from concept, production and editing to being broadcast ready

examples held on site link below also through links on this web site

see link to Aspect Ratio http://aspectratio.com.au/page2/page2.html

http://www.dentallounge.com.au/

http://www.aej.com.au/

http://www.christopherlincoln.com/

http://www.walshandmonaghan.com.au/

concept, photography and art direction

by ross pulsford

While I was travelling in Iran, I had a nagging question on my mind, the exit point for the flight home, I had flown into Istanbul with Damascus being my exit point nine weeks later. Trouble had broken out in Syria in March and I was due to fly home on the 18th of July.

While in Iran I meet a fellow traveller in Esfahan, who turned out to be a Dutch police man, he had come to the attention of the secret police down near Bam southern Iran after speaking to a journalist, he told me he had started getting strange phone calls as he moved around the country, I had noticed he seemed to be looking over his shoulder a bit and talking quietly when we first met.

We had stuck up a conversation while I was photographing a mosque in Imam Square, I hadn’t spoken a full sentence of English for weeks, we chatted and found we had a few shared passions, one of which was cinema, deciding to hang together and look at the sites we both had on our lists, he seemed a bit guarded at first, after a few hours he told me what had happened to him down in the south, after that I started to look over my own shoulders more just because I was hanging with him, its funny the things our minds do after a life of watching politics and the way news is covered these days.

For me it was a bit close the truth, having spent a life observing others, on one occasion a few days earlier, I had a feeling I was being followed, normally I slow down turn and go back the way I had come from, checking faces, if I notice no one taking any interest I turn and go back the original way, slower, looking for the closest reflective surfaces to spot anyone unusual, on this day as I did a serious looking man passed me, as he did the wind caught his jacket and with his motion exposed a holstered revolver on his hip, this wasn’t to be the first or the last, it had happened in Turkey, I was sitting having a coffee when a group of men sat down at the next table, a few of them had concealed weapons tucked in their belts under there jackets.

We chatting about where we had been over a cool drink, what we had seen, and were we where going, after hearing of my travel plans he became concerned about my entering Syria, he recounted some stories of skirmishes and riots he had been involved in with his job, I must admit I had my own concerns, the last news I had had before leaving home, was about a photographer being arrested and thrown into jail in Hom’s, it had become a niggling question, will I stay for a day or the twelve days I had planed, Syria was to be the real highlight of this trip.

Travelling throughout Iran over the next few weeks, I finally decided, throwing caution to the wind and going against sound advice I booked my flight from Tehran to Damascus while down south in Shiraz, deciding to travel around Syria for nine days.

Flying out of Iran I landed at 9.30pm in Damascus, after a delayed flight of three hours, passing through the stale sweaty halls of the airport, finally rounding a corner I spotting immigration with no lines a very nice change, I walked straight to the counter passed over my passport to the officer, as he flipped through the document looking for my visa, all of a sudden it fell out onto his lap then onto the floor, it may have been the constant changing temperatures, air-conditioning then 45 degree desert heat, having affected the glue, he was immediately suspicious, without a word  he stood with my documents and step out of the booth, he walk away and disappeared.

Five minutes became ten, ten became 15 it seemed an eternity, by this stage my camera bag on my back seemed to be getting heavier and heavier, he reappeared from an office up the hall, his face still serious he re-entered his booth sat, his finger still holding the passport open, sat picking up the stamp he stamped the visa, you have to be more careful, he said, also this is now sticky, I was waved through, to my great relief.

After collecting my pack and changing some money, I waited outside in the warm dry night air, bathed in the orange glow of the parking lot lights, waiting for the bus into the city, I recounted the visa experience and decided they wouldn’t have let me into the country if all had turned to full scale civil war.

The next day in Damascus I spent time visiting the Souq, Bazaar and the over whelming National Museum, trying not to gasp at what was displayed, taking in Syria’s truly incredible history, after off to a Hamman for a massage and steam, that night I had the great pleasure of a very cool beer after having to abstain from alcohol for a month while travelling in Iran.

Early the next morning after an amazing breakfast of tomatoe, soft cheese, olives, flat bread, heavy cream honey followed by a perfect coffee, I caught a cab north to the bus station, the sun was still rising, the city was washed in dusty orange light, some of the taller buildings cast long black shadows over the highway, getting to the bus station just before 7am, it was hectic, this was to be my first taste of really heavy sercurity, passing through just in time to catch the early bus to Homs.

