M9 Alive and ....well- Post Your Pics Here!

boojum said:
Nice shots. It's the eyes, it's always the eyes.
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Thanks boojum, she does have beautiful eyes, among her many other very lovely qualities. My good friend and fellow photographer Jim used to photograph her mother when we were but youngsters together. When this young lady and her equally beautiful sister wanted some slightly risqué photos for their boyfriends their mother sent them to us because she knew we'd treat them well and with respect. So, we now all shoot together on a regular basis and it's always a fun, interesting time.
 
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brusby said:
Thanks boojum, she does have beautiful eyes, among her many other very lovely qualities. My good friend and fellow photographer Jim used to photograph her mother when we were but youngsters together. When this young lady and her equally beautiful sister wanted some slightly risqué photos for their boyfriends their mother sent them to us because she knew we'd treat them well and with respect. So, we now all shoot together on a regular basis and it's always a fun, interesting time.
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A rapport with the models makes a huge difference. I am guessing. But good sense would lead one to believe this. The eyes, they turn it up to 11. There are a lot of great figure studies, the ones with great eyes have that magic. So not only have you access to las belles dames you can also catch a plate of cheese grits and shrimp whenever you like. Po Boys, too. Been to NOLA, paid my dues at Cafe du Monde. It is some town.

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Beignets by West Phalia, on Flickr
 
boojum said:
A rapport with the models makes a huge difference. I am guessing. But good sense would lead one to believe this. The eyes, they turn it up to 11. There are a lot of great figure studies, the ones with great eyes have that magic. So not only have you access to las belles dames you can also catch a plate of cheese grits and shrimp whenever you like. Po Boys, too. Been to NOLA, paid my dues at Cafe du Monde. It is some town.
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Yep, we love our Poboys and other delicacies peculiar to New Orleans.

Morning Call has better beignets IMO. The last few times I was at Cafe du Monde, theirs were a bit too doughy and heavy. Not terrible, but the best are very light and airy.

Coffee at both places is excellent and just like my great grandmother used to make. I have the fondest memories as a young boy barely able to see the top of the old gas stove, watching intently as my sweet, ever-so-gentle great grandmother poured the coffee from a drip pot in her right hand and a skillet of just-boiled whole milk in the left, mixing to perfection by adjusting on the fly the precisely desired color of the final almost magical concoction. Ahhhhhh!

The M9 is so versatile and chameleon like -- equally at home for everything from portraits to landscapes to architecture. When I was considering whether to get a M10 or M11, I just decided to get a pair of M9 and pocket the change. So far, no regrets. For most shoots, particularly model shoots, I keep one mounted with a 50mm and the other with a 35mm. It's soooo nice not having to swap lenses mid shoot.

Finally, I love looking at the expressions on models' or other subjects' faces to get a feel for their relationship to the photographer(s) and an idea about the general vibe of the session.
0474 by Brusby, on Flickr

7765 by Brusby, on Flickr
 
brusby said:
Yep, we love our Poboys and other delicacies peculiar to New Orleans.

Morning Call has better beignets IMO. The last few times I was at Cafe du Monde, theirs were a bit too doughy and heavy. Not terrible, but the best are very light and airy.

Coffee at both places is excellent and just like my great grandmother used to make. I have the fondest memories as a young boy barely able to see the top of the old gas stove, watching intently as my sweet, ever-so-gentle great grandmother poured the coffee from a drip pot in her right hand and a skillet of just-boiled whole milk in the left, mixing to perfection by adjusting on the fly the precisely desired color of the final almost magical concoction. Ahhhhhh!

The M9 is so versatile and chameleon like -- equally at home for everything from portraits to landscapes to architecture. When I was considering whether to get a M10 or M11, I just decided to get a pair of M9 and pocket the change. So far, no regrets. For most shoots, particularly model shoots, I keep one mounted with a 50mm and the other with a 35mm. It's soooo nice not having to swap lenses mid shoot.

Finally, I love looking at the expressions on models' or other subjects' faces to get a feel for their relationship to the photographer(s) and an idea about the general vibe of the session.
0474 by Brusby, on Flickr

7765 by Brusby, on Flickr
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Might as well get off on a real tangent over coffee. I did my military obligation in France. And the morning cafe au lait there was the same, two pots, one hot coffee, one hot milk. And a nice brioche alongside with confiture d'abricot and some lovely fresh unsalted regional butter. The French have a special grasp on life. And I have been where yours come from, up in Acadian country in Nouvelle Écosse. They still speak French there, too. Not "school French" though. Good, stout people. Willing to welcome folks who are not there to gawk at them. Tu sais bien comme il va.

