(Another) iPhone Postcard of Venice — Piazza San Marco

I have heard people say that Venice is worth visiting for a day or two—three at the most. That just seems crazy to me. The Venice Within The Frame group was in Venice for a full week. I don’t think anybody in the group had the opportunity of becoming bored. It’s a place in which to get lost in the calli. It’s a place in which to find a quiet corner (yes, there are many) and enjoy a glass (or four!) of prosecco. It’s a place in which to eat the absolutely most amazing ravioli that I’ve ever had. (No, I won’t tell you where, but I’ll show you!) Venice can be a nightmare if your idea of visiting is struggling through Piazza San Marco on a sunny afternoon or lining up to visit museums and buildings or eating at one of the far too many tourist ripoff restaurants. You won’t find me at any of those places. I’ll leave all of that to the hordes of day-trippers and cruise ship passengers. I’ll run far from that. That’s not my Venice.

Get up early in the morning and go out and photograph before the tourists arrive by bus, train, and cruise ship. Then enjoy a late breakfast and down time as the tourists crowd Rialto, Piazza San Marco, etc. (If you’re with other photographers, maybe this is the time to share and discuss your art.) Find a nice corner for a relaxing lunch. Visit an exhibit off the beaten path. Window shop. Get lost. Have some prosecco. Even take a nap if you like. Then grab your equipment (not all of it!) and head out again as the tourists begin to crowd the worst of the restaurants for the horrible meals for which they’ll vastly overpay. Wait for the sun to go down and the sky to turn blue. Then find another quiet corner for dinner. Maybe a waitress will make you laugh. (Ciao Madalina!) Enjoy a glass of Reciotto at the end of your meal. (Or some of that chamomile grappa!) It’s 11pm-ish, and now you can visit Piazza San Marco without the crowds trying to follow people holding up flags, hats, or something to keep the masses in tow. Maybe the rain or high water will have left puddles in which to reflect Piazza Ducale. Maybe you’ll dance under moonlight in the Piazza. Maybe you’ll even put on masks and run around like you’re 12 again. (Thanks Natalie!) Go get a mojito (the best in the world with the right company; I missed you!). Photograph Venice by night if you’re not tired. Or laugh with friends all night—until you fall asleep surrounded by camera equipment. (Do remember to at least shut your hotel-room door in that case!) You’ll now be in a Venice that isn’t all about selling cheesy trinkets. You’ll be in the Venice I love.

I can’t wait to go back to Venice. It won’t be for a day. Nor two. Definitely not only three. Venice deserves time. She’ll get mine. I heart Venice.

We’re at the halfway point for this year’s Venice Within The Frame adventure, and we’re having a brilliant time — lots of photography and photographic discussion. I know that the WTF alumni might find it difficult to believe (insert sarcasm alert), but there has also been a lot of laughter, camaraderie, great food, and, yes, a reasonable quantity of wine (as well as a tasty camomile grappa last night). For those from past WTF adventures here in Venice, we’ve not changed our dining location!

For the last few days I’ve been playing around with creating and editing photographs on just my iPhone. They’re not meant to compete with what I can do with my DSLR. They’re mainly just for fun and for personal pleasure. And I have gotten a lot of pleasure with just playing around with simple photographs to share with the iPhone. It can be liberating to just concentrate on creating something within such simple constraints.

The America’s Cup yachts have been arriving in Venice, and while taking vaporetti further afield it’s possible to see them under sail in the lagoon. We’re off to Burano this afternoon; so perhaps we’ll see these sailboats that can cost more than a small country out on the water.

On a personal note, people have commented that it’s been quiet around this blog recently. Indeed it has. Sorry about that. I’ve been pretty busy. It’ll be quiet for a short time longer, and then the crickets might begin to sing more often.

Cheers, J.

David duChemin and I create these photographic adventures because they’re adventures that we want to do, and we want to invite and share the experience with fellow photographers. And these are two destinations about which we are very excited. I’m personally particularly excited. David and I generally choose destinations that one of us knows, and in this case both are new for me. Last year’s adventures were all to places I know well (Italy, Croatia, Laos, Cambodia and Mexico), and it’s always wonderful to return to those places that are special to me. But it’s also nice to visit new places, and for at least some of this year I get to piggyback on David’s travel experience. He’s been to both Mongolia and Antarctica, and he’s raved about both ever since. So I’ve wanted to go, and we’ve finally found the right times and the right itineraries to make both happen.

