Character

jtk · August 26, 2010

Exchanges like this one, between Fred and Julie, would be the kind I'd hope for in a "Work and Works" Forum.

...however, maybe this Forum is self-healing :-)

Julie H · August 26, 2010

John,

This forum is a pot-luck buffet. Everybody brings what they can. The fact that Fred and I are, today partaking of something that you also enjoy doesn't mean that tomorrow one or both of us won't be dining on something that makes you nauseous.

Take and contribute whatever you like; enjoy it, learn from it, but please stop spitting on everybody else's food. Your constant Goldilocks routine gets old.

I agree completely with Luis's statement above, "Whether obviously experienced, knowledgeable, creatives and crafters, hobbyists, kamikazes and pros, raw newbies, the smooth and the cantankerous, extroverts and introverts, regardless of the type of photography they do, no matter wha, the sum of all of us makes this forum what it is. Everyone here matters." Even John but not ONLY John.

Norma Desmond · August 26, 2010

Julie, thanks again for asking. You touch on something that I will address loosely in my next post, which is just briefly about critiquing. I'm very interested to further discuss this notion of your strong instinct for something than isn't terribly useful in what you're doing.

Norma Desmond · August 26, 2010

"Fred very diplomatically . . ." --Luis

</blockquote>

I am more diplomatic when I critique than in most other interactions -- [as many of you nod in agreement! ;)))]

I critique to learn. Maybe there's some generosity involved. I like to think so. But it helps my own learning to see. I especially want to be able to understand or at least acknowledge what others see. When I looked at Arthur's photo, my gut told me the guy with jeans was a mistake and should go. But I've learned to question such quick assessments. That's why I asked Arthur about it. Because the photo is about his voice, not mine, and I wanted to understand what he was seeing.

It's hard for me to tell the difference between my best gut instincts and force of habit. That pertains both to my shooting and to my viewing of others' photos. I want to go with my gut and not always second-guess myself or take time to consider, but I also know that I want to overcome certain habits of ways of looking. It's a tricky fine line to walk. [This may relate to what Julie was saying about having to harass herself.]

A critique often tells more about the critic than the photo or the photographer being critiqued. So when I critique, I really feel like I'm putting myself on the line. That, too, helps me learn to see. I've been asking more and more questions when I critique. Because it's not about my vision, my tastes, or what I already know. It's about what someone else is seeing.

As soon as I felt myself rejecting the figure in dark jeans, I stood still a moment. Do I want a cleaner scene? Is that what Arthur wants? Is there some randomness and imperfection and messiness that has been introduced that is perhaps good for me to witness and absorb?

When a critique really stings me, I try (and am getting better at it) to take stock of that and pay attention to why and it's often because something actually has a ring of truth that's hard for me to admit or take a good look at. When I think something in someone else's photo is really off, really bad, or really not working, I try to pay attention in the same way and see if it might have some significance that I'm simply habituated not to be open to.

jtk · August 26, 2010

Julie, Nice sermon.

Neither you nor Fred " nausiate" me. Both of you think more clearly and photograph more interestingly than most.

You didn't notice that I refrained from comment about your recent invocation of a translated non-scientific Victorian notion: Freud knew nothing about "instinct"...which refers to a scientifically well-defined expression of behavior. He remains vital today in many ways, is a quaint antique in many. Have you read much of him? The tossing around of famous names around as if they're holy invocations does disturb me, so it's one of the behaviors I comment upon. I'm not "nausiated," I try to keep things honest.

Your personal discomfort with attention to uninvestigated ideas seems congruent with my discomfort with sloppy language and faux scholarship.

luis_g · August 26, 2010

Freud used the word "Todesdriebe" (death drive) for the concept of Thanatos, and that it has often been mistranslated as "instinct" ever since. Freud clearly used the word "instinkt" (instinct) for Eros, starting in 1920.

________________________

As long as John's at it, I'd like to say that it is only his persistent sniping that keeps Photo.net from getting my $25/yr. I won't pay to be constantly sniped at, and no, I don't expect PN to waste anyone's time babysitting him or anyone else. The day JK stops for real (or agrees to disregard my posts and do it), my money gets transferred. I expect to be disagreed with. I don't expect the never-ending stream of constant, subtle, petty haranguing and insults.

