Una semana en La Habana
En el año 2004 estuve en Cuba por la primera vez. Mi esposa, que entonces trabajaba como azafata, tenía un vuelo a la isla y la acompañé. Regresó a Alemania después de dos días, pero yo tuve una semana en La Habana para fotografiar la vida cotidiana.
Revisando mis archivos hoy, encontré algunas fotos de ese viaje. Parecen pertenecer a un mundo muy diferente al de hoy: casi no había turistas en las calles, un ambiente tranquilo y, sobre todo, no había teléfonos móviles.
Lo primero que hice fue pasear por el Malecón, la famosa avenida costera.
Paseando por el Malecón conocí a Luis. Luis era trompetista de un grupo musical llamado Las Estrellas de Chocolate.
Me invitó a su casa donde vivía con su hermana y su sobrina Leydis.
Leydis y una amiga están haciendo sus deberes en la misma habitación
Me pareció que la vida en la calle era muy relajada. Y a veces cómica.
Pero las calles no estaban libres de actividad política. Me topé con los preparativos para el aniversario de los CDR (Comités de Defensa de la Revolución). Pero también vi a un joven soñando con una visita a la ciudad de Nueva York.
Por supuesto, los viejos coches estadounidenses en las calles de La Habana son un cliché. Pero no pude resistirme.
Para quienes no tenían coche (casi todos), existen los autobuses, los llamados camellos.
En las calles se podían observar algunos negocios privados.
La variedad en las tiendas de alimentos estatales no era precisamente abrumadora.
Y por último, algunas escenas callejeras más:
Y terminaremos donde empezamos, en el Malecón.
Nota sobre fotografía: En este viaje logré viajar muy ligero. Solo dos cámaras Leica M6 y tres objetivos (28/2.8 Elmarit-M, 35/1.4 Summilux-M ASPH. y 50/2 Summicron-M).
The 2025 selection
Again I have chosen a few photographs from my work in the year that is about to end. They are not connected by a common story, except that they were all taken in situations that I found interesting.
Some of these pictures were shot on the wonderful island of Tenerife. The rest is from the northern half of the Iberian peninsula.
Punta del Hidalgo, Tenerife
San Cristóbal de La Laguna, Tenerife
Pinolere, Tenerife
Santa Cruz, Tenerife
Burgos, Spain
Burgos, Spain
Zaragoza, Spain
Zumaia, Spain
Zarauz, Spain
Avilés, Spain
Avilés, Spain
Vigo, Spain
La Orotava, Tenerife
The Canary Islands are among the main destinations for refugees from African countries.
El Sauzal, Tenerife
The 2024 selection
Another year has passed, and again I spent as much time as possible taking photographs of what I saw and what interested me. This selection shows pictures that are dear to me, which are not necessarily the ones that appeal to a broad audience.
You will see that all of these pictures have been taken in Spain. Some on the mainland, some on the wonderful island of Tenerife, which is where I live.
Santa Cruz, Tenerife
San Cristóbal de La Laguna, Tenerife
San Cristóbal de La Laguna, Tenerife
Mesa del Mar, Tenerife
Puerto de la Cruz, Tenerife
reflecting windows of an abandoned office building.
Santa Cruz, Tenerife
50th anniversary of the Puerta de Hierro.
Albacete, Spain
Teruel, Spain
Valencia, Spain
Guadalupe, Spain
Jerez, Spain
the Real Hermandad del Santo Entierro de Cristo.
Ronda, Spain
the Real Hermandad del Santo Entierro de Cristo.
Ronda, Spain
Córdoba, Spain
Marbella, Spain
Mesa del Mar, Tenerife
Pinolere, Tenerife
Playa de Las Américas, Tenerife
Big views from a small island
A few months ago I was asked if I wanted to photograph one of the longest telephoto lenses in the world. At first I was a bit confused as I usually photograph with lenses, not the lenses themselves. But the editor soon explained: The lens in question has a focal length of 170 m (yes, that’s about 1260 times that of my trusty 135 mm lens) and an aperture with a diameter of 10.4 m. It is called the GRANTECAN (Gran Telescopio Canarias) and it is the largest optical telescope on Earth. Like all larger telescopes it sits in a high-altitude area where it’s cold and windy most of the time. And cold and windy it was when I was up there!
