When I sold my 60D, I felt strange. It had been my companion for so long and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made the right choice. Was I going to be happy with my little OM-D? Only time would tell. On the up side, my selling the 60D had freed up some funds for the one thing my OM-D was lacking: a good lens. Or two.
There are dozens of choices when it comes to lenses for this little camera so it took me a while to narrow down my options, but I eventually settled on two prime lenses: the 17mm f1.8 and the 45mm f1.8. (With a prime lens, zooming is provided by your own movement either towards or away from the subject of your photographic gaze.) I loved the 17mm lens straight away and I’ve been using it for photos of my op shop finds and my handknitted goodies. The 45mm lens, though… I didn’t feel the love. But this is exactly what happened with my 50mm lens on my 60D: all I needed to do was force myself to use the lens until I worked out what it was best at.
I finally had a chance to do that when I visited the parents in Beechworth recently. Continue reading
If you were wondering where everyone was this Easter, it’s safe to assume they were in Beechworth at the Golden Horseshoes Festival. This festival celebrates an important moment in Beechworth’s history and just so happens to be held over the Easter long weekend, when I tend to visit the parents. It means crowds, even more tourists than normal, people doing odd things on the road and general mayhem. It also means I avoid it like the plague when I’m up here, except for one year when I actually went to the parade, purely so I could take some photos (some of which you can see here).
My mum said it best as we were driving past the chaos on the way to my parents’ house (which is thankfully on the very edge of town). She turned to my dad and said: “Why were we born without the gene that makes people want to go to things like that?”
It’s not that I don’t like going to interesting events; I just prefer it if fifty million other people aren’t there, too. Continue reading
If you spend any sort of time around me, you’ll know I love photography. In fact, anyone in my immediate proximity is pretty much a sitting victim for my camera, no matter what you happen to be doing. I love photographing my cats or old ruined buildings or taking up the challenge of capturing the ordinary moments because those seem to be the times we’re more likely to forget.
That’s what I love about photography. Here’s what I don’t love:
- My camera weighs around 1.5 kilograms, even with my smaller lens attached;
- Camera bags are a) ugly, b) often not easy to access, and, c) pretty much only have room for a camera and lenses;
- It’s far too heavy to hang around my neck;
- It’s far too precious to trust it to a strap slung over my shoulder (paranoia and I are BFFs);
- It is incredibly unsubtle. There’s no way you could miss the fact that I’m taking an Important Photo with a Serious Camera.
All of this tends to keep me from bringing my camera with me everywhere, which means I’m failing to practise and improve my skills. So here’s what I decided to do about it… Continue reading
There’s no denying it: I have become somewhat rusty when it comes to taking photos of things other than knitted objects or cats (generally this happens at the same time as my cats are both convinced that any photo without a feline presence is a waste of a camera). The only way to fix this is to practise. A lot.
With this need for practice in mind, I made space for my camera when packing for my post-Christmas trip to visit my parents in Beechworth. There’s always something to photograph there, including another cat, although you might not believe me on that last point, given I haven’t included a single photo of said cat below. It was fun to be back to my normal self, aka the weirdo with the camera who is likely to take a photo of you opening the fridge to look for sparkling apple juice. I didn’t actually do that, but I might have; it’s a risk you run when you’re near me. And a fridge.
Without further ado, I present you with a set of pictorial postcards from Beechworth this Christmas. Continue reading
What does your ideal home look like? Is it a chic city flat or a smart suburban home? Is it a rustic beach house or a cosy home in the country? I can tell you that the latter describes my dream home to a T.
It’s safe to say I’m not a city person. I’m not even an outer suburban person. Basically, anything that involves a lot of houses, vast amounts of people and ready access to shopping centres is not my cup of tea.
Something that is my cup of tea, however, is the area in which I am staying as I write this post. My parents moved to Beechworth several years ago, so I’m lucky to be able to come up here several times a year and enjoy the lack of suburban-ness (and their company, obviously). Open fields! Country op shops! (They are the absolute best op shops.) The fancy-pants fudge at the lolly shop!
I grew up on a ten acre farm, which is either HUGE or tiny depending on your background. Continue reading