Search Results

A car’s side mirror on a plinth. Next to it, a mounted set of papier mache breasts. Between them, a hanging axe. I was standing in front of one of the world’s strangest – and strangely inviting – exhibitions. < Back An Eye on Hvar Horizons Dominion Post 17 Jan 2013 A car’s side mirror on a plinth. Next to it, a mounted set of papier mache breasts. Between them, a hanging axe. I was standing in front of one of the world’s strangest – and strangely inviting – exhibitions. Zagreb’s Museum of Broken Relationships wasn’t quite the Croatia I was expecting when I set out to discover how the country had fared since the Balkans wars. It had been 20 years since the former Yugoslavia imploded and I was keen to understand the changes to Croatia’s people, culture and outlook from that tumultuous time. Although the country didn’t suffer the destruction wrought on Bosnia it still bore signs of conflict, including where we began our journey, Dubrovnik. “The jewel of the Adriatic” is indeed a picture perfect city. Dubrovnik, with its whitewashed walls, melt-between-the-toes sand and boats bobbing on a crystal harbour, is a camera-magnet. The UNESCO-protected city was shelled indiscriminately during The Homeland War (as it’s known in Croatia) for no real strategic reason; today it’s the shiploads of tourists who pose the most danger. Far from being overwhelmed, the locals handle it well, catering to the masses with a gelato bar on every corner and postcards for sale within arm’s reach. Determined to be in central Dubrovnik we rented an apartment just off the main Stradun. It wasn’t hard to live like locals: drying washing on the pull-line above the narrow street and ducking out to grab a bottle of Grk when supplies got low. Nights were spent eating whole fish; days exploring the city’s galleries. Walking the old town walls was a must-do (hint: go in the morning before the masses arrive), and looking down from Mt Srd at sunset gave me a new appreciation of renaissance architecture. For my friend who preferred liquid meals, the Buza bars on the walled cliffs were the highlight. For me it was the War Photo Limited exhibition put on by a New Zealander, Wade Goddard – a moving record of what Croatia went through between 1991-1995. Dubrovnik is the gateway to Croatia’s hundreds of islands, the most legendary party one being Hvar. Little touched (or troubled it seems) by past history, Hvar is one of the few places in the world where you can order breakfast cocktails and then not move until midnight. The town’s buzz was nearly palpable with a cacophony of calls from the marketplace. “You English, You English” beckoned the smiling mouth with the gold teeth, her hands dangling a lace creation. After the customary exchange, it was Hvala (thanks) then off to her next customer. Moving on ourselves, we started the climb to Hvar’s Citadel and were rewarded with a fantastic view of the harbour. The castle itself built in the 1500s is a permanent reminder that peace has never been easy for this part of the world. Hvar is one of the few places in the world where you can order breakfast cocktails and then not move until midnight. If there was one city that reflects how many times Croatia has been invaded, conquered, pillaged and annexed, it would be Split. Spalato (as the Italians called it when it was theirs) was built on resilience. With the ruins of Roman Emperor Diocletian’s palace forming the centre of the town, Split’s slower pace is the counterbalance to Dubrovnik’s franticness. We found the people more welcoming, less harried and, dare I say it, prouder of their city and its history. Not that they dwell on the past; the locals were quick to point out that Split is now known for its gourmet food. In this town where al fresco on the Riva is a rite of passage, roasted mushrooms dripping with balsamic atop a seabed of rice seemed only right. For all of Split’s epicural delights though, it was natural beauty that beckoned us. A few hours north of Split are Plitvice Lakes, a world heritage park of impossibly-coloured lakes criss-crossed by wooden boardwalks. Fed by hundreds of falls and scattered with autumn leaves, the lakes presented a surreal Monet-esque vista. We spent four hours exploring the park – which is so large it has its own ferries and tourist trains – and that wasn’t long enough. Protected by man for the enjoyment of others, Plitvice was a literally a breath of fresh air on our journey to the capital, Zagreb. Far from Tito’s socialist dream Zagreb today is a vibrant, cosmopolitan city. If food rules in Split, then coffee is king in Zagreb. Black, strong, pure and not for the fainthearted. Only a town drip-fed on caffeine could have a Monday night like this one: the pedestrianised Tkalciceva street throbbing as bands competed with DJs to capture the fickle crowd. As we watched teenagers pile off the urbanised tram system in the city’s main square I realised many of them hadn’t lived through what we’d seen on the TV news every night. Zagreb too was touched by war and yet there was little sign that it had ever happened. If anything, the independence that followed gave them permission to celebrate their unique past. New galleries, statues, theatres and museums have all sprung up in the last two decades … including the novel Museum of Broken Relationships. Originally a travelling exhibition, the collection now includes the weird, the wonderful, the sad and the funny. In a way it is a metaphor for leaving the past behind them. So, has the country moved on since the war? Absolutely. Croatia’s islands are once again attracting the hordes; the country is going out of its way to protect its natural beauty; and its people are amongst the most welcoming in the Balkans. It is telling though, that you still can’t exchange Croatian Kunes for neighbouring Serbian Dinars. Sometimes 20 years just isn’t long enough, even after a broken relationship. Original publication: Dominion Post < Previous Next >

