Dawnwatch 09/02/2012 Old Masters Dawn

Dawn from an East-Facing Balcony in Sydney

Dawnwatchers must rouse themselves out of bed early.  This is an essential requirement.  It's difficult waking up in the dark every morning, even for insomniacs, but you get into a routine.  A quiet routine, because nobody else cares to be woken before dawn.  Today I slept in and missed - I dunno.  It happens.

Old Masters Dawn:  Thursday, 9 February 2012

It was around the telegraph pole that all the action was happening.  To begin, I must ask you to ignore the telegraph pole.  Got that?  Imagine these scenes without the telegraph pole. 

I awoke to find the pre-dawn pinks had already started.  The horizon was a busy scene, with blobs and blotches of colour everywhere.  If you’ll note the ginormous size of the telegraph pole that I’ve just asked you to ignore, you can see I was at maximum close-up, and still there’s these little itty-bitty wisps and puffs of coloured cloud right across the sky.  A painter gone mad?  I’ve set this video to slow all the way to cater for the fact there’s so much busy-ness to observe in all of the photo scenes.

One large cloud in the sky briefly turned a stippled pink; I’ve posted a picture here.  It’s not included in the video because I deemed it an unnecessary distraction from the focus around the telegraph pole that you’re pretending is invisible.  Just so you don’t miss anything.

When the clouds turn purple and yellow, it really starts to look like a canvas oil painting, and those sweepy strokes are painted by the hand of a human artist, not the wind.  But when those low cumulous clouds turn grey-brown, and the high clouds are a sweepy yellow, I was struck by an overwhelming sense of recognition.  Have I seen this scene before somewhere?  Have you? 

There exists an oil painting of these magnificent clouds, of this very dawn, over a flat rural scene of tiny farming figures and haystacks.  It hangs in the Art Gallery of New South Wales, and it was painted by one of the Old Masters.  Hundreds of years ago, artists in Europe witnessed dawns like this, and recorded them for posterity by painting them in oils on canvas.  I remember studying this picture in the art gallery and thinking, there’s a layer of yellow grime like butterfat on this painting, and why did the artist paint the clouds that pale grey-brown shade?  Now I know the artist was painting those clouds and that dawn exactly as he saw it all those years ago.  These photos prove it.

As the dawn progresses, the red sun rises through the low cumulous clouds against a backdrop of painted yellow sweeping clouds.  Briefly, the sun disappears inside the clouds; this is happening very rapidly.  I’m snapping away as fast as possible, and every image captured is different.  Then I’m treated to a second dawn, where the sun rises anew from the clouds.  As witnessed by the Old Masters who were inspired to paint dawns like this into their landscape paintings hundreds of years ago.  It’s wonderful to think that we can enjoy the same dawns today that inspired such artistic genius, as long as we get out of bed early enough and on time.

Watch the video on YouTube here.

Souvenir posters and mugs of this dawn are available from the Gagothicfunk store at Zazzle.com as displayed below:

Don’t forget your humble photographer also writes fantasy adventure fiction under the name of S E Champenby.  Paperbacks and epubs available from Lulu.com at S E Champenby’s store.

Dawnwatch 26/02/2012 La Stupenda Dawn

Dawn from an East-Facing Balcony in Sydney

Rain would have kept many from watching this dawn, which is why I take photographs from an undercover balcony.  Not unconnected, this was also one of the worst dawns for mosquitoes.  They landed on my hands whilst I tried to hold the camera steady for just a few seconds to take photographs, and I was forced stop at times and move about in attempts to shake off the mini bloodsuckers.  Potential dawnwatchers should note that mosquitoes are an occupational hazard.

La Stupenda Dawn:  Sunday, 26 February 2012

Today’s dawn was hands down the most stupendous dawn of February 2012.  Yet it began with every indication of a washout, with the sky blanketed by cloud.  However, if you look closely at the telegraph pole horizon, you’ll note the gap there.  This gap was all-important in allowing the rising sun to shine through.

