The Wonder of Black & White Photography

A photo I took in Provence.

The Wonder of Black & White Photography

Don’t worry; I’m not going to bore you with photographic jargon and detailed explanations of shutter speeds, aperture, and ISO.  For that you can find any number of experts with far more experience and knowledge in the technical aspects of camera settings.

What I will attempt to do is introduce you to one of the finest black and white photographers, Henri Cartier-Bresson (1908-2004), show you some examples of his work, give you his philosophy of photography in his own words, then show you some of my work, not for reasons of arrogance, and certainly not to compare my work to a genius in the field of black and white photography, but to let you see that with little instruction, some courage, and without more than a sparse knowledge of the finer aspects of clicking a button on your camera, you can come up with some rather amazing photographs.  Hey, if I can, you can!

Bresson, didn’t drape himself with photographic paraphernalia.  He used a small camera, with one fixed lens.  But, the equipment photographers need is very much dependent on what they’re going to photograph. Sports photographers, for example are loaded down with tripods and a variety of lenses that cost as much as a family sedan. 

But, Bresson photographed life; simple life, mostly composed of people and situations, dependent only on geometry, composition, persistence and without hesitation.

In this short blog I’m not going to talk extensively about composition, but you can read about “the golden ratio” here:  https://photographyhero.com/golden-ratio-photography/

Now, on to Henri Cartier-Bresson!

The creative act lasts but a brief moment, a lightening instant of give-and-take, just long enough for you to level the camera and to trap the fleeting prey in your little box.  ---Henri Cartier-Bresson

To me that is one of the greatest instructions in all of photography, summed up by:  Take the shot or lose it forever!

A couple of examples of his magnificent work.

And from my own experience:  A close friend of mine, and much better photographer than I, were strolling the streets together on the left bank of the Seine River, in Paris.  At the same instant we spied a bread man making a delivery, looking so Parisian, floppy blue work jacket, two-day beard, dark hair carelessly combed, walking with a large bundle of fresh baguettes under his arm.  She and I grabbed our cameras at the same time, but both of us were a second too late!  He walked past within two feet of us and we missed the shot!  Neither she nor I will ever forget.  Take the damn shot!

It is life that interests me and therefore always the next photo.

--- Henri Cartier-Bresson 

Have you noticed that the most interesting photos are invariably candid?  Even when I’m shooting group gatherings, I find a rare moment or two when I can use candid shots to capture more of the personalities.  And black and white photos highlight life’s drama and intensity, discarding distracting arrays of colors to keenly focus directly on the subject.  When the subject is a group of people, candid black and white presents a tableaux of faces, emotions, frozen in the exact moment when individuals are no longer a group, but once again individuals, clear and distinct.  Black and white exhibits the solemn power of concentration.  In a color photo of a field of wildflowers, one sees the field and brilliant colors, but with black and white, one’s eyes are drawn to a particular flower.

Photographs in B &W also pick up the details of everyday life, things you would never have noticed suddenly take on a thought provoking importance.  A pair of shoes.  The intricate gnarl of a ravaged tree, the careless beauty of a flower, and so much more.  Far from taking away from the form and action, black and white photography accelerates comprehension with a single, intensified glance.

Try it and see if you see what I see.  In Bresson’s case, nearly all of his best photos are candid and he was particularly taken with humans in motion and from unusual angles, with the human as part of the design.

Man.  Man and his life, so short, so frail, so vulnerable.  For my part…I am almost exclusively concerned with man.  I cut straight to the chase. Eternity is for landscapes.  ---Henri Cartier-Bresson

Some more quotes from Henri Cartier-Bresson.

I am a visual man.  I watch, watch, watch.   I understand things through my eyes.

Photography is not a job to me, it’s just a fierce enjoyment; you have no expectations, you wait for the surprise…

To me, film has nothing to do with photography.  Photography is a visual thing that can be seen in a plane, like a drawing, a lithograph, or a painting.  Film is a discourse.

And now a random few of my own B & W photos, that no doubt fall far short, but they give me hope! Like Henri, I tend to concentrate on people, but for me it's people in conversation. Here then are some of the times when I took the shot!

Tomorrow, I will show more selections of my efforts in B &W.

The Great Unknown

In the threatening air of night

We face each timid step with fright

Seeing not, but only hear

Advance the path with trembling fear.

Advancing seems to go so slow

In the nighttime’s onward flow

Alarmed, connecting every link 

Never knowing what to think.

To sit alone and wash our hands

Fear to sit and fear to stand.

Will each new breath mark our doom

While we sit within our tomb?

Across the road stares a face

In the window, off a pace

A kindred soul, inside he waits

Pondering uncertain fate.

Then to soak and scrub again

And wonder when the night will end.