On the way north the bus broke down, for 30 minutes the driver tinkered below, on the way a few kids had vomited so it hadn’t been the most pleasant trip, finally pulling into the bus station on the outskirts of Homs at 11am, I grabbed my pack from the hold walked out of the busy terminal to find a cab to my Hotel, it was then across the highway I notice the fortified sand bag bunkers bristling with heavy machine guns, with heavily armed security guards, taking this in whist being swamped by cab drivers all trying to get my fare, one man of about 40’s with salt and pepper hair and a good splattering of English won in the melee, I negotiated my fare into the city.

It turned out this driver was very cool, 20 minutes later we pulled up outside the very beautiful rustic slightly shabby 100 year building which housed the An-Nasr-Jedid Hotel on it’s 2^nd floor, it had huge rooms, tall ceilings and a massive picture window looking out to the busy streets below just off the massive common room, giving sweeping views of the city streets and all the action. The manager greeted me ‘welcome’ the phrase all Syrian’s use on first meeting, even it seems if they are holding a machine gun. Booking in I told him of my plans for the next few days in Homs, I did notice the taxi driver was still loitering off to the side, I wanted to leave for Krak des Chevaliers immediately, with my planning I was well organised for the little time I had wanting to travel quickly between cities, so I could visit as many of the ancient historic sights as possible.

Negotiating a fare out to the castle and back and having reached an agreement, I locking my pack in my room, next needing to grab some lunch to eat on the way, it was off to the markets to get some fruit and water, it was fantastic having my own car, being free from the public transport, a leaf in the wind, I grabbing what I needed, we set off, to my surprise he stopped a dozen blocks later just outside a take away he shared a joke with the owners, his regular lunch stop I guessed, he ordered falafels which he then payed for, the flavours of the yougat and mint dressing and the crunch of the freshly cooked falafels was brilliant, back into the cab, with the yougat dripping into my lap from between the folds of flat bread.

We where now travelling west towards Lebanon. It felt great sitting their chatting, bright blue sky, hot wind blowing in through the open windows, the opaque light gave the landscape the feeling of driving through a watercolour.

I have been looking forward to seeing this castle all my life. We turned right off the expressway and started winding our way through the farm land, slowly heading into the hills, with every turn the road got steeper, now and then I caught sight of this fabled castle.

Krak des Chevaliers was never concurred during the crusades, finally rounding the last bend there it was looming over us; so massive you couldn’t see it in its entirety. Pulling up out side the main gate, beside myself with excitement wanting to savour this moment, I sat speaking for some time with the guard, allowing the castle to soak into my very soul, glancing around I imagined what this place had seen, while I recalled all I had read of this extordary citadel, the guard was telling me their had been 300,000 tourist last year, this year only 2000, being one of this small number, it was so quite brooding in its deserted state.

Entering through the huge portico into the cool dark silent of the main gate, was like walking into a room the tea still steaming the cigarette still burning and no one around, so visceral was the experience, I could almost hear the white pennants fluttering and snapping in the breeze that was sweeping over the battlements, It turned out this was true of all my experiences in Syria, in the end I felt I was the one discovering these places.

I was 10 years old again and could almost smell sweaty horses, and hear the sounds of foot steps on the massive flag stones all mixed with the clinking of amour, after many many hours of exploring it was time to finally tear myself away to return to Homs.

My driver could see my boyish excitement, he drove me up to the hill behind to get a full view, as shadows started to reach across the farm land below, swallows circuled and swooped on the unseen insects in the late afternoon sunlight, standing there not wanting to leave my driver had run out of cigarettes, with great reluctance I climbed back into the cab and we headed back to Hom’s, he had let me linger as long as he could. As we pulled back onto the highway, he asked if I wanted a coffee, nodding with a smile, he pulled over to a small van parked not far ahead, stopping we walked over and ordered, while he chatted to the barrister, I stood looking back to the castle, lost in my thoughts he had payed, he passed me a takeaway cup with this very dark viscous ristretto coffee, there are times in life when you do recall the most amazing coffees you have had, this was to be one of those moments, to be honest I did lick the bottom of the waxed paper cup, the flavour was dark, strong and spicy with after tones of chocolate and cardamom.

