Lightning Strikes

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New Rules. Short entries.

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Lightning Storm Puerto Vallarta July 18

Pic of the Day

Welcome

to the
callananphoto

Lost and Found Dept.

In the course of searches through my files, digital and analog, ancient and recent, I often unearth some hitherto forgotten or neglected image that makes me smile. Either for its content, its photographic merit or for its sentimental significance, I'm creating an archive for these lost souls that might not ordinarily get public exposure; shots that were taken for a reason at the time, but without a real purpose in mind.

Here, then is a halfway house for the orphans, the accidents, the resurrected and the likeable runts of the litter.

Their only common denominator is that I didn't really know what else to do except share them; there's no chronology, no connection between successive posts, but I'll keep adding to them....until the cows come home.

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Brahman cattle. Dawn fog. Sinaloa, Mexico

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Cooling off at Austin City Limits Music Festival 2007

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Anibal relaxes with dolphin
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"WILL BUILD TO SUIT" - New Mexico

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poppies and smokering - Burningman 2008

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The Millenium Bug
During a layover at LAX in 2000, this brand new VW beetle was alone on the rooftop parking lot. The mothership beyond that it mimics is the Jetsonesque skyport restaurant. I made a feeble attempt to sell it to VW but they weren't buying.

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Somewhere in Oregon

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everywhere in mexico. La Virgen de Guadalupe
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Electrical storms are one (and the only?) good and exciting thing about summer life in Puerto Vallarta. This strike hit the water right in front of the hotel zone. Shot from my street in Amapas towards downtown PV.
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The Smoothie bus at Kahakuloa on the scenic north coast road on Maui, Hawai'i.

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Home sweet home. Sydney CBD from the Harbour Bridge

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Cantina las Perras, San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, Mexico. The sign by the door translates "No women in uniform or minors"
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First frame through the lensbaby 3G

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Cora Indians at a coffee plantation in Nayarit, Mexico
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Happenstance was Burningman 2000; an artcar tribute to the DNA double helix complemented by a twirling dust devil.
http://www.callananphoto.com/burningman/ http://www.callananphoto.com/burningman2008/
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Los Indios Tarahumara celebrate Easter with mud, dance, music, tejuino and sleeplessness. Las Barancas del Cobre (copper canyon) Chihuahua, Mexico.
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Carlos Santana and his Mum going home to Autlán, Jalisco, 2002
● In the pre-plastic glory days of tall ships, the henequen plant provided most of the world's cordage. A handful of delapidated haciendas in the Yucatan peninsula still process the plant and produce the fibre. Hacienda Ake.
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Seafood restaurant wallart, La Islote, Guayabitos, Mexico.
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Sunset clifftop dinner set-up for two at Four Seasons Resort , Punta Mita, Mexico
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Spiral staircase in Casa Mi Ojo, Careyes, Mexico
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Mennonite father and his children, Campeche, Mexico
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(above and below) Murals, La Habana, Cuba

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Banksia. Floral poker dots of the Sydney bushland.

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Me, trying to put some life into yet another silent architectural scene.
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Bananaboat ride, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

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Classic Americana diner decor. Salida, Colorado

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One of the quasi-religious parades leading up to La Feria San Marcos in Aguascalientes. More at http://www.callananphoto.com/aguascalientes/
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what a sad indictment of modern vallarta....I think this is the same woodpecker I found at my doorstep as a fledgling just after they'd started to clear the adjacent lot to make way for another condo tower. I nursed it and released it and watched it fly downhill back to its roost. Four months later there are metal and concrete towers where the huamuchil tree of its birthplace used to be. It's hard not to be anthropomorphic and suggest that its thought at this moment was "wtf?"

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This horse may well have had a similar thought....6th National Charro Championship, PV March '08

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Sydney Storm from North Head

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A cuetero watches all his hard work go up in smoke and sparks as hundreds of interconnected fuses and gunpowder charges synchronise and give pyrotechnic life to a classic mexican fireworks castillo (tower).
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The seawater baths on the southern end of Mazatlan's loooong malecon. Very popular with the working class who know how to have fun for free.

