This photo story features my work of nine images. They are my amateur attempts when I was trying to experiment with all kinds of photography. There is no particular theme in these photos. I hope it inspires anyone who’s ever picked up a camera. Also, hope to delight anyone who just likes to look at pictures.
Some photos may make you feel like running away; others may make you fall in love with them. A digital SLR camera shot them.
I hope they make you feel differently; think differently, even only for a moment.
Mihintale is the site of the meeting where Buddhism in Sri Lanka started. This site is about 2300 years old. The scaffolding erected for the renovation of the dagoba made an interesting contrast in this photo. The photo was taken in 2010.
This silhouetted boy in this photo is my son when he was fifteen. The sun was low and behind my son. We were at a Coolum beach in Queensland, Australia, in 2005 when I took this photo.
In the front is a traditional oil lamp. In the background, silhouetted, is a lady in prayer in a serene mood. This was taken in a Buddhist temple in an outer suburb of Colombo, Sri Lanka.
An abstract water feature at Darling Harbour, a tourist destination in the heart of Sydney, made it a compelling subject on a night. I took it with available light, which explains the dark green shade of this photo.
This is the church I attended as a young boy in the village of Dalugama in Sri Lanka, where I grew up. The pews, the statue of Jesus and the fan above make an interesting contrast in this black-and-white portrait. It brings many memories of my childhood.
I captured this bunch of colourful leaves at the foot of a tree at the art school in Sydney when I was studying photography. The vast, colourful combination and their natural positioning on the ground were an amazing sight to the naked eye. A colourful bonanza. Taken in 2005.
I was simply photographing various shades of bricks in the Rocks, a historic suburb in the CBD in Sydney. If you look carefully, a black cat is in this photograph. I did not know it was up there looking at me when I took this photo. This surprise addition appears to be looking at me and posing for this shot.
I created a composition and tones, hoping to create a cool picture. This is the artist in me baring my soul — a minimalist shot. The photo's theme reflects when something is wanted a little but cannot be reached. The two hands are mine. Taken with the camera timer in my bedroom.
An experiment with depth of field using my specs as the subject. This image was picked up as a backdrop at an event at my work in Westpac.
The Christian cross and the black lamp contrast in this click. It gives out a minimalist message with its balanced composition and tone.
My son in a beach in Central Coast, NSW. I like the central composition and the silhouette I could capture. Taken in 2005.
A Child of Curiosity How inherent inquisitiveness became a key driver in learning experiences. Denzil Jayasinghe · B orn in the mid-20th century, I am a product of the post-World War II era. My parents, who were teenagers when the war commenced, married in the 1950s. As a representative of the baby boomer generation, I was born under the astrological sign of Capricorn, the tenth sign of the zodiac. My birth took place at Zoysa Nursing Home, a renowned institution in Colombo, Sri Lanka, around 5 in the morning. Sri Lanka, known for its tropical climate, is a beautiful island nation south of India. This climate appealed to me, and I sought similar weather in my twenties, spending them in Dubai, where the winter resembles an Australian summer. Raised by religious parents, I held them in deep affection. However, the church teachings posed a paradox for a young mind, instructing one to love God more than one’s parents. I initially adhered to the Ten Commandments and other societal norms in ...
Neville at the Edge Denzil Jayasinghe 3 min read · 10 hours ago In the lazy, sun-dappled days at St. Joseph’s Novitiate, where the beach seemed to hum with the scent of jasmine and the distant promise of monsoon clouds, there was a little haven we boys held dear — the Milk Bar. It was a humble shack just beyond the school’s creaky gates, its tin roof glinting under the noon sun, its wooden counter cluttered with frothy glasses of Milo, bottles of sweet vanilla milk, and a jumble of pencils and dog-eared notebooks for forgetful lads like us. To us, De La Salle boys, it wasn’t just a shop. It was a sanctuary, where the weight of prayers and the Brother-Superior’s stern frowns dissolved into the clink of coins and the soft buzz of our chatter. Neville was always there, a gangly boy with limbs that seemed to outgrow him, as if they belonged to a taller shadow. His parents had sent him to the Novitiate dreaming he’d don a Christian Brother’s collar, but Neville, with his twice-failed ...
Packing lists An addiction to packing lists Denzil Jayasinghe 3 min read·Nov 6, 2022 My fascination with packing lists started when I was young. Eventually, it became a life-long habit, a kind of addiction. When I enrolled at the Christian brothers’ formative school at eleven, a packing list was given to my parents. 2 School shorts 2 School shirts, white 2 Baniyans, aka vests 4 Pairs of white socks 1 Sarong 2 Casual shirts 2 Casual shorts 2 Handkerchiefs 1 Toothbrush 1 Comb 1 Bedsheet 2 Pillowcases 1 Pair of black shoes 1 Pair of canvas sports shoes My parents went into fast gear to assemble the packing list. My father started from the bottom of the list, the shoes. He took me by bus to Colombo to P G Martins, a shoemaker. We came out of that shoe store with DS-branded black and Shinwa-branded canvas shoes. Also bought was a Ford suitcase, in shiny sky-blue colour. Mother bought vests and socks from Velona, a garment outlet run by one of our relations, Aunty Helen. A trip to a ta...
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