Caught In The Middle

Here is another set in my series, “A Walk in Ngaio”. The urge to preserve is strong: somehow I want to capture what Ngaio is like, what it looked like at some point in time. As I said in my previous post, I shun people in these photos, as if they are not so permanent as perhaps the landscape and the buildings are. Yet the structure of Ngaio is predominately shaped by people. You can see the people in the structures, as it were. You can see order and conformity a lot of the time, a hymn to both planning and community. Nairnville Park is like this: a triumph of engineering and landscape, yet it serves the local community so well. It is tune with the community. But that community values order and conformity. Ngaio is a middle-class suburb. A place to be caught in the middle of .

Here is the link in Picassa in case you missed it. http://picasaweb.google.com/paul.hellyer/AWalkInNgaioII#

Monday afternoon, Labour Day, October 2009, is warm and sunny. Instead of mowing the lawns, I go for a walk, camera in tow. My intent is simply: to record, to document what this ordinary suburb called Ngaio, looks like. It is a-creative. No attempt is made to create art, I am not a photographer, I take pictures with a camera. That is all. I just want to document, to preserve, not to create. The everyday fascinates me: a garage, a letterbox, or a tree. This images are everyday, unexceptional – anyone could have taken them. I am not of the picture, only with the camera.

There are too many photographs on the Internet. We are lost in a sea of digital images, all surprise and mystery is stripped away from places, people and things. We simply search on anything and we find an image of anything, anything, but really everything . All is known, the farthest corner of the earth is revealed to all. We sit at our computer, and see the world. I embrace this.

The photos, posted on my Picasa Web Album are simply a moment in time in Ngaio. They are devoid of people, I eschew cars as much as I can. The perfect picture is empty. It just is. Nonetheless I scrupulously “geo-tag” each photo, seeking out the precise location the photo was taken. I wish to be meter perfect, the exact spot is important. Google Maps and Google Earth will reveal all and given the high-resolution images available in both of Ngaio, I encourage you to check out the photos using these.

I enjoyed writing the captions more than I did taking the photos. The written word has more texture and turns upon itself in a way no photograph I could take, ever could.

Still, I guess this is my way of paying homage to Ngaio, the place where I live, have lived, off and on, for nearly twenty years.

This is a lovely photo from Flickr taken on old lady typical of those you see in the town market. They dress in traditional, peasant or rural dress with stiff petticoats and the ubiquitous scarf over the head. She is walking along the so-called hétkápolna or Seven Chapels on the southern outskirts of Vác. Each of the chapels depicts one of the seven pains of the Virgin Mary. Clearly devout, you can see her rosary in her hand as she makes her way towards the church. The walk is pleasant at any time of the year, either ablaze with colour in autumn or bleak and snow covered in the winter.

The photo also reminds me very much of one of my favourite Hungarian paintings, “Returning Home/Útban hazafelé“, by Tivadar Zemplényi. The trees and the light and the sadness of the old lady are captured wonderfully in this painting and the mood is also evident in the photo by Gabó. The sad thing is that women tend to outlive men in Hungary quite a bit and it is not uncommon to see such old ladies by themselves, alone. Although very independent and strong, I can’ t help but feel a certain amount of sorrow surrounds them. I doubt many have had what one might call an ‘easy’ life.

The title, csókolom, is a formal, respectful greeting you would give this lady if you meet her, as I am sure Gabó did when she saw her coming towards her. It means, “I kiss you[r hand]” from the more formal version,kezi csókolom.

We cross from Tahitótfalu to Vác on the ferry in the late afternoon. We have made this journey many times, in winter and in summer, in autumn and in spring. Here it is summer, the long, hot Hungarian summer where the sun is always warm , the beer cold and nothing much happens except the cucumbers grow. Someone wise once said to me about Hungary: it is the most beautiful place on earth, but don’t forget the shadows. I know what he means, there is magic in this land, blessed with grace and bounty, but tragedy and sorrow are never far away. The Danube is central to this drama and here, towards the end of a hot summer’s day, we make the journey across this wise river, at the spot where the Roman Empire, two thousand years ago,  reached its eastern limit in Hungary. Our shadows reach across the Danube, in the late afternoon sun, as we cross this mighty river, west to east, closer to home.

The Danube, which is past, present and future
entwines its waves in tender friendly clasps.

A Dunánál, mely múlt, jelen, s jövendő,
Egymást ölelik lágy hullámai.

By The Danube, Attila Jozséf.
A Dunánál, Jozséf Attila.

Another wonderful photo from Kikasz on Flickr. It is of the great Hungarian photographer, Robert Capa. There is an exhibition of his works currently been shown in Budapest. What I like about this photo is the way it shows the jaunty, roguish nature of Capa. The angle seems to accentuate this and draws to his face, creating a feeling of intimacy. I also like the use of the hands. We know there is a person holding the publication, yet they are off stage, mysterious almost. It reminds of that other great Hungarian photographer, Kertesz, and his photo, “Elizabeth and I” in which his hand is shown resting on Elizabeth’s shoulder. [See also my post on Kertesz]

Kikasz’s photo here works so well in black and white – always the test of a good photo.