Category Archives: Photographers

Elliot Erwitt revisited

Photographers, Photographs

The master comedian of the camera.

One of the best measures of a man is whether he likes dogs. If he does not, fughedaboutit. It hardly comes as a surprise that the cretinous psychopath just booted from the Oval Office was the first US President in over a century not to have a dog. Heck, even Nixon had a dog, though I very much doubt any sane, rational human being would want to meet that dog’s owner.

So it’s a pleasure to read that that master comedian of the camera and all around dog lover, Elliot Erwitt, is still at it aged 92.



Elliot Erwitt’s Cairn terrier. Click the image for the article.

And if you must be choosy, it’s Scottish dogs which must feature high on any list. As a former Scottish Terrier owner, I know of what I speak, so it’s hardly surprising that Erwitt’s favorite was his Cairn terrier, a breed which hails from north of Hadrian’s Wall, like so many good things in life. Blood pudding, kilts, Scotch whisky, Harris Tweed, the bagpipes – all Scottish. And don’t forget James Watt and James Clerk Maxwell.



My Border terrier, Bertie. Click the image for a slide show of my dog snaps.

Rachel Louise Brown

Photographers

Spooky and original.



At Mar a Lago, 2015. Click the image.

The tacky horror of Pig’s residence (Mar a Loco) is displayed in all its awfulness in this creepy image by Rachel Louise Brown.

Click the picture for her web site where you will find many disconcerting images which will make you think.

Louche Annie

Hall of Shame, Photographers

A cheat is a cheat is a cheat.

So Annie Leibovitz claims ignorance of HC-B’s insistence that she not photograph him, trying to sneak a few snaps while she thought he was not looking:




Yeah right.

Now every serious photograpger on the planet – and Leibovitz was nothing if she was not serious – knew of HC-B’s paranoid dislike of being photographed. But, ever in search of the mighty dollar, she chose to swallow her integrity and have at it.

You can read the whole disgusting story here.

Constantine Manos

Photographers

American-Greek photographer.




Constantine Manos today

While well known for his American work, Boston-based photographer Constanine Manos reverted to his heritage in the 1960s, spending several years documenting Greece.

His work, never less than insightful and sensitive, was best shown in the book ‘Greek Portfolio’ (out of print, but used copies crop up):




Manos was born in South Carolina in 1934 and is still going strong.

The Full English

Bio, Cooking, Dining, Photographs

For the Man in you.

For an index of cooking articles on this blog click here.

The ‘Full English’ denotes the traditional English breakfast, one described in great historical detail, with regional variations, by Wikipedia.

Now that I have found a reliable source for smoked mackerel kippers (thank you, Whole Foods) I serve my son a Full English monthly, though I do drop the baked beans – there’s only so much a Man can take – and Winston is no coffee drinker.

I have so many pleasant memories of the Full English.

When a young lad – I would have been 14 or so at the time – in London, I got a summer job at the Habit Diamond Tooling Company. Their byline was “Make it a Habit” and they cranked out machine tools with diamond abrasives for industrial use. I was paid some $20 weekly – this was in 1965 – and was further provided with 5 Luncheon Vouchers. The face value was some 40 cents and yes, that got you a Full English at the local ‘caff’ with money left for a tip. And yes, it was absolutely delicious. The job was incredible fun and I learned to operate a pantograph, a lathe, a mill and an industrial grinder. The lessons garnered in working class attitudes were invaluable, and the many posters of buxom, undressed women on the walls of the factory harken back to a time when men were Men and women were in the kitchen. Or naked on posters.

British Railways used to serve a Full English on their sleeper trains from London to Scotland and it was absolutely delicious also, the kippers floating in a sea of butter. This was always preceded by a gentle knock on the door from the cabin attendant who woke you with an offering of tea, inviting you to the dining car. Another great tradition recently discontinued in a cost saving measure by a nation in terminal decline. Sad. A Full English on a train hauled by the Flying Scotsman was really something, as I can personally attest. (My eldest sister was an undergraduate at St. Andrew’s in Dundee, hence the Scottish trips. Plus, I love Scotland).

When I vacationed in Scotland before immigrating to the US in 1977, the Full Scottish would add black pudding or haggis. Once when overnighting at a B&B in the western Highlands I expressed dismay to the landlady on noticing how much larger my breakfast was than that of the young woman tourist staying in the same home. “Och no, lad” quoth she “Ye have tae go oot and work”. OK.

Anyway, here’s Winston contemplating his Full English the other day:




Bringing the boy up right.
Bacon, eggs, smoked kipper, fried tomatoes, whole wheat toast and milk. No baked beans in sight.

iPhone 11 Pro image processed in Focos.