When I lived in CA we would have a big Super Bowl Party. Usually guacamole and other dips, a huge pot of chili and muffaletta. I'd make two the day before and put them in the fridge with the Wop Salad and press them for a day. They went fast. NOLA is good eats.

And the world knows the motto, "Laissez les bontemops roulez."
 
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boojum said:
Might as well get off on a real tangent over coffee. I did my military obligation in France. And the morning cafe au lait there was the same, two pots, one hot coffee, one hot milk. And a nice brioche alongside with confiture d'abricot and some lovely fresh unsalted regional butter. The French have a special grasp on life. And I have been where yours come from, up in Acadian country in Nouvelle Écosse. They still speak French there, too. Not "school French" though. Good, stout people. Willing to welcome folks who are not there to gawk at them. Tu sais bien comme il va.

When I lived in CA we would have a big Super Bowl Party. Usually guacamole and other dips, a huge pot of chili and muffaletta. I'd make two the day before and put them in the fridge with the Wop Salad and press them for a day. They went fast. NOLA is good eats.

And the world knows the motto, "Laissez les bontemops roulez."
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There are still a few French speakers here in south Louisiana, particularly a bit west of New Orleans toward Lafayette, where I spent a few early years. Locals refer to their accent when speaking English as "flat talk". But that culture seems to be rapidly disappearing as the old timers meet their final fate.

When I was growing up local cajuns were, and to some extent still are, referred to as "coon asses" -- a term that almost always shocks outsiders because it sounds so derisive. But in actuality it was typically used as a term of endearment and often affection, both by native cajuns to refer to themselves as well as others in our community who loved and respected them. But in our current hyper sensitive environment more people, including some younger cajuns, have begun to perceive the term as offensive. I see their point although I hate to see old, well established cultural practices change due solely to perception when there was actually no ill intent. Oh well.
 
brusby said:
There are still a few French speakers here in south Louisiana, particularly a bit west of New Orleans toward Lafayette, where I spent a few early years. Locals refer to their accent when speaking English as "flat talk". But that culture seems to be rapidly disappearing as the old timers meet their final fate.

When I was growing up local cajuns were, and to some extent still are, referred to as "coon asses" -- a term that almost always shocks outsiders because it sounds so derisive. But in actuality it was typically used as a term of endearment and often affection, both by native cajuns to refer to themselves as well as others in our community who loved and respected them. But in our current hyper sensitive environment more people, including some younger cajuns, have begun to perceive the term as offensive. I see their point although I hate to see old, well established cultural practices change due solely to perception when there was actually no ill intent. Oh well.
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I have been to the Cajun Capitol, Lafayette. French speakers could understand me but I struggled with their speech, much to their amusement. The same as in Acadia. Time changes cultural norms. We had a Cajun on our post in France. He had to go to school to learn English, smoked Gauloises at home and lived a totally French or Cajun French life. He was on our post for over a year before the on-post French discovered he was a French-speaker. They loved to hear him speak and he clammed up really quickly. The news about him understanding French got through our small post that afternoon. The on-post French had been speaking openly in front of him in French sure that they were speaking in confidence. Morin was his name. A good fellow with a wry sense of humor. Sixty years ago so he is an old geezer if he is still alive. Most of those guys are gone now.

Made it out to McIlhenney's on Avery Island, too. I needed to be reassured that the world was not going to run out of Tabasco. I came away reassured. Life without Tabasco is a grim prospect. Just now getting ready for some cheese grits and you can be sure there will be some fried pork with that and a generous splash of Tabasco, for the vinegar. I've been using Tabasco for just about all of my life, at least since I was weaned. ;o)
 
Frank McIlhenny was a casual friend of mine and close friend to several of my high school buddies.

Regarding Tabasco, when Meredith and I went to Paris a few years ago, our first stop was a wonderful little cafe on the Seine. It was very late at night, close to midnight and literally freezing out. The place was beautifully lit with the warm glow of flickering gas lamps all about.