We arrived back to Homs at 5pm he dropped at the front door, bouncing up the stairs two at a time wanting a quick shower, so I could get back to my room to write about this exrordany day, their was so much I wanted to get down, I was totally engrossed in my writing, there come the sound of a machineguns, only a few blocks away, it didn’t register immediately, but the next moment all hell broke loose, as more guns opened up, all around me now there was the defending sound of automatic weapons, being joined by running feet, yelling and the screeching of shop shutters being hastily pulling down, for a moment I was frozen in place as my body filled with adrenaline, what happened next was on reflection a strange reaction, I became completely calm, I walked to the window and watched what was unfolding in the streets below, making a decision on what observed, there was some panic but their was also calm strangely I found myself sitting back at the shabby desk set against the wall and continued to write, there seemed to be less people on the streets as the gun fire had increased. Finishing writing, I went out into the communal room, a group of local boys with worried faces were sitting smoking and drinking tea they looking quite rattled, concerned one of the boys was from up north he had travelled down to do his exam he was quite frightened, he was astonished to see a westerner emerge from the hall way, it was quite surreal sitting drinking chatting surrounded by the sound of battle.

It was late I was getting hungry I had to go out to eat, I asked was there a restaurant close, one of the boys was a friend of the night manager said there was a place quite close only five blocks away, he offered to show me the way, we went down and into the night, walking up the street the city centre was eerily deserted, imagine a big city with very few people or cars moving about with the backdrop of gun fire, it was only eight o’clock, at the restaurant he asked a friend that worked there to look after me, off he when back to the hotel

Eating and looking around it seemed I was the only one still out, I quickly paid and headed out the door, into the inky dark streets with no traffic no one any where all of a sudden I was feeling very exposed, turning down the street for the walk back in the dark the sounds of sporadic machine gun fire echoed down the side streets, head down thinking myself a shadow, walking quickly I finally rounded the corner there not 30 metres away in the gloom split by a shaft of light spilling down the stair well, was the entry up to the Hotel, it seemed as soon as I was bathed in the light I felt cocooned and strangely safe.

Back up in the common room they where relieved to see me return and in one piece, we chatted late into the nigh, finally off to bed with a yawn and chalky eyes.

It was a fitful nights sleep constantly woken by out bursts of gunfire.

Waking the next morning naked sweating heavily in the oven like room, I threw back the curtains to open the windows, having closed them before going to bed, somehow it feet safer, like pulling the sheet up when your having a night mare. Looking out standing there a slight breeze drying my sweaty body, I focused opposite to a half finished building, their staring right at me was a sniper framed in the unfinished window, frozen in place and not sure how to react, I was surprises and relied when all he did was wave, astonished I walked to the back of the room and sat on the bed.

The start of a new day, shower, go outside find some breakfast, then find a taxi to drive me out to Palmyra.

Written by Ross pulsford

Architectural space is usually used by couples of generations through its lifetime. Historical buildings as the most well known characteristics of the cities where they locate are still being used in other ways. A note to the number of heads and leaders of countries and members of the royal families who have visited the Naghsh – e – Jahan Square in Isfahan implies that space of architecture sometimes lives longer than individuals thus their beliefs. This space contains the events people make and drive in each era. Architectural elements form the actual space of architecture, its dimensions, its qualities, and its structural criteria as the stage for virtual space performance.

By Maz Abadi

I’ve been pondering about why I travel. There are too many reasons why i could never be cured of my chronic wanderlust. Neither do i want to be cured. One of the reasons why I travel is because I am alive when I do, and I am addicted to the intensity of my feelings and memories. I could be walking towards my office building, and yet I feel the earth of Alamut Valley. Travel allows me to live two lives at once, to shuttle between reality and memory, to blur the lines separating the two. During my travels I meet people a world away and yet I could feel many times more connected to them than to a colleague in the next cubicle.

It’s been almost a year, and yet I can still remember lying on the carpeted ground at the home of Yasri’s mother. We weren’t doing anything in particular, and whiling the day away occasionally picking more cherries than we could eat. I can still remember Hussein, the most adorable boy in the world, simultaneously terrorizing and amusing us with his antics, and his beautiful face when he drifts off to sleep (giving us a rare occasion of peace)

I can still remember the last-minute dinner plan in Elham’s Uncle’s Private Garden. Good conversation, great food, and lots of fruits i could only dream of seeing in the supermarket back home.

I can remember seeing an actual oasis in the desert in Yazd, melons on the sand dune on a Persian rug, watching the desert sun set with no one else but us and our driver of the day. I remember camels crossing the desert, and their impossibly cute and curious face.

I can remember too many moments of my time in Iran, and those memories they drift into my mind fresh and almost too real. The tastes of cherries and mulberries sweet, juicy and warm from the blazing summer sun. The flavour of spice and smokiness of kebabs. The genuine curiosity and hospitality of Iranians.

Am I sitting at my desk at home writing this, or am I in Iran?

By Xin Jie Yeow

http://wanderfulpeople.com/

Writing and Producing TV commercials is one of the most exciting creative experiences there is, and then to get such positive outcomes is very rewarding.