It's true that I stupidly used to return the favor, but I've stopped.

"Everyone here matters." Even John but not ONLY John.

_________________

Thinking about Fred's Ian & John picture, the parallels between images like that, and the psychological tableaus of the heyday of pictorialism are striking. [Necessary PoP Disclaimer: No, that is not in any way a negative comment]. I am not saying that it's a rip-off, or appropriation. It's simply a visual way to convey a story or scene, and Fred has grown into it well. Fred's doing more than portraits.

___________________

antoniobassiphotography · August 27, 2010

Fred I don't think I'm able to identify and describe my own photography, I would rather let others do it. I know I follow certain principles when I shoot but it is very difficult for me to see some sort of character and style in my photos. It's the same as when you listen to your own recorded voice and cannot recognize it... I like to shoot people when they are absolutely unaware of my presence, in order not to "spoil" the spontaneity of the moment. I do not like posed portraits at all, because I do not believe it is possible to capture the true character of a person if he or she knows you are taking a picture. When shooting people, I am definitely attracted to situations, rather than characters. I do not like to make statements or portrait moral issues. I search that intimate and hidden world inside ourselves, the one we never pay attention to and that goes unnoticed. I try to spot the "little things" of life, that are not so little. I have to say that this helped me: I started out by stating how difficult it is for me to describe my own photography and ended up discovering things about myself...

Julie H · August 27, 2010

Fred,

You must have an x-ray mind. Your post is eerily close to what I almost posted yesterday but ended up deciding it was too tricky for me to put tactfully into the right words. So I ended up muffling the thoughts up inside of a questio. But you must have sniffed it out with your bloodhound instinct ...

This part of your previous post is what I'm talking about:

"It's hard for me to tell the difference between my best gut instincts and force of habit. That pertains both to my shooting and to my viewing of others' photos. I want to go with my gut and not always second-guess myself or take time to consider, but I also know that I want to overcome certain habits of ways of looking. It's a tricky fine line to walk."

</blockquote>

When I read that you were "find tuning" I thought to myself, "Oh no! The rough edges are what I like about Fred's work!" Here's what I mean. I hope I don't trample on your toes too badly in trying to describe this. When I first started looking at your (Fred's) portraits several years ago, I noticed a sort of deer-in-the-headlights quality to a lot of the subjects in them. Only a teeny tiny bit of it, but it was there -- and this seems to be something to which I respond instinctively. I think it takes the primitive tiger-in-the-bushes route to the visual cortex rather than the longer, interpretive route of that which is aesthetically appreciated (there really are two routes ...). This quality in your portraits seemed to me to be a big failing. It totally distracted me from the other qualities of the image.

But over time, after looking at many of your portraits, I found that this little umbilical remnant, this primal tie from me to that tiny bit of fear in your sitters seemed to always be there, to be under control in quantity and quality, to be being used, handled, worked. So I changed my assessment; it's not a mistake, he knows what he's doing but I don't like it.

Finally, after all these (3) years of looking at your work, I've not only grown used to that element in your portraits, learned to expect it, to let it happen, I've grown to like it very much. Like some spices in cooking that one has to learn to like and which have to be used only in very small quantities -- but which define a particular dish, I have come to feel that the thread of fear (what I previously called the deer-in-the-headdlights look) is the most true (should I use that word? maybe "genuine" is better) connection I've seen between myself and a subject in a picture. Unlike the full confession of Goldin-type work, which affects me as theater rather than a true connection TO me, and especially unlike the polished, or defiant/deviant or freakish work ... or the endless, endless, endless current fashion for deadpan that I am heartily sick of ... this live-wire ... scent of a kind of a kind of mild but very real fear, zaps me every time. Unlike those other kinds of picture (confessional or polished) which seem to me to be encapsulated, complete, enclosed, this little hum of anxiety ... gets out. It's live.

Somewhere in that incoherent fuzzle above is MY idea of what I have grown to like and want out of Fred's portraits. But (and this is part of the reason I didn't post this yesterday) if either I got it wrong and/or Fred wants to move on, it's not for me to resist (for example, I don't see this quality that I like in the Gerald pictures).

aplumpton · August 27, 2010

"When shooting people, I am definitely attracted to situations, rather than characters. I do not like to make statements or portrait moral issues. I search that intimate and hidden world inside ourselves, the one we never pay attention to and that goes unnoticed. I try to spot the "little things" of life, that are not so little."

