains will crumble, but the emptiness of space, which is the one universal essence of mind, the vast awakenerhood, empty and awake, will never crumble away because it was never born.
Jack Kerouac