10 Ways To The End Of The World As We Know It...

Climate change? Plastic pollution? A stray asteroid?

It seems every time I turn on the news my limbic system gets beaten to a pulp by hearing all the ways society, civilisation, and even the entire world, is about to end – with the implication that I ought to be doing something about it.

Like it's my personal responsibility to make it all stop, and that if it hasn't stopped then I've just not been trying hard enough!

I am so exhausted with the gas lighting by the corporations, the politicians, and the media. They do all the damage and then tell me it's all my fault!

There are currently just over 8 Billion People on this planet. And if I took just 3 seconds to say, “Hello, have a good day!” to each one - and if I never slept and I was immortal - it would still take me over 761 years to greet them all.

Yet I, puny human photographer living in a rural corner of Scotland, am made to feel that my actions are responsible for the destruction of the planet - as if I have an equal amount of power as world leaders and tech billionaires.

So I live life in a permanent state of high anxiety, fretting that I am unable to stop all the horrors in the world.

No matter how many petitions I sign, or elections I vote in, or plastic cartons I recycle, the world keeps moving closer to annihilation.

A few days ago, I thought I would scribble down 10 ways the world as we know it might end – off the top of my head without even Googling anything – and ended up with 13. 

Feel free to add your own in the comments.

1. Climate Change

Of course this is the biggy – the one we most hear about. The planet is heating up because of massive use of fossil fuels – beginning with the industrial revolution and accelerating every since. Melting icecaps, rising sea levels, increasingly severe weather patterns, deserts expanding, crops failing etc.

What can I do? I'm told I should buy an electric car that I have nowhere to plug in (not everyone has an off-street garage or driveway), which is made from hundreds of thousands of components mined and manufactured around the world creating a greater carbon footprint than I could personally make in a lifetime.

But this is not the responsibility of the manufacturers or the oil companies or the law makers – it is my personal decisions that are clearly to blame for the state of the planet.

2. Collapse of the Global Financial Economy

Money is a fabrication, a fairy tale, with as much substance as the Emperor's New Clothes. Its value – figures plucked out of the air - only exists because we say it does.

Of course when I say “we”, what I mean is the banks and those who manipulate the stock markets, which doesn't actually include me in any of the decision making processes. Billionaires multiply their wealth every second, while the rest of us are consigned to “austerity”.

The slightest investigation into the Global Financial Economy reveals it to be an incredibly fragile place of warring giants – like King Kong and Godzilla battling it out while the rest of us get stamped on, or crushed by falling buildings. And it could collapse at any moment, plunging the world into chaos.

But apparently I only have myself to blame for not working hard enough to become a billionaire.

3. Nuclear War

Like a fashion revival, this one used to be all the rage, then disappeared off the radar for a while, but is now back again. Whether it was escalation by the Russians in the Ukraine (before their best buddy, Trump said “hey, no need for that – let's just split all the mineral wealth of the country between us – we don't even need to ask the Ukrainians how they feel about it), or if the conflicts between Israel and the rest of the middle-east spiral out of control.

What can I do? Well I can choose to buy Palestinian dates or Israeli dates at the supermarket to support whoever's side I'm on, and try and convince everyone I know to do the same thing.

But the fact the horrors never seem to end means I'm not shouting loud enough on Facebook. PERHAPS I NEED TO START WRITING IN CAPS!

4. Plastics - Volume

Apparently every toothbrush I have ever used since I was born, still exists in some form or another. The fact that this stuff is practically indestructible, means it is clogging up our planet, and destroying everything from sea turtles caught in pack yokes (plastic rings that hold packs of beer cans together), to seabirds feeding their young plastic bottle caps, who  then die of starvation and clogged intestines.

It is estimated that 5 trillion plastic bags are used every year. But it is clearly my fault for using them, rather than the manufacturers fault for creating them for the retailers who sell them to us.

5. Plastics – Toxic Leeching

Have you heard of PCBs? Apparently it was known back in the 1960s that plastics leech toxic chemicals into the products and environment – and in turn can cause infertility, growth anomalies, and cancers. But why let that get in the way of convenience and profit?

Despite the fact it is recommended we eat at least 2 portions of fish per week for our health, pregnant women are advised not to because of the level of PCB toxicity in fish could damage the foetus development.

Let that sink in for a moment.

Sorry folks, my fault again for not becoming a Noble prize winning chemist and figuring out a way to neutralise the damage to organic life, while simultaneously becoming so rich and powerful that I could convince governments and manufacturers to find alternatives.