Antonio,

I can identify with most of your statement, except perhaps the "I don't like to make statements", which I realise may be a bit pompous for me to assert in the negative. What I like is that you photograph humans and what they are about without photographing them head on as individuals. Your comment helps me to think about my own objectives which also are to shoot people somewhat unobstrusively and to photograph places or objects that suggest the passage of persons, their actions or their environment, also the vestiges or traces of human presence.

Your statement is followed by that of JH who has (or previously had) difficulty with the very presence of the portrait photographer and his camera (I am reminded of Barthe's view). I enjoy greatly Fred's approach and products, but I often wonder if it is a trap to photograph the human too closely, sort of in the sense of Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle (which I am not sure even still holds) that the closer you observe the atom the less you can actually observe it. I tend to think that the photography of small things, of human presence at a distance, or of the situation of humanity by what they do or leave, is revealing of humanity (and, as you say, of your inner self) and a way I very much like to photograph. Whether that denotes character in a photograph or not (and probably not, without other reinforcing aspects), I am attracted to that approach. Thanks for re-awakening my prior thoughts on this, and to the pleasure of understanding, in some degree, your own.

Norma Desmond · August 27, 2010

Antonio, on the surface, we've obviously described very different approaches to making photographs. But I've often wondered if the candid/posed dichotomy isn't a bit like the Canon/Nikon one. My sense is that ultimately there can be found something in common about what we're trying to do.

I was at a funeral last week for a dear friend's father, who was exactly the same age as my own father. The eulogy given by the rabbi could easily have been said about my own father and many of my friends' fathers. It struck me that something ties together that generation . . . stories about meeting before the war, getting married just after it, a certain work ethic, children and grandchildren, FAMILY, even the sense of humor, the overall sensibility, their priorities. I wonder if, as we look back at generations passed, we all become more types than individuals and if there isn't something almost reassuring in that. At least I found it to be so in those few moments. Connectivity.

Not wanting to get too scmaltzy, I will pick a bone with you. Whenever I hear something like "I do not believe it is possible to capture . . . ", a red flag goes up. It's not unlike what Julie and I have been discussing regarding the fine line between gut instinct and force of habit.

For me, the candid/posed dichotomy is not all it's made out to be. There can and often is much effective pose and even theatricality about so-called candid shots. (Take a look at almost any candid photo of a cigarette smoker and spot the pose.) And the most set-up, arranged, posed portrait can have sublime elements of spontaneity and candor. (In a good portrait, it will often coincide with the instant of the snap.)

Norma Desmond · August 27, 2010

Arthur, Heisenberg's principal is not a hindrance for me here, though I recognize the applicability you're giving it. When photographing, I don't think of myself as an observer.

Norma Desmond · August 27, 2010

"find tuning" --Julie

I love this little slip of the fingers. It's powerful.

I've only told one viewer once, as far as I can remember, he got it wrong. It's obviously something I would do only on the most extreme and offensive occasion, and I even second-guess myself on having done it once. It was more a moral issue he was addressing and using a photo of mine to address it. You can probably imagine the lines along which it went.

So, nothing you could say by way of honestly stating your reaction would I take as wrong and at this point, I hope there's nothing that could hold me back in my future work except my own fear or complacency, which I'm not at all worried about right now. I've often reacted similarly to how you describe your "process" over the years with my work. Those usually become the deepest understandings and the most appreciated works and bodies of work. I often tell people that several, and a few in particular, of my most solid and most intimate friendships were fraught with tension and fighting and had to withstand some deep divisions and emotional tangles. No one said the stuff that really matters is going to be easy. That quick WOW, though not always, can be another of those red flags.