Try not to worry, not to fret

But, still the spectre haunts us yet.

And then the night creeps through the soul

Our mind flips through the things we’re told.

Then grieve for those the darkness claimed

And pity hearts forever maimed.

Shall it pass, this awful toll

That snatches young and snatches old?

And when it passes, as night should

Will it be for bad or good?

Will again the springtime air

Flow so harmless through our hair

Will we dare to hug and kiss

And shake the hand of those we miss?

Or is this a lasting start

Of sitting lonely in the dark

And seeing faces so forlorn

And fear become our midnight song.

I choose to cast aside the doubt

The fear that’s made our lives a drought

The barren song that grates the night

Will once again be soft and light. 

I greet the morning-time with cheer

And banish doubt and banish fear

It is with purpose sun shines on

And hopes are reborn with the dawn.

                 ------ Willliam Stroud

My Quarantine Morning

My Quarantine Morning

Ever had the pleasure of drinking a big mug of coffee that has been sitting in the grounds overnight?  I did that this morning and was astonished at my ability to leap onto the roof, clean the gutters, jump down, arms raised for a perfect ten, chop down a tree using only a pocket knife, steal a postal truck and delivered all the mail. 

After a few morning wind sprints, I made my wife breakfast, but didn’t have time to join her.  Dashed off dozens of emails to friends, family, and people I’ve never met, but who had interesting names.

Think I still have time to mow the grass, trim the trees that are still standing and teach the dog to sing.

I made another pot for tomorrow.

Couple in a Coffee Shop

Couple in a Coffee Shop

She looked as if her beauty had failed her and she was looking for someone to blame.  Bleached hair, well past its last bleaching, random hairpins, crinkled eyes failing to mask hidden anger.  I’ve seen women like this.  Approach them as you would a wounded badger baring its teeth.

“What are you staring at?” She asked with a razor-like slash of subject, verb, and object.

I held up my coffee cup in a toast and smiled.  “A beautiful woman who doesn’t know she’s beautiful.” In my experience, women enjoy a good, honest lie, especially if it gives no hint of a come-on.

She gave a short huff and went back to reading her book, “A Child of the Wind,” by Lora Lane Gibbons.

“I enjoyed that book myself.”  Not that I’ve ever read it, and by the cover, never will.

She tapped her foot in time to imaginary music and went on reading.

The bell at the front door did its ding-a-ling and I felt a cool rush of air. A tall, thin man approached her table and sat down without asking. She didn’t look up, but whispered under her breath, “I thought we’d finished this conversation.”  He ran fingers through his disheveled hair and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

Apparently, this would be much more interesting than her book, at least for me.  I’m not a psychologist or psychiatrist.  In other words, I’m not crazy with my own problems.  But I do enjoy the interaction between couples.  

“Look,” the man said, “I told you I was sorry.”

“And you think a simple, insincere ‘sorry’ makes everything ok?”  Now, she did look up, but only for a second or two before going back to her book.

“Do you mind not doing that?” he said.

“Doing what?” said razor tongue.

“Reading the damn book!”

“You don’t have to use profanity.”

“But this morning, when you called me a bastard, was ok?”

He was making mistake after mistake.  Rule number one when talking to a woman, especially a harried woman: Never allow yourself to be distracted, especially when she changes the subject to lead you off topic.  But, his first mistake was changing the subject himself with a remark about the book.  Gotta keep on topic.

She knew the rules and didn’t bother to answer.  By the look on his face, he took this as a victory, which is exactly what she wanted him to think. She’s moved him far off the subject of apologies and the brouhaha they had earlier.  Her anger remains intact.  She’s winning. The score is one - nil.

The silence was deafening, broken when the waitress came to take his order and ask her if she’d like a refill.

He started to say something and I’d bet he’s itching to decline ordering anything.  Miss Disheveled gave him a gut-ripping stare.  He stuttered and ordered coffee.

“Nothing to eat?” asked the waitress.

Now he’s at a real disadvantage.  Two women, one of whom will only be satisfied with his early death and the second who’d like him to make up his mind, quit hesitating and order something simple off the menu, without asking for any substitutions.

“Toast, please” Then they did the dance of which toast, buttered or unbuttered, whether he’d like jelly, and so on.

“Wheat, no jelly, but plenty of butter,” he said, looking the waitress in the eyes and not smiling.

“Ok,” she said and trotted off.  Moments later she returned with his coffee and two tiny plastic containers of cream.

When the waitress departed, he said, “Margaret, can we just drop this whole thing?  I said I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t just any dish you broke!  It was an heirloom, David!”

I’d bet this guy will charge into her territory with a frontal assault.  Never wise, in my judgment. 

“Yeah, an heirloom we seldom used!  A dust collector!  It was an accident, for god’s sake!”