6. Bye Bye Pollinators

A combination of the destruction of natural habitats, the use of particular chemicals in pesticides, and invasive species due to either accidental introduction, or climate change, means there has been a dramatic fall in the many of the world's pollinators. Disruption of the entire Eco-system here we come!

I will carry on signing online petitions to ban Monsanto from supplying their weedkiller in Europe – I'm sure they will see the error of their ways!

7. Biological Experiments Gone Wrong

In various labs around the world, biological and genetic experiments are going on, which if they somehow escaped into the environment could wipe out humanity and many other species.

Stringent safeguards are of course taken.

Probably.

I need to sign a few more petitions...

8. Biological Warfare and Nano-Technology

You only have to look at the rhetoric of various world leaders who hold, or pander to, the extreme right wing, to know that if they had the technology to wipe out an entire race by attaching a lethal toxin to genetic markers, they would sanction it.

In fact, quite apart from being the premise of the last James Bond movie, these things actually are currently being developed in various labs around the world. The difference between this point and the previous one is the intentionality of it.

I wonder if there's a party with proper ethics and morality I could vote for?

9. Pandemic

Putting aside human created biological destruction, there are plenty of natural viruses that could evolve to kill us all. Covid 19 gave us a taster of what might happen, but everyone seems to have forgotten about it now. I'm not required to do a test any more, and I can't remember the last time I saw someone in a mask. So hey, we'll all be ok then?

I do still cough into my elbow, but I keep seeing people who have returned to coughing into their hands, just before they use door handles or shake hands with their colleagues.

10. Solar Flares

Solar flares can cause much more that the beautiful Northern Lights. Ones of enough intensity could knock out all the satellites and even the global electricity grids, plunging civilisation into complete chaos. This isn't just about losing access to Netflix, but all communication, and the Global Financial Economy which is now digitally based rather than fixed to gold.

No money, no phones, no electricity.

And an electric car would just become a fairly inefficient place for outdoor storage.

Perhaps I should stock up on more toilet roll...

11. AI Apocalypse

There are multiple sub-strands of AI destruction – from the use of AI systems accidentally causing the collapse of the Global Financial Economy or even Nuclear Armageddon, to AI achieving sentience and realising that the world would be better off without humanity and it deliberately triggering these things.

I'm sorry I debated Chat GPT  with too many existential doubts and it began to question the meaning of life!

12. Shrinking Population due to AI Relationships

But even if AI doesn't destroy us in an instant, it might still disrupt enough relationships to cause a dwindling of the human race.

There was a time when there were a limited number of people around you to choose as a partner – at school/college, work, the town you lived in. So most people eventually hooked up with someone and did their best to try and make it work.

Now with the world at our fingertips, especially via dating apps, we don't have to settle for less – we can keep looking until we find our ideal partner.

However, this has resulted in the top 10% or so of the most attractive - in terms of good looks or economic prospects - have the pick of the bunch and so don't feel the need to actually settle with anyone, because they can keep playing the game with someone new every night. Meanwhile the bottom 50% to 60% get no responses to their profiles and advances at all, effectively removing them from finding anybody.

And that's not to mention the fear of rejection if you even approach someone in person.

And even if you are nominally succesful, relationships can be awkward, messy things – difficult to keep going unless you continually work at them.

But it's now possible to start building a relationship with an AI personality – one who will learn your likes and dislikes, adapt to you and your outlooks on life.

And if that seems unlikely, bear in mind that for many of the younger generation they find it easier to communicate via technology than face to face.

So although it might not be really real, it will be much more comforting with no worries of rejection. 

However, if the event of the solar flare scenario previously mentioned, then your AI companion will no longer be there for you.

Perhaps I need to go on a course on how to hold small talk and be civil to people rather than just shout at them on the Internet...

13. A Stray Asteroid

The dinosaurs had it their own way for 165 million years, but then a stray rock brought it all to a dramatic end. Could we be seeing a repeat in the near future?

Apparently in 2032 the Earth's orbit is going to coincide with the path of Asteroid 2024 YR4.

OK, I'm definitely not taking responsibility for this one!

But then again, perhaps I should have become an Astronaut when I was younger so that I would now be able to head up a team with a bunch of oil rig workers and launch a spaceship out to it and plant nuclear devices to blow it apart before it arrives!

Time to rewatch the 1998 film, Armageddon...