I was looking at your On Stage 6753 today. Though I change it up, on my top 10 (well, maybe 20) movie list is usually Hitchcock's The Birds. Now surely there's only the vaguest of similarities in this work of yours to Hitchcock's film. But there is something essential that seems present in each. One of the obvious similarities is the staging. On another level, though, I really think it's in the character you each seem to find and portray in the birds themselves. There's a strange sense of wonder in their postures, often the way their heads seem disconnected from their bodies, even when they're lined up like you have them and like Hitch often shows them in the film. There's an edginess of carriage, though yours is more mollified and, perhaps, therefore, even a bit more disconserting, by the pleasantries of the surroundings, the placid blue sky and delicately bare branches. Hitchcock's telephone wires and threatening sky, his narrative tension almost give it away. Yours sort of sneaks up on me.

antoniobassiphotography · August 27, 2010

Fred

There can and often is much effective pose and even theatricality about so-called candid shots. (Take a look at almost any candid photo of a cigarette smoker and spot the pose.) And the most set-up, arranged, posed portrait can have sublime elements of spontaneity and candor. (In a good portrait, it will often coincide with the instant of the snap.)

</blockquote>

Here you are talking from the viewer's point of view, and I agree that the most spontaneous shot could look like the most arranged studio shot (and vice-versa). However, when I shoot I do it from my own point of view: the result is for others to interpret.

Arthur

I actually identify myself very much in your photography and believe our approaches have a lot in common. You understood exactly my point when you say What I like is that you photograph humans and what they are about without photographing them head on as individuals. When I say "I don't like to make statements" I mean that I only want to be an observer and underline what I think is an interesting aspect of life, worth of being photographed and documented. I am not interested in expressing my political or social thinking through my photography, or even less I feel the responsibility of saying something with my shots. When I see an interesting subject, sometimes I don't even realize why I chose it.

Norma Desmond · August 27, 2010

Antonio, I'm definitely not trying to convince you of anything, and I respect and honor our differences, but I was not talking only from the viewer's point of view. I find these similarities between posed and candid very much as the photographer and when I am shooting. For me, they are right there in the moment and not just in the photograph.

aplumpton · August 27, 2010

"When photographing, I don't think of myself as an observer."

Fred, I have trouble believing you mean that, but if you do it's an important difference in our approaches,

In my own case I am first a "seeker", an "explorer" of subjects, sometimes with specific intention, sometimes not, secondly, and often concurrent with seeking, an "observer" of my subject, understanding what it is, or what it means to me (my interaction with what I think it is saying - it, the subject may be a small detail or a person before the camera), then, thirdly, in the creative role of imagining and realising how I wish to capture the subject, how to stage it, how to reconcile various elements, of the subject or its surroundings, or how to optimize my perception of it, thus an "interpreter" or "creator" of the captured image. This is basic, there are other aspects of my approach that I needn't go into here, but I would definitely not be able to do what I do without "observing".

Norma Desmond · August 27, 2010

Arthur, to be clear, I didn't say I don't observe. But I don't liken myself to an observer, and definitely not to the observer that Heisenberg, and you, are talking about. I am in no way putting down that kind of observation. It is profound as are Heisenberg's principle and its ramifications. My main function and what I relish about photographing is participation. What Heisenberg discovered and what can present problems for the scientist who might seek as objective a view as possible (and rightly and necessarily so), is exactly what I am after: the relationship and reciprocal effects.

luis_g · August 27, 2010

Fred - "It's hard for me to tell the difference between my best gut instincts and force of habit."

For me, habit is more consistent, spoken out loud, reliable, recognizable, rote, predictable, momentum-driven, trait-like etc. The 'gut instinct' is more mercurial, spontaneous, situation-specific, passionate, more field than linear, unexpected, inner-voiced, etc. It's a continuum between the domestic, warm, safe, cozyness of the familiar and the nomadic, exploratory, unstructured, uncertain, perilous cold evenings afield under the star field. We and our work need one, the other, or both, in varying degrees at different times.

____________________________

Arthur, Heisenberg's Uncertainly Principle (1927) states that it's not possible to simultaneously measure the position and velocity of any subatomic particle with accuracy or certainty.

The analog of inducing a change/shift/disturbance/etc., via observation, or participation (the observer and the observed temporarily become a system), is in my opinion, applicable to photography. There are no free lunches. For everything one gets, something is forfeited.

There are limits to what we know, and can know (Godel). Or as Diane Arbus poetically - and wisely - put it:

"A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know."

