A fine cuppa
I’m always trying to expand my photographic skill set. I have come to the conclusion that god, gods, or whatever deity or mischief maker controls our fate, does not want me to be a landscape photographer. I plan trips, check the times of sunset and sunrise only to be presented with clouds, gloom, rain, murky days that could adorn a Black Sabbath album cover but not the hyper-real, wow, it’s good to be alive inspirational type image I plan. Then again, the gloom fits my demeanor. My soul is black, what’s left of it, and judging by the books I read, the music I listen to, and the occasional television programme I may consume, I’m pretty much not Baby Shark. Unless of course Baby Shark grows up and slices Quint in two.
Hut, just before I got soaked. The door was locked so I couldn't take refuge
I’ve been dabbling with other image making endeavors. I never considered food photography until quite recently and while I haven’t managed to pull my finder out and take a well-composed image of a meal, as can be attested by the piss-poor cup of coffee featured, I have been watching plenty of videos and the process is fascinating and quite scary. That beautifully cooked chicken, succulent burger or ice-cold beer isn’t what you think it is
I mention the coffee only because looking back at my photos from the European Continental Cup, the most popular image seems to be of a friend holding a cup of coffee. Admittedly, it looks to be a fine cuppa. So, I’m thinking of shifting my focus. Food photography it is. If anyone wants me at MEC they can find me behind the Fat Hippo van taking the perfect burger photo. Or just stuffing my face.