We'd heard horror stories of how some French can be rude to Americans. I figured it was probably well deserved by loud, arrogant Americans, who I don't particularly care for either. But we were treated with amazingly warm hospitality from absolutely everyone we encountered there except one rude middle eastern guy working behind a food counter. Anyway, the waiter at the cafe asked where we were from and when I said New Orleans, his face lit up. He immediately went in the back and returned with a bottle of Tabasco. We ordered huitres, which we call oysters on the half shell, and which were served very differently than we do -- with a sauce of vinegar with shallots. They were delicious. I've since learned that some of my cajun friends' parents eat them with vinegarette and shallots too.

He inquired about how we ate our oysters, and when I said with horse radish, lemon and catsup, he wrinkled his nose in a clear sign of disdain, I think for the catsup.

I often made a point to say thank you to our new French acquaintances. When they'd ask quizzically why, I explained that we in America owed our freedom and independence in large part to King Louis XVI financing our revolution against the British, which may have helped destabilize their economy and likely contributed to Louis being dethroned and beheaded by guillotine.
 
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brusby said:
Frank McIlhenny was a casual friend of mine and close friend to several of my high school buddies.

Regarding Tabasco, when Meredith and I went to Paris a few years ago, our first stop was a wonderful little cafe on the Seine. It was very late at night, close to midnight and literally freezing out. The place was beautifully lit with the warm glow of flickering gas lamps all about.

We'd heard horror stories of how some French can be rude to Americans. I figured it was probably well deserved by loud, arrogant Americans, who I don't particularly care for either. But we were treated with amazingly warm hospitality from absolutely everyone we encountered there except one rude middle eastern guy working behind a food counter. Anyway, the waiter at the cafe asked where we were from and when I said New Orleans, his face lit up. He immediately went in the back and returned with a bottle of Tabasco. We ordered huitres, which we call oysters on the half shell, and which were served very differently than we do -- with a sauce of vinegar with shallots. They were delicious.

He inquired about how we ate our oysters, and when I said with horse radish, lemon and catsup, he wrinkled his nose in a clear sign of disdain, I think for the catsup.

I often made a point to say thank you to our new French acquaintances. When they'd ask quizzically why, I explained that we in America owed our freedom and independence in large part to King Louis XVI financing our revolution against the British, which may have helped destabilize their economy and likely contributed to Louis being dethroned and beheaded by guillotine.
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Tabasco is the universal hot sauce. There's Frank's and others but even as a splash sauce Tabasco defines the genre. The McIlhenny family used to cut a pretty wide swath in the Pelican state an surrounding territories. I know this from someone who was also close to the family while working in NOLA.

Let's move on to the French. I was in France on a post of 80, half of whom lived off-post, in a caserne in the middle of a field in a small farming community an hour south of Paris. In that time I never met a rude Frenchman, a collective including male and female. They were always kind, cordial and patient. Always. No exceptions. Period. That's how it is, even in Paris.

I can go on for hours about just how wonderful the French have been to me. But let me give you this one. My wife and I were in Paris on our honeymoon, one of a few stops. We had had the usual sit down at 8:00, finish at 11:00 French dinner in a cafe run by a Pied Noir off the Champs Élysée and we were walking down that famous boulevard to our hotel, The Grand Hotel. We ran into some gendarmes at Place de la Concorde and I asked where the Métro was. I was assured, in French, that it was closed and where were we going? I told him The Grand Hotel. Oh, he says, it is just five minutes from here. His gendarme companion said, non, non, non, it was seven minutes. OK, a discussion starts up about the time. The difference? One gendarme said we were promenading the other said we were walking. Walking is quicker.

So the discussion went on, polite but firm, and I had to interrupt to ask what the directions were. I was told, we left and they were still discussing as we left. Welcome to Paris. I have been back a few times and it is always pleasant, always chez moi. My well flogged comment on France is that when good people die they go to Heaven. When the really good die they get to go to France. C'est vrai. ;o)

The oysters are traditionally served with Tarragon vinegar and finely minced shallots. That's how it is done. There are oysters, or were, in the Seine just downriver from Paris. A Roman ship was coming upriver to what was then Paris and sank. Some oysters survived and now flourish if they have not been killed from pollution. At night a block or two off the Champs there are stands selling seafood with oysters stacked on beds of crushed ice. We'd pass them on the way to The Blue Note at 7 rue d'Artois. It was a good joint along with Chatte Qui Pêche. Caught Nancy Wilson at The Blue Note in '63. She was petite, in a dark red sheath and just plain gorgeous. Had some pipes on her, too.