This connects with what Antonio has to say. It is lost on most photographers & applies to a lot of other things regarding photography, posting about it, and life in general.

luis_g · August 27, 2010

Fred, I hadn't read your comment re: participation when I wrote my above post.

aplumpton · August 27, 2010

Yes, I remember the principle when briefly studying quantum mechanics in the British patent office library as student. The analogy is not meant to be close, only to provoke thoughts (mine, yours, anyone interested) into how good the camera and photgrapher can be in revealing anything significnt about the person when confronting them directly, apart from a momentary (obviously) glimpse into his type, emotions, etc. The longer interval, during viewing, is then relevant but I think is more about the viewer's imagination than the subject or photographer, and the Arbus comment is good I think and perhaps consistent with such realisation.

Which is why I, and likely Antonio, choose to photograph either the absent person, the more removed person or persons, or the acts or effects of the person(s) (e.g., as a quick example, this might be what a desk and possessions in a library or study or office might say about the occupant, although that can often also be very summary, it really needs a complex interaction of things). Man leaves his mark on the world but often hides what he is or does behind Barthe's often impregnable (my word) portrait exterior. In portraiture we often get symbols of him or her, but not as he or she has interacted, or is interacting, with the world. When you look at Liebeskind's portraits of stars, she is showing us often what we already know about them, or can easily accept as part of their public persona, something often different from themselves (How do I know, I don't, I just mistrust public images which are often just a product of sorts).

Christopher Hall (a local commentator) is presenting from this week an 8 hour TV series on Historia (French C site) four well-known Canadians, Trudeau, (René) Levesque, Jacques Parizeau and Brian Mulroney. He is neglecting the symbols and the persona and researching aspects of the leaders that are little known and sometimes contradicting of their public reputation and persona. Any parallel to that reporting in photography is I think a good challenge.

Norma Desmond · August 27, 2010

"confronting" --Arthur

Again, this is about my experience only, but when I used to do more candid and distanced (perhaps my own style was more clandestine than simply candid) photographs, that felt much more confrontational. Though I have had occasion to be confrontational (an important aspect of relationships) with more recent subjects, from whom I was not hiding, that's a more rare occurrence for me now. I think Sontag described very poignantly the confrontational aspects of photographing. I think both Luis and I have described on various occasions the intimate relationship we often develop with our subjects as a dance, rather than a confrontation (perhaps sometimes in addition to).

I do recognize and understand the intimacy and revelation you can achieve, Arthur (and Antonio), with your approaches to photographing.

antoniobassiphotography · August 27, 2010

Fred

My main function and what I relish about photographing is participation.

</blockquote>

I see what you mean. You are right about the existence of candidness and spontaneity in staged photography. There, it's the ability of the photographer to capture those very quick nuances that makes all the difference. Participation is of vital importance when talking about portrait photography or, in general, any staged photography that involves human beings. That is what I don't know how to control (yet...). The kind of photography I'm doing right now, on the contrary, requires the distance of the observer (like Arthur says) but it also demands a deep research in within ourselves.

luis_g · August 27, 2010

Arthur - "Which is why I, and likely Antonio, choose to photograph either the absent person, the more removed person or persons, or the acts or effects of the person(s) (e.g., as a quick example, this might be what a desk and possessions in a library or study or office might say about the occupant, although that can often also be very summary, it really needs a complex interaction of things). Man leaves his mark on the world but often hides what he is or does behind Barthe's often impregnable (my word) portrait exterior."

Information is conserved and transformed in many different ways. People leave information and signs of their energies behind them with everything (and everyone) they contact and obtain. It can form a kind of extrinsic portrait.