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This is about as busy as San Felipe ever gets.

Dawn patrol services the departing fishing fleet.(Yucatan)

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End of the Line for the Skunk Train. Fort Bragg, Ca.
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Cuatro cubanos contentos. Aguardiente-lubricated camaraderie.
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EJW leap of faith at the science building. Eugene, Or.
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Liverpool Mall (PV) carpark at midnight
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This is my foto of Bob Gilbert's painting of my foto. (and below, some extraordinary tilework designed by Anna the Pom in the house that Bob built at Akunamatata (near Tehuamixtle, Jalisco). The scorpion adorns the threshold, the carp swim in the rockpool.

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Negative space. Max's wigwam in the aspens. Colorado
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Sneakin' a peek inside the cantina. Merida, Yucatán
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Study of chair and sculpture.
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black and white roadside attractions - 1970 BMW 75/5 and cows

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black and white roadside attractions, mexico style.

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Stay tuned

international fireworks symposium

The long awaited and highly anticipated 11th International Fireworks Symposium convened in Vallarta in April 2009.

I donated a photograph to the promotional cause which became their banner image, hung all over town and was featured on the badges of the hundreds of participating pyros.

The Tlalchichilpaneco team even incorporated the image into their own banner which a couple later used as a roof to protect themselves from falling embers! (I think molten plastic is worse than smouldering cardboard.) Novel use for a stock image!



That the symposium organisers didn't present me with my own pass didn't stop me from getting in close to the action.

The 4 nights of fireworks also incorporated the water frontage to good effect, using barges and remotely detonated charges.

I made 2 sorties into the fiery fray and as with any carte blanche self-instigated photo/doco assignment it's often the serendipitous sightings away from the main stage that yield the most interesting photographs.

For more photos of the symposium event, the fireworks and its fringe go here

But if it's just fireworks you want,

ignite this
and see more castillos and cuetes than you can poke a match at.

Making my way between the firewoks shows at the stadio and the malecon, I saw a political slogan ominously predicting the fate of street foodstall patrons. I made the connection after scoffing a few volcanes con todo....

"the movement follows"

Stay tuned for more bowel humour.

Australia Australia Land of the Waratah and Dahlia

My Mum's 80th in late Feb 2009 was all the excuse I needed for a visit home.

It also prompted the long threatened acquisition of a mariachi suit....manifestation of a pretend mexican.

The other clincher to make the trip was the practical reunion of my builder brother Michael and me to reconstruct the elevated verandah at Mum's house. It had been poorly made and even more poorly repaired over the years; we had the job of making it like new again. (MCsquared/Safety Third Productions.)

The verandah took 2 weeks and included the adaptive improvement to an existing pergola frame on the back of the house using the old deck boards.

The week after the party was work by day and socialise by night at a string of Sydney artworld events. The first being the archibald wynne and sulman prizes for 2009 at the AGNSW.

Socially a great event. Some great art too but difficult to concentrate on when the gallery is full of more beautiful people than beautiful art.

Visually inspired and sufficiently Iubricated, I wandered back to Circular Quay with all eyes on the citynightscape that I hadn't savoured for too long. The roadworks scene outside the Mitchell Library reminded me of the cartoonish industrial works of Jeffrey Smart.

Another event in a week of exhibitions and openings was the Moran prize in early March. It was judged solely by my nephew Andrew Quilty which was a great honour but also meant he couldn´t enter the $A80,000 comp....Dean Sewell won. You can see the their work and other examples of the best of contemporary australian photography at Oculi.

Staying in Neutral Bay meant easy access to the ferry service - a glorious 15 minutes to the city, day or night, via the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, neither of which ever fail to impress.

Sydney coastal weather often highlighted the already spectacular beachscenes. This one squall passed over the Central coast and metamorphosed its way south down the line of the northern peninsular beaches. (Shot from South Palm Beach.)