The island of Tenerife with its iconic Pico del Teide volcano is visible in the background.
Located on the Roque de los Muchachos peak on the rather small island of La Palma, GRANTECAN is accessible by a narrow mountain road. At first sight I was impressed both by its size and its surroundings that include amazing sights like the two Cherenkov telescopes which are basically large circular mirrors that stand out in the open.
At the telescope I was greeted by Nieves Castro, an astronomer who has been working at this telescope since 2016 (before that she worked at the IAC, the Instituto de Astrofísica de Canarias, on Tenerife). For this first look at the inside of the dome I left my cameras in the car as I wanted to learn about the features of the instrument and think about it for a while before I would start shooting.
Photographing a technical system like a telescope is not an easy thing. While the outside of the dome has a simple, distinctive shape that makes it obvious what it contains, the inside is basically a visual mess of scaffolding, catwalks and tubes. I had pondered for weeks how to shoot it, and no clear idea had presented itself while I had been looking at photographs I found on the Internet. So I waited for what idea would come up when I saw the real thing, live and in 3D.
The defining feature of the telescope is of course its primary mirror. It measures 10.4 m in diameter and is made up of 36 individual six-sided elements, each of which can be adjusted with micrometer precision by electric actuators. This so-called active optics is needed to compensate for influence by wind, mechanical stresses and temperature difference. A mirror that size made of one piece of glass would deform simply by its own weight.
The entire optical systems of GRANTECAN sits on a rotating platform with a total weight of 400 tons. As it needs to be positioned with extreme accuracy, it floats on a thin film of oil which makes the force necessary to turn it so low that one can actually turn the entire platform by hand.
But now back to the process of taking pictures of the telescope. After my initial tour I let all the impressions sink in. I spent a good part of the night thinking about how to convey them to whoever would be looking at my pictures.
As I mentioned before, the location of the telescope is amazing. I got up early and made my way to the top of Roque de los Muchachos before sunrise, as I hoped there would be interesting light at that hour. And the gods were merciful! The sun rose behind Pico del Teide on Tenerife and illuminated the ridge on which other telescopes sit just beautifully. There was a clear view to show how the dome of GRANTECAN sits above the clouds.
the tallest peak on the island of La Palma.
Later that morning I met with Nieves Castro again, this time for the actual photo session. After some exploration I found a place on the scaffolding of the telescope where I could place her, both as a reference for revealing the enormous size of the primary mirror as well as showing that real people work with this instrument. I lit her with a remotely controlled flash as there was very little light in that corner of the structure.
To show the mirror as part of a larger system within the dome, I photographed it with a fisheye lens.
a bit of surrounding infrastructure to function properly.
the sky are connected to the control room by this assemblage of cables and
optical fibers that run through the center of the rotating platform.
In the photographs of the mirror one can see that not all segments have the exact same color. This is due to dust, which gathers on the reflecting surfaces over time. As the cleaning process cannot be performed for the entire mirror at once, the workers at the telescope exchange one segment for a clean one at a time. The dusty segment is then taken to a workshop on the ground floor of the building, where it is cleaned. Sometimes there is damage to the reflective aluminum coating of a segment, and even that can be taken care of in the workshop. There is a vacuum chamber that allows for re-coating. In fact I saw a segment with all reflective material removed, waiting for a new layer of aluminum. The segments are made of Zerodur®, a glass-ceramic that has a very low coefficient of thermal expansion. A similar material, made by the same company (Schott in Germany) is used for the well-known Ceran® cooking surfaces.
It will be re-coated in GRANTECAN's own vacuum chamber.