“It was my mother’s.” This is indeed sacred territory.

Doesn’t take much psychiatry to realize this goes much deeper than smashed china. More like the story of the camel and the last straw.

I’ve finished my coffee and the conversation may go around in circles for eternity.  I stood, gave a nod toward the couple and said, “Margie, you told me this might take some time, but I can’t wait any longer….” I wink. “Give me a call later.”  Then I walked to the door of the coffee shop, heard the tinkle of the bell as I opened and shut the door behind me.

Before it closed, I heard, “You told me you hate to be called Margie…and…and who was that guy?  How long has this been going on?”

I gave the guy the perfect pitch.  He should have knocked it out of the ballpark, but instead, he stepped out of the batter’s box.  And her next pitch is going is to be for the final out.

College Football Rules Change

Full Stadium as fans eagerly await the results of the SAT competition.

With the college football season in doubt, the NCAA has promoted the idea of simply deciding the National Championship on the basis of SAT scores.

The Ivy League schools immediately embraced the idea of a return to STUDENT-athletes, as opposed to student-ATHLETES.  However, the ACLU filed suit, saying that it discriminated against the mentally handicapped.

Under the NCAA proposal, sixty football players from each school would be tested.  Coaches have protested that this means changing horses in the middle of the offensive and defensive lines.  As one coach put it, “How can I take time out from weight trying to teach them to reed  red. whatever?”

Other coaches threatened suicide.

Already, the recruitment process has shifted.  Gravis Johnson, who has never played football, but has a perfect SAT score has been approached by several schools.  The coach of one major football university explained, “Getting Gravis on our team would actually be a huge benefit, him being a quick learner and stuff.”  

Ballet may also become a part of spring football practice.  Calligraphy has also been mentioned because of the new requirement to use the full alphabet instead of just Xs and Os

Players and coaches rioting after the NCAA announcement.

On the legal side, scholars have jumped in to say, one thing that has to change is a loosening up of rules about domestic violence. “How can we expect these fine young men to take out their aggressions if they spend all their time studying? We suggest that if there is no death involved….”  And if there is? “We should view each event case by case. For example, beating someone to death with a rubber mallet is much more serious than simply shooting someone with a 357 Magnum and quickly blowing their brains out.  For the latter, perhaps counseling would be appropriate.”

Wealthy alumni have also chimed in.  Said one oil man and multimillionaire, “I ain’t payin’ for no damn educations! Far as I’m concerned, if they ain’t beatin’ nobody head in, I ain’t contributin’!”

One coach, who’s record incudes a 98% graduation rate, is currently being investigated for running brothel, a minor offense, and for making illegal payments to college board members, which he claims was “Only being nice to nice people.” 

The NCAA has yet to make a final decision and the discussion is complicated.  Should there be a period of transition, when those who have not attended classes be allowed a deference?  Should the ACT be scaled to the SAT?  Should scholars who give SAT crash courses be paid as assistant coaches and should head coaches be retrained as college deans?  

One thing for sure, nothing is sure.

Crumpets and English Muffins

Crumpets and English Muffins

Crumpets and English Muffins are not the same…..at least not in England.  In America, the Thomas commercial version of what the English call ‘crumpets,’ are marketed as English Muffins.

Today, let’s make some English style crumpets.  But before we haul out the flour and read the fine print and warn your significant other that you’re about to mess up the kitchen, let’s chat a bit about the concept of crumpets.

Sound a bit sexist when I talk about messing up the kitchen?  You pictured a man in the kitchen and a wife getting upset, right?  I have to admit that’s not far off the mark, BUT, I do know fastidious men who apparently share DNA with Mr. Monk and Mr. Clean.

Years ago, I stayed with friends, man and wife.  The husband instructed me not to make up the bed in the guest room because only his wife could do it properly.  He also went through a four-step process for leaving the guest bathroom exactly as I found it, especially after a shower.  There was also a proper place to put my empty suitcase and my shaving kit.

They wanted me to cook for them, which I did and enjoyed watching the two of them scurry around the kitchen as though it were a surgery, collecting and washing my utensils before they hit the counter.

Bottom line:  Keeping a Kitchen clean ain’t sexist!  So back off and relax, woman! 

A Very Short History of the Crumpet

Fried bread.  Evolved from campfire baking across Europe.  Some say the Irish started it, and back it up with Celtic words that sound similar.  Some say every other country in Europe started it.  16^th Century. 17^th Century.  Anglo Saxons also make a claim.

Victorian England played a hand in taking crumpets from the servants’ kitchens to the lords’ and ladies’ breakfast rooms.

But, nobody I’ve read had sources to support definitive answers. I do know, Samuel Bath Thomas, an English immigrant to New York, created the ‘English Muffin ‘ as we know it, in 1874, dropping the traditional step of adding baking soda.