Then it was a hop, skip and a jump (plane, train and a car) to western Victoria for 5 days at Tyrendarra, to visit a mate, his missus and friends. Days were spent doing what you do in a happy home surrounded by the Australian bush.

Nights were spent carousing and making music.

Pete's professional life is devoted to the study of the largest animal ever known on Earth, the blue whale which congregates annually along the Bonney Upwelling near Portland.

Dr. Peter Gill, also known as the biggest bloody clown on the planet also performs for us in a 4 frame movie.

And thence it was back to Sydney for a final wander and wonder.

Adieu
hasta pronto

Los Veranos

Meet Jeff.

He's the only one who gets to ride the Los Veranos Can O' Peas without a crash helmet.

He owns the joint.
Lock, stock and 14 smokin' ziplines.

He built it from scratch and still likes to ride after all these years to relive the rush he created

when you step off a platform and scream your way 300m across and above
the mighty Rio Horcones.

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For the rest of the world, after a self-guided wander riverside,

the guided tour starts with a harness, helmet and glove fitting with a short demo

and then its off to get high .

and go fast.

There aren't too many activities where parents, children, grandparents and teenagers all get to experience the same rush and same thrill.

The zipline is an egalitarian tour and proves that there's no age limit on thrill seeking.

However, like parachuting and scubadiving, ziplining is not an innately human pursuit. To span voids hanging from fibres is not an instinct nor a talent we possess as a species.

Spiders do it , but we have to be pushed, and in the process, convinced that it is really OK. That's why the first zip is short, slow and low. It's the teaser that makes you want more. It's the first of many surprises.

Expect the unexpected: screamers, scream; fears are faced: the mighty crumble and the meek shall inherit the zippydedoodah.

There's always a helping hand if you need it.

But once you leave the platform, you're on it and there's no getting off it, so you might as well relax and enjoy it....et voila! Everyone arrives at the other end grinning like cheshire cats and eager for the next run.

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Teenagers, their bravado temporarily checked by lingering thoughts of mexican engineering standards, enjoy the shock of speed, exposure, altitude and experience, for a change, a sport wherein there's no sexual superiority, no fraternity other than that of secret fear. Equal rights.

Some riders retain the cool throughout the extreme conditions.

some appreciate the passing panorama

and for some, well it's just too damn exciting for words
(except maybe a shrill and prolonged "OMG............"!!! )

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If children are too small to go themselves they get a personal escort.

(Adult escort service enquiries can be directed to the Head Guide, Pale (pron. pa-lay) Hah!, not really, but girls don't seem to mind attention from any of the good-looking bilingual guides)!

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Having a personal or group video of the tour is an excellent souvenir (and keeps this guy fit).
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The names of each ride give clues to the nature of the particular thrill or physical requirements.

(dos cojones)
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Throughout the course, the Los Veranos ziplines really constitute a 'canopy tour' as they pass above it

Within it

and through it.

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After a few hours of group camaraderie, new rivalries emerge and get tested as the tour ends with a challenge race down the river (loser buys the margaritas).

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But the tour, the thrills and the challenges don't stop there....Just when you thought yourself vindicated as a fearless macho, other animals take the stage and
sort the men

and the women

from the boys and the girls.
The animals are part of the casual riverside restaurant atmosphere where you'll find delicious simple, solutions to the appetite earned from exercise and fresh air.

And after lunch, on a full stomach why not break another few rules and go headfirst into the raging torrent? Ha. not recommended but swimming in all conditions other than wet season floodwaters is a great way to cool off after the tour.

And to continue the los Veranos mantra of doing weird stuff 'at least once in your life',
there's a menagerie of other pettable animals to feed and fondle and freakout over.

You'll have them eating out of your hand.

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Monty Python, the resident boa is a favourite challenge for most people.
Some are totally fearless

and trusting.

Some try and prove something to themselves or to others.

Some just love all challenges (and animals) in whatever guise.

OK. a final challenge quiz question:
Q: what could be freakier than having a tarantula crawl across your face?

A: having it in your mouth!

How will you react?

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For more ridiculous fotos from Can o' Peas Los Veranos

click here.

