Pointless vanity project of the former Tabascokid

I try not to just post links to other people’s work but this one is a very impressive piece of video.  Please watch the whole thing as it’s not what you expect.

www.zarias.com

Bravo, that man.

Enough with all that serious news, it’s back to the red carpet and the London weather for me!  Tonight, I covered the arrivals at the Brit awards for my fourth consecutive year, I seem to remember.  Always the photographer, never the winner.  Tch!  You’d think those judges would want to at least give me a lifetime honour for my contributions to Northern prog rock/dance music!  No taste, I tells ya..  With stepladders over my shoulder and press card in hand ready for the lotto draw to decide our positions in the photographers pen, I headed out for my first shoot since returning from Israel.

Every year, AFP tries to get inside to shoot the show but every time our application is blocked.  The only real reason I can see for the PR company doing this is a lack of understanding about the size of AFP as the pictures from tonight will be used worldwide.  Baffling.

Anyhow, the draw took place and I was glad I lugged my 63 rung stepladder across London as fate decided to place me at the back.  If you have the pleasure of browsing the celebrity magazines, you’ll see that the main pictures that sell (aside from exclusive backstage stuff, usually shot by a photographer for whichever agency paid the most) are the straight shots.  As long as the picture has eye-line (eye contact) and is either a full length for women or a head-shot for chaps, you’ve got the shot.  As you can see from tonight.  Being third row and on top of a huge stepladder doesn’t always go hand in hand with eye-line.

Resigning myself to my situation, I shot pretty much all of the arrivals using the “catchflash” technique that I’ve talked about in previous blogs.  As you can imagine, this is a hit and miss affair, relying on catching the moment that the other photographers fire their flashguns to provide the light for my image.

The results can create pictures that I think are usually far more interesting.  Unfortunately, what I find interesting and what the papers will publish aren’t always the same as tomorrows tabloids will be overflowing with shots from the guys on the front row who got the eye and the full length.  Ah well.

The problems connected with working on top of stepladders are that firstly, you can’t edit and send your pictures very easily and secondly, you’re perched on a small area while trying to juggle your camera bodies and lenses.  Tonight, I was working with fellow catchflash devotee Ian Gavan and we both ended up on the magic combo of 300mm f2.8 for the headshots and 24-70mm f2.8 for the wides and full-lengths.

So that’s the Brits over for another year with no particular highlights but thankfully no rain to welcome me back into the fold.  Small blessings..

My last day has arrived and it’s time to head back to sunny London town.  Ahh, I can just imagine it now; friendly faces in the street, bidding good morning to each other as they head to the park to bask in the glow from the mid-morning sun..

My time here’s been a fantastic experience, thanks to the top bunch of people based out here both within the AFP bureau and out on the streets of Israel and the West Bank.  It’s been great fun getting to meet them all and to see how this part of the world works.  I have a feeling that I’ll be sat back in England, following Israeli politics with no-one to share my enthusiasm!

..and at the end of the trip when your expenses get handed over, it’s nice to see that you’ve made a real impression on everyone with the bureau, even the accounts department.  How did she know my alter-ego?

Israel.  It never likes doing anything the easy way, it seems.  As expected, yesterday proved to be a mammoth 22 hour shift, ending in Tel Aviv at the Likud party base for what was supposed to be Benjamin Netanyahu’s victory speech.

But as has become increasingly familiar out here, things didn’t go according to plan and as the polls closed at 10pm, the published exit polls sent shock-waves through the room.  Rival party Kadima were ahead by two seats. Supporters did their best to keep spirits up with bursts of “Bibi” chants and flag waving but things weren’t looking good.

Supporters who’d arrived with the sweet taste of victory in their mouths began to sense the discount burger taste of defeat.

In Israeli politics, it’s often the case that there is no definitive winner on the night but usually, the polls are reasonably accurate.

Hours after the initial results were reported by the tv networks in Israel, “Bibi” took to the stage and with an Oscar-worthy performance managed to show little sign of upset and even claimed victory, albeit for the right-wing if not his own party.  As Yisrael Beiteinu’s far-right policies had grown in success, the left-wing Labour party had now been pushed into an unprecedented third place in the polls.

Surrounded by members of his team and party, Netanyahu did his bit, thanked his crew and wrapped up his speech.  Before he’d left the stage, supporters were already leaving the building.

Looking down, I noticed scraps of paper that looked like the ballot papers from earlier in the day and had to ask a photographer next to me what the paper said.  Discovering they were Likud party papers, soon every photographer was monstering the poor cleaner who was just trying to get home.

With victory so strongly predicted for previous weeks, many in Israel’s politics will be left wondering what went wrong for Likud and what happens now.

On your marks.. Get set.. Vote!

