This particular type of hydrangea might seem rather subdued compared to the much more lush ones we usually see in blues and bright pinks, but for me it has an understated delicate appeal as the petals vary in colours even on the same branch, from cream to soft pink then tinged with pale brown in the autumn. They are one of my favourite subjects to photograph in the fall as they are such a contrast to the bright flamboyant golden and red display of leaves on the trees around them. Just looking at them lifts the spirits.
“As I get ready to go to New Zealand I thought I would post a photograph I took of my beautiful wife, Ellie (photo above), who won’t be able to go with me on my trip. It’s a long journey, but I won’t be away for many days, so this image of her will come with me. By chance, when I saw it, it reminded me a lot of a photograph taken of her when she was 18 (photo below taken by Pete Erskine). When I saw that, I thought I would like to try to reproduce it. I’ll have to wait for when I get back for that. We got a Russian vintage lens, the Helios 44-2 with adapter and this was taken with that lens.”
Thinking of you, Steve. I’m only half here.
The original image, taken by Pete Erskine can be seen here:
Ellie Wornell (Kennard) – 1968. Photo taken by Peter Erskine
Ellie Wornell – portrait from the past.
Photograph of myself that I have just restored. It was taken when I was about 18 or so, by an adopted brother of mine, Pete (Bamford) Erskine who died very young, many years ago, as a result of drug addiction. I was asked what I was thinking when this was taken and here is my response:
Strangely enough I remember the moment the photograph was taken, though it was so long ago. The photographer was a boy my age, Peter Erskine. I had not long ago arrived in England, meeting my mother for the first time in many years as she had left us as children. She had remarried and adopted a boy, Pete, who was roughly my own age (11 at the time of the adoption I think), whose alcoholic parents had more or less abandoned him and his little sister. Sad story. In any case, he was happy with my mother and stepfather and when I arrived he was welcoming and such an affectionate person and we got along really well. He was a brilliant writer, went on to write for the New Musical Express in the UK and some of his pieces are preserved on the websites of the musicians he was reviewing or interviewing. He unfortunately got into drugs in his early 20’s as did so many in that environment (and in the NME) and soft turned to hard and he became a heroin addict. I pretty much lost track of him for many years but I did hear that he had kicked heroin and was on methadone trying to clean up his life. He died at that point, aged around 30. What a sad waste of a human life.
When he took that photograph I was standing at the sink, having just washed my hair, getting ready to go out, as that was a new dress, I remember. I was probably thinking of the evening ahead, a young Canadian girl enjoying the swinging 60’s in England. Pete was standing wedged in the corner of the tiny bathroom, balanced on the edge of the bath to try to get the angle he wanted. Ah Pete. I miss him still.
One of his articles preserved online though there are many more to be found. I loved his style of writing, remember well his wry humour and caustic wit: https://geirmykl.wordpress.com/tag/pete-erskine/
