I recently had spinal surgery. Since then I’ve been picking up where I left off with my hobby – photography. Using my Nikon D850 and the massive lenses post-op has been a bit of a challenge! So, I tentatively switched to ‘mirrorless’ in order to lighten the load. Not only has the small size of the camera and fuji lenses helped me pick up where I left off, I have to say I am thoroughly impressed with Fuji’s legendary colour science. Before using the camera I thought this was a myth perpetuated by fans of the system but there is definitely something about it. Not so much ‘science’ but colour ‘art’ as the colour renditions are tangibly but unfathomably pleasing!
Here are some sample images accompanied by my cover of ‘Sway’.
Hope someone finds this helpful or interesting!
For me, reality is not about what I see. It’s more about why I think what I see, is what I see. This phenomenon always involves others. These constitutive influences are always there but very often ‘out of view’.
Despite bustling with people, the city is often not life-giving. The simplest act of walking to the office from the train station can be jarring – masses to one side and to the other, to the front and to the back – bumping and jostling, without common courtesy, space invaders. You’re too slow, get out of my way.
This morning I made an effort to transcend this daily occurrence. At a point in my walk, I stood away from the crowd, picked up this autumnal leaf, took a deep breath in… out… lifted it to the city skyline, and in that moment felt a sense of peace and life. Snap, snap, snap. Alas, all too soon… time to join the throng again.
This post was inspired by a conversation with my colleague Denice Van Der Putten, soon to be Lloyd!
A thing is not a thing until we call it a thing. The thing then becomes a thing but only in the context of how we’ve learnt to see things. Does that mean there is nothing before a thing is called a thing? Are there such things as pre-existing things? In my thinking yes, but these things are, only what they are, because of what we think they are.
Here’s a tweet from my former tutor, Ken Gergen on this very thing, “One cannot describe something for what it is, because there is no ‘thing’ before the act of describing. Why not describe in hopes of what something can become?”
I believe that the obsession with mechanistic/scientific approaches to measuring outcomes and evaluating goals has led to the ubiquity of highly regulated, technocratic organisational cultures. I have no doubt that most people don’t thrive in such cultures. Even task orientated leaders with low EQ know this. So, what do they do? They pour money and effort into culture change initiatives – very often using mechanistic, pseudo-scientific interventions, not surprising if this is the only grammar we know. If we get it right, we are said to have ‘nailed it!’. Well, if we only speak ‘hammer’, we will see all our problems as nails. [A Senior Executive once said to me “I know I have a high IQ and low EQ. My IQ tells me that to achieve success, I need to be relational, so I schedule this into my project plans.”]
Meg is right. That’s not how it works. Productivity and outcomes cannot be evaluated and measured without also inquiring into, arguably the most essential variable in productivity, the quality of relationships.
Human beings are intrinsically relational. We thrive when relationships are good and whither in the face of toxic relationships. Great relationships beget cooperation, kindness, support and camaraderie. It is this culture of mutuality that is more likely to lead to sustainable productivity. Evaluation points to what needs to be done. Valuation is how we do it.
These two dogs, Panda and Cassidy are about 11 years old. That makes them 60 in people years. Tried as I did, I couldn’t help thinking, talking and treating them as puppies. Found myself reflecting afterwards, what does this say about the social construction of age and ageing, and the consequences on our thoughts, actions and interactions?
This intentionally blurred background image is that of my garden in the evening, taken on a Voightlander 58mm manual lens.