Some things come to mind...

http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LTmBGvSArCs/Se4qXLw7ojI/AAAAAAAAAEM/GoXAJVfGQHM/s400/wmorris_23.jpg&imgrefurl=http://reading-light.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html&usg=__EKX4ZYi6es-s52Rni4WRRUmvA2k=&h=400&w=306&sz=21&hl=en&start=43&zoom=0&tbnid=Opbr8BhtLY_lhM:&tbnh=124&tbnw=95&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dwright%2Bmorris%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DX%26biw%3D1277%26bih%3D577%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C1153&um=1&itbs=1&iact=rc&dur=615&ei=MPB3TMK_J4H58AbAv8ypBg&oei=E_B3TJ3jHsH68Aa75KyJBg&esq=7&page=3&ndsp=22&ved=1t:429,r:17,s:43&tx=38&ty=88&biw=1277&bih=577

http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.killeryellow.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/wrightmorris.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.killeryellow.com/blog/page/4/&usg=__eK-g16M1L0Oxofqe_EC_hzAu-fQ=&h=462&w=580&sz=135&hl=en&start=65&zoom=1&tbnid=XlEGoTjK-7eajM:&tbnh=140&tbnw=172&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dwright%2Bmorris%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DX%26biw%3D1277%26bih%3D577%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C1267&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=927&vpy=236&dur=473&hovh=140&hovw=176&tx=90&ty=78&ei=YPR3TPrNIMT48AbbwLTRBg&oei=E_B3TJ3jHsH68Aa75KyJBg&esq=8&page=4&ndsp=22&ved=1t:429,r:6,s:65&biw=1277&bih=577

[Yes, from a dead white guy]

Norma Desmond · August 27, 2010

Antonio, I think probably these things we're talking about do have to do with the character of photographs. I think distance can give a distinct character to a photographic scene or subject. So can intimacy. Things like connection, objectivity, participation, observation all seem to add character. All these things can be done in a variety of ways and styles. For me, distance, intimacy, etc. are not a style and not really a feeling (as pertains to the photograph itself) but they do seem to imbue a photograph with its character.

Julie H · August 28, 2010

Fred,

Since yesterday I've been trying to decide whether my coming-to-like/understand is necessarily evolutionary in the sense of requiring a building-to from where I start from ... or, unlike evolution, if I can simply reconfigure my conception. I've been thinking about how I "got used to" (learned to appreciate) various modern artists and quite a few photographers. A safe, and maybe useful example might be in pop music:

The first time I heard Neil Young on his own (I must have heard him with Crosby, Stills and Nash but didn't notice him), I thought he was doing a magnificent spoof of pop singers -- he was so awful and so obviously silly with that off-key wavering nasal too-sincere voice. When I found out he not only wasn't spoofing but was greatly admired by quite a few people, I was astonished. Of course, I got used to hearing him, but had a residual disbelief at his, to me, odd way of singing. But what really made me learn to like him was watching Jonathon Demme's documentary of him singing live. I don't know why watching him changes how I hear him, but it did. Now I really enjoy hearing his songs (particularly Harvest Moon and Like a Hurricane -- if I'm getting the titles right) though I don't own any of his recordings.

Did I somehow build to Neil Young from my existing preferences, or did my Neil Young understanding spring up unbridged, without ancestry just out of familiarity?

Norma Desmond · August 28, 2010

OK, Julie, now you're the one with the x-ray vision, because I was having similar wonderings yesterday while riding in the car listening to a Rodgers and Hammerstein CD a friend just made for me.

Why is it that I like Oklahoma more than Carousel? They're more similar than different, though the more you get to know them . . . Familiarity. We put Oklahoma on in summer camp when I was about 8. It's part of me. Those songs reach way beyond Fred of 2010. They engage memory, nostalgia, a sense of place (being up in the country away from the city for the summers), they evoke my mother's artistry who used to create the sets and scenery, they recall my own early days playing them on the piano as I was just learning, and don't get me started on wrestling with Alan Hochberg.

Then <a href="

We Dance</a> (from The King and I) came on. Somehow, for the first time, I noticed, or at least felt, those three notes, which bump and thump a little heavier with each progressive chorus throughout the song: Shall we dance . . . one two three . . . finally moving beyond the caricature and lighthearted joke the orchestra makes of it at first and almost becoming its own character, a third wheel accompanying the final dance between Anna and the King.

I think your ending question is not unlike the question that's often asked about the merits of influence vs. the supposed spontaneity and lack of precedence associated with creativity. To which my answer is the same as Laurey's to Curly:

"Many a like lad may kiss and fly A kiss gone by is bygone. Never have I asked an August sky 'Where has last July gone?' Never have I wandered through the rye Wondering 'where has some guy gone?' Many a new day will dawn before I do."

[This is probably the gayest post I've ever made ;)))]

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