My plan for the evening was to take some pictures of the outside again as I knew the sun would be setting behind the GRANTECAN building. But the weather didn’t seem to play along as it had in the morning. The wind was so strong that I trouble getting out of my car. The telescope dome was in the clouds that were racing by and could only be seen for a few seconds every other minute or so. The astronomical app on my smartphone showed that the sun had just disappeared behind the horizon. As I was just about to leave, the sky suddenly cleared and presented a wonderful view of the structure between layers of scattered clouds.
Image courtesy of Instituto de Astrofísica de Canarias.
Due to the high winds the telescope could not be used while I was there. I think there are some great visual opportunities when the dome is open (which is actually the case on 75% of winter nights; I really had bad luck), so be prepared for a sequel to this article as soon as I can get back to GRANTECAN.
My thanks go to the great team at the Gran Telescopio Canarias, especially Nieves Castro Rodríguez who provided lots of information and was extraordinarily patient with the photographer's wishes and ideas.
The 2021 dozen
At the end of another year, I am showing a dozen pictures I took over the past twelve months that were important to me in one way or another. There is an unusual number of self-portraits in this year's selection, and that's not the result of vanity. It's what happens if the lockdown that was intended to last through December 2020 gets extended month after month and there is practically no human contact.
Fortunately things changed in summer and I could travel again, as you will see when you scroll down.
Hennef, Germany. (composite image)
Hennef, Germany. (composite image)
Hennef, Germany.
old and new have coexisted (and sometimes clashed) for centuries.
Vienna, Austria.
Vienna, Austria.
Linz, Austria.
Las Cañadas del Teide, Tenerife, Spain.
Las Cañadas del Teide, Tenerife, Spain.
Lisbon, Portugal.
traditional black cape rushes to class at the University of Coimbra.
Coimbra, Portugal.
Marvão, Portugal.
Vila Viçosa, Portugal.
So here's to a better 2022 with the hope that personal contact and travel will be possible for more than the three or four months we had this year.
2021 – On and behind the stage
My first post titled ‘On and behind the stage’ appeared two years ago. In 2020 the covid pandemic brought a halt to almost all musical and theatrical activity in my country. The beginning of 2021 wasn’t any better, but from summer on things were relatively normal, at least for a while.
Which is why I’m able to present my selection of this year’s photos of performing artists.
Flying with Bernie
In Montana, there are a lot of interesting people who do whatever is their thing. And there was Bernie.
When I first visited the state of Montana almost ten years ago, I explored (among many other places) the area around Flathead Lake. In a small motel in Bigfork I saw a flyer advertising glider flights along the Mission Range of the Rocky Mountains. As I have been interesting in flying since I was a boy, I drove Ferndale, home of the airfield mentioned on said paper.
A glider was parked there among several prop planes. But nobody to be seen anywhere. I realized that this was a fly-in community with homes built right next to a grass airstrip. To me, the first home I saw was as good as any, so I walked onto its ground and tried to find someone. Right there in the hangar next to the house were two older gentlemen, working on a Piper PA-28 Turbo Arrow plane. Or at least sitting beside it and having a chat.
I introduced myself and asked if they knew about the glider flights. They did and called the pilot, who said he’d come by later that day.
One of the two guys in the hangar was Bernard ‘Bernie’ Gregoire who lived a few houses up the airstrip; the owner of the Piper was Charlie Hisaw. The three of us had a very nice conversation and in late afternoon I got my glider flight. Somewhat short as it had become quite late and the thermal uplift had faded. The glider pilot was sorry about that and invited me to come back the next day for a longer flight.
I did, had a great flight - and met Bernie again. As we chatted, Charlie being around again, an event planned for the next days was mentioned: the celebration of the 90th birthday of Dr. Forrest Bird, the inventor of the high-altitude oxygen regulator and various models of artificail respirators (a subject more relevant right now than anyone would want). This was to take place on Dr. Bird’s property near Lake Pend Oreille in Idaho, and Bernie thought about flying there in his RV-8 aircraft.
I asked him if he would take me along and eventually overcame his initial reluctance by offering $50 for fuel (as I learned later, Bernie had always been a businessman).
