Editor’s Note: Diario del Peru – Flemming Bo Jensen
Flemming Bo Jensen has launched the limited edition run of Diario del Peru. Email him for a copy with print (13 of 25 gone as i write this, so be quick), or get yourself the book only directly from Blurb.
Watch the video. It’s good fun, promise.
The making of this book has spanned several continents. South America provided the fodder for this undertaking, Australia lit the spark of its conception, and Europe housed the manufacturing and final production stages. It’s been a global undertaking for Flemming.
I had the pleasure of being editor, devil’s advocate, and general nag in this endeavour. The completion of this book is a little extra special to me because of the circumstances around the effort on my end. I was at the low point of a trying situation during the time, having had several rugs pulled out from under me. Helping out with this book was, on darker days, one of the precious few buoys of sanity, affirmation, and an assurance that there was a place and purpose for nut jobs like me somewhere in the world.
It’s a lot of weight to place on a slim volume, and I realise it sounds melodramatic, but that was how it felt.

As happened with Asia Stories, Flemming being in Cophenhagen and my being in Perth meant it was a remote effort. Our email count wasn’t as epic as it was while Asia Stories was being produced, but it was supplemented by plenty of instant messaging, PDF commentary and camera phone snapshots of different edits.
Seeing this book grow from concept to reality had many highlights. As with the last book, mutual faith is still at the top of my list. The pace was intense and generally break-neck, and while I wouldn’t recommend this for everyone, it suited the personal nature of this book and both our working styles to a T. We are both further along in our practice since the last book, so there was more confidence and direction in both the editing and exploratory process from the start, so it was a more efficient effort in all.
As a pointless cog in the corporate machine by day, I’m always hearing about the benefits of bringing your passion to the table, but it is rare for someone to be able to put so much of his- or herself on the line. Doing this in a corporate setting gets you into trouble, as it invites life and the universe into your working parameters, which is wholly “unprofessional.” But when you get the chance risk your beliefs and perspectives with no guarantees, you emerge a little more enlightened, whether or not you “win.” We both got to do this while working on on Diario del Peru: ask the hard questions, receive equally hard answers; rejig, reshuffle, re-converse, ask more questions, do some research, agree, disagree, agree to disagree, ask someone who trusts you to take a risk on your think-so.
I can’t say enough about how valuable that is, and I’m really proud to see this book in print. I will be capering madly when my copy gets here.
How good a book is it? You be the judge.
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The limited edition is priced at 60 EUROS / 450 DKR (about 75 USD/AUD) + shipping.
13 out of 25 are already sold, so if you are interested, contact Flemming quickly at mail@flemmingbojensen.com |
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Book only is priced at 27 EUROS (about 200 DKR, 34 USD/AUD) + shipping and local VAT. |
Tugboat Friday
Today – appropriately, a beautiful, crisp autumn day – is Tug Boat Friday.
I feel like saying “the rest of my life” because I finally have the clearance to get into the port as much as I like, but perhaps that would be exaggerating things.
But I did get on some tugs today. And you better believe I can’t wait for the next time.
For more posts on tugs, go here. And for the Tug Boat Dreaming gallery, go here.
Instagram: The app that changed this technoslow’s (commuting) life.

Or at least, one part of it. Instagram has utterly changed my mind about shooting with a mobile phone.
Not too long ago, I was trying hard to get enthusiastic about shooting with the camera that was always with me. Yes, it’s convenient, but also laggy, un-ergonomic, takes forever to autofocus, and photos came out flat – low contrast and generally unexciting. There was no love in it.

The few apps I’d been using up to that point were slow, cumbersome and only saved low res versions of anything. Downloading and photoshopping – all well and good, if you’re not after the instantaneous goodness of social networking. Which i am, if i’m shooting with a phone.
Well.

A few weeks ago the internet was abuzz with the newly released Android app for Instagram. And just like that, I started to enjoy shooting with my phone. What Instagram has given me that I haven’t found elsewhere:
- Quick processing of photos on the fly with presets – no more dissatisfaction with unfinished images
- Full resolution results
It’s amazing how the two in combination have suddenly upped my motivation to the point where my commute series is being continued exclusively via my phone.