Guy Needham's People of The Balkans exhibition is having its second showing, this time at the Dalmatian Cultural Society's Open Day in September 2014. < Back Dalmatian Cultural Society's Open Day 1 Jul 2014 Guy Needham's People of The Balkans exhibition is having its second showing, this time at the Dalmatian Cultural Society's Open Day in September 2014. The collection documents a two month journey and the resulting portraits are of a proud people who have gone through much in the last 20 years. < Previous Next >

The third of Guy Needham's tribal series, The Mentawai of Indonesia, will be shown as part of the Head On Photo Festival in Australia this year. < Back Head on Photo Festival 12 Jan 2018 The third of Guy Needham's tribal series, The Mentawai of Indonesia, will be shown as part of the Head On Photo Festival in Australia this year. The exhibition, to be held at the historic ArtHouse Hotel in Sydney, will feature ten of the original portraits taken in 2017 and be on display from May 5th though to June 8th. < Previous Next >

PROJECTS Rodeo Warkworth, New Zealand Every year one of New Zealand's premiere rodeos, the Warkworth Rodeo, is held north of Auckland. Full of the usual events such as barrel racing, bull riding, saddle bronc riding, steer wrestling and breakaway roping, interest in the event has only grown over the years, no doubt helped by the global TV phenomenon that is Yellowstone. Previous Next

Two of Guy Needham's images from his Mentawai tribal series will be part of the inaugural Chania International Photography festival in Crete. < Back Chania International Photography Festival 25 Jun 2018 Two of Guy Needham's images from his Mentawai tribal series will be part of the inaugural Chania International Photography festival in Crete. The two images, Aman Teutagougou and Iman Ipai, were taken in 2017 in the rainforests of Indonesia. They'll be on show from 28 August to 5th September at the Grand Arsenali in the old town of Chania. < Previous Next >

PROJECTS Māoriland Otaki, New Zealand The Māoriland Film Festival is New Zealand’s premier international Indigenous Film Festival. Eleven years strong, it is a cultural and arts event that invites New Zealanders to the Indigenous world through screen storytelling. Located on New Zealand’s Kāpiti Coast, Ōtaki is a vibrant seaside town where Māori culture and language thrives. Māoriland is celebrated for its manaakitanga and community spirit. Previous Next

PROJECTS Māori Wardens Aotearoa / New Zealand There are approximately 700 Māori Wardens who play an intrinsic role in improving the wellbeing of whānau and communities in Aotearoa New Zealand. Māori Wardens are not police, but they have legal responsibilities under the Māori Community Development Act 1962 and they give their time to supporting communities. The guiding principles of a Māori Warden is respect, awhi, aroha, and whānaungatanga. Previous Next

On RNZ National Guy Needham joins Colin Peacock to discuss his work and the intimate portraits he created of the Samburu tribe in northern Kenya. < Back The Samburu on RNZ National 3 Oct 2020 On RNZ National Guy Needham joins Colin Peacock to discuss his work and the intimate portraits he created of the Samburu tribe in northern Kenya. The interview covers off everything from photographing indigenous peoples to some of the unique rituals he has observed to the planning that goes into getting to extremely hard-to-reach peoples. The Samburu of Kenya exhibition is part of Auckland Artwork 2020 and the interview can be heard here . < Previous Next >