It uses every creative fibre, personal experience, and knowledge, doing market research and then testing the idea before creating the final concept. I believe this leads to an Ad’s success

Especially in such a clutter market, to get cut through create traction, while building the Brand

The creative idea was also to give great value to the client, be contemporary, and also design an Ad that could be refreshed, without having to do another completely new concept.

Collaboration is key, having a great editor with amazing ability to realise the creative and take it one step further.

The original Ad recently had a voice over added, to promote an upcoming open day with a targeted TV campaign, it has been very successful with many New

Register students

Many thanks to Chris, Andrew and Melissa without a brilliant product and amazing team it would be futile

http://youtu.be/Y2intJxYHv8

Editor

Adam Newcombe

http://www.aspectratio.com.au/

Photography/stills

Me

Music choice

That’s a story on its own, you had to be there

‘Testimonial’

Even before we approached Ross Pulsford to design and produce a TVC campaign, we knew we had a challenging brief. We did not want to exploit the images of our students and at the same time, we wanted to capture and communicate the story of children growing and learning in our schools. Ross was able to quickly identify with our objectives, produced a creative concept and then led the process of all of us refining and developing it. Nothing was too much of a challenge for Ross as he made it easy for us to make adjustments to get the right results to communicate our message effectively. Given Ross’ creativity, passion and professionalism, we look forward to continuing to benefit from his broad experience and knowledge.

We now have a coordinated branding strategy that is yielding results in the marketplace – particularly in terms of how parents and students think about the Schools and whether it may be a valid choice for their families. Finding new families is always competitive, but with the effective approach to marketing that Ross has provided, we have seen an excellent response with new enquiries.

by Andrew Guile

Business Manager

Dear Ross,

‘Inspiration and imagination. Is it possible that civilisation will fall
because of a lack of them? Each photograph taken, each affirming thought
shared, each inspiring word written, adds to the precious store of our
most valuable resources. If you wish to make a better world, be inspired,
and imagine how things might be.’

Tim Flannery

www.timflannery.com.au/

As I grew up on a property in Berry I soon established I was part of the natural world, allowing me to understood it’s finite balances, seasons and humans impacts, one of which was watching the Broughton Creek dry up on occasions, as new houses where built up stream, pumping all the water they needed from the creek, with no real thought for those down stream, as a boy we would swim in the crystal waters amoungst the huge schools of perch and even see platypus

It’s different now, cloudy and green a few bass

My heros have been people who understand and educate, David Suzuki, Tim Flannery, Prof Brian Cox and more

by Ross Pulsford

This video was made to support a photographic exhibition of the journey called  ’Monuments’

I will write some stories of this fabulous journey but for now sit back and please follow this link 17 minutes of pure pleasure, you may need tissues.

http://vimeo.com/40284557

Leaving Istanbul on a night bus to Goreme, it in itself shouldn’t have been difficult, but I had fallen in love with this city.

I haven’t done a twelve hour bus trip for a while, sleeping was difficult, but the seat was comfortable, as a photographer not seeing the passing landscape made me feel I was missing so much.

As the leaden sky started to lighten with first light of morning, I could make out we where travelling by a huge lake in a barren landscape, I started to get excited for the destination. Cappadocia being famous for its amazing landscapes, coloured rock formation, fairy chimneys and rock phalluses.

In the far distance the plains were giving way to snow capped mountains, just visible as we started to rise from the valley. Stopping soon after, changing buses, and still heading east. I could sense the excitement from the other travellers. As we headed into the direct light of the still rising sun, casting big black shadows in the bus blinding chalky eyes with it’s blinding bright light, all of a sudden we came to the edge of this high plain and caught sight of the rift valley, here we where in this strange other world, often mistaken for the one that appeared in a Star Wars film

Quite surreal. Soon arriving on the valley floor of Goreme, just like an excited schoolboy I bounced off the bus grabbed my pack from underneath, and quickly found great accommodation in one of the cave pensions. Finding a cool relaxed pension with a view north just on the edge of the square, I checked in, meeting the three staff, I was invited to sit down to freshly arranged breakfast, this place was all mine, completely empty, the only guest, even after an exhausting journey, rest was out of the question, their was exploring to do, off like a school boy, still chewing my last my last mouthful, off I went, following the advice of the manager an ex- balloon pilot, he kindly showed me on his map one of his favourite walks, only 4-5 hours long, he explained how to find a little know track outside town near the camping area

The first thing I had noticed on arriving in Goreme, it was quite a bit warmer, the air dryer than Istanbul, having got used to the soft salt laden breeze, blowing off the Bospharus river or coming down form the Black sea.