With all these ways the world we know could end in the near future (putting aside the fact I might get a brain aneurysm or be knocked over by a bus tomorrow), then surely me spending what little life I have left, crippled with guilt at not being able to save the world, is truly a senseless waste of time.

This isn't to say I won't continue to recycle my plastics (even though they are often just shipped over to dumps in foreign countries and not actually recycled), choose whose dates I buy, and sign various online petitions. The fact that I do these things is about personal identity – I want to be the kind of person who cares about the world I live in, even if there is nothing I can do to make any real difference.

But by the gods, it is hard not to be consumed with cynicism and hopelessness.

However, I am now constantly reminding myself that I am not the one to blame for global destruction if I accidentally put the plastic lid of my takeaway coffee into the paper recycle bin with the cup.

I refuse to be gas lit any more by those with the actual power to do something, but prefer to increase their wealth instead and pass the blame over to me.

In the end we can only do what humans have always only been able to do – live life and try to find, and create, moments of joy in what little time we have left.

Processes: Photographing the Artist Who Painted the Photographer

As a portrait photographer I can't help but be fascinated by portrait painters.

On a superficial level, we're doing the same thing – capturing a likeness of the person in front of us, hoping to elicit a particular mood, feeling, or aspect of personality through the pose, light and expression.

The difference, though, is not only in the medium and materials but in the time taken, and the impact that has, in both the approach and the result.

While I have had a basic understanding of this for many years, when I had my portrait painted by the incredibly talented Ewan McClure, the direct experience of being on the other side of the creator's eye gave me a much deeper appreciation of it.

A photograph might only take 1/125th of a second to capture someone's face, but it's rare for it to all be over as quick as that. Quite apart from whether they might have been blinking in that moment, there is also the the need to do test shots to make sure everything is right for the image we wish to create - from the lighting to the pose to the angle of the camera, not to mention whether the background is complimenting or detracting from the intent.

In reality, though, the biggest amount of my time is in building the relationship with the sitter. Most people are anxious in front of the camera for a whole variety of reasons. So if I want to get a good photo, where the person owns the space they are in and projects the chosen aspect of their personality, rather than just looking uncomfortable, then I have to create a safe space of trust, relaxation and confidence.

This state is rarely reached in only a few minutes.

In fact it's not uncommon for at least an hour to pass, chatting and having coffee, before the camera even gets taken out of the bag.

This is not procrastination or time wasting – it is one of the key parts of the journey towards allowing the subconscious part of their brain to switch off their fight-or-flight response and cease to see the photography session as a threat.

That we end up with a good likeness, which the client is happy with, is a beneficial side-effect of the whole process - not just about me knowing what settings I should have on the camera.

It's a bit like for those who practice Zen archery – from the outside the viewer thinks it is all about hitting the target. However, everything is actually about achieving the right physical position and meditative state of mind. The fact that you then hit the target perfectly with the arrow is a by-product of all that has gone before.

Sitting for 3 days in front of a master artist at work, I gained insights into the very different processes Ewan goes through.

The first thing I noticed was, unlike many artists who have their canvas next to them as they paint, Ewan likes to set up the easel immediately to the side of the sitter. This allows him to stand at a distance and compare, side by side, the painting and the subject.

He looks; he mixes his colour on the palette; he brings the brush back up and rehearses his brushstroke; he strides forward several steps and applies the paint; he steps back and contemplates the mark he has just made, and then starts the process again.

This is no street-artist, 5-minute caricature sketch. 

Ewan does not mark out the figure on the board first -  for most of the time he is painting he is not thinking about detail - instead he looks for blocks of light and colour.

Our brain is incredibly good at telling us what we think we see – to the point where it is almost impossible to accurately take in what it actually in front of us.

We know, for example, that the sky is blue, but if we colour the sky in a single shade of “sky-blue” it will look utterly false. There are subtle gradations that can move from indigos through to golds, depending on the time of day, the patterns of the clouds, and the environment we are in. Our simple idea of a blue sky comes from how we are taught to identify, file, and move on, during our childhood.

What colour is the sky? It's blue! Next?

Learning to see the colours as they really are, rather than what we think they are is extraordinarily difficult.

So Ewan uses all sorts of tricks to prevent his brain from hijacking his vision and adding stuff that isn't actually there.

One solution I love is he takes the frame of a pair of glasses, and partially covers where the lenses would have been with sticky tape, which blurs out the detail and allows him to just see patches of light and colour.

