I'm (kind of) making the most of my life as a lady of under-employed leisure, pottering around locally on my bicycle - because soon I'll be away, back, away, back, away. My damaged flight case has been repaired, ready for me to again be crossing fingers and toes, heart in my mouth, for another bout of nerve-wracking flights.
Breed: Grumpy white. Lens: poked awkwardly between iron bars.
Shy black.
Limpid laneway looks.
Newtown is classically colourful. With the exception of the most rudimentary 'tags' I find the graffiti art impressive and diverse - I love it!
Vibrant backgrounds to spice up the modest film chronicles of The Sedentary Cyclist. Here's what I do!
In the Netherlands every second daubed-wall-with-bike seemed a compelling tableau. Here it only 'happens' if I include my own bike, which does not have the simple and beautiful proportions of a classic opa/oma fiets. See my latest wee fillum for more examples. No one parks bikes against walls here (but I sometimes do, because I have an O-lock).
Around the corner, the smell and sound of the elaborate graffiti backdrops I so enjoy being created right there and then! Two blokes going at it. So - I tried a new 'thing'* and asked if they'd mind if I filmed them a little, just short snippets, not too close. I use these types of walls as backdrops while filming myself, meandering, promoting cycling, I told them. 'Cool', no probs. So I did. I was discreet enough, I feel. I'm yet to review what I got, it's bound to disappoint. But somehow somewhere I'll use it to spice something up.
The tools of the trade. It was fun watching the artists' repeated careful small sculpting strokes, and repeated stepping back to check the developing 'big picture'.
Again, I spied a bloke right on King St saddling up his pushie, having just put his two teensy helmetted offspring into a papoose-caboose. I tried again to flex this under-developed muscle.* I asked if he minded - a quick snap - I make little films featuring/promoting utility cycling, I said. 'Sure,' (in his gentle Deutch accent).
There is much more to film in Newtown: trendy, stylish inner city young 'uns, and their bikes, many a helmet-free hipster - enough to be their own 'topic'. I can't wait to dedicate more time to this (before the weather gets too warm and the sun too high).
In Chippendale, a very large council truck honked the sh!t out of me as a cycle-sauntered (safely) across an intersection. I assumed I was being abused and did not intend to heed my abusers. Theoretial reasons to 'hate': helmet-free, walking pace, pedestrian crossing (probably a 'red' man). More honks, then 'Oi!'
I looked back - the hi-vis vest-wearing driver was trying to alert me to the fact that when I left the kerb, my bag-lady-bike-lady bag had bounced out of my milk crate and onto the road! Not abuse, but the kindest samaritanism. My repeated thanks echoed off buildings as I retrieved my booty. It's not the first time I've been lazy with the 'tethering' and had this happen.
Bondi Busking...
Brisbane Busking!
* I'm the shyest would-be street-photographer on the planet. Something to work on little by little.
* I'm the shyest would-be street-photographer on the planet. Something to work on little by little.
