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All papers, inks and mount-board materials are of conservation grade.
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Although it could still be described as
war-torn, Beirut's civil war had been over
some three years when I visited. The
place looked like Dresden in 1945. I had
been contracted to shoot a 20-minute
video for Solidere, the company that was
going to rebuild it all. The 'director' was a
Greek architectural student, and the
producer his friend, a Lebanese
businessman's daughter, clearly with
connections. We had the biggest budget
I'd ever worked with for a corporate programme, the smallest crew (me) and it was a
nightmare. But that's not what this picture is about. Damascus, in happier days, was a
fabulous short trip destination from Beirut, via Ba'albek and the Beka'a Valley. The
producer and I went for a weekend, she to buy jewellery, me to see Damascus for the
first time. With the shopping out of the way, we wafted through the spice market to the
Jupiter Gate, thence to the Great Mosque, built by the Ummayid dynasty in 715AD. Cool
inside, blistering outside in the great marble-laid courtyard, the join between the two is
where the photograph that I missed 'happened'. I'd just taken this interior shot, with
one man studying the Koran, another praying in the Central Mihrab and a woman also
praying, and had packed the camera kit away. Heading for the main entrance, I spotted
three large women coming in. As they bent over to remove their shoes, their voluminous
black outer garments reared up in unison in the updraft, and they looked like a meeting
of hot-air balloons. The picture would have won prizes, but it was the one that got away
instead.
Although it could still be described as
war-torn, Beirut's civil war had been over
some three years when I visited. The place
looked like Dresden in 1945. I had been
contracted to shoot a 20-minute video for
Solidere, the company that was going to
rebuild it all. The 'director' was a Greek
architectural student, and the producer his
friend, a Lebanese businessman's daughter,
clearly with connections. We had the biggest
budget I'd ever worked with for a corporate
programme, the smallest crew (me) and it
was a nightmare. But that's not what this
picture is about. Damascus, in happier days,
was a fabulous short trip destination from
Beirut, via Ba'albek and the Beka'a Valley.
The producer and I went for a weekend, she to
buy jewellery, me to see Damascus for the
first time. With the shopping out of the way,
we wafted through the spice market to the
Jupiter Gate, thence to the Great Mosque,
built by the Ummayid dynasty in 715AD. Cool
inside, blistering outside in the great
marble-laid courtyard, the join between the
two is where the photograph that I missed
'happened'. I'd just taken this interior shot,
with one man studying the Koran, another
praying in the Central Mihrab and a woman
also praying, and had packed the camera kit
away. Heading for the main entrance, I
spotted three large women coming in. As they
bent over to remove their shoes, their
voluminous black outer garments reared up in
unison in the updraft, and they looked like a
meeting of hot-air balloons. The picture would
have won prizes, but it was the one that got
away instead.
Although it could still be described as war-torn,
Beirut's civil war had been over some three
years when I visited. The place looked like
Dresden in 1945. I had been contracted to
shoot a 20-minute video for Solidere, the
company that was going to rebuild it all. The
'director' was a Greek architectural student,
and the producer his friend, a Lebanese
businessman's daughter, clearly with
connections. We had the biggest budget I'd ever
worked with for a corporate programme, the
smallest crew (me) and it was a nightmare. But that's not what this picture is about.
Damascus, in happier days, was a fabulous short trip destination from Beirut, via Ba'albek and
the Beka'a Valley. The producer and I went for a weekend, she to buy jewellery, me to see
Damascus for the first time. With the shopping out of the way, we wafted through the spice
market to the Jupiter Gate, thence to the Great Mosque, built by the Ummayid dynasty in
715AD. Cool inside, blistering outside in the great marble-laid courtyard, the join between the
two is where the photograph that I missed 'happened'. I'd just taken this interior shot, with
one man studying the Koran, another praying in the Central Mihrab and a woman also
praying, and had packed the camera kit away. Heading for the main entrance, I spotted three
large women coming in. As they bent over to remove their shoes, their voluminous black outer
garments reared up in unison in the updraft, and they looked like a meeting of hot-air
balloons. The picture would have won prizes, but it was the one that got away instead.

Prayers for Damascus

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For your own fine-art print of this picture:
Although it could still be described as war-torn, Beirut's civil war had been over some three years when I visited.  The place looked like Dresden in 1945.  I had been contracted to shoot a 20-minute video for Solidere, the company that was going to rebuild it all.  The 'director' was a Greek architectural student, and the producer his friend, a Lebanese businessman's daughter, clearly with connections.  We had the biggest budget I'd ever worked with for a corporate programme, the smallest crew (me) and it was a nightmare.   But that's not what this picture is about. Damascus, in happier days, was a fabulous short trip destination from Beirut, via Ba'albek and the Beka'a Valley.  The producer and I went for a weekend, she to buy jewellery, me to see Damascus for the first time.  With the shopping out of the way, we wafted through the spice market to the Jupiter Gate, thence to the Great Mosque, built by the Ummayid dynasty in 715AD.  Cool inside, blistering outside in the great marble-laid courtyard, the join between the two is where the photograph that I missed 'happened'.  I'd just taken this interior shot, with one man studying the Koran, another praying in the Central Mihrab and a woman also praying, and had packed the camera kit away. Heading for the main entrance, I spotted three large women coming in. As they bent over to remove their shoes, their voluminous black outer garments reared up in unison in the updraft, and they looked like a meeting of hot-air balloons. The picture would have won prizes, but it was the one that got away instead.
This elegant frame matches many of the tones in the picture

This elegant frame matches many of the tones in the picture

World gallery
Suffolk     Britain     World     B&W     Abstract
Suffolk     Britain     World    B&W     Abstract     Poetic Licence