An Introduction to Jeaster Photography Stylised Photo-Shoots

Some times its just easier to let a picture speak for its self 

The west coast in Sweden is known for its dramatic sunsets and I love the feeling this pictures evokes.

 In my next blog post I'll explain more about my concept and thought process behind these kind of styled photo shoots.
The model in these pictures is not a professional model in actual fact she is a first timer in being photographed in this style. 

The Pink Vespa

It was a rainy dull day in London, as I walked along Curzon Street in Mayfair, a row of motorcycles and scooters lined the side of the road. Colors ranged from grey to black to blue to various shades of green to cream and then pink.
The little pink Vespa with the white saddle stood out, centered almost framed by the other bikes.
The vibrant pink is all I saw, and the vibrant pink is all I wanted this picture to say.

The Pink Vespa

A Family Of Elephants Tarangire

When you see the bond between elephants and how they rarely stand alone you see some thing special you see a unity between them, a peaceful understanding. Under the trees in the shade from the midday’s heat stood a group of eight elephants motionless lying beneath them were an additional two who appeared to be the youngest. The whole scene expressed tranquility like so many of the other things I experienced in Tarangire, but this scene had a wholeness about it, a family feeling, a feeling that everybody belonged exactly where they were.

A Family Of Elephants Canvas 

The youngsters sleeping under the security adults the position in which they all stood with the smallest of the elephants in the middle and not to forget the two standing facing the opposite direction keeping a watchful from the rear. There is a sense of vulnerability and strength in this scene A Family Of Elephants Canvas 

Tarangire Lions Tanzania

Lions On The Bank Of The Tarangire River

The second day of the safari it was rolling on to late afternoon, when we spotted a congregation of safari trucks on the other side of the dried out Tarangire river.

All spectators were fixated upon something that alluded us, with the convoy of vehicles on our left we came up on the bank of a river bend and that’s when it became clear what the great attraction was. A herd of elephants ambled along the dried out river bed below us as magnificent as they were they were not the great attraction that had the crowd fixated upon. It was the nine spectators that watched the elephants that were the attraction, a pride of nine lions watched the procession below out of curiosity or other intentions I am uncertain, I know lions have been known to kill young elephants but such a daring feat requires great team work and strength of numbers which this pride had. So perfectly positioned where six lions all looking down toward the elephants on the river bed, the total view to wide for the lens I had I opted to take two images and stitch them in post processing. The tree was positioned perfectly along with the symmetry of the lions the one two one two sequence.
What pleased me even more about this picture is the advantage point we had was unique from the convoy of safari vehicles on the other side of the river.

Lions On The Bank Of The Tarangire River

Lion Eyes

I once read there is nothing that compares to looking a lion in the eye and having them stare right back at you. It’s not until I experienced it did I understand how it felt, the intensity is electrifying how intimidating a big cat can make a human feel.

Lion Eyes

The Road to Tarangire

The journey from Arusha to Tarangire National Park takes about an hour and a half. The ugly single line of power pylons that stretches over and long the road and into the horizon destroys the picturesque scenery, the sight of these iron towers brings a realization of changing times and modernization.  Through the fields Massai herds men attend their livestock gently ambling along, dressed in their customary red robes, bead jewelry and simple sandals.

Scattered across the flat lands you see the Maassi homes (enkaji), thatched round mud huts along with rectangular shaped sheds that accommodate their animals all surrounded by twig fences. Traditional beehive logs hung from many a tree around the villages. Everything seems so peaceful so simple, traditions untouched, masasai doing what their fathers and fore fathers did before them.

Maassi Enkaji & Beehive Logs

The Final Day, Day Six

Horombo Hut (3705m) Marangu Gate (1860m) The Final Day

Campsite Above The Clouds

The final day, peering out of my tent I was greeted with a view that you don’t experience every day, a sea of clouds laid before me. The morning was cold as I walked around the camp, after a short while the sun began to rise above clouds and fell across Kilimanjaro and Horombo Huts.

Sunrise Over Kilimangaro

The traditional farval ceremonial songs and dance was to take place after breakfast, this tradition is to mark the near conclusion of our journey. The atmosphere around the camp was relaxed I guess having the hardest days behind us was a good feeling, there was also a sense of sadness knowing our journey and our Kilimanjaro adventure was coming to an end.

One Of the Many Huts at Horombo Hut

As we walked over the crest of the ridge the view over Horombo Huts was magnificent, from now the walk would be downward, this was the day that I get the shower I dreamed of, I have a feeling it will be the best shower I have ever had.