Horace Silver was in the audience at the Blue Note and we had just come from a Gerry Mulligan Quartet concert at the Paris Olympia where Piaf was a following show and the audience would not let Mulligan off the stage. He had to do three or four encores and he audience would not stop clapping or leave.
 
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We met with such amazing hospitality on our vacation to Paris. I don't want to derail this thread any further, but I'll link to some pics we took to illustrate. If you go to the end of my Flickr album it shows our last night in Paris, New Years eve. We asked the desk clerk at out hotel for a recommendation of a place to eat and she pointed us to a little restaurant just a few feet from the hotel.

Arriving very early for dinner, we were the first there and were greeted by the friendliest young lady who took pity on us for our butchery of her beautiful French language. We got along splendidly despite our language handicap, and she told us she was going to seat us right next to her family who would be arriving soon. As I believe the photos show, It turned out to be an amazing celebration including the manager, her family, the chef and his helper who kept coming out of the kitchen to hug my girlfriend. We loved getting to know such open, welcoming and fun loving people. Hope I can go back soon. It's a photographer's paradise.

Note: This is the first time I'd owned a camera in over 30+ years -- a Panasonic point and shoot LX-3 that I'd just purchased to document the Paris trip. All images are unedited SOOC.

flic.kr

Paris Christmas 2008

I hadn't owned a camera for over 30+ years, but I bought this little point and shoot Panasonic LX-3 to document our upcoming vacation in Paris. It has a built in Leica 24-70mm equivalent zoom. All of these photos are unedited JPG straight out of the camera. I did some edits at the time with...
flic.kr flic.kr
 
brusby said:
We met with such amazing hospitality on our vacation to Paris. I don't want to derail this thread any further, but I'll link to some pics we took to illustrate. If you go to the end of my Flickr album it shows our last night in Paris, New Years eve. We asked the desk clerk at out hotel for a recommendation of a place to eat and she pointed us to a little restaurant just a few feet from the hotel.

Arriving very early for dinner, we were the first there and were greeted by the friendliest young lady who took pity on us for our butchery of her beautiful French language. We got along splendidly despite our language handicap, and she told us she was going to seat us right next to her family who would be arriving soon. As I believe the photos show, It turned out to be an amazing celebration including the manager, her family, the chef and his helper who kept coming out of the kitchen to hug my girlfriend. We loved getting to know such open, welcoming and fun loving people. Hope I can go back soon. It's a photographer's paradise.

Note: This is the first time I'd owned a camera in over 30+ years -- a Panasonic point and shoot LX-3 that I'd just purchased to document the Paris trip. All images are unedited SOOC.

flic.kr

Paris Christmas 2008

I hadn't owned a camera for over 30+ years, but I bought this little point and shoot Panasonic LX-3 to document our upcoming vacation in Paris. It has a built in Leica 24-70mm equivalent zoom. All of these photos are unedited JPG straight out of the camera. I did some edits at the time with...
flic.kr flic.kr
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You met France as it is. I could spend hours telling of the heaps of kindnesses and courtesies volunteered. France is a lesson in the art of living well and being happy. France is no longer divided in three parts as Caesar had done. Now it is two: Paris and la France Profonde. This is essentially Paris and then the rest. They are both wonderful but two different worlds. I am more comfortable in la France Profonde out of habit but I can enjoy Paris. That is easy to do.

Go back, go back as often as you can. It is always enjoyable. If you get the chance drive or take the train an hour south to Chartres to the cathedral. I am not Catholic. I am not even baptized. But when you enter that cathedral you are entering a place of the higher silences. It is the Parthenon of France. You cannot be but moved. I'll trade you my Chartres for your Paris. Henry IV of France, a Protestant king, had been humbled by the Catholic armies of the Pope. He was at the doors of defeat unless he renounce his Protestant faith. His line is famous: "Paris is worth a Mass." He is beloved by France as a good king.

flic.kr

Chartres

If you drive south on N20 from Paris to Chartres in the summer the wheat fields will be golden. The seem to flow endlessly south, waving undulant in the sunshine. At a point you will crest a ridge and see the cathedral, seemingly levitating in the fields of wheat. It is a moving sight. It is...
flic.kr flic.kr
 
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sheep on Monte Cimone
 
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