As a little recap, election day in Israel is here with current polls suggesting a tight race between the hawkish former premier Benjamin Netanyahu and centrist Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni, with the far-right expected to make major gains.  Following “Operation Cast Lead” in the Gaza strip and continued threats from neighbouring Iran, some parties are playing on the fears and insecurities of many Jewish voters.

5:30am alarm call.  Ouch. First call of the day was to head out to the settlement village of Nokmid; the home of far-right Yisrael Beiteinu party leader Avigdor Lieberman.  Located right in the middle of otherwise Palestinian-controlled land, the village has armed security guards as you enter and has managed to create a strong suburban atmosphere, despite being surrounded on all sides by the desolate lunar landscape of the West Bank.

With the polling station in order and the ballot box secured, the doors were opened for the small community to cast their votes.

At 8:30am, Lieberman arrived with his heavy security escort and cast his vote.  As expected, any sense of organisation in the media disappeared as people pushed, pulled and slowly crept/collapsed forward.  After a short speech in Hebrew (which I’m sure was full of messages of peace, love and unity), he headed one way and I headed the other, back into Jerusalem.

A quick liberal spraying of superglue to the screws on my very very annoying 70-200mm lens and a belly-full of pizza from the giant stack of 12 large Dominos delights in the office and a quick chance to go through my edits from this morning.

In an hour, I head to Tel Aviv for a long night of vote-count fever and a chance to complete my set of covering all four of the main political parties.  Maybe this kid’s got the right idea..

Friday?  That makes it tear-gas o’clock..  Today, I joined up with Abbas once more and headed to the village of Billin to cover the latest round of weekly clashes with the Israeli Defence Force soldiers.

Different to last week, the routine at Billin is to approach the wall along a dirt track until you reach the barbed wire-topped fence that marks the controversial line between the West Bank and Israel.  Once there, the locals try to cross through the gate, waving flags, to which the IDF soldiers react with the ever-popular cocktail of tear gas and flash bang charges.  I’d actually managed to forget what the gas tasted like until the first cloud hit us before I’d had chance to get my mask on.  Yum.

It seems that I must have some kind of Israeli homing beacon attached to me somewhere as, again, a soldier decided to take a shot at me.  Now, I’m glad to say that this will be my last gas-filled protest of the assignment as this was decidedly close.  After a few minutes of the first charge being fired, I heard a shot so ducked and immediately heard something whistle very loudly over my head.  At this point, everyone around went “woahhh!” in a 3d cinema-audience stylee.  Apparently, if I still had a head of hair, the tear gas canister would have given me a nice centre parting, passing 20cm over my head.  Okaayyyy..

Aside from that little wake-up call, this weeks protest was less dramatic as the troops didn’t come through onto Palestinian land so after everyone had received a few good lungfuls of chemicals, the group started to fade back into the village.  With a few remaining youths continuing their slingshot fire, we headed back to the car and off in search of drinks to wash away that marvellous taste I’ll miss so much.  I wonder if it’s available as a roll-on?

On Tuesday, I had the chance to go to a Ger Hassidim wedding in central Jerusalem with AFP photographer Menahem Kahana.

Living in North London, I’m used to the sight of members of the Hassidic Jewish faith and their particular style of Spodik hats and long black coats but to find myself in among hundreds of men and boys as they celebrated a wedding within their community was really something special.

With males and females directed in opposite directions on arrival at the venue, the chaps all filed into a large outdoor yard next to a religious centre where a huge PA system pumped out a looped segment from a traditional wedding song.  Although it soon became tiring to listen to, it beat Celine Dion for wedding music any day.

At first, it has to be said that it’s quite a daunting experience as there certainly weren’t many happy reactions to me when they saw my regular clothes and cameras but hopefully the kippah loaned to me by Menahem gave me some credit points.

Wandering round the area, we stumbled across five brothers who were deep in discussion but seemed happy to be photographed as they talked and as we both took pictures, I could see that this was breaking the ice a little among the other men.  After this, my confidence had increased and everyone else relaxed a little so I could start actually taking pictures!

As some of the group held hands and danced in large circles, others queued to access the building for a chance to meet the Rabbi.  This seemed to be quite a popular idea as towards the end of the day, the orderly queue became a little more frantic with old guys clambering over railings to jump the line.  This was the only part that I was asked not to shoot and, thanks to them allowing me to shoot the rest of the event, I respected their wishes (although it was amusing to watch..)

As the afternoon drew on and the guests filed out from the building, thirsty kids queued for soft drinks from a long table near the exit as the men gathered up their belongings.  The Police arrived and again closed the roads as the tide of black hats made it’s way back home.