Closing Chapter

When I think about the six days that were spent on Kilimanjaro mountain and the days I thought the walk would never end, the faces I encountered and the conversations I had I have a feeling my story on Kilimanjaro has not found a conclusion, having not summated I guess it’s a feeling of un-finished business, so with that I will add my closing statement "To Be Continued".

The Return Journey

Kibo Hut (4730m) to Horombo Hut (3705m), Day Five


Looking at my watch it read four degrees it felt like it as well. Crawling out of the tent, the camp lacked the usual morning bustle.

Six people from the group were still on the mountain, the morning was fresh however a lot warmer than it was six hours ago in the dark. The morning coffee was welcome, breakfast was hard to digest I lacked the appetite. Alfred would be leading us back across the saddle ahead of the group, there was little point in waiting for their return, they were going to be in need of sleep after their night hike. The camp was quieter than when we arrived the previous day, porters packing up camp sites preparing for their return journeys.

Kilimanjaro Porter 

Our walk began, porters passed us laidened with their heavy packs, they seemed to bear these with what appeared to be relative ease, I wondered so many times how often they had walked these paths they were so familiar with. I looked back to the way we had come and saw a moment that I so wanted to capture.

Kilimanjaro Guide

A guide stood along the path motionless, dressed in black with a mask covering his face protecting him from the elements, behind him was Kimbo base camp and above the clouds had covered the path that led up to the summit.


Across the saddle the walk seemed never ending a different route to the one we took when we approached Kimbo the previous day, the sun was out and felt strong its warmth hidden by the breeze and moisture from the passing clouds. People passed us occasionally on the path towards Kimbo Huts, with the look of anticipation and the curiosity of what laid before them.

The Saddle Kilimanjaro

As we approached Horombo Huts, I felt consumed by exhaustion, the sight of this place lifted me somewhat knowing that the days walk was almost done. Sitting outside the registration hut were a number of larger huts, nothing spectacular to look at but that is not what caught my attention, outside the hut stood a man wearing shorts and a t-shirt with a towel around his neck he was drying his hair. I felt the pang of jealously, this guy had had what I had dreamed of having and was in desperate need of for the past two days "A Shower". 

The clouds moved in so quickly, from being in the suns warmth to being surrounded in the damp coldness of clouds. Horombo Huts was so much more civilized in comparison to what we had been used to, a real luxury, however our own simple living remained the same. That afternoon gave way for time to reflect upon the last twenty four hours.

Summit Night

Horombo Hut (3705m)

The feeling was extreme, my feet tingled and were beginning to lose their sensation, my cheeks stung as the moisture struck my face, and burning sensation around my ears from the oxygen tubes. I have never experienced my hands being as cold as they were that moment I had lost sensation in my fingers. The sweat built up along my spine and my clothes felt wet. All I could see ahead of me was the silhouetted shadow of the person’s legs in from of me. It wasn't a good feeling, it’s hard to describe, I wanted to continue in one way but in another way no. Could I work through what I was feeling?  

Step after step, the steps seemed so small, I began to become disillusioned and disorientated, so dark was the night. The burning sensation intensified, we stopped for water and I remembered what we were told from the night before "make sure you clear your tubes of water or they will freeze". My water in hydra pack was already beginning to cool in the cold night’s air. We started to walk again, I began to feel worse, my body began to resist, weighted down in some way by force, sweat soaked my back underneath my rucksack. I began to wonder if I felt like this now how would I feel in an hour and the thought of sunrise being five hours away. I stopped and stepped out of line, trying to get my bearings, aware that the group was passing me by, words were spoken to me but they fell so distant for me to understand I just mumbled a response so distorted even I can't recall what I said. Attilio was by my side at this point and I had made my decision "I need to go down" I told him together we almost ran down to base camp the lights from the huts became visible, and then on to our camp. Shortly after I lay in my sleeping back almost fully clothed trying to re-gather my warmth, Still not really thinking clearly, but knowing for certain I had no regrets in my decision to turn back.

Day Four The Final Approach

Mawenzi Tarn Camp

Mawenzi Tarn Camp (4303m) to Kibo Hut (4730m) Day Four

I don't know what time it was when I awoke all I know is that it was 5 degrees in the tent and it didn't matter how uncomfortable I was I didn't want move from this warm place I was in. I could hear the bustle of the camp outside and knew there was no point in waiting. The cool air touched my face as I unzipped the tent and straightened by back I got my first glimpse of the morning the pool of water was frozen and glistened white in the morning light the sun was yet to make its appearance. My boots felt cold almost damp, I disliked having them outer tent all night, the sweat from the days walk and then leaving them to sit out in the cold all night. The morning coffee gave my hands some much needed warmth.

