In the neighbourhood (2)

The garish red wood and plaster of the Drum Tower, I find, is not quite so beguilingly attractive as the grey-green stone of its partner, the Bell Tower. Nevertheless, it is still rather an imposing sight. (This is one of my favourite shots of it, currently set as the desktop wallpaper on my computer.)

And, with that, I bring to an end my 'photo gallery' week. 20 posts and 45 pictures in all, I think. I hope you've enjoyed them.

Back to writing, now; back to spleen and bile and snarky humour, and so on and so on.

In the neighbourhood (1)

The ancient Bell Tower, just a short walk from my apartment, is perhaps Beijing's most beautiful building, and is at the heart of one of its quaintest areas of old-style hutong low-rise alleyways - a favourite spot for strolling and hanging out. Here are three shots taken from the roof terrace of the adjacent Drum & Bell Bar: one by day,one by night,and one on the cusp between the two, at dusk, when the local pigeon-fanciers let their flocks out for an hour or so's exercise - my favourite time of the day!

Street abstracts

Pretty pink clouds

We very, very, very rarely get clouds like this in Beijing. And you usually have to be up very early in the morning to catch them when they do show up. This is the moat around the Forbidden City, taken shortly after dawn (on my way back from the Tiananmen Square flag-raising on the October 1st National Day a few years ago).

Ghostly figures

I posted this one over on The Barstool a couple of weeks or so ago - two lads on a bicycle unconcernedly thwarting my attempt to take a picture of the quaint little bar over the road.

This is a rather similar 'happy accident' - from a demonstration by the Beijing Tango Society several years ago.

Chop

A 'chop' - the traditional Chinese signature-seal - makes a beautiful memento of China. I have several myself. The ones I had made for my two young nieces were a great success (at least, initially; I don't know if they've survived), and were used to stamp their names all over the house. They've all been made for me by a Chinese artist friend, Wu Yuren, who loves to do it as a hobby. He might not be the best chop-carver in the world, but he invests an awful lot of love into it, and that personal connection imbues an unquantifiable extra value. (Plus, of course, he might get really famous one day, and then they might be worth a lot of money! Although I'd be loath to part with mine, even if that did happen.)

During his 'starving artist' years, I tried to direct a little extra income his way by soliciting chop commissions from several of my friends for their children and so on. It was in fact very difficult to get him to accept much money at all, and the postage to the US and the UK ended up costing a lot more than the labour and materials. He really does do it just because he loves to do it. It's rather inspiring to find such simple and direct passion for something.

(Do take a look at his website [Warning: Some of it is not for the squeamish!]. I particularly like his 'Imperial Criminals' photo series.)

Mushrooms

Another still life for you. Sliced mushrooms, sun-dried on sheets of newspaper by the roadside, somewhere out in the Beijing countryside. I think in fact I took this picture at Simatai on the same trip where I took yesterday's shots of the Great Wall.

The sky is not colourful enough

A few years ago, I went out to the rural district of Daxing at the southern edge of Beijing to take part in a 10km run. It was a dazzlingly beautiful day in April or early May. The young forestry plantations in the district provided a delightful backdrop to our exertions; the local villagers beamed encouragement at us; and the almost cloudless sky was the kind of infinite blue that simply could not be improved upon.

Of course, the organizers insisted on filling the air with flags and banners and balloons and lanterns and - at the start of the race - with really colossal amounts of party-popper streamers. I felt it said something unfortunate about the national character in modern times: the compulsion towards kitsch seems to smother all other aesthetic sense, even the appreciation of nature.

Heads

A few years ago, I was going out with a lovely American girl who was interested in Buddhism (she is in fact pursuing a career in academe, as one of the few people to specialise in the study of Chinese Buddhism). A nice stone Buddha head was something she coveted for herself. A good replica of a terracotta warrior's head was something she wanted as a present for her mum. Both proved to be much more difficult to find than we had supposed. The quest for the Buddha head became a project that consumed us for months, but eventually I dug up a rather fine one (well, within our modest ambitions) for her in the Panjiayuan market here in Beijing.

The terracotta warrior on the right was acquired in the Xi'an night market. The girlfriend, alas, though her Chinese was reasonably good, lacked the 'hard-nosed' gene required for haggling here. However, her technique had improved slightly under my tuition, and she wanted to attempt this transaction on her own. I loitered by a nearby stall, feigning impatience. The negotiation dragged on and on, and she would occasionally come over to ask my advice.