Guy Needham's People of The Balkans solo exhibition opened yesterday at The Photographer's Gallery in Napier. < Back People of the Balkans 14 Apr 2013 Guy Needham's People of The Balkans solo exhibition opened yesterday at The Photographer's Gallery in Napier. The collection documents a two month journey through Albania, Montenegro, Croatia, Bosnia and Slovenia, and the resulting portraits are of a proud people who have gone through much in the last 20 years. < Previous Next >

"There are always flowers (for those who want to see them) - Henri Matisse" is a series designed to bring light to the dark days of Coronavirus. < Back There are always flowers 3 Apr 2020 "There are always flowers (for those who want to see them) - Henri Matisse" is a series designed to bring light to the dark days of Coronavirus. The images, each taken at the Botanical Gardens in Auckland New Zealand with only natural light, are a microcosm of hope and the future, of growth and life. They will be published online regularly 'in the Time of Coronavirus' . < Previous Next >

I was warned about getting shot in Colombia. The balaclava, reflective sunglasses and combat fatigues in the southern city of Pasto were a giveaway. I should have just run. Instead, I'm hit twice - not with bullets but with white foam shooting out of a canister by a 12-year old boy shouting “Viva Pasto!” < Back Colour in the Streets Get Lost Magazine 6 Apr 2018 I was warned about getting shot in Colombia. The balaclava, reflective sunglasses and combat fatigues in the southern city of Pasto were a giveaway. I should have just run. Instead, I'm hit twice - not with bullets but with white foam shooting out of a canister by a 12-year old boy shouting “Viva Pasto!” That gushing “spssstttttttt” was my intro to El Carnaval de Negros y Blancos (Black and Whites' Carnaval), a five day party held in January that just happens to be the world’s biggest foam fight. The Carnaval is the loudest, longest and messiest festival in southern Colombia, and a real celebration of cultures. To be fair, at the time the trigger is pulled I’m distracted by street vendors yelling, “Some goggles for you, senõr ? A sombrero, cheap?”Now I understand why. Of course, in truehorse-bolted fashion, I purchase a ridiculouslyoversized sombrero and a ‘foam-proof’ poncho to protect myself. Post splatter, I sheepishly make my way back to the hotel. The security-conscious manager, Jaime, is waiting behind a locked door. Letting me in with a chuckle, he looks at me with pity. “You got shot on your first day?! Bienvenido a Colombia! ” After cleaning myself up, I cautiously head towards Plaza del Carnaval, the main square of Pasto and the centrepiece of all things Carnaval. My peripheral vision is working overtime – it seems like every second person is armed with a carioca, an aluminium foam canister, cocked at the ready. Squeezing in next to a family, I proudly introduce myself in halting Spanish, adding “ Viva Pasto!” as if it is some sort of protective cloak. We are jostling among the thousands who have gathered to celebrate La Familia Castañeda – a colourful family who, when they arrived in Pasto in 1929, walked smack-bang into the middle of a horse parade and started randomly waving to the crowd. The Castañeda family became so popular they now have a dedicated parade in their honour. The vibe is electric. We cheer on the performers dressed in 1920s attire as they dance and sing their way past the masses, their vibrant costumes lighting up the parade like the hot Colombian sun. The performance is barely finished before I am hit with foam again, but this time it gets me in the mouth. In an attempt to escape, I hurtle down the main street and find myself at a security checkpoint to a concert, being pat down by a member of the policia. What an entry to Colombia I’ve made. I decide to take it all in my festival-stride and finish the night with a chorizo and a few local Poker pale ales. The next morning Jamie intercepts me as I’m leaving to hit the streets on day four of the Carnaval. “Hey, you got Vaseline?” he whispers. It seems like an oddly personal question. “Huh?” I reply. “Your face,” he says, “the Vaseline, to get grease off.” This is his not-so-subtle way of warning me that it is Dia de Negros (Day of the Blacks). This event marks the day African slaves were freed, and it’s now celebrated with partygoers taking to