David has written a long blog post about these trips, and equally importantly he talks about the kinds of people for whom we organize these trips. So if you think that you might be interested in one (or, hey, both!) of these trips, then take a look at the mini-sites for each by clicking the graphics below, but also click HERE to visit David’s blog post about these trips.

If you have any questions, then just let me know. Every so often I have an answer or two. Occasionally, they even match the questions asked.

In the last year and a half, fifty-one individuals have decided to accompany David duChemin and me on adventures in Italy, Nepal, Croatia, Laos, Cambodia and Mexico. Others have already signed up to join us in Ethiopia, Kenya and Tanzania.

When David and I first started brainstorming what we wanted to do, how, and where, it was very easy to get excited about sharing with other photographers the corners of this world that I love. It was also easy to be excited about helping others along their own photographic journeys. However, for some reason, I never fully considered the impact that these individuals would have on me. Perhaps this is because initially they are unknowns, strangers. We don’t know who will decide to join us. But for whatever reason they do.

We have had some participants who have returned many times. One has been with us on nearly half of our adventures, and I look forward to welcoming her on many more. Others we’ve only seen on one adventure, but that doesn’t mean that their impact on me was any less. Far from it.

Some of the participants have done things and said things that still resonate in my mind—in some cases more than a year later. Some provided support to me during an incredibly difficult time this spring, and despite the fact that I had just met them they felt like dear friends immediately. They still are. I have been invited to the homes of, and enjoyed the incredible hospitality of, Within The Frame alumni, and I have bumped into others, and shared additional time together, while traveling this beautiful world. I have even made friends with friends of Within The Frame alumni while traveling and have traveled with them. Some Within The Frame alumni have sent me beautiful photographs and photography books from their adventures.

These Within The Frame alumni have come from all corners of the world—Australia, Austria, Canada, Costa Rica, Dubai, Egypt, Germany, Hungary, Italy, Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Singapore, Spain, Turkey, United Kingdom, United States, and other places that I’m certainly forgetting. They are doctors, firemen, jewelers, photographers, housewives, editors, fundraisers, retirees, lawyers, executives, students, managers, musicians, programmers, consultants, writers, translators, etc. All with a passion for photography, but, more importantly, all with a passion for life and other people.

To be perfectly honest, when I look at the current list of Within The Frame alumni I’m at a loss for words to describe the impact—the beautifully positive impact—that these people have had on me. These are amazing people. Some are now dear to me for life. Others I may never see again but will hope to always remember. And fondly. Very fondly.

Today I would like to give thanks to these individuals. To those of you reading this who might know one or more of these individuals, then you already know what wonderful people they are.

To you, the Within The Frame alumni, I would like to say that, in your own ways, each of you has made me a better person. I would travel with each of you again. I would share wine with each of you. I would dine with each of you. I would laugh with each of you. And I would cry with each of you. Again and again. If you ever need anything from me, then I hope that I can be there for you. You are amazing people. And I’m thankful for having had the pleasure of sharing even a small part of this life, this planet, and your photographic journeys with you. You are…

Robert Ardinger
Claude Biron
Emme Blee
Claudio Bussandri
Joanna Charron
Ilse Cornelis
Jay Desind
Camille Dohrn
Robert Durkin
Kerry Ellis
Jeffrey Fielding
Natalie Forchuk
Michelle Geoga
Amanda Goolsby
Dan Goossens
Fernando Gros
Anne Groton
Eve Hannah
Nikki Harris
Cynthia Haynes
Janat Horn
Michael Jordan
Ty Keennon
C.J. Kern
Andrée Lawrey
Marjan Leeuwesteijn
Wendy Lockhart
Rosa Macías
Lisa Osta
Anish Reddy
Eli Reinholdtsen
Victor Allen Rowley
Robert Royer
Wendy Royer
Marco Ryan
Christy Sampson
Ekta Saran
Stuart Sipahigil
Jens Stachowitz
Stephen Starkman
Jessica Marie Taylor
Luciano Teghillo
Sander van Hulsenbeek
Amie Vanderford
Anna Velkey-Solvberg
A.B.V.
K.V.
Chris Ward
Leonie Wise
Mein Wong
Enis Yücel

Thank you! From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

PS — Where I know of a website for any of these Within The Frame alumni, you can click on their name to access it. (If you are one of them, then please send me any updates.)

