essay

Rock Star

TEXT & PHOTOGRAPHY BY DEREK CLARK

A cloud of chalk forms as Al claps and rubs his hands and fingers in preparation for the climb. Weatherbeaten skin, big arms and steely eyed determination is what you expect, and what you get when Alan Wilson arrives at the Bowderstone in the English Lake District. His fingers search out holes in the rock-face as he plots a route to the top. Reach. Grip. Pull.

Al is a Rockstar. His body is his instrument, the rock his stage and you are his audience.

Thanks to Fujifilm UK and Millican for setting up this shoot. Special thank to Alan Wilson for being a real (rock) star.

Incoming

Text and photography by Patrick La Roque

This is where I used to live — This house that remembers everything, where nothing ever changes. This house of everlasting flowers and clocks stilled by the weight of years and books and games on stand-by; everything forever on stand-by.

But there's a stirring...

Time is finally pushing against the walls. We hear it banging at the door, its wild face pressed against the window, screaming in anger. Objects have already begun to fade, quietly, and we know what's coming... We've seen that emptiness in the distance, riding in on thunderheads.

This is where I used to live, where everything still stands — for now.

I want to be a cowboy

TEXT AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY FLEMMING BO JENSEN

I grew up on a farm and for as long as I can remember, I always wanted to be a cowboy. John Wayne westerns were my favourite movies and I never missed a single one on TV if I could convince my parents to let me stay up. I wore cowboy boots and a hat and I practiced twirling my toy Colt sixshooter every day. I pretended my bicycle was a horse, even tying it to a tree. I never liked apple juice as a kid, but I drank it anyway. I figured the sour taste was the equivalent of a cowboy drinking whisky so I felt rather heroic drinking the juice in one go. We had cows on the farm so it seemed to me that I was a cool and authentic cowboy, even if I could not actually ride a horse. I wanted nothing else but to be a cowboy. 

Time travel forward many years and I find myself at the High School Rodeo in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. I am still wearing boots, jacket and a hat. I use a camera instead of a toy sixshooter. I am surrounded by real cowboys and cowgirls, horses, ropes, hats and bulls. 

I still want to be a cowboy.

Whiteout

Text and photography by Bert Stephani

Gently at first, powder sugar
then more, much more
A thick white blanket muffling every last sound
Defeated by frozen water, the city goes to sleep early

A shovel digs into the frosted crust,
the sound of metal scraping the pavement
Life flows back into the city
through winding arteries of liberated concrete

White sculptures dotted around the city
Soon forgotten, liquid memories
Nothing lost, nothing gained
Just 24 hours of rare tranquility

Nude Technicolor Echoes | Verses.

Text and photography by Patrick La Roque

He's thinking of Saul Leiter in a New York blizzard, of dripping shadows brushed across a fedora
& women sprawled in their apartments, pale hearts dissolving in the twilight.

He drinks light like liquor & he paints & he paints
& vapours burn his face & stretch his mind.
He sees atrocities in the deep, the white magic of dark corners;
& he sees beauty.

He speaks in nude technicolor echoes  
calling mad horses with a long black tongue;
inside/outside, it's all the same —
All a moving canvas,
stilled within a captured frame.

SOS Children's Villages | p2 - Davao

TEXT & PHOTOGRAPHY BY DEREK CLARK

I used the time during the flight from Cebu to Davao to select and edit some of the photos I had shot. I was happy with the results, but decided to do more portraits of the children of SOS Davao. There's a lot going on in the eyes of these kids and I needed to capture as much as possible.

Due to my schedule, I could only visit on a school day, so I wasn't able to arrive as early as I would have liked. I shot around the village for a while, just wandering and talking to the kids doing their chores or playing outside. Knocking on doors and going inside, hoping to find a fan to cool down. But it was after school and I knew I had limited time before the light went. I shot mostly outside and started to pick up a posse of the younger kids as I moved around, a few of them demanding I take their photo every minute or two (which I did). A small boy climbed on to my camera bag (which was hanging on my shoulder) and I had no chance of persuading him otherwise. It was hot and humid and the extra weight reminded me how a DSLR kid would have felt and I was thankful for my small Fuji X cameras. I held out as long as possible, but in the end my shoulder faded as fast as the light. I knew I had enough, but I wished I could have had one more day...at least.

SOS Children's Villages are active in 133 countries and territories. They give homes to children who have no parents or who's parents are unable to look after them properly. They give children, like the ones you see here, good homes and a family life. Possibilities and dreams for the future are suddenly a reality for kids that otherwise would have very few chances in life.

Please take a minute or two to visit the SOS websites and see the latest news.

http://www.sosphilippines.org

http://www.sos-childrensvillages.org

SOS Children's Villages | p1 - CEBU

TEXT & PHOTOGRAPHY BY DEREK CLARK

Eight thousand miles of planes, trains and automobiles and I was back in the Philippines after five long years. My task was to visit and photograph the children at two SOS Children’s Villages, the first in Cebu and the second in Davao. I had no idea what to expect and as I walked through the main gates I realized that once again the camera, that little box with a piece of glass stuck on the front, had taken me to another place that I would never experience otherwise. It’s the best part of being a photographer and I’m so grateful for it. It’s been an honour and a privilege to have shot some of the things I have, and standing at those gates, I knew I was about to embark on something very special.

SOS is an organization that gives homes to orphaned and underprivileged kids in some of the world’s poorest countries. They build villages with homes for these children, look after and educate them until they are ready to go out into the world and have careers and families of their own. Each house has a mother (Nanay) who looks after the children that live there (sometimes as many as 14). There are eight children’s Villages in Philippines and I wish I could have visited them all.

At SOS Cebu I met kids as young as five years old all the way up to teenagers. My guide for the day was the very helpful Migueliza (known as Megs) and I couldn’t have wished for anyone more helpful. The children were all so friendly and I got the feeling they really enjoy having visitors in their village. There were smiles and tears and the children asked me as many questions as I asked them. I’m glad to say the experience has been etched inside my head.

Please take a minute or two to visit the SOS websites and see the latest news.

http://www.sosphilippines.org

http://www.sos-childrensvillages.org

Update - Nov 12th 2013:

Typhoon Haiyan hit Cebu 4 days ago. At this point I believe all children and staff are safe, although there is some damage to the village. SOS Children's Village in Tacloban was hit the hardest, but again I believe that everyone is safe.

Derek.

Looking For The Punch

text & photography by Derek Clark

With thousands of acres of beautiful Scottish Forest at their disposal, competitors from all over the UK rolled out an impressive assortment of off road 4x4 vehicles. Some obviously began their lives as Land Rover, Suzuki or Jeep, but others were not so obvious and many were even custom built from the ground up.

The Scotia Challenge was back in the northern town of Aberfeldy, a place known for it's outdoor pursuits and picturesque scenery which attracts thousands of visitors each year. But deep in The Griffin Forest, far away from the town, the roar of engines and the screech of winches could be heard in the distance, muffled only by the thick dense mass of trees. Vehicles must reach a serious of punches hidden at various locations in the forest using a map of the location. A punch could be attached to a tree or bolted high up on a rock-face.