It began with pink striations across the sky.  Just plain lines, nothing fancy or of much interest.  Then the sun found that gap good and proper, and began pouring through, bathing the entire sky in golden light.

ABC News 24 played a viewer’s video of this stupendous dawn taken at the wharfside unit conversions down at The Rocks.  Panning along the silhouette of the wharfs, the video showcased the dawn sky as an opera curtain backdrop of pure molten gold.  It was gold, gold, fiery gold, from one side of the horizon to the other.  The news presenter described this dawn as “awesome”. 

I say it was freaking incredible.  You had to see it to believe it.  That’s a cliché, but honestly, I had no idea a dawn could be anything like this, or like many of the other fantastic and very different dawns - Old Masters Dawn, Gold Nugget Dawn, Lava Dawn, Apocalypse Dawn, Old Gold Dawn, Lobster Dawn, China Dawn - that I have witnessed in the space of just two months.

Also appreciating La Stupenda Dawn was a bird that alighted on the telegraph pole.  At the very climax of the dawn, when the molten gold curtain covered the sky, he chose to pose for photographs.  I must tell you, any bird that perches on that telegraph pole during sunrise will be photographed.  Simply irresistible.  He’s not in the video, so I’ve posted his picture here.  I admit that the bird diverted me from taking panoramic shots at a crucial time.

Smudgy slanted lines on clouds indicates rain.  It rained intermittently all morning.  And I’m sitting snug and dry on an undercover balcony.  Did I say smug?  No?  All right, let’s keep moving.  The rain created an aurora borealis type effect, and in the video I’ve shifted to a portrait shot in order to capture the full glory of the spectacle.  Sorry, I know it’s awkward, but I deemed it worth shifting from landscape to portrait and back; imagine the video sequence without this shot. 

When the light begins to fade, there’s still a show to see - the golden remains of the rainy aurora borealis contrasts against the grey-clouded sky.  Eventually, it does fade away, to leave a dark, cloudy grey morning for those who rise and look at the skies after 6.45am.  I retreat indoors and stick my mosquito-bitten hands in the freezer.  But for a full memory card in my camera, I reckon it was worth it.

Judge for yourself.  Watch the video on YouTube here.

Souvenir posters and mugs of this dawn are available from the Gagothicfunk store at Zazzle.com as displayed below:

Don’t forget your humble photographer also writes fantasy adventure fiction under the name of S E Champenby.  Paperbacks and epubs available from Lulu.com at S E Champenby’s store.

Dawnwatch 06/03/2012 China Dawn

Dawn from an East-Facing Balcony in Sydney

I know I said I was working backwards, but when the first major dawn spectacular of autumn struck, after a week of washouts, I had to record what I saw and felt immediately.  Frankly, I was ready to give up dawnwatching until summer came around again.  You’ll note in my shots where the sun appears, it’s hidden behind that oak tree, disappearing north fast.  I won’t be making videos of the dawn where you can’t see the sun rise.  But on this day, this dawn restored my faith.

China Dawn:  Tuesday, 6 March 2012

Dawn’s first light revealed a line of high cloud.  This later proved significant in that throughout this dawn, the major clouds stayed high above the tree line.  They never lowered to touch the telegraph pole.  The zoom function of my camera was superfluous.  This was a B-I-G dawn.  More clouds rolled in and then out but never fully dissipated - a good thing for a dawnwatcher. 

The sky grew lighter on small puffs of cloud, turning them delicate shades of pink against a China blue sky.  This is the sort of dawn that has inspired Chinese artists for centuries.  If you can imagine the oak tree on the left were a grey cliff or mountain slope, you’d be looking at one of those landscape scene depicted in ancient Chinese vertical scroll paintings background, midground, foreground.  From the China blue sky to the cherry blossom pink and pearl clouds, this dawn shrieked that it was a China dawn.