the streets with black paint smeared across their faces as a sign of respect, symbolising the unity between all ethnicities. My peripheral vision is working overtime – it seems like every second person is armed with a carioca Paint decorates the faces of the masses, and before long I realise I should have taken his advice and packed the Vaseline. My own face gets smudged and I’m greeted back to the hotel with a shake of the head and a smile from Jamie sending a telepathic ‘I told you so’. The pinnacle of the Carnaval is the Grand Parade that falls on Dia de Blancos (The Day of the Whites). This is the cause of all the foam, flour bombs and talcum powder, but before the war starts, a spectacular kaleidoscope of floats takes to the streets. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The floats are covered in colourful and intricate details, and showers of confetti and streamers rain down as tiers of performers dance atop the four-storey-high structures. Cumbia rhythms blast from massive speakers and mechanical heads roar and bob about to the beat alongside the larger-than-life costumedcharacters who dance the streets lined with an enthusiastic crowd. I feel a hand close around my arm and I’m pulled towards a woman. It’s La Lloronda , the legendary ghost who steals children, and she is not to be denied. Doing my best not to look uncoordinated, we salsa Cali-style, spinning and twirling throughout the parade to the sound of laughter, cheers and applause from my fellow spectators. After five hours the show finally comes to an end. Looking around, there is now more white stuff on the ground than in any episode of Narcos. The foam battles have already started up again so I’m pretty grateful there is only 200 metres between my hotel room and my location. Not close enough, it would seem. The powder hits me square on the ear, and it’s impossible not to grin from that one to the other. “ Arriba Pasto! ” Details Get there: Qantas flies to Santiago, Chile, and then take connecting flights on Latam or Avianca from Santiago to Bogota to Pasto www.qantas.com . It is best to arrange a transfer in advance from the airport to your hotel, which should cost approximately 40,000 Colombian Pesos ($18) for the 45min ride. Wear a seatbelt. Stay there: The Hotel Boutique Casa Lopez is perfectly placed between the Plaza del Carnaval and Plaza de Narino – a more casual fun square. The hotel is built in the Spanish style, with restaurant on site, free wi-fi throughout, friendly staff and a relaxed atmosphere. www.facebook.com/hotelcasalopezpasto or on www.Booking.com . Four nights cost 858,000 Colombian Pesos ($377 Tour there: Your hotel manager can arrange local guides, and it’s probably the best way to go as they know their reputation depends on it. You don’t need a guide to the festival, and best of all it’s free. Just get there early and buy a plastic stool off the vendors. Get Informed: Check out Off2Colombia as starting point www.off2colombia.com . The best site about the Carnaval has detail of what to expect every day and is… only in Spanish. Get the Google Translate extension for Chrome or Safari and check out www.carnavaldepasto.org Get in the Know Pablo Escobar was arrested in Pasto when he was caught smuggling 18 kilos of cocaine into Colombia from Peru in truck tires The local culinary delicacy is Guinea Pig, ‘cuy’, which tends to be available roasted. Mmmmmmm. Pasto was founded by the Spanish conquistador Sebastián de Belalcázar in 1537 as he plundered his way south Road rules are more a ‘guide’ as taxi drivers play chicken with petrol tankers on the mountain roads 8000 feet above sea level Near Pasto is the spectacular Las Lajas Sanctuary, a gothic bridge-church built on the site of an apparition of the Virgin Mary. Original publication: Get Lost Magazine < Previous Next >

Aman Ipai, one of the feature images of Guy Needham's The Mentawai of Indonesia series, has been selected by the Los Angeles Centre of Photography for a group exhibition. < Back LA meets Siberut 27 Jun 2018 Aman Ipai, one of the feature images of Guy Needham's The Mentawai of Indonesia series, has been selected by the Los Angeles Centre of Photography for a group exhibition. The photograph, taken as he stood in the doorway of his uma on the island of Siberut, will be available for Angelenos to see in person from July 19th - September 7th. < Previous Next >