Sailing in Baja

I'm a lucky bastard with a lousy memory. That's 2 good reasons for choosing photography as a profession, so at least I have visual proof of all the great things I do in my life.

In the last 12 years I (think) I've been sailing in the Sea of Cortes, Baja California 8 times. I keep going back because I get invited to join other's trips and because I love Baja as much as any ecosystem in the world. I'm always happy to be there.

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Thanks to Google Earth and NASA you can appreciate the invitingly convoluted coastline of the offshore islands that lie in a daisy chain just to the North of La Paz.. Each cove is an anchorage going from whitesand beach shelving gradually to to aquamarine shallows and on to deep blue sea and usually protected from 3 sides.

and from 200' it looks just as inviting.

To leave an anchored sailboat, paddle ashore in a kayak, set off hiking uphill, reach a plateau of red slab rock scattered with looser rubble, hardy stunted plants and tall cardon cacti and there to stretch and feel the wind under the sun and to look out over a seascape of other rocky islands backdropped by mountains and washed by bluewater....

well, it's heaven on earth for me. For Gordy too, I reckon.

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The islands of southern Baja are all about the quiet, the solitude, the elements encompassed, the resilience of nature in a sparse environment, the cleanliness and purity of the light, air and the sounds. It's a place for meditation with your eyes open observing everything from the expansive to the minute. It's a feel-good movie without the saccharine. Peregrine falcons live there. I even saw a Maltese falcon there....fair dinkum. Read on.

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The first time I went there was with Emily.

(that's Richey on the bowsprit. Emily's the 30 footer).

She was lovingly built by one of San Francisco Bay's boat-building legends, Bill Garvey. She was sweet in every way except for her engine (which is paradoxically and too often the way in sailboats). Richey is also a boat builder so Emily, because she was so well put together, never left anything to do for crafstman Richey so he sold her and set about renovating a string of old woodies that needed his love and his weekends. Emily was also the vehicle for the nuptial flight of me and the missus but that's another story entirely.

Most other visits to the Sea have been aboard boats from the Moorings fleet out of La Paz. One time we got a catamaran which was like sailing an oil rig but also very accomodating as a viewing paltform.

The majority of trips were made on pop-out Beneteau monohulls produced for the bare-boat charter business. As such they have plenty of water and fuel capacity, plenty of heads and just enough performance to keep them out of too much trouble.

And when you've had enough sailing you can always just park the bloody thing and...

go fishing

go swimming

paddle,

snorkle

or explore while someone else does the driving.

You can skip rocks,

balance on a rock

balance your own rocks

or see how Nature does it.


You can find seashells by the seashore,

or practice the ancient art of fossicking.

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Sailboats and Baja are good for family reunions

good for the young

the young-at-heart

and the old farts who can rediscover their youth too in the course of an average day's shenanigans!

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In Baja,like anywhere, you can wait for photos to come to you or you can go looking for them.

Oh. And the Maltese Falcon? She was there with us in Ensenada Grande on Isla Espritu Santo - all 289 feet of her and attended by sundry support craft from a classic 100' European motor-sailor to a two-man sub! The largest privately owned yacht in the world.

more pix from the 2008 sailing tour of Baja

Burningman 2008

Is this the end of Burningman, as we knew it?

I think not.

But the times are definitely a-changin'.

2008's theme was a timely focus on the American Dream. But does 'more' equate with 'merrier'?

It's almost inevitable that gatherings of creative souls that attract public attention lose impact as the ratio of active to passive players decreases. The population of Black Rock City has doubled since I first went in 2000 and I reckon my BM jollies have halved in those 8 years.

The same factor of 2 can also be applied to increases in cost and authoritarian interference. I have no issue with the cost but what used to be an anarchistic arts fest has turned into something else bound by (enforced) rules of conduct that contradict the original concept of antiestablishmentarianism. It used to advise on the tix, " upon entering, you accept the possibilty of serious injury or death" but more importantly, and emphasized underneath that in bold caps, it stated that YOU MUST PARTICIPATE. That used to be about the only rule at Burningman. The word participate no longer even appears on the ticket. Is it just assumed or has that priority fallen by the wayside?