AmFree Knitting Circle — (Near) Noh Bo, Thailand (along the Moei River)

In the post March Update, I mentioned (fifth paragraph) a project that I encountered in Thailand along the border with Burma/Myanmar. I didn’t give many details in that post, but I did say that you’d probably hear more about it in this blog. Now is that time.

The project is called AmFree and is run by young American Jaime Yeretzian. She has taught women in a village along the border to knit hats. The hats are funky and fun—just like Jaime. I spent one afternoon with them as the knitting circle sat in a bamboo hut, knitting and examining each others’ work. There was a lot of laughter. The women sit around in the evenings in their spare time (often with their children) and create these hats that Jaime has designed. She then sells them from her website and at stores back in the US to benefit the women. She’s a one-person operation, but she has the drive and determination of a much larger organization.

I was impressed with Jaime. I was impressed with the women who were knitting. And I was impressed with the hats. So I wanted to find some way of helping. Jaime mentioned that she needed a new website. I knew that I didn’t have time, but I thought that I could at least ask around. I sent out a tweet to see if anybody out in the twittersphere would be interested in helping. It turns out that the answer was a resounding “yes”. (And once again I must state how much I love this community.)

Stephen Desroches, a web designer and photographer from Prince Edward Island, volunteered to help. Over the course of the last few months they’ve worked on creating a new website with a new look and new functionality. I occasionally stuck my nose in to see how things were going but otherwise sat on the sidelines, watching as they each explored their expertise.

Cold weather (for those of us in the north) and Christmas are on their way. Perhaps think about buying some hats for gifts (and for yourself!). Jaime isn’t yet registered as a not-for-profit, but I’ve met the women who benefit from the purchase of these hats. But I don’t even have to suggest that you buy these hats to help those women. The truth is that these hats are worth every penny without even considering those women and their families. Jaime is a designer by profession, and she has brought that talent to these hats. You can find out more about her project and see the hats on the AmFree website: AmFree.

Also, if you need a web designer or photographer in the Prince Edward Island area, then consider giving Stephen a call. We’ve corresponded a bit over the course of these months, and I can tell that he’s not only excellent at what he does but also professional in how he does it. Stephen’s website and contact information can be accessed by clicking here.

In April I posted One month, one camera, one lens as a sort of challenge to myself to use just my new 24mm/f1.4 lens for the month that I was going to be in Italy and Croatia. However, in the end I decided to bring back-up lenses for those just-in-case scenarios. I never really got into the groove of this challenge for a couple of reasons. For starters, there was the death of my mother, mentioned in my Life Is (Not Always) Short post, and David duChemin’s failed attempt at flying (recounted here). Both put a serious damper on my photographic endeavors. And then I met Stephen Starkman (yes, another Stephen, who is also Canadian; they must be short on names up north of the border) in Tuscany, who was all too willing to loan me his Zeiss lenses. I simply couldn’t resist. So even though I still wasn’t in a photographic groove, I put the 24mm/f1.4 away and played with the lenses that Stephen generously loaned to me. Stephen, by the way, is an excellent landscape photographer. Check out some of his photography on his smugmug site by clicking here. So this “challenge” kind of failed, but in the meantime I have learned to love that lens. It was on my camera more than any other during the recent Laos + Angkor Within The Frame.

Speaking of Within The Frame, we’ve had a few recent cancellations for the Within The Frame photographic adventures that David duChemin and I co-lead around the world. The unfortunate fact that somebody has to work instead of going on these adventures has opened one spot for each of the next four Within The Frame adventures. You can find out more by clicking on the links below to visit each’s mini-site.

Oaxaca Within The Frame
Lalibela Within The Frame
Maasai Mara Within The Frame
Liguria Within The Frame

In less than two weeks, I’ll be in Oaxaca, Mexico, for Oaxaca Within The Frame, and I’m really looking forward to getting back there and to meeting in person the participants who will be joining us. Más cava, por favor!

