Hand-made, custom frames from old doors, fences, cupboards... etc.

If you read my blog on my 'John-Made-Frames - how they are made' last year,  you may (or may not) be interested to read about the most recent and the upcoming frames to be made.

Since I posted that blog a few months back I have had a lot of interested from individuals with a spare, plain wall in their house which they would like to fill up with one of my photographs, super-sized and complimented by a custom-made, very original frame.

I have made frames out of old cupboard doors, window frames, retired fences, former gates, drift wood,  reclaimed beams from demolished houses and old door frames. Basically anything with an aperture in it, I will make a frame out of it! If you have any ideas, please send them my way!

The latest photograph and frame is a beach scene in Mexico completed with old oak beams.

Since those whom I have shown the photos and frames to didn't realise how big they are from the blog post  in December, I have regrettably decided to put myself in the photographs to illustrate their size.

The ones in the photographs have already been sold but I am able to make similar styles:

The Mexico Print - Story behind the image:

Nun's Cross Farm: The story behind the image:

Corfe Castle: The story behind the image:

I apologise for the poor photography in this post - as you can see I had no part in the process. I hope you can still get the idea.

Please email me on info@johnalexander.me.uk if you are interested - We can then design the photo/frame combination of your choice!

John

The Calligrapher, Wan Chai, Hong Kong - John Alexander Travel Photography

John Alexander Travel Photography - The Calligrapher, Wan Chai, Hong Kong

After roaming the food markets in Wan Chai for an hour or so I hadn't found anything of particular interest. It is hard to take any more than quick snapshots of the vendors in market stands as it is too fast paced and I always feel I am getting in the way of their potential customers.

On the way back, feeling a little deflated about how the morning had turned out, I headed to Central for a spot of Dim Sum.

Just as I was about to hail a cab, I noticed an old man setting up a small stool and fold-away table across the street in front of an un-opened shop front. He began un-ravelling some of the red paper inscribed with chinese poetry, typically to be hung on doorways throughout the Chinese New Year celebrations for good luck.

Brushes and inks were laid out systematically and previous inscriptions were hung up on the absent shop-keepers real estate (you snooze you lose).

I approached him and asked if he would prepare some calligraphy for my brother, my girlfriend and myself and asked his permission to photograph him. He obliged.

He asked me for my chinese name and I replied "Teen Ying" which means Heavenly Eagle (of course).

My brothers: Teen Yat (first son or something similar)

CE-LI-A for Celia (She doesn't have a chinese name).

As he carefully dipped his brush into the pot of black ink and dabbed it to get rid of the excess, I took a series of photographs hoping to capture a bit of his personality as well.

This is how I prefer to take my travel portraits - It is mutually beneficial, not just to photograph him unawares like the paparazzi. We both feel more comfortable and I always take better pictures this way.

Each time he had finished an inscription he pulled his brush back and took a brief moment to admire his creation.

As the ink was drying, he told me the meaning of each inscription he had hung up and gave me a brief calligraphy lesson - he was less than impressed with my version of "The Year of the Dragon". As I have been told I write like a 6 year old dyslexic child and am unable to draw even a slight resemblance to a stick man, chinese calligraphy was hardly going to be my forte was it?

I later found out, over Dim Sum with my family, that my brother's 'Teen Yat' I had asked him to write actually turned out to mean 'Green Day' instead of "Heavenly First Born". Apparently I said 'Tsing Yat' instead of 'Teen Yat' - Hey ho, close enough.

Kung Hei Fat Choy "Happy New Year", I hope you have a prosperous Year of the Dragon.

John

John Alexander Photography

www.johnalexander.me.uk

The Balinese Fisherman - The ordeal/how I took the shot

The light surf lapped against my feet as I contemplated photographing a fisherman I could see about 1/2 mile out, casting his net into the surf from the knee-deep shallows of the warm Balinese waters.

The sunset in the distance had already begun, the oranges and reds fading into a blueish hue as the sun dipped well below the horizon. In my hand I held my Canon 5D with a wide-angle 24mm f1.4 lens attached to it.

As I waded chest high with my Camera held high over my head, I slowly drew nearer to the fisherman. The current was stronger than I first thought and I soon became increasingly aware that what I was attempting was actually quite dim. I had waded almost 100 metres out, each incoming wave splashing salt water into my face. Soon, the water became more and more shallow as the sand was replaced by a plateau of the volcanic rock.

Standing on the rock plateau next to the fisherman resembled that sharp feeling of agony when you step on a piece of LEGO by accident. It was excruciating. The fisherman, however, stood casually in the waves in bare feet, clutching his net and carried a yellow basket with an array of different creatures flapping and wriggling inside it as he moved. I asked his permission to take some photographs of him. He smiled with a hint of confusion and waited for the right time to cast his net.

I had my 24mm lens on which means I had to be around 0.5m away from the fisherman for him to fill the frame. While I hunted for a less painful shard of rock to stand on, the fisherman cast his net into the incoming surf. I missed this of course but as he pulled the net back towards him, I was presented with a more unique shot as he 'fished' his hand into the net, just below the surface, to inspect his potential catch -  I raised my camera and took the shot.

 I managed to reel off two more shots before the fisherman walked casually along the the rock plateau to another casting spot. On the verge of tears, I bravely began retreating to the beach, by which time the tide had come in, to the amusement of the on-looking beach-goers. I had to make a slight detour but managed to survive with my camera and my dignity intact.

 I finally reached the beach and began picking the fragments of rock out of my feet - As I write this in Oxfordshire, UK I still have a little piece of that Balinese, igneous rock embedded in my right sole.