Delicate & Free

August 26, 2010 § 3 Comments

With my sister, barely 20, I, 30, we wander free.

There will never be a time more delicate than this.



August 26, 2010 § Leave a comment

Consider this.

Nietzsche’s Overman.

All beings so far have created something beyond themselves; and do you want to be the ebb of this great flood and even go back to the beasts rather than overcome man? What is the ape to man? A laughingstock or a painful embarrassment. And man shall be just that for the overman: a laughingstock or a painful embarrassment…

I am photographing for the Overman. Recording and witnessing the folly and immaturity that governs our actions, as man. The great expense of our pursuit of happiness and the trail of destruction that lies in our wake. I can only say that I was there. And as time slips ever faster away, with technology rendering traditional agriculture and industry archaic economies, how we currently live and how we govern ourselves will give way to something entirely different.

It is the something different that I hope for, photograph for. Some wisdom perhaps… and foresight. Preservation of essential habitats, sustainable solutions, an end to the exile from nature that renders our species effectively homeless (displaced from the absolute perfection of mathematical chaos, tides, shells, cumulus clouds). The photographs are our innocence, and inherent folly.

And as we make our earth bleed, as we turn away to play amongst our many toys and worship at the altar of consumerism, decorated with the garlands of our purchases, our time is coming to an end. And I am left with the compulsion, to photograph, for the Overman.

House by the sea

August 26, 2010 § Leave a comment

Queenscliff, Australia

I don’t suppose you ever really knew what you had and even if you did, you didn’t really want it bad enough to keep.

I see you – the fighter, the child, the visionary, the egoist, the seducer, the drunk, the caged one, the comic, the poet, the lover of wild things, smoke and the colour green.

We planned a house by the sea.

Sometimes, I still think about it.

Verlaine, Verlaine

August 23, 2010 § Leave a comment

J. Larkin

August 16, 2010 § Leave a comment

In The Footsteps Of The King ~ Jason Larkin

There is a tree in the middle of Dakhla oasis which, according to some locals, possesses a soul. They call it the tree of Sheikh Adam, and it has stood for centuries at the heart of one million square miles of vast, almost waterless isolation, a space once considered to be amongst the most inhospitable places on the planet. A British scientist and explorer W.J. Harding-King reached this spot in 1909 and declared the tree to be a symbol of everything magical about the desert, “a land where afrits, ghuls, genii and all the other creatures of native superstitions are matters of everyday occurrence; where lost oases and enchanted cities lie in the desert sands.”

A land of lost legends is being slowly turned, house by house, road by road, into the most improbable of solutions to Egypt’s rapidly-escalating population crisis. The Cairo-based government is aiming to turn over three million acres of arid ground into green farmland over the next decade, and provide a home for up to 19 million Egyptians along the way. Nothing less than an entire new valley of life is being scheduled to rise, phoenix-like, from the sand.

It will be the country’s biggest construction project since the pyramids, cost billions of dollars, and according to many scientists, is so bold as to be completely unachievable. Metamorphosing beyond all recognition the ‘untouched’ wilderness of the Western Desert that Dr Harding-King stepped into one hundred years ago, which forms the eastern fringe of the Sahara and spans parts of Egypt, Libya and Sudan. On the centenary of his remarkable expedition, we followed in his footsteps to find a forgotten hinterland in flux.

© Jason Larkin

© Jason Larkin

© Jason Larkin

© Jason Larkin

© Jason Larkin

© Jason Larkin

On repeat

August 5, 2010 § Leave a comment

Venus Bay VI

August 4, 2010 § 1 Comment

Daniel S.

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