What a nightmare! On March 2nd I was supposed to go on holiday for a week. The plan was to fly into Dublin, take a bus down to Cork and take part in the annual Ireland Sacred Harp convention along with a hundred other shape not singers from all across Europe and the US. Sadly winter decided to be nasty and covered Ireland in snow and snowstorms. As a result the airport was closed and the flight cancelled. The next available flight would have been on March 4th in the evening – when the convention was over. So with a tear in my eye, I cancelled the entire trip (as did my friends who were joining me for the Sacred Harp convention).
That seems to be how my friends perceive me. And I cannot blame them for that because my flat currently is home to at least 40 different analogue cameras. So it should not have come as a surprise when a friend gave me another beautiful camera for my birthday a few weeks ago.
I think this quote from T.S. Eliot fits perfectly when I think about ‚home‘, or more precisely, ‚Heimat‘. Because ‚home‘ can be everywhere I have lived for some time, home is my flat, the town I am living in right now. Home is the place I come back to after work. But ‚Heimat‘ is the place I was born, the town or village I grew up in.
I’ve once again been to Volkspark Rehberge. Instead of the yellow autumn light I encountered at the last visit, the park was now covered by a wintery snowy blanket. People enjoyed a walk in this winter wonderland, went for a jog, let their dogs play happily in the fluffy snow or enjoyed a sledging down that marvellous hill that’s perfect for this activity.
I love the sea. Water is my element. The endless horizon calms me and so does the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore. I love how the wind tousles my hair and how the spray covers my glasses with tiny drops of salty sea water.
Old graveyards fascinate me. Especially when they are no longer in use and are hidden in places no one would suspect an old burial ground. Between town houses, in the middle of a public park, next to an ordinary parking lot or you stumble upon them while exploring an old forest. Highgate Cemetery is a bit different. It is not hidden but situated on Highgate Hill (near Hampstead Heath) and in Victorian times, one must’ve had an amazing view across London from there. Opened 1839 it was one of the first cemeteries that was not directly attached to an individual church. Since inner city graveyards could no longer cope with the amount of burials taken place, Londoners had to find alternatives to bury their dead. So Highgate Cemetery became one of the seven large graveyards outside the City. The location and the view soon became very popular and people did not only come there to pay respect to the deceased but used Highgate as a place for a picnic after a nice Sunday walk in the clean, fresh air. What also makes this cemetery a special place is the way the graves are arranged. On any german „Parkfriedhof“ there would be a very […]
Hamburg already had their little winterwonderland experience this November, even in Hannover they had some snow. Berlin, on the other hand has so far not seen a single snowflake. So I was really happy that one of the films I picked up was one from January 2016 – when I was at my parents to go sledding. We went to one of the neighbouring villages and sled down the hill into the fields. I took these pictures with my old, trustworthy Pentacon Six on Ilford HP5 400 film.