As the sun made an appearance, the clouds thickened into larger cumulous puffs and turned butter yellow.  The contrast of the butter yellow against the China blue sky - glorious!

All good things have to end.  Sunrise gave way to morning.  The clouds became a thick, smothering grey blanket - with two angry holes for eyes.  More rain promised, which we don’t need.  Across New South Wales, the countryside is flooding, and Warragamba Dam in Sydney is overflowing.  The past week has been one washout dawn after another.  Today’s dawn, at least, was an inspirational treasure.

Catch up with the video on YouTube here.

Souvenir posters of this dawn are available from the Gagothicfunk store at Zazzle.com as displayed below:

Don’t forget your humble photographer also writes fantasy adventure fiction under the name of S E Champenby.  Paperbacks and epubs available from Lulu.com at S E Champenby’s store.

Dawnwatch 28/02/2012 Lobster Dawn

Dawn from an East-Facing Balcony in Sydney

Welcome to the first dawnwatch report.  I've started with the last photographic dawn of summer - 29 February was, alas, a washout.  And I'll be working backwards datewise because after some checking I've found the first week of photographs are pretty terrible, actually.  The idea of making videos out of the pictures only struck me at the end of February, hence I know my recent dawn photos are more suitable for same.  The earlier dawns, well, I'll find out what I can salvage as I work my way backwards.

Lobster Dawn:  Tuesday, 28 February 2012

This day’s dawn began with dark, smothering cloud that promised rain later.  The clear strip of sky on the horizon, however, gave me hope that something interesting might develop.  That’s all it takes for a spectacular dawn - a gap on the horizon for the sunlight to escape, and clouds in the sky to reflect back the sunlight to glorious effect.  Dark, low rain clouds, however, are a bad sign, because the dark colouring does not reflect the light well, and the cloud can easily close off that lowline gap leaving you with a washout; this happened on Wednesday, 22 February.

For today, there’s the gap on the horizon, and the storm clouds have developed pink varicose veins.  All right, not the nicest of analogies, but I call them as I see them.  The sky was full of brooding menace, clouds loaded with rain and ready to dump.  After previous disappointments with similar pre-dawn skies, I had serious doubts that anything further would develop.

But then the light from the sun deepened to red, and the edges of the clouds above began to break up.  The breaking, sculpted clouds glowed red and gold to glorious effect.  Across the sky I beheld a giant lobster over a river of gold.  Incredible, awesome, spectacular.  You can see the pictures for yourself; you find the words.  To witness just one spectacle like this is worth getting up at dawn every day for a month.

It didn’t last.  The colour faded and washed away very rapidly, until if you rose from your slumbers at 7am, you would have missed it.  As the final pictures show, if your first glimpse of the day out of the window or on your way to work was at any time from 7am onwards, you would have seen a bleak dawn, a grey dawn, a cool morning with the threat of rain. 

Looking at the last pictures, where the sun rises through the oak tree, would you ever have guessed at the giant lobster and the golden river that had lit up the skies earlier?  Did this day, Tuesday 28 February 2012, begin for you as a bleak grey day, or one inspired by pink veins of promise, a fiery red lobster, and a river of pure molten gold?

Anyway, if you skipped the book, as they say, you can catch up with the movie on YouTube here.

Souvenir posters and mugs of this dawn are available from the Gagothicfunk store at Zazzle.com as displayed below:

Don’t forget your humble photographer also writes fantasy adventure fiction under the name of S E Champenby.  Paperbacks and epubs available from Lulu.com at S E Champenby's store.

The Dragon Lord of Little Musking: A book review

This fantastical tale is retold in the first person by the egotistical dragon himself, Dragonlord Bane Castellan.  Fascinated by humans and civilized behaviour, he moves to a backwater village called Little Musking determined to ingratiate himself with his neighbours and become civilized.  He adopts an unwanted farmer’s son, Arden Barleigh, as his ward the better to learn civilized human ways.

