Beneath the Concrete the Forest Grows

Forty Two

jameswakeling — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 20:33:13 +0000

The rich and the poor.

There has always been a great divide between the elite and the proletariat

The weak and the strong

The question is if you’re one of the deprived, one of the the oppressed, one of the unlucky ones do you just stand there and take it, live off the scaps of others, retreat

Or do you fight back, rise up, resist.

Forty One

jameswakeling — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 16:53:17 +0000

I found this interesting.

Domestication is the process whereby a species of animal is, through artificial selection at the genetic level, changed to accentuate characteristics and traits desired by humans. This is different from taming because there is real and actual changes in the genetic makeup of the animal whereas taming is simply the process of animals acclimatising to human presence. The evolutionary progress of domesticated species has in effect been altered to meet the needs of of humans.

These are the domesticated animals I came accross this weekend.

I also saw a cat, but it ran away so I didn’t take a photo of it.

Forty

jameswakeling — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 07:33:58 +0000

When I juggle

I think of New Zealand

Its where I learn’t and where I can’t wait to go back too.

Thirty Nine

jameswakeling — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 17:18:26 +0000

Most of the time imagination is all you got.

You create your own world in your head and suddenly you’ve turned a barn into a robot killing machine or the trees into huge totem poles. When you do shit like that a pile of leaves in a dark ally becomes a dismembered head or a furtive look from that girl in the park becomes the seeds of love.

It would be a terrible mistake going through life thinking that the world is the sum total of what you see.

It can be whatever you want.

And right now this wood is where the wild things live.

Thirty Eight

jameswakeling — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 10:34:37 +0000

What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany’s at midnight. Do I got for the vault? No. I go for the Chandelier. It’s priceless. As I’m taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It’s her father’s business. She’s Tiffany. I say ‘no’. We make love all night. In the morning the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico but I go to Canada. I don’t trust her. Beside, I like the cold. Thirty years later I get a postcard. I have a son and he’s the chief of police. Now this is where the story gets interesting. I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris by the Trocadero. She’s been waiting for me all these years. She’s never taken another lover. I don’t care. I don’t show up. I go to Berlin. That’s where I stashed the chandelier. And I did it all without a gun.

But there is a right tool for every job and sometimes that tool is a very large gun.

Thirty Seven

jameswakeling — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 17:33:50 +0000

Happy New Year!

While the clock sounded out midnight we lit the torches and brought in the the new year with fire in our hands.

Homemade torches.

Ethereal green lights flitted and floated around us.

This has got to be my favorite shot of a wonderful evening.

Time to bring on 2012

Luckily we now have an affirmative plan of action in place for when the Armageddon does come sometime this year.

Thirty Six

jameswakeling — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 23:17:15 +0000

The excesses of the previous day hung heavy in the belly but with Santa’s gift on the font of my camera, wind in my hair and sun on my skin it was to the beach I was headed. Boxing day broke an eight week spell off the water and being back on the board was like a cold slap in the face reminding how much I missed it. There really is no place like home especially at Christmas. Except for the beach that is, which even in the middle of winter stirs the soul in way no other place can.

I have photographed this face more than any other and yet it still yields up new expressions that shock and surprise.