I don't think there's a burner out there who hasn't said "it was better before". But we keep going back for the rejuvenating experiences that do happen, and happen only at burningman. Happenstance and serendipity connect the fabric of all things BM. Someone needs something; flexible, about 8 feet long and pointed at one end, et voila, someone wil have it and give it gladly. They might even throw in a homebaked cookie. People wander around just giving stuff away. It's a good thing. Edible things, drinkable things, wearable things. I was sitting at camp one afternoon having a chin wag with long lost cousin Sam who walked back into my life from the desert, and a girl skips by announcing to every person and camp that she passed that she was after the makings of a cat-woman outfit. She didn't have to travel more than a half dozen blocks before she had a complete costume, right down to whiskers, tail and pointy ears.

Despite desire, I have never managed to devote time and resources to any significant personal BM project, so I bend the rule and do my bit by giving a hand where it's wanted. That has involved helping in some big or small way to build Temples, conics , camps, cars and a multitude of smaller assists. Participation can take many forms.

This year Ellen and I put most of our last minute energies into making a cool camp with an emphasis on shade. Old sails, twine, timber, flags and fans @ 3.29 & Gremlin. "Passing Wind" we christened our home mostly for the crasser interpretation but the dust storm that raged during set-up may have had something to do with nomenclature too!

No-one was spared the dust and wind.

Weather also had a lot to do with the state of the playa. Apparently, a series of freezes and defrostings earlier in the year disrupted the make-up of the ancient lake bed's surface. It wasn't its usual hard, deadpan solidity but a much softer, thicker version that made a mockery of any but the fattest bike tyres. Cyclists at BM08 were reminded that they used to call them push bikes. Leaving car tracks used to be frowned upon; this year they were marginally better than the surroundings and were followed like donkey trails. If daytime cycling was tough, nighttime biking was quite implausible.

To accomodate the 49,000 burners the city planners took the 3 inside streets and put them to the outside which made it MUCH BIGGER , across and radially. Most of the streets were corrugated and soft. So to get from, say, the airport to the Man, you'd need to pack a picnic. And not a bad idea at that.

And the wide-open spaces of the playa were very wide and very open and punctuated by a smattering of art installations and desert distractions. It was a long haul between highlights. At night the space was EVEN BIGGER and any bright light became a beckoning beacon, and like moths to the flame we trudged, only sometimes scoring something social or interactive. Nothing like a giant rubber ducky disco out in the deep playa this year.... The lucky playapeeps retreating from the void got rides on vehicles back to the Esplanade but even that thoroughfare could be so strung out that there just weren't the usual concentration of sideshow attractions.. And music this year was pretty bad. Wandering from soundbite to soundbite waiting for something to get the dancin'bones shakin'.... but nothing hit the spot. Friday night was a disappointing anticlimax. All dressed up and nowhere to go.

OK. Ya! Time to get off the blog soapbox. Shuddup and dance.

A damsel in de playa.

giant origami

cassette slot DJ - mobile disco. Fast Forward. Fun ride.

Altered State, the aptly named and beautiful-by-day-or-night structure became site of many a BM wedding ceremony. A Hopi Indian quotation inscribed on one of the internal ladder rungs stuck in my head: "We are the People we have been waiting for."


And this was the brilliantly simple photo op; everyone's chance to be on the cover of NatPlayo.


outerspace




looooong strings of helium balloons dance the conga across the playa sky. Always good to see the third dimension used at BM. At night the daytime adornments of tinkling bells were swapped for cylume sticks so that the 500'(¿) trails would light up like bioluminescent nematocysts in an upside-down inky sea. Mesmerising by day or night.