After a morning of inter-photographer violence in the Yehuda market place in Jerusalem as Benjamin Netanyahu visited, a quick tally of damage showed no physical damage to me but a rather deformed pair of sunglasses.  With a quick edit out of the way, a decision was made to head into the West Bank to Bethlehem for lunch.  Yes, I know.  Insane, isn’t it?

Making our way through the streets of the West Bank, the technique involves driving at a constant speed and in no way stopping near any security officers or police.  This is down to the fact that Israelis are forbidden to enter this area and even though everyone had passports of varying nations, it’s better just to avoid having to go through the motions of showing documentation etc.  It would be easy to blend in if it wasn’t for the yellow Israeli license plates on the car.  Ahh.  Thankfully, we arrived with no problems at the Abu Shanab restaurant on (wait for it..) Manger Street.  The food was unbelievably good with a whole table full of dips and pickles and sauces and.. erm.. just “stuff” for starters followed by lamb cutlets and lamb kebabs.  Awesome.  If you ever go to Bethlehem, go to Abu Shanab.  Anyway, religion..

With a belly full of lamb, it was time for a gut full of religion so I headed up the road to the Church of the Nativity and the epicentre of many of the world’s religions.

Now, as you may have picked up over the course of these blog posts, I’m not a religious man.  If anything, I’ll admit to being quite anti-religion in many ways.  I disagree with anything that has caused so many rifts, wars and unhappiness over the years while going under the name of peace.  However (and it’s quite a big however), I have great respect for those who follow religion on a personal spiritual level, subscribing to the “peace to all and help one another” kind-of-thing and it is with this in mind that I headed into the Church.

Like many people, I grew up with religious hymns in school and even used to read a children’s Christmas edition of the bible that essentially cut out all the waffle and just went for the kid-friendly manger/mini-donkey/Wise Men bits when I was feeling all festive as a nipper.  The places that were featured always seemed more like another planet, never mind another country so when you actually walk into the Grotto of the Nativity (not a Santa in sight, I might add..) and see the point on the ground were Jesus was supposed to have been born (below) followed by the manger where he slept, it’s impossible not to feel awe-struck.

Luckily for me, a large group of tourists was just leaving as I arrived so I managed to get a few minutes between coach-loads to wander around the different chambers and crypts alone.  The manger itself (below) is surrounded by marble, covered with hundreds of tiny crosses, carved over the centuries by the worshippers who visit the site.  As hard as I searched, there was no “Jesus was here 1AD” to be seen though.

It was interesting to see how many people were crying as they sat around the Grotto area but apparently this is all very normal.  While up to this point I thought that the “Jerusalem Syndrome” referred to the need for every driver to beep their horn just as the traffic light turns from red to amber, it seems that it’s actually a recognised phenomena.  Having only seen one real casualty of this so far (a man dressed as Jesus, walking through the market) I can’t say I’ll be ditching my jeans for a white smock just yet.

Yesterday I was faced with my first day off since arriving so decided to head out and see some of the sights on offer.  Using my trusty Satnav, I punched in “Dead Sea” and headed off down Route 1.  Having been told before that it was only an hours drive, I was surprised to see that it was 180km but assumed the time suggested had just been a casual suggestion.  Off I trundled before realising that I was heading wayyy down South, turning and coming all the way back up North again.  It turns out the Israeli Satnavs have an option to avoid that nasty Palestine country.  Just when I thought that damned GPS couldn’t annoy me any more, it finds a new way.

Anyhow, trundling towards my destination, I passed a sign for Masada and remembering senior photographer Marco Longari’s advice of places to see, I opted to go and check it out.  Having passed warning signs informing me I was entering a dead end, the twisting road led me 20km across the desert, without passing a single car on the way.  Let me say, after driving like this for 15km, you start to instinctively have flashes of “The Hills Have Eyes” or at least start looking out for the odd “Tusken Raider“.

Anyhow, after driving on a stretch of road that car advert makers dream of, I arrived at the end of the road and the fortress ruins of Masada.  Perched on the top of 400m cliffs sit the ruins of palaces, homes and storerooms that were the scene of a siege by the the Roman army.  Surrounding the mountain-top fortress, the Romans eventually got through the defences in 73AD to allegedly find all 936 people inside dead, having chosen to kill themselves rather than surrender.  Bummer.  The Roman garrison site where they planned their entry during the three month siege is still visible (below, left) from the top of the mountain.  It must be quite a feeling to have a whole bunch of soldiers camped within shouting distance for three months, watching them prod and probe the walls of the fortress every day as they try to get in.  Sheesh..

As you can see from the image below, the original structures were pretty damned dapper and would certainly have featured heavily in “MTV Cribs – Sicarii Special Edition”.

Anyhow, back on the road home again, the newly defeated satnav gave me a much more sensible 90km route home, even throwing in a camel-train as way of apology.