Each of these are one-week long photographic adventures. Liguria Within The Frame will begin in Genoa and then visit both the famous Cinque Terre and the less-famous but WTF participant-favorite Camogli. Venice Within The Frame will spend the entire week exploring Venice, allowing us to linger and absorb the majesty of this special place. Neither of these are rushed tours, and we won’t be telling you where to setup your tripods and at what to point them. There is not a single template for learning, and everybody is on a personal photographic learning curve; so rather than classroom exercises, we’ll work organically and one-on-one with participants. We’ll all gather for image reviews and meals to discuss photography, our vision, our craft, etc.

Clicking on either of the adventure graphics below will open that photographic adventure’s mini-site where you’ll find the itinerary and details. For additional information or questions, email David and me by clicking here.

PS — We still have one spot available for Maasai Mara Within The Frame.

Hanuman Das — Pashupatinath Temple, Kathmandu, Nepal

I am going to die. I hope not today nor tomorrow nor anytime in the foreseeable future, but it is fact that I’m going to die. It gets worse. So are you. You are also going to die. We are all going to die.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this concept of life being short. Like many, I’ve seen too much of this impermanence of life. When I was 21 my father died, and that tore the foundation from under my youthful existence. I felt almost unrooted—as if whatever security I had in the world was suddenly gone. A year later, mere seconds after I got out of the car, my dear friend Babette was the only remaining passenger in a car that ran a red light and was hit by another car. She flew through the windshield and bleed to death in the streets of Heidelberg. She was one of the most vivacious people I ever met. In a split second, one error turned a beautiful person into a horrible tragedy. The following year, my cousin was hit by a train as she crossed railroad tracks that had no railway-crossing guards. Her 18-month old son was killed. She was severely, and permanently, injured. Those were three tragedies in less than three years of my life.

More recently, exactly three months ago today, while I was in Italy’s Cinque Terre on day two of Liguria Within The Frame, my mother unexpectedly died. She hadn’t been ill, and she never would have planned to die while I was working in Italy and my sister was on vacation in Hawaii. She was far too considerate and organized to do something like that, and, trust me, you don’t want to be far from home and receive an email that your mother has died. Just typing that word brings tears to my eyes. Those tears never really go away. I still get tears when I think of my father, Babette, Brian and too many others.

These are just some of my stories of loss. You all have your own. We all do. We know people die. We know that others will die. And we know that we too will die. However, we prefer to pretend otherwise. We’re uncomfortable with death. We don’t like it. We struggle to accept it. Hope and optimism stand as sentinels to keep these thoughts far from our minds.

The reality is that for some, life is indeed far too short. They are with us and then suddenly they are not. There are often no warnings that a smile will be the last, or that we should give just a little extra hug. There is no warning that death might be waiting at the next red light, railway crossing, etc.

These are the kinds of stories that tell us that life is short and that we should use such brevity as motivation to embrace life. However, life is not always short. For example, my grandfather-in-law, one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever met, was ready to die when he finally succumbed in his 90s. He lived a long and full life. He suffered the death of his wife, and he suffered the death of his only child. No amount of love—genuine, unconditional love—from others could convince him that he needed more of life. When his time came, he was ready to die. His life was long. It was not short. It was full. It was complete.

When I think of the phrase “life is short”, I am not motivated. I’m reminded of loss, pain, tragedy, and a sense of emotional hollow in which one could hide a universe. The phrase “life is short” seems like a superficial cliché that is used to justify self-indulgent, short-term gratification. Life is not always short. It is also not always long. It is often, however, extremely unpredictable, which is a blessing at times and a tragedy at others. If we could read the script, then we wouldn’t have the joy of living these wonderful lives of ours.

I can think of nothing that I will do because “life is short” that I’m also not going to do in case life is long. Therefore, at least for me, this temporal qualifier seems absolutely pointless—as if we’re meant to pretend to be in the final minutes of some sports activity and must act now or face certain defeat. However, the clock of life is uncertain; it’s unpredictable. We don’t know how much time is left.

