I was right!

If you were to ask me to name my all-time favourite photographer, I would probably struggle to choose one. However, if you asked me for a list of my favourite photographers it wouldn’t need to be a very long list before I could guarantee that Edward Weston would be on there.

I have long admired Weston’s work. He was an American photographer active in the early decades of the 20th century and as far as I know all his work was in monochrome, which suits me fine as I haven’t significantly changed my opinion since I last wrote about my fondness for black & white photography.

One of things I particularly like about a lot of Weston’s work is that he often focuses on relatively mundane objects, such as vegetables, and presents them in a way that makes you look at them with fresh eyes and appreciate their intrinsic beauty. A particularly fine example of this is arguably one of his most famous images, with the gloriously unexciting sounding title of Pepper No. 30 (NB that’s a link to the Wikipedia article on it – yes, it’s a famous enough image to get its own Wikipedia page – which doesn’t actually contain a picture, at least at the time of my writing, but you can easily enough google one for yourself if you want).

As you might expect from the title, this is a photograph of a pepper – more specifically a capsicum pepper (or bell pepper as Weston himself probably would have called it, coming from the USA). The title also suggests that he took quite a few other photos of peppers – in fact, a quote from Weston in the Wikipedia article indicates that there were at least 50 in total, though No. 30 definitely became the most famous of them and is the finest of the handful that I’ve seen (only ever as reproductions in books or on websites).

It is, to be sure, a relatively interesting pepper with a lovely gnarly shape that provides a lot more to work with than any pepper I’ve ever come across in a supermarket. It was also, of course, expertly positioned, lit, photographed, developed and printed by a master of his art (actually, at least some of the prints were done by Edward Weston’s son Cole; he, along with his brother Brett, was also a professional photographer in his own right though neither of them achieved the same level of fame as their father).

Many years ago, between 2001 and 2003, I did a series of drawings and paintings based on Pepper No. 30 (though I don’t think I knew its official number at the time). I think they can all be seen (along with a few other pieces based on Weston’s photos) here on Flickr. I don’t think I did any others, and if I did I certainly don’t seem to have got any photos of them.

Probably my single favourite of my own Weston pepper inspired works is this oil pastel painting from July 2001, which I still have hanging on my wall:

Pepper (oil pastel)

Of course, since Weston’s photo was monochrome I had to make an artistic decision for this and the other colour versions I did as to what colour the pepper should be. In all cases, I went for green. This far down the line I can’t remember if I was working on a hunch or just giving rein to my own preference for green (as a colour, not necessarily as a choice of pepper). I’m certain that I didn’t know what colour the original pepper was and at that time Wikipedia was only a few months old and even if I’d thought to check it (which I’m fairly sure I didn’t) it was still a couple of years away from getting an article about Edward Weston, let alone one specifically about his Pepper No. 30.

In fact, while I’ve definitely looked at the Edward Weston page a handful of times over the years I don’t think I discovered the pepper one until about a month ago. When I did finally read it, I was delighted to read in the very first paragraph that it “depicts a solitary green pepper in rich black-and-white tones, with strong illumination from above”. I just checked the revision history and that sentence was in the very first version of the article, written by Wikipedia user Lexaxis7 (whom some folks call Tim). According to his bio, he is a photo historian specialising in the early 20th century, so although he doesn’t cite a source for that particular information I assume it’s correct that the pepper was green.

Incidentally, while I don’t often delve into the page editing history on Wikipedia, it’s quite handy on occasion to be able to do so. In fact, I appear to have my own somewhat outdated bio page, though sadly it doesn’t provide links to any of the articles I helped edit (most, if not all, of them at least 15 years ago). Amongst others I contributed 3 edits to the banjo page, including this one which was apparently the second ever edit to that page (not counting the initial version of the page), as well as one to the crwth page (at the time, I was a fairly close personal friend of Cass Meurig, who was more or less the only active crwth player in the world, so I felt reasonably confident to edit the article based on conversations I’d had with her about the instrument); there were others too (including at least a handful of maths based ones, those perhaps done largely to assuage my guilty feelings about surfing Wikipedia when I was supposed to be researching my PhD in algebra) but none that I remember very clearly.

Talking of delving back, while I was digging out the photos of my paintings based on Weston’s pepper, I also came across my own (somewhat less successful) attempts at photographing peppers, dating back about 10 years. Like Weston (though I didn’t know it at the time) I used a green capsicum pepper, but I also included a red (and presumably hot) chilli pepper, as well as a few cloves of garlic for some of the photos. And like Weston, I presented these as black & white photos (though I was actually shooting digitally, in colour, and desaturated my images later – in fact I still have the colour versions, albeit not in my public photostream, and I think the monochrome ones work better). My favourite of them, with which I shall leave you for now, is this one:

Peppers

Cold Comfort

For the second week running, I found myself unable to go sailing last night. This time, however, it wasn’t the weather that kept me ashore but the fairly heavy cold I’m currently nursing.

This sprang up from nowhere on Monday morning and steadily got worse as the week progressed, reaching its zenith (I hope) yesterday and rendering me unfit to go sailing. At least, I would have given it a go if the crew had been short-handed but there were enough other people available and I was feeling sufficiently rough to consider that it would be better all round if I stayed at home.

I think I feel marginally better today, but it’s still at a fairly yucky stage (I’m sure you’ve experienced enough colds to be able to imagine the gory details without me spelling them out) and I’m also missing tonight’s band practice, though I hope to be well enough to go to tomorrow night’s.

While I’ve been sitting at home, reading the fictional exploits of Horatio Hornblower and dreaming of a life on the ocean wave, I have been soothing my throat with a concoction that my boss (officially “line manager”, but that sounds too corporate for my liking) told me about this afternoon while I was manfully struggling on with my work and looking forward to the moment I could knock off and head home to hit my rocking chair. (Incidentally, in case my boss or any prospective future employer is reading this, I should emphasise that when I’m at work I don’t usually just sit there looking forward to going home – only when I’m feeling ill but can muster just enough strength to drag myself to the office in the first place.)

The concoction in question is actually a decoction (I think that’s the correct technical term) of ginger, black peppercorns and cloves in water. As such, it bears a certain similarity to the honey, lemon and ginger decoction that I usually make up when I have a cold. It also reminded me somewhat of masala chai, which is perhaps not surprising given that my boss is Indian and is therefore steeped in the same culinary/medicinal tradition from which that fine beverage comes.

My method of preparation was to roughly chop a bit of fresh ginger, crush a few cloves and peppercorns in a pestle & mortar and then simmer the whole lot for a few minutes in a small saucepan of boiling water before straining into a cup. I drank a little bit of it neat but used the bulk of it, while the water was still nice and hot, to brew a cup of coffee (as suggested by my boss).

I can’t speak for the medicinal properties but it was certainly pleasant and soothing to drink (with or without the coffee – I’m sure it would also work as a masala chai mix with a bit of black tea thrown in, without the coffee of course!) and will be a useful addition to my repertoire of brews to make myself feel better (if not actually get better any sooner) when I have a cold.