I know my faithful A.D.D. readers have had enough and are braying and stomping hooves to gather ingredients.  I warn you right off the bat that the whole process takes a couple of hours, including the rising of the dough.   Not a problem.  You don’t have to stand there and watch the dough double in size!  Use you head, man!  Go finish reading War and Peace!  Learn a language!  Polish the silverware!

Crumpets

(the traditional English Way, with both yeast  and baking soda)

1 Cup of slightly warmed whole milk

1 Teaspoon of sugar

1 packet of active dry yeast, which is normally about a tablespoon

1 ½ Cups all purpose flour (I’ve not tried using Gluten Free)

1 Teaspoon rough salt

1/3 Cup water

½ Teaspoon baking soda.

Hardware:  Mixer/beater, large skillet, egg or crumpet molds.

First:  get the yeast going in a bowl:  Milk, yeast, sugar. Cover.  Yeast will bubble in about 5-10 minutes.

Toss:  flour and salt in with the milk/yeast and beat for several minutes.  How long?  Until the batter is smooth and stretches when you pull up the beater.  Yes, this is thick batter!  

Cover: let it rise until doubled, about an hour.  There will be bubbles on top.

Note:  I get good results, putting the bowl of dough in a cool oven, closing the oven door and punching on the oven light.

In a small container:  stir together the water and baking soda.  Add this mixture to the batter, thoroughly beat, and then cover for half an hour.

Grease and heat a large skillet (I used cast iron) over medium heat.  If you have molds (egg molds will do nicely), grease them and put them in the skillet.  Fill the molds with batter, about half to three quarters up the sides.  If you have the heat set correctly, the crumpets should cook for about 7 to 9 minutes.  When bubbles form and pop on the tops of the crumpets, remove the molds and turn the crumpets over to cook for another minute or so.

Note:  Don’t let a lack of molds stop you.  I made some without molds and they were equally delicious, just not as thick.

Note:  To make the American version, check out some other recipes, but essentially leave out the water and baking soda step.

A very short story:  While my companion and I were staying at an Inn/Pub in South Hampton, I ordered English Muffins with my eggs and was surprised that they were thicker, without the chewiness or pockets of holes on the inside.  “Oh,” said the server, “You ordered English Muffins and you probably wanted crumpets.”

Damn, I wish the English would speak A-merikin!

Even better, buttered and toasted, with a side of jam!

Simple Chicken Stew

Simple Chicken Stew

This is another recipe in my continuing effort to get you off pizza and burgers, and turn you into a skillful chef, with simple and delicious fixin’s that don’t require much prep or thought or special kitchen skills.  As a matter of fact, all you need to do is to hustle to the kitchen, pop a cork of your favorite vintage, sip to make sure it didn’t go bad, and tell yourself, if Stroud can do it, anyone can. No need to whimper in the darkness and dream of days gone by, when glorious meals were only a credit card away.

Just trying to help, folks.  This lip smacker is titled:  Simple Chicken Stew

Isn’t that easier to say than Chicken Stew That Carries the Delight of A Parisian Bistro And Brings Romance Back Into Your Pitiful Life?

Take another sip.  This is going to be so easy.

4 Chicken thighs, bone in (If it has skin, peel it off and toss it)

Olive Oil

Roughly chop, a handful of baby carrots, two stalks of celery, an onion, four green onions, three medium potatoes (peeled)

4 Cups of chicken Broth + 2 condensed cubes of Chicken broth

2 Tablespoons Herbes de Provence

Salt and Pepper.

Getting’ to it!

Slosh a tablespoon or two of olive oil in a large pot with a lid, or Dutch oven.  Heat the oil, dust the chicken with salt and pepper and sear in the pan until the chicken is cooked through.  Remove the chicken from the pot and set aside.

Toss the roughly chopped vegetables in the same pot.  Add a bit more oil if necessary.  Cook on medium heat and stir now and then, until the vegetables are soft.

Add the chicken broth, mix, then add the two cubes of condensed chicken broth.  Stir well.

Debone the chicken, shred or chop the meat and toss it into the pot, along with the thighbones.  Note:  the bones intensify the flavor and the little bits you didn’t get off the bones will flake off while cooking. The bones are easily removed before serving.

Add the Herbes de Provence and more salt and pepper if needed.

Put the top on the pot and set the heat for a low simmer for 45 minutes to 1 hour.

Just beginning to simmer

Even more delicious served over rice. Wine? I served a Pinot Gris from Alsace.

Cooked to perfection

See, that was so quick you barely had time to finish that second bottle of wine!  Cheers!  Bravo!  À votre santé!  Who said you couldn’t cook???