We should do something not because life is short (or long) but because we have but one unique life in which to enjoy and strive to accomplish our dreams—or, more importantly, enjoy the path of that endeavor. It’s not the potential brevity of life that should motivate us. We should be motivated simply by life itself. Whether short or long, life is always unique and valuable.

My motivation is that I am, and my drive is for what I can be—for however much time I have.

David duChemin and I have never worked so hard to put together one of our Within The Frame photographic adventures as we have with this one. It’s literally been (four) months in the making as we made sure that every single aspect of it was perfect. This is not about just seeing Africa; this one is about feeling Africa.

We have searched for the right camps and then made sure that we were lingering longer than anybody thought we should. We have no intentions of rushing this experience. Africa is not about rushing, and this adventure is not about seeing a lion, photographing it and rushing home. That’s not how we choose to do this. We want to immerse ourselves into the aura of Africa. We want to feel the Maasai Mara in our souls when we reach for our cameras to capture our vision in photographs.

For those who wish to continue their Kenyan experience after Maasai Mara Within The Frame, we are offering an optional extension to the island of Lamu. This will be a completely different experience for those who have the time and interest. Lamu, a World Heritage site, is Kenya’s oldest living town and Swahili gem. We might even decide to go sailing in a dhow!

For more information on Maasai Mara Within The Frame (but only if you truly have the passion for the allure and aura of Africa) click here.

PS – We still have two spots available for Lalibela Within The Frame. Who’s to say that you shouldn’t consider doing them both? David and I will be doing exactly that; can’t wait! For more information on Lalibela Within The Frame click here.

Korčula, Croatia

The Croatia Within The Frame photographic adventure arrived yesterday in Dubrovnik for our final excursions before we all go our separate ways. It’ll be bittersweet to leave Xeinos, our fifty-foot sailboat for the week, but I’ll be glad to get home after a month of extreme roller-coaster highs and lows. It’s not been what I planned nor expected of this time in Italy and Croatia—not even close, but I have shared this month with some amazing people in some amazing places. Even through the fog of pain and loss, I can see that I’m blessed to know such wonderful people.

A sailboat is not always an easy place for a group of people, particularly when many arrive as strangers to each other. It’s not like a hotel, where you can close yourself off in your room to meet later in the lobby. It’s a confined space in which there are few secrets and lots of sharing. Fortunately, this group has gelled extremely well, including with our skipper (and now friend) Damir. I’ve just missed my friend and cohort David duChemin. Every time we saw something interesting, ate something brilliant, drank something surprising, sailed along the rocky shore or jumped off the bow into the not-so-terribly-warm water I thought of him and how much he’d have enjoyed this adventure. It was something that I wished to share with him. So dearest David, this was a trial run; there will be a do-over, and you will be on the boat with me—like it or not. But, no, there will be no snuggling. (OK, maybe there will be a little bit of snuggling.)

When the ambulance arrived they decided that it would be easier and quicker to attach a stretcher to a cherry picker and lower it with two (or maybe it was three) EMTs. They, the Bangladesh guy and I worked to get David situated and secured in the stretcher to be lifted up to the waiting ambulance (for my first ride in an ambulance), while hundreds if not more than a thousand looked on from above. Naturally, David chose a spot that seems to be party-central on a Saturday night. Lots of people. There are photos of all of this that I’m sure you will see within the next day or two. In fact, David was imploring me to take photos. I didn’t but others did. They kindly asked whether David would want to see them or not wish to have them. Of course, David wanted them. That’s David! He and I looked at Knut’s photos this afternoon, and, well, it also looks pretty frightening in pixels.

He is now in the trauma center of the local hospital. He has multiple fractures in his feet, hip and hand. The EMTs and doctor say that he’s lucky to be alive. He’s going to need surgery and a lot of time to recover. Corwin and I (mostly Corwin) are working to get him medically evacuated back to Canada as we think that he’ll be more comfortable there. Some hospital staff here speak a bit of English, and, of course, I interpret for him; however, he’ll be more comfortable where he can fully understand everything and have his family near him.

David is in a lot of pain, but he hasn’t lost his winning spirit, optimism and grace. When called by a friend who asked how he was doing, he mustered the strength to respond “living the dream man; living the dream.” Soon enough I suspect that he will be. And I can’t wait!