Being a little tied from the bus trip, in stead of walking the 4 kms to the start of this goat track I hitched, I was picked up instantly by a woman and her aged father he looked close to 90 years but very fit and healthy.

Found the track next to the camping area, which was right beside where my Samaritans own home where the old man lived, right on the adjoining property, who would have guessed, a perfect start to a already brilliant day, pack on back camera in hand off into this other world experience, what a feast for the eye and soul.

In the end I spent 3 days wondering, walking, exploring and hitching, from tracks end or to the start of these incredible walks.

Just off track, one other experience, I had the most incredible moussaka dish ever, unfortunately I wasn’t alone, a dog had come up and sat beside me, face not more then 30 cm away for this plate of heaven, Perplexed, this dog, I already knew had great taste, not wanting to be distracted from this incredible dish, I kept repeating go away! go away! to no avail, it was very distracting, dog breath, I was sitting in an open square, the waiter was hanging off to the left he was watching my plight, secretly with some amusement I am sure, finally he came over, looks at me then the dog, and says this dog, it does not speak English, it’s Turkish you have to say  Gitmek! Gitmek!………  We laughed so hard, well how does a German Shepard learn English

There are very few men in the middle east with a shaved head, so it all becomes quite a novelty for these expert hair removers, It was well past my time for a shave, one of the quite times after lunch when everyone sees to melt into their own worlds I found a barber who was just opening, we agreed the price, down I sat, all was fairly normal until the moment of clean up, he picks up a piece of twisted wire and places a piece of cotton wool on the end then dips it into a clear fluid, not knowing what was coming next, my curiosity peaked especially as he reached for a cigarette lighter, about to ask what he intended

I caught sight of a young man entering the room, just as the cotton wool burst into flames, he waved it at my ears instantly causing a catastphi what seemed to me like a very large fires, they seemed to last far to long as I could smell cooking, pulling my hands from under the cloak bashing the side of my head trying to extinguish the two fires, [to much accelerant for sure], out of the corner of my eye in the reflection of the mirror, I saw the look on the teenagers face, it was one of shock, made worse by the smell of burnt hair and flesh, he ran from the tiny room with his hand over his nose, after the smoke had cleared, some moments later he re entered I am sure to see what was left of the fires, the sizzling had stopped for sure but the smell and pain was still very evident to me. Days later I could still smell burnt pork every time I turned my head to quickly. The funniest thing was the youth manned a store, which I walked past regularly, every time we looked at each other we would bust into galls of laughter. We chatted a few times…….  no he said, is normal, what burning ears, no remove all the hair …….

Meeting Peta and Grant for our first briefing about their wedding photography, I had a great sense of connection; I find if the couple is comfortable in your company they will be relaxed and honest in front of the camera.

Peta a stylist, Grant an electrician in the city, are having their wedding down at Bendalong on the beach, then onto Cupids winery for their reception. Growing up Peta had spent her holidays with her family at their holiday house in Bendalong; she had a really strong connection with this environment.

During the time before the wedding day, Peta had sent clip art to show the style of day they where planning,

One week out from the wedding day, I wonder around the locations, To get a sense of the times they have had, the creative process begins, designing images in my mind in the locations, keeping in mind the couples taste props and stories, nothing cliché, I always start as if on a blank canvas, so it is completely individual, reflective of the couple.

To me it’s a story a journey of emotions, like a film of stills, as my mentor was a film director, we spent 20 years talking about the process, taking the couple through each location, letting them be themselves, enjoying being playful, reflective, silly or just still.

Because there is always so much going on, on the wedding day, I always work with another photographer to cover both angles especially during the ceremony, I hear our cameras going off at the same instant, so when you are looking at the photos, your not always aware of the shift in angle, its like an edit in a film, fluid, you see the emotion of that moment, from the two angles, during editing I laugh and cry at times, these images are so very powerful, to be asked to capture them is a very, very special honour

Pure emotion and joy, two people joining together and celebrating in their most special places, the smell of salt, sound of waves, surrounded by family and close friends, perfect

Wedding photography must be fresh, real in the moment, the question in my mind is who are they as individuals, what are they like as a couple, I find this story through observing and getting to know them before the day, in the end the images are a honest, and a great depiction of their bond, their style and their life together.

In the end without the complete trusts comfort and honesty of the couple nothing is real

To see a short film visit

www.youtube.com/watch?v=G8dv0b72ZCo