"Tell her you haven't got any more money," I told her, when it seemed to me that things had gone on quite long enough.

A little later, the girlfriend returned again. "She says I should borrow some from you."

My impatience was no longer feigned. "Look," I said, "you're really in a take-it-or-leave-it situation now. Just tell her I refused to lend you any money because I don't like the head and I think you're offering too much already."

A few minutes later the girlfriend returned, proudly clutching the head. "She says you are tight-fisted and you have a black heart and I should dump you for someone nicer. Thank you."

What a great wall!

It really is a pity that the great majority of visitors to Beijing only get to visit the very heavily 'restored' (and hence rather phoney feeling) section of the Great Wall at Badaling - favoured for its convenience, as it's only 40 miles or so to the north of the capital.

Some of the remoter stretches - like this at Simatai, probably the second most popular tourist spot, but much less spoiled - are quite stunning, especially if you catch them on a day in early summer when the light is like this.

Found 'art'

I take much delight in happy 'accidents' like this - a curiously shaped tower of bricks left balanced on top of a partly demolished wall, or a plastic bag inexplicably knotted around a telephone wire. This sort of thing does seem to be rather common in China, and I often wonder if there isn't a conscious - if obscure - intent behind such constructions (apart from my conscious intent to record them with my camera, of course). Anonymous guerrilla artists roaming the streets of Beijing? Perhaps some of the hordes of minggong, the peasant migrant workers who staff the city's construction sites (and factories and restaurants) letting off a bit of creative steam?

Blue walls

The walls of blue metal sheeting which screen off Beijing's legion building sites have been one of the city's most distinctive sights during the decade or so of reconstruction it has just undergone. I find them endlessly fascinating, especially when they've weathered a bit - got scuffed up and dented and rusted. I've got a lot more of these, but - luckily for you! - these are the only four I happen to have reduced to a manageable size for posting to the Web.

An illustrated haiku

On the night walk home
A trio of moon-windows
Always halts my steps.

Still Life

Another favourite subject for my snapping.... Rather than more traditional, painterly studies, though, I usually prefer to get into extreme close-ups or quirky angles to render the objects more abstract, to concentrate on aspects of light or colour, form or texture.

For instance, I just adored the multiple reflections in this array of cocktail shakers, and took several pictures of it (though in retrospect I rather wished I'd moved the bottle of Tsingtao beer at left out of the way!).

And I can't now recall just how I got the perspective so distorted (or the focus so sharp) on this bunch of yellow roses, but I like the effect.

And there are some lovely colours, forms, and variations in light in this close-up of flower stems in a thick glass vase.

Ah, and this one, I suppose, is a bit more like a classic painter's exercise. The truth is, I was so bored at a charity dinner that I began photographing the cutlery to keep myself awake.

Xiangqi

I love pausing to watch a game of xiangqi - the 'Elephant Game', or Chinese chess - whenever I can, hoping that trying to analyse the position and follow a few minutes of play will help improve my own game. No such luck! But it is one of the great charms of Chinese street life, I find; whether it's being played by local folks from my neighbourhood occupying the Bell Tower square on a Sunday afternoon

or by these traders at the Panjiayuan 'antiques' market

or by this group of codgers I snapped on a holiday in Kaifeng a few years ago.

While drinking...

I find drinking and being drunk no obstacle at all to taking interesting pictures. Quite the reverse.

I've posted this oneand this one before (on The Barstool),but not this one

or this one...

Bricks

China surely has the scrappiest pointing in the world. Quite remarkable. This is a particularly egregious, but by no means unique example.

I find this endlessly fascinating. In fact, I have long pondered the possibility of creating a coffee table book called The Big Book Of Beijing Brickwork. Another million-dollar idea?

Light abstract

Just about the only thing I like about digital photography is the ease of creating serendipitous light doodles like this. Well, it was easy with the pocket digital camera I used to have, with the continuous through-the-viewfinder TV picture on its LCD screen. It's much less easy with my dratted Nikon D50.

Doorway

So inviting....

Where will it lead?

Washing day in the hutongs

It's always washing day in the hutongs; but the light isn't always as good as this.