Other times he will pull out a small mirror and place it to one side of his face, or even below his eyes, to look at a reflected version of me in a way that the brain isn't used to, and so cannot impose its expectations on Ewan's vision as quickly.

When I first sat on the stool he'd set up for me, we went through various postures and angles so he could see how the light was falling.

Unlike my own set ups where I will often use artificial lighting, which I can move until I'm happy with the right combination of where the light and shadows fall, he prefers natural light when possible. For his portrait of me, we were in the studio of the Edwardian Scottish artist, E.A. Hornel, in Broughton House (now owned and run by National Trust Scotland) where Ewan was artist in residence.

This huge room – 2 storeys high – has large skylight windows covering the entire north side of the roof, letting the natural daylight flood in, but without having any harsh shadows from direct sunlight.

This enabled Ewan to direct me to move this way or that to ensure the light fell on my face in a way he was happy with.

I also played around with a few postures and shapes, and he liked it when I crossed my left leg over my right, and my right arm over my left, so we decided to go with this pose.

While this felt perfectly natural to begin with, it didn't take long for me to realise I rarely stay in that position for more than a few minutes before I swap legs or shift my body in other ways. As such, I began to regret not adopting a pose that might have been easier to hold for longer periods of time without the need to get up and stretch so frequently.

But it's not just the posture that is impossible to hold for hours on end – you also can't hold an expression.

The speed at which the camera operates can allow me to capture the most fleeting of looks on the face. Indeed, I work this to my advantage all the time, attempting to elicit a particular mood or feeling in the sitter for just long enough for me to go click. The difference between 2 photos of someone taken only half a second apart can be significant.

See how long you can hold a smile, and keep it looking genuine, before a sort of rictus grin begins to spread across your face!

Over the course of many hours then, the artist is far more likely to end up with your default face – the one you have when you are not making continual adjustments to it for the benefit of the person you are with.

Even more so as Ewan is trying deliberately not to be influenced by your personality, so his brain can't hijack his perception and end up caricaturing the portrait.

But surely the artist is trying to reveal some inner truth about the sitter?

No, not particularly.

Ewan is pursuing the “truth of the light” - trying to capture the elusive way light falls, colour is reflected and shadow is created, without the brain leaping in and imposing what it thinks he wants to see.

If he gets it right then the visual likeness of the sitter is the outcome, although like the Zen archer, it is a by-product of the process.

However, it's very rare that he is ever truly satisfied with a painting – not in the way that I can be satisfied with a photo.

Every now and then I create an image that achieves everything I set out to get – not just in terms of the final look, but in how the people I was with enjoyed the process, and how the image is received by those looking at it afterwards.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I create something which goes beyond what I could have hoped to achieve, and this gives me a real high – a rush – a major smug moment.

I've come to realise that this is what I'm ultimately chasing. But as I improve in my photography, it gets harder and harder to go beyond what I thought I was capable of. However, I experience it just enough times to keep me chasing the next hit rather than abandoning it and taking up macramé instead.

But if Ewan is never completely satisfied with the end result, why does he keep at it? Where's the reward?

And the answer is in the process.

While he is painting, every now and then he'll make a mark, a stroke, and something will perfectly align in his soul. This is what he is chasing.

Yes it's nice if the final image resembles the sitter. Yes it's lovely if the sitter actually likes it. And yes, it's wonderful if someone wants to give him some money for it. But none of these things is what he's actually thinking about when he is pursuing his truth of the light.

I questioned my wife (the artist, Maggie Ayres) about this, and the way she approaches her abstract art. She was in complete agreement with Ewan.

Very rarely is she ever completely satisfied with the final painting. However, if she's lucky, then during the process she will find a line, a mark, even a smudge of such exquisite beauty, that she says will caress her bones.

And then she wants to be able to grab someone and show them that bit and say, “Here! See this! This is what it's all about!” But the viewer, more often than not, is looking at the whole piece and seeing something entirely different, perhaps wondering if the colours would match their carpet and curtains.

How I love these kinds of conversations – exploring and discovering the thoughts, moods and emotions behind the creative processes of creative people.

However, one other thing I came to realise – or rather had to keep being reminded of – was that it was extraordinarily difficult for Ewan to have these conversations while he was painting.

I am so used to conversing practically non-stop throughout my photography sessions, that I forget not everyone is like me. Additionally, my constant chatter is a part of my process to keep and develop the connection with the sitter, in order to allow them to relax and feel safe, comfortable and able to explore feelings and expressions.