The Temple of 2008 was a beautiful monument to waste. Basura Sagrada was, like all it's predecessors, essentially more popular than the Man itself. Sunday's burn is for many the most anticipated event. This is mainly because it is is full of humanities blood sweat and tears. Not through it's construction but through the pain and love and suffering expressed by visitors and left as a spiritual statement, an absolution, an apology, a plea for intercession, thanks, love or some emotional sentiment to be delivered by conflagrant updraft. This year the crafty constructors got to design and build their own viewing seats around the perimeter. This shot includes the decorated arch of one.



somewhere around 9 o'clock on the esplanade I think...hollow, light filled columns highlighting original glyph designs that looked at least in part, mayan inspired.


Wings of Desire? No. Spread Eagle.


Ruth and Tim of WindFireDesigns were part of the DOTA camp (Department of Tethered Aviation). The daily displays of kite flying en-masse and individually were one of the most entertaining features of the burn for me. Tired of one-too-many propane spewing metallic monsters, kites provided a quiet alternative entertainment. And they were willing to share too!

This is me playing with the devil.



And I hereby thank the girl who took this shot of me, and I offer in return one I shot of her being toyed with by a kite-cursor. Thank you!


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Another fine use of the elements and the infinite airspace above BM is an old favourite, the drifting black smokering. 60 feet across they are 'blown' and if breeze permits can march across the skyscape in series. I caught one drifting above a field of 300 poppies.

Again simplicity, trial and error and combustible fuel are the ingredients in a spectacular display.

The ringmaster at work loading his duel fuel apparatus...

followed by the big bang and widespread fallout of unburned kerosene and a beautiful big black smokering!

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I naturally get drawn to architectural pieces in all their BM diversity.

The nautilus inspired Optic Sunbrella

Common camp at on Dart and about 4.30. Two layers of HUGE parachute ripstop. Windblown it became a magical undulating being. Lying in a hammock looking up was like staring at the underside of a giant pulsating jellyfish.

Michael Christian's Elevation. Superbly constructed, finished and solid as a ....steel tower. Seating for one only at the top in the throne for 'Me'.

Something to do with a few hundred 4x2s.

Temple details plus vista.

The Zsu-Zsu emotiometer. Geeft me!
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Night roadscene from Man to Temple.

And daytime, vice versa.

This articulated predatory piscine was one of my favorite heavy metal pieces. Beautiful, strong and detailed. (artist?)

(economic crisis foretold at burningman!) The stork delivering a baby on a bomb was yet another beautifully designed and engineered, functional sculpture.

It was pedal-powered transport, looked great, told a story and used flippers as wings.

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The lamplighters are a shifting cult of devotees who perform the daily ritual of hanging lanterns on lightpoles along the mainstreets.

Being at the Temple at Dawn, either from a night of wakefullness or sleep, is a grounding and peaceful experience.

you can see a bunch more 2008 pix at http://www.callananphoto.com/burningman2008/

or from previous years at

http://www.callananphoto.com/burningman/

In my criticism of Burningman's dilution, as quantity threatens to occlude quality, I've got to keep reminding myself of the truism that one's first Burn is usually the best. That means that every year thousands more experience the uniqueness of Burningman for the first time. And therein lies the hope. The newcomers can package their reactions and creativity and reshape it as they like. The challenge with Burningman is to be original and better than before.

see you next year?

Burn on.

In conclusion I want to share an eloquent analysis of Burningman Art as written in the late 90s by Bay Area artist Larnie Fox (taken from the BM website http://www.burningman.com/installations/ )

"There is a yet unnamed art movement that may prove to be of some significance, and Burning Man is close to its center. It often manifests itself as circus, ritual, and spectacle. It is a movement away from a dialogue between an individual artist and a sophisticated audience, and towards collaboration amongst a big, wild, free and diverse community. It is a movement away from galleries, schools and other institutions and towards an art produced in and for casual groups of participants, more akin to clans and tribes, based on aesthetic affinities and bonds of friendship. It is a movement away from static gallery art and formal theater and towards site-specific, time-specific installation and performance. It is a rejection of spoon-fed corporate culture and an affirmation of the homemade, the idiosyncratic, the personal. It is profoundly democratic. It is radically inclusive, it is a difficult challenge, and it is beckoning."