Mawenzi Tarn Camp Sunrise

I knew this was going to be a long day, after the acclimatization yesterday we all knew what laid before us, the long walk over the saddle. I think we all kept our thoughts to ourselves, I longed for a warm hot shower, I had never experienced my hands being the color they were now, it did not matter what I did to keep them clean the dirt and dust was beginning to get ground in. Every one gathered for the usual breakfast after which we packed up and began our days walk, ascending over the ridges which never seemed to end. The slow decent to the saddle ensued, once we reached the saddle it was like walking across a slightly uneven table top overlooking the clouds to the right. Slowly slowly nothing goes quick on the way up slow and steady, I was growing used to the weight of my pack not having my camera on my chest was quite luxury. Atilio lead us across the saddle. We walked in silence with our thoughts to ourselves, so many things I thought about one chain of thought lead to another and then to another. Stopping occasionally for photo opportunities, I loved the feeling of being above the clouds, it’s hard to describe a surreal picture so far away from my everyday life. The sun came and went with the passing clouds, the air was colder than I expected.

Ridges of Mawenzi

Down came the hail, so close we were but it felt so far away, visibility disappeared behind a veil of miniature grey rocks that hammered the hood of my rain jacket, cold wet wind swept through me leaving a chill that reached deep. The slow accent, the Kimbo Hut never seemed to get any closer, what appeared so close before had now almost disappeared behind a fog of grey hail. I pulled my hood up around my face which gave me protection from the pounding hail, all I wanted was to finally be there. Looking up I saw the huts and so many people, the camp was situated in a dip just sheltered from the base camp, our tents were already erected. I felt the cold down to my bones, all I wanted to do was curl up and get warm. Emotions ran high that afternoon and evening it was the first time in the days I had been there that I really missed home, the warmth of being around family, it was a lonely feeling being so far away from that heartwarming smile and that loving hug. I guess it’s only natural to feel emotional at 4730m. 

Day Three The Welcome Walk

Kikelewa Caves Camp (3679m) to Mawenzi Tarn Camp (4303m)  Day Three

Kikelewa Caves Camp

I was not quite sure what to expect when I stepped out of my tent, having arrived after dark the night before. What I saw was not what I expected the terrain was not as treacherous in day light as it was at night. 

 The sun was bright as it broke through the clouds, looking up we could see Mawenzi. Our destination for day three is Mawenzi Tarn Camp (4303m), this days walk was shorter to the previous day which was welcome.

Our walk began as always slow and steady as we approached the ridges of Mawenzi, our path was a gradual incline that took us around the gentler side of the mountain.

Mawenzi Tarn camp

As we crossed over the ridges Mawenzi Tran camp became visible as if the whole camp site was laid in a shallow bowl the mountain acting as the rim, smaller campsites scattered here and there. Situated to one side was a basic looking hut with a radio antenna. Its strange being in the clouds, it’s like experiencing bursts of heavy damp mist that travel around you, one minute visibility relatively clear and the next everything almost disappears. I was eager to see day fours challenge "The Saddle". 

Clouds around Mawenzi

The afternoon's acclimatization training was going to take us up a ridge to 4421m high, which weather permitting would give us a good view of the saddle and possibly Kimbo Hut. The zigzag path got steeper as walking turned to gentle climbing, the weather was not the best but what we saw gave us plenty to think about.

The Saddle Kilimanjaro

The saddle was vast it stretched for what appeared to be miles, across it laid a thin line almost string like, which was that path we were soon to take, this gave the scene a sense of perspective.

The evening drew in and the cooler air grew colder and damper, the temperature tonight was going to drop below freezing.    

Day Two, On Wards And Up Wards

Simba Camp 2626m to Kikelewa Caves 3679m, Day Two

View of Mawenzi from Simba Camp

The sun rose over Simba Camp warming the cold air from the previous night, there was a sense of apprehension for the days walk to come. As I wondered around the camp I found a fantastic view of Mawenzi illuminated by the morning sun, there stood very shabby hut to the right with the very aromatic fragrance which carried a proximity warning, toilets on the mountain lack drainage I need not say any more. Mawenzi is our day three destination, but before Mawenzi, Kikelewa Caves Camp Moorlands is our destination for tonight.

There was a bustle in the camp as it was being dismantled and packed up, it was now apparent we were not the only people on the Rongai route, however we were the largest in this camp. Two man tents scattered here and there, with support crews of two to three everybody seemed to be getting a head start on us. The days walk began and we soon left the habitation that surrounded Simba Camp.

