30 04 2010

It’s not all travel and pretty beaches.

That’d probably get boring. Nope, instead – from time to time – I like to lay down my luggage and stay awhile someplace.

Someplace filthy and dangerous, where I can’t speak the language, people look at me funny, the food is weird and unhealthy and where I rarely venture out, as there’s simply nothing to do. Like Marseille.

The yacht’s stuck here in the yard for six weeks, I don’t much care for Marseille, so I’ve been surfing the internet.

Here are a few things that have been keeping me stoked:


Described as a collection of unexpected photography, File Mag collates unconventional pics from independent photographers, often based around a loose theme.

They’re currently featuring shots taken by Jeff Bridges on the sets of his films using a vintage Widelux camera, a format close to my heart – the pano.

Further particularly awesome sets include the below: Waterdrop Macros by Brian Valentine – nature amplified through dewdrops on plants. Insane.

flowerdrop by Brain valentine


Illustrator Bill Zeman’s toughest critic is his five-year-old daughter.For a couple years he’s been knocking out pictures to her specific briefs on a regular basis. And she’s demanding. Cute and hilarious.

Line of lions

The Brief: A Line of Lions…It’s the same word! Line and Lion! Hey, how about you draw one of their prey, like a dead antelope that they want to eat?

The Attempted Assistance: Hey, want me to do the horns for you? And they bit her, so I’m going to make a little hole of blood. Can I do that at the end?

The Critique (of completed work): Coool – but you didn’t do the little blood spot… What about lion cubs? I want you to do it with the lion cubs. And the mother right next to them. Why did you do it all boys? I wanted you to do some mothers.
Job Status: Approved

Luckily, this one was approved. Bill isn’t always so lucky

Dragon sneaking up on girl

The Brief: I’m going to tell you what to draw. Draw a dragon sneaking up on a girl. She’s picking flowers.

The Critique: Daddy it’s not supposed to be like that! He has dog legs! I’m so mad at you! I’m going to erase those legs! Daddy why did you do those legs??? [collapses in tears]
Job Status: Rejected


Dudes in the UK turning urban dumpsters into functional art. Nice.

rubbish skater


Kind of an Australian one this. These guys attempt to define the modern Aussie bogan, not an easy task in these tempestuous times.

For the unititiated, a bogan is similar to the English chav, but more boorish and certainly more dangerous when drunk and surrounded by his or her mates.

Interestingly, many Australian bogans now find themselves considerably wealthy and this has led to a whole new range of bogan traits.

The bogan is defined by what it does, what it says and, most importantly, what it buys. Those who choose to deny the bogan on the basis of their North Shore home, their stockbroking career or their massive trust fund choose not to see the bogan.They set themselves apart by their efforts to stand out by conforming as furiously, and conspicuously, as possible.”

For example, some of the things modern bogans enjoy include:

Ed Hardy clothing

Road rage

Ministry of Sound compilations

Tribal tattoos

Freedom of speech

Petrol consumption as recreation

The Australian victory at Gallipoli

Going to work in the mines

The Corbys

Kings of Leon

Prefacing statements with ‘I’m not racist, but…’

‘Fuck Off, We’re Full” stickers

Ruining Music festivals

Sadly, the very activities and habits identified by the authors neatly sum up many of the reasons why i no longer want to live in Australia. Call me elistist, but I can’t stand that shit. The whole country makes me cringe these days. Perhaps the nouveau bogue has taken over.

sailing into trouble

13 12 2009

all rugged up we were

So this one is for all those people who think us yacht crew simply cruise from port to port in glorious sunshine, sipping mojitos along the way.

Although this IS our preferred style, it’s rarely the reality.

The reality for the Braveheart gang these past few months has been a series of unwelcome delays in a series of uninviting ports, as we struggled to make our way south against the weather.

storm moving into Brest

The catchcry since September has been ‘It wasn’t ‘sposed to be like this…’ as we endeavoured to stay positive and stay busy holed up in spots like Jersey and Brest.

[I should like to note at this point that Jersey in fact turned out to be a bustling cosmopolitan metropolis in comparison to the concrete wasteland that was Brest, but we never appreciated this at the time…]

The major obstacle on this journey was the Bay of Biscay, a notoriously unpleasant stretch of water off north-western France and one which we needed a good two days of decent weather to clear.

This eventually arrived last week and we got a crack at Biscay, despite being uninsured for the trip – our insurers refuse to cover anyone crossing the bay after October – that’s how nasty it is.

We basically made it across unscathed after strapping down anything that moved and dosing up on seasickness pills.

Much of the early part of the trip followed this pattern – head out into the cockpit for watch / get drenched and freeze for 3 hours / retire to cabin / throw up / sleep / repeat.

But we got there and now Braveheart is enjoying the Portuguese sunshine as we figure out if we can make the Canary Islands for Christmas.

My personal preference was for Morocco, but strangely the owner was having none of it.

take that, Biscay