Deck Whittington

Aye, Aye, Captain, Everything's Ship-Shape

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

Where there's smoke, there's - well, there's a steamship. Because I grew up listening to the sounds of vessels, anything with a hull and a wheelhouse has a certain attraction for me. Hence this decision to write a post about a paddle steamer - of all things - for Sky Watch.

I guess I always try and look outside the square, rather than simply shooting skyscapes for this popular theme. Like the internet, the sky has no international boundaries and that is precisely why I've always told Dot that her choice of theme embraces us all.

Since the very first week of the theme, I've published a variety of unusual subjects, all of which have broadly embraced this great and borderless sky above us. There was Tall Story, about Eureka Tower; The Day That I Never Saw, about the International Date Line; Running Mate, about Edwin Flack, Australia's first Olympic gold medallist at Athens in 1896; Departure From The Norm, shot from inside Kuala Lumpur Intrnational Airport; Running Repairs, about stonemasonry work on a statue of Samuel de Champlain in Quebec City; Action Figures, about modern sculptures in Melbourne; Seeing The Light, which was a skyspace shot taken through my Ray-Bans; Last Splash Of Dusk Colour, about the hottest March fortnight in a century, A Golden Orb, about a hot-air balloon; Climb Every Mountain, taken during a chopper flight above Tombstone Territorial Park in the Yukon; and there was Sun Spot, about a sulphurous sky at dawn.

So this week, I bring you the SS Keno, regarded as the last steamer to run the gauntlet of the Yukon River. The year 2010 will mark the fiftieth anniversary of her final voyage, from Whitehorse to Dawson City.

I grew up reading about Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn and the paddle steamers that formed such a strong backdrop to their lives. But I'd never heard the term "stern wheeler" until I was in the Yukon last month.


I didn't even know about the existence of the Keno until I made good use of an hour, late on the evening I arrived in Dawson. I dropped my bags off at the hotel and had precisely an hour to spare, so I took both cameras and headed off along the riverbank, shooting several frames during the brisk walk.

It was 7.30 in the evening and I was just about to turn around and retrace my steps when I noticed the Keno. I took several shots from various angles, incorporating the sky as a backdrop against her towering superstructure.

Then I stood directly in front of her bow and noticed something really interesting. Take a good look at the shot below and tell me if you see it too.


Look to the left of the frame (above) and you'll see the bright sunshine striking the hull. Now look to the right and you'll see everything in shadow.

The strong lilnes and the contrast make an interesting study of light and shade. Also, have a look at the metal bollards above the bow. The one on the left has light playing across its surface, while its companion on the right of the frame seems dull by comparison.


As I began walking abck to my hotel, I noticed the commemorative ship's wheel nearby. Unable to resist the challenge, I simply had to try and frame the wheel, the Keno, the hills that surround Dawson - and the striking sky.

Ya can't have a Sky Watch post without the sky.

For other participants in Dot’s concept, go to Sky Watch HQ.

Blank Stair

Never Be Intimidated By A Blank Piece Of Paper

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

When diXymiss, who writes the blog ineXplicable, challenged me to photograph a blank piece of paper, I immediately went through two or three visual options and thought I would experiment with each of them this weekend.

Then I thought I would take the challenge one step further, for the benefit of writers, artists and anyone with a creative instinct, irrespective of age or geographical location.

I was going to shoot a single sheet of standard white A4 paper when I spotted some of the coloured A4 paper that one of the Authorbloglets was using recently. There was red, there was yellow, there was blue. That's when I decided to take a sheet of the blue paper and stick it on the tray of my HP Photosmart 8230 printer, because I thought the hue would be a perfect match for the colour of the printer.

As I did so, I noticed that the bright winter sunlight was streaming through the windows of my study, throwing a beautiful gradation across the paper. Lucky choice, huh!

I write this in the hope that it might inspire some of you, who in turn will use your experience and your knowledge to guide and mould the aspirations of others, somewhere in the world.

After all, creativity is a two-stage process. First we need to recognise creativity. Next we need to nurture it. Having been blessed throughout my earliest years by people who did precisely that for me, I guess it is now my turn to pass on my thoughts.

How do you look at a blank sheet of paper?

I reckon there are two types of people. The first category are those who are nervous of the challenge presented by a blank piece of paper. And the second category are those who relish the prospect of imprinting their own creative instinct on the paper.


For the benefit of those readers who don’t know me too well, I paint, I sketch, I write and I take photographs. I rub my hands with glee when I see a blank piece of paper.

As a career journalist, I often get asked the question: "What is the most difficult thing to write?" For a tough question, it has a surprisingly easy answer. The most difficult thing to write is an opening sentence. Once you have that in place, everything else will follow.

The opening sentence of my first novel, Vegemite Vindaloo, is a modern twist on one of the most famous lines of Australian poetry. Andrew Barton "Banjo" Paterson wrote "There was movement at the station" as the opening of his wonderful bush ballad The Man From Snowy River. I humbly borrowed it from him and applied it to a contemporary railway station instead.

The opening sentence of my forthcoming novel, Muskoka Maharani, is a pun on a famous quote from Mark Twain. (Nope, I’m not going to tell you what it is, because the novel hasn’t been released yet - but I’m not stopping you from guessing!)

Whether you’re writing a blogpost, working on a novel, creating a sketch or forming a painting, you follow the same process as a builder. Each of those is an ancient art. Each of those is an ancient craft. Each of those is a separate challenge. But just remember this - if your foundation is strong enough, the rest of the structure takes care of itself.

This week I had a long conversation with a very gifted blogger, one of my many friends around the world who is writing a book. She had a major problem. It wasn’t writer’s block. It wasn’t that she had run out of inspiration. But her confidence had been rattled by a well-meaning assessment from someone else. So she went out and bought some how-to-write-novels books and told me she would finish reading them before she resumed writing.

I had some simple advice for her. I told her to mulch the books in one of her many immaculate garden beds.

Why would I tell her something like that? Not because I don’t trust how-to books. Don’t get me wrong. They’re always a valuable resource. But I knew that she didn’t need to be told how to write. You see, I’ve read enough of her writing over the past year to know that she is a wonderful writer.

I didn’t want her to try and write a novel from a contrived point of view, or from someone else’s point of view. Instead, I wanted her to follow her own instincts.

Spontaneity is a great gift for any creative person. And this friend of mine is so good that she doesn’t need to be told how to project her story.

In short, there is only one person who can tell your story/ paint your picture/ take your photograph. One person alone. And that’s you.

Trust your creative instinct. Put your first mark on a blank sheet of paper. You’ll be surprised at how wonderful an experience it is.

Write with freedom. Write with honesty. But most of all, write with joy.