Naturally, Dragonlord Bane experiences difficulties.  For one thing, he has his own dragonish nature to contend with; a habit of always getting his own way (who is going to contradict a dragon?), a tendency to eat people when provoked (preferably roasted), and a certain obtuseness in regards to human diplomacy (outing the local mayor’s son as a thief).

Dragonlord Bane’s other major difficulty is gaining acceptance by his new neighbours.  Everybody distrusts his civilized resolutions.  The local villagers have an aversion to being eaten by a dragon, and so Dragonlord Bane can’t find human servants for his manor house - he is forced to import hobgoblins.  The local fairy godmother is suspicious of his motives and keeps him under a most unwelcome surveillance. 

Worst of all, there’s an evil wizard (the Royal Wizard Naldamus) plotting to take over the kingdom, and he too does not trust Dragonlord Bane’s avowal that he has settled in Little Musking seeking a quiet, civilized life.  To make sure Dragonlord Bane does not interfere with his plans, the Royal Wizard Naldamus has the said dragon transformed into a chicken.

At this point, Dragonlord Bane’s civilized resolutions spectacularly unravel.  Although a chicken, he still behaves exactly as he always has, as a dragon.  And the dragon wants revenge.  Life for Arden in particular becomes hard, smuggling an illegal chicken that persists in acting like a dragon out of the kingdom to find a cure for the evil spell.

In the end, though, it takes a dragon to save the kingdom from the evil Royal Wizard and set things aright.  Well, right for Dragonlord Bane, anyway.

The Dragon Lord of Little Musking is a rollicking tale of high adventure, with a kingdom to be saved, a beautiful princess to be won, shining knights in armour, and most important of all, dragons.

Paperback edition

EPUB edition

See more books by S E Champenby at Lulu.com

Introduction

Hi

This is the blog of S E Champenby, self-published author and amateur photographer.  The reason I've started a blog is because my work has begun spreading across multiple websites.  I intend to reference and link all of my work back to this blog.

The challenge with any blog is; (1) generating enough content to post regularly, and (2) finding enough time to keep on posting.  I believe I have enough material; time might be an issue.  If you ever see a post stating, "I am still alive," you'll know I lack time at present but I'm trying to prevent this blog from being archived.  The plan is to post once a fortnight.

For the subject of my very first blog posting, I'd like to address what is inspiring me right now, and that is dawn watching.  I have become a Dawnwatcher.  Every morning I wake up before dawn, rug up, and trundle out onto the balcony with my camera to take photographs of the dawn.  It's the perfect hobby for an insomniac.

I began dawn watching on 10 January this year, during the summer law break, hoping to gather some usable background pictures for my book covers.  If you check out two of my books, Gavin and the Blue Goblins and Gavin and the Gargoyles - available from Lulu.com - you'll observe I've used the same brilliant sunset as the background for the covers.  I need more background shots.

Once I started photographing the dawn, however, I found I couldn't stop.  Every dawn is fantastically different.  Every dawn is spectacular and unique.  Every dawn starts my day filled with inspiration and optimism.  Those who watch a dawn or a sunset just one day a year don't know what they're missing.

I upload the photos to Zazzle.com under the username Gagothicfunk as posters and merchandise.  Now that summer is over, and the sun has moved behind the trees, plus today's dawn is a washout - it happens - I hope to catch up (because I've fallen behind) and compose a few YouTube videos so that you can see what dawn in Sydney was like on such and such a day.  I think it's important that every dawn be recorded and dated because every dawn is unique, it's of historial significance.  Miss a dawn, and it will never be repeated exactly the same.

Now we come to the big question:  why am I doing this?  To answer all my sceptical friends (and nearly all of them are) I've composed a little something, An Ode to Eccentric Hobbies and Extreme Sports:

     This is crazy
     This is dumb
     But this is also
     So much fun!

by S E Champenby.

Print books and ebooks available from Lulu.com
Posters, mugs and T-shirts available from Zazzle.com