So, early in the morning of the next day, we took the RV-8 out of Bernie’s hangar and flew to Dr. Bird’s birthday party. There were lots of interesting people there, among them several astronauts who had been on Space Shuttle missions and one of the most famous aviators of all time, Bob Hoover.
On the way home, Bernie demonstrated the capabilities of the RV-8 to me. After all, this is a plane intended for aerobatics. I don’t think I’d ever had that much fun in my life before.
We became friends on that special day, and when I returned to Montana a year later, I stayed at his home on the airstrip for a couple of days. It was through him that I got introduced to the local chapter of the EAA (Experimental Aircraft Association).
Together we went to see John McGinnis, who was planning to revolutionize the small aircraft industry with his Synergy, an plane designed to be super-efficient by using laminar airflow to extremes. We looked at the prototype John was building and when we left, Bernie examined the model airplane built to demonstrate Synergy’s concept. The expression on his face leaves little room for doubt that he was skeptical.
Bernie, who was born in 1929, had learned to fly aircraft in 1945 at the age of 16. When we met for the first time, he was 82 years old and still in perfect shape to do aerobatics. Having all kinds of airplanes over 66 years, he was not to be easily impressed.
For the next few years I visited Bernie every time I came to Montana. He seemed to really have found his place there among fellow aviators and always impressed me with his energy. When we did some aerobatics again in 2013, I was surprised that he could stand the g-forces of loopings better than I could (well, he had a lot more practice and knew the right breathing technique, I guess).
While Bernie loved to eat well (and would accept an invitation to a nice restaurant any time), he also kept in shape by working out at least three times a week.
When I returned to Montana in 2017, I learned that my friend had passed away a few days earlier after having suffered multiple strokes. He made his last flight only two weeks before he died at the age of 88. Fortunately I had arrived in time to be able to attend his memorial service, which included military honors, and to meet his three children.
Today would have been Bernie’s 92nd birthday.
The 2020 dozen
As has become a tradition over the last few years, I am showing twelve pictures from the past twelve months that were important to me. The self-portrait above (which doesn't count against the twelve) gives an indication that this year was very different from any other I have experienced.
Especially for a people photographer like me, the covid pandemic severely limited what I could photograph. No life on the streets, almost no concerts or theater performances, and no travel. So this selection of pictures will be a little different from those I showed in previous years.
as you can see by the number of contrails in the sky.
Königswinter, Germany.
Borken, Germany.
Frida is a mix of Golden Retriever and Bernese Mountain Dog.
Hennef, Germany.
The two of them collaborate on both photographic and environmental projects.
Cologne, Germany.
Frankfurt, Germany.
Hennef, Germany.
His portraits show survivors of the Holocaust.
Essen, Germany.
Due to the pandemmic, almost of the celebrations of his 250th birthday had to be postponed.
Cologne, Germany.
Cyberspace, Anywhere.
In summer, there were at least a few concerts, of course with strict regulations on hygiene and distancing.
Wermelskirchen, Germany.
Hennef, Germany.
Cologne, Germany.
There is always something to photograph, but I certainly missed seeing old friends and making new ones, learning about new things and taking part in great events this year.
So here's to a better 2021!
The 2019 dozen
My choice of twelve pictures I took in 2019.
Cologne, Germany.
La Orotava, Tenerife, Spain.
Frankfurt/Main, Germany.
Vienna, Austria.
Lothair, Montana, USA.
Great Falls, Montana, USA.
C. M. Russell Museum as Education and Programs Manager. Sandy, one of her dogs, is lying at her feet.
Great Falls, Montana, USA.
Keystone, South Dakota, USA.
Ophelia (née Rodriguez) have been running this movie theater since 2002.
Rudyard, Montana, USA.
Cologne, Germany.
Königswinter, Germany.
Hennef, Germany.
2019 – On and behind the stage
My pictures have always been a means of telling stories, which puts them more or less in the genre of documentary photography. About three years ago, I started something different: I began taking pictures of performing artists on and behind the stage. Here’s a selection of these pictures taken in 2019.