After having lunch at what could be called a picnic spot, which was our half way marker of the day our journey continued. The climate changed quickly and moisture filled clouds moved in around us and up the mountain. The terrain was like walking over small hills of jagged rocks with prickly bushes scattered among them, up down, always being mindful of where you stepped the terrain was not the nicest.

We got to know Attilio's story, about his life and family, what he did when he was not on the mountain and in return he got to know ours.

The clouds came and went and our day’s journey never seemed to reach a visible end. The afternoon turned to dusk and darkness began to fall, the prospect of walking this path in the dark held very little appeal, but what other choice was there. Head lamps lit the path ahead, the uneven terrain was slow to walk in daylight and in the dark our pace slowed further. As we approached Kikelewa Caves Camp (3679m), the sound of the camp traveled through the darkness the welcoming sound of people laughing and torches flickering, exhaustion had begun to settle in aided by the cold and damp from the early night.

The warmth of my sleeping bag was welcome that night, the cold had seeped deep in to my body as laid there I thought about the day and how far we had come and contemplated the days to come, after all this was only the end of day two.

The Long Walk

Day One Destination Simba Camp (2626m)

The long walk begins (1900m), the pack was heavy with four liters of water cameras and rain gear. The path was easy going for first couple of hours a slight incline through forest with an occasional hut where young children stood by the path hopeful for anything we may give them. Chocolate was the main delight, their eyes light up at the lightest inclination that you might have something for them, whatever the received they ran to each other and shared. I guess small luxuries are a rarity and warranted sharing. Occasional homes stood a little off the path where people sat and waved as we passed by calling out the customary greeting "Jambo" which means hi in Swahili.

The Flat Lands of South Eastern Kenya

The forest thickened, the path narrowed and the incline steepened, slowly slowly one foot in front of the other I have good feeling this is how the next six days will be. The planes of Kenya lay behind us, the sun trying to break through the clouds. The view is amazing the light could be better the clouds were thick and heavy, the planes of Kenya seemed hazy with light gold patches where the sun had broken through the clouds. It was only us on the path the porters had passed us by hours ago, with one guide leading the group and three other guides taking up the tail. I am not sure what I expected, picturesque is not what you would call this place.

 When we reached Simba Camp (2626m), the porters had already set our tents with our main packs in side. Each member of the group had a porter that carried our 15kg packs along with their own gear. My guy was there waiting to greet me as I entered the gate, with a big smile he lead me to my home for the night. Trees over hung the tents which gave the place a dark feeling and made the place feel a lot colder that it actually was. Laughing and chatter from the kitchen tent and surrounding areas, the porters always seemed to be in good spirits. The acclimatization walk that would prepare us for this night and the day ahead took around thirty minutes and involved ascending along a path for a short distance the habitation that surrounded us was a dark green brown forest, the air was beginning to chill as the evening light came over the mountain.

South Eastern Kenya

It was barely eight o'clock when we all retired to our tents exhausted from the walk. Many moments stuck in my mind from the day, my first impressions, meeting our support team, the journey to where the walk started. One in particular was the old man hunched over walking along the road wearing a green woolen hat waving his arms around in frustration as a swarm of flies circled and aggravated him. Laying still in my sleeping bag I listened to the sound of night lulling me to sleep.

Six Days And A Mountain Called Mount Kilimanjaro

September 2012 I traveled with a group of people to Tanzania, our quest was to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. Following the Rongai route would take six days in total, four days up the mountain and two days down.  The trip had had two years of prior planning, and participants had undergone various training regimes. Walking was the main discipline in preparation, taking walks that lasted around six to eight hours preferably over uneven terrain. Now after the walk has been done I realize that it did not really matter how well you think you had trained or how well you think you had mentally prepared yourself, nothing can really prepare you for a first time expedition like this. Every day had a different aspect that would challenge you, some small and minor and other having the ability to sway the scales between achieving this challenge or conceding defeat.

 I knew I wanted to express my view of Kilimanjaro in black and white even before I left home. I researched pictures other people had taken, I searched all the search phrases I could think off, so I knew what had already been before me, I wanted to express a strong feeling in my pictures that expressed what I saw and what I felt being there. Black and white pictures express a very different way of seeing the world, they can tell a very dramatic story.