The biggest change in all of this is my outlook on the whole thing. Honestly, my mobile – tortoise-like performance, un-finger-friendly touchscreen – is still an annoying device to shoot with. But being able to “finish” my images in the device itself has given the exercise ultimate satisfaction at the end. Because of this, I have the inclination to learn to overcome the irritants and get on with making pictures.

Other perks of Instagram:
- Mass posting to various other social networks like Twitter and Facebook
- Its own little social ecology
I’m new to the social side of Instagram, but I’ve found some brilliant photographers sharing their work in there. Inspiration, served with every refresh.

My Instagram activity is largely confined to pictures taken while commuting. Shooting on the bus with a phone is perfect as it doesn’t freak other commuters out the way a chunky dslr does, and it also gives me something to do when I’m too restless to read/write.

I’m loving it. One of the things that has always simultaneously annoyed and delighted me about shooting with a phone is how imperfect the results are – with the subject matter I’m partial to, you’re usually stuck with the first shot you take, because your subject would either have flashed by, or gotten off. Horizons are never straight, people are ridiculously distorted if the bus is moving too fast, lighting is often questionable, level of detail not great… I could go on.

But at the same time, that’s half the magic of it. Getting a shot right makes it that much better, especially when I’m having to compose a square picture in a rectangular frame. That took some getting used to, but has opened up some interesting creative choices for me – choosing the appropriate crop is another level in the process of elimination and makes things all the more interesting.

Nothing I’m saying here is new, of course. Specific technology aside, the same principles apply elsewhere in photography. But this phone camera app business is a fairly recent discovery for me, and I’m finding it’s challenging me to think and shoot in different ways. Yet another facet of the ever-learning journey.

The Shining
Just some of the many, many pictures I took during Magnum Workshops in March this year, with Antoine D’Agata. We are so plugged into our devices that it sometimes seems as though we are feeding off the energy that their screens emit. It seems inevitable that eventually, we’ll all be sucked into the matrix whether we like it or not.
I took a whole bunch of similar pictures during the first couple of days of the workshop, trying to find out what it was I was looking for. On the third morning, it hit me like a freight train as I was wandering Northbridge, the city’s nightlife precinct, which pulses with tungsten and neon in the dark, but is washed out in the light of the sun. Previously, I’ve mostly shot at night, but this sudden realisation opened up a direction that allowed me to look for things in the day without being discomforted by the excess of sunlight that defines Western Australia in many ways.
Long time readers of this blog will remember that the last workshops brought me tug boats, which culminated in an exhibition. This round of Magnum Workshops opened up another avenue for me that I thought I’d never go down: Street photography. I never thought I had the guts to be a street photographer. It’s a difficult discipline and for the most part, seems to require a special kind of gumption to put yourself out there, at the kindness/mercy of the strangers you’re trying to extract some meaning of the world from.
But there’s a first time for everything. And you never know what you are willing to do until you have a tutor who will send you, headlong down that route before you know what’s going out. Stepping outside the box, disregarding all the labels you’re so used to assigning to things, and just shoot. For the exercise, for the craft, for the discipline and for the joy.
So, what am I looking for then?
I can’t describe it absolutely yet, but in essense: for the moments when people are “lit” within their surroundings, despite the shadows, or perhaps because of them. That is the loose theme around Alight, which was my projection piece at the end of the workshop. It aligns a lot with what I’ve always found of visual interest, right back to when I was a kid. It has a lot to do with my mode of existence; when solitude/alone-ness exists in the unending madness of crowds and congestion in urban areas, I am drawn to it like a drowning sailor to a lifeline. Trying to create pictures that evoke this is something I am finding very hard, but it’s a great challenge to take up.
I’ll be exploring this for a good while to come. It will change over time I’m sure, and may come to nothing at all, but it is an excellent exercise/kick in the butt, and I’ve learnt plenty in the process so far.
Thank you Antoine, for giving so much of yourself to your group during that week. I have been very touched by your generosity and compassion.
Aside:
The Magnum Mentorship program is being offered in the motherland. If ever I have felt a wisp of desire to return, it would be for this!
Giant Plastic Cacti

Because nothing says “Welcome to the capital of Western Australia” quite like one of these babies.

