Kilimanjaro is a place that no one word can describe or sum up, the landscapes vary from the forest around Simba Camp, to the moorlands at Kikelewa Caves Camp, to alpine desserts of the Saddle and that is to name but three. With the images I took I wanted to create questions for the people that have never been there and memories for the people that have, I wanted to tell a story of a journey to a remarkable place and give you an insight in to the remarkable people that live and work there, but this story is not just about Kilimanjaro, Kilimanjaro and the six days on the mountain is just one chapter, over time other stories will get told.

The Little Fiat Hyde Park Lane

The journey through London on the airport buss in not the most exciting of trips, however it can be a revealing one. I moved away from London almost ten years ago and in those past ten years there have not been many years that have passed that I have not been back, London has changed remarkably as every cosmopolitan city dose over the years. I never really paid attention to these changes when I lived there and now I feel like more of a tourist when I visit.

Along Hyde Park the buss traveled, through the trees on the center island I saw an extraordinary thing, it captivated me for the brief moment I saw it enough to know I had to came back and photograph it.  I knew this picture would only ever work in black and white due to the amount of trees and combined with the amazing shades of the actual statue I began to envision what I was soon to create.


It was a few day later I returned Hyde Park camera and tripod in hand, with constant traffic traveling either sides of the island I knew this picture would easily be recognizable to my audience as a London image. The color of the hand looked powerful as it held the small fiat, the texture and of the arm and fingers was perfect wrapped around the body of the small fiat. Reviewing my image I knew I had captured the image I envisioned.

The Little Fiat Hyde Park Lane London

Cagliari Streets, Sardinia

Walking through the winding streets upwards along cobbled roads and uneven paths, the streets of this ancient historical town depict Sardinia town life style. Buildings stood how they have for decades, newly renovated beside partly derelict, everything about this town felt old. The narrow streets aligned either side with tall row houses, flowers and shrubbery hanging from window baskets and laundry hung out to dry in the breeze that swept through the streets.

You could feel that people have built their lives and brought up their families in these houses what a town to grow old in. Untouched by the cosmopolitan city below this town has a welcoming yet sad feeling to it, so much charm and yet a strong sense of sadness, buildings in desperate need of repair, crumbling facades, chipped paint, graffiti on almost every wall.

It was mid afternoon and the midday’s sun had been blocked by the tall buildings shadows fell upon the streets. Roads were narrow, wide enough for one car at a time and if you encountered any oncoming traffic it made for tricky maneuvering, I couldn't but help feel it was a shame, the presence of modern cars in an old town it took away some of the historical feeling.

 I did however find a perfect scene, an image that became one of my favorite pictures from this trip. An old fiat car fitted in perfectly with the tall surrounding buildings and the early evening light, this to me feels what a traditional Italian town should be like. The only thing missing is a man drinking a coffee and smoking a cigar.

The Eighty Four Year Old Model Ship Maker, Cagliari Sardinia

Through the castle district of the old streets of Cagliari, Sardinia  the late afternoon was turning in to early evening as dusk fell upon the narrow streets of the ancient town, an open door aroused our curiosity and inside stood a grey haired man studying what appeared to be plans to a ship.

His eager eye tracing over the lines and studying the text, glancing towards the door he realized he had an audience. My friends who are native to the island asked if we may come in to take a few pictures of his workshop and how he worked. The Model Ship Maker was thrilled to share his story, with a big smile on his face he declared "today is my birthday, I am eighty four years old and this is my life and my passion. There is no better way to spend my birthday, I am here doing what I love."

As I watched the old man he was oblivious to the sound of my shutter capturing images of him working      the eighty four year old model ship maker, whose passion was clearly seen in his creations of perfection, so intricate is his work so painstakingly accurate are his brush strokes and his attention to the finest of details amazed me.

The skills he learned through the years, skills and work ethic passed on to him by his father so many years ago. As the model ship maker worked he explained how everything had to be perfect to the finest detail, this man was not driven by the financial rewards of his creations he was driven by the challenge and passion of creating these masterpieces.

 

What photography means to me...

Welcome to my new blog.....

Through the years my style of photography developed and evolved and so did how I saw things through my lens, and that’s where the love of color and story capturing began, I wanted my pictures to create questions for their audience, I wanted to evoke an emotional response, I did not want it to be just a picture you see. I want what lies before you to tell a story, evoke an emotional response, maybe a sense of familiarity of some where you once where or even somewhere you dream of being.  Something as simple as a smile, look beyond and you might be surprised as to what you may find.

Travel has always inspired me, landscape bears the roots to beginning of my photography, as my photography evolved so did my interest in wildlife and culture, opportunity opens new doors in life..

I hope you enjoy what you see and what you read.. Jess

www.jeaster.eu
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