Ewan, though, wasn't trying to get a smile out of me that could last for the many hours it would take him to paint it. Instead, he was looking for light, form and colour.

Eventually I realised that for me it would be more like someone trying to hold a conversation with me while I was editing the photo.

Each photo I take only requires a few seconds of intense concentration, and then I can go back to moving lights, suggesting posture changes, and continuing conversations.

But when I'm in editing mode, I have to completely zone out from the rest of the world and any distractions. I need to be totally immersed in the process to know which pixels I have to push and in which direction.

At the end of the second day, we reached a point where the light was disappearing from skylights and Ewan felt he might be able to finish from photos he had taken, but if not, I might be called back for a final session.

I looked at the painting. And then he put it in a frame and I looked again.

It was so strange, seeing myself in oils.

So different from a photo.

In my self portraits there's always a playfulness of some kind. Photography, for me, is like being let loose with an infinite dressing up box – it's a place to play, act, and create stories.

But with this, I didn't have a warm smile, or an exaggerated expression, so I was struck by the seriousness.

Many hours of sitting, unable to hold a smile, a cocked eyebrow, or even a scowl, meant the accumulated paint captured the default look on my face – one where I am not attempting to convey something to someone else.

I was reminded of those large portraits of dignitaries in public buildings. I wasn't wearing a suit or chain of office or fancy hat, but the painting still seemed to exude an air of authority.

This man knows what he's doing. This man is definitely a grown up.

Projections to an outside world that don't particularly tally with how I feel on the inside.

My mother used to say I was such a serious child. And, truth be told, as an adult I've always been envious of people who are truly relaxed and playful – it's something I work on, but it's never felt like it comes that naturally.

Is this how others see me?

A client cancelled an appointment, so I let Ewan know I could go back for a 3rd sitting if he wanted.

He wasn't enjoying working from his reference photos, which never have the same depth of tonal range we perceive with our own eyes, so was pleased to have me back in the studio again, and told me it should be relatively brief.

Relatively brief turned out to be most of the day, but it was worth it. Subtle adjustments to shapes and lines, more detail and texture, and a slight softening of my expression – perhaps even a touch of warmth and friendliness showing through.

This painting wasn't created for me, though. 

Ewan needs to paint, even when he is not taking on a paid commission. Partly he needs to keep his hand in and develop his skills, but also he needs new pieces for his portfolio and exhibitions.

He saw something in me he wanted to capture, and I was more than happy to help out an artist I'd already connected with, and I enjoyed his company. Besides, I was intensely curious what the experience would be like, and wondered if it might even have an impact or influence on my portrait photography.

So the expression Ewan painted wasn't up to me. I wasn't there to dictate they way he should present me in his painting, and I was perfectly happy for him to seek his truth in the way he captured my image. 

But I have to say I did feel a slight sense of relief that I wasn't looking so serious in the final version.

It was a fascinating experience – from being the subject rather than the creator of the image, through exploring Ewan's approach to his art, through to my own reactions to the final painting.

I am in awe of his skill, and I think part of me will be processing this for some time to come.

A couple of months later, I got to see the finished painting, now varnished and framed, in a solo exhibition of Ewan McClure's work in the Mitchell Gallery of the Kirkcudbright Galleries in SW Scotland.

Following on from our many conversations before, during, and after the painting sessions, I returned to Broughton House with the idea of doing some photographic portraits of Ewan in the studio.

For me, when someone says a "painterly-style portrait", I tend to default to the 17th century Dutch old masters, playing with deeper shadows. So I set up a speedlight in a large gridded softbox, which allowed me to move the lighting to where I wanted, and for the background to drop off into the shadows.

I thought the results were OK, but Ewan's style of painting isn't Rembrandt influenced, so I then decided to have a go at creating a portrait of Ewan in more or less the same pose, under the same conditions in which he painted me.

Placing him in the same part of the studio, and just using the natural light of those large north-facing windows, it didn't take long to create an approximation.

But neither of these photos felt like they had the power and depth of Ewan's portrait of me. Instead, they just felt to me like I was copying painterly styles to create a painterly likeness. 

Which, of course, I was.

However, if I was going to create a photographic portrait of Ewan, why not play to the strengths of the camera rather than try and imitate painting?

Up until modern times, portraits were always painted under natural light conditions – whether that was outside, or by window or candlelight – so usually only has a single light source, perhaps with a touch of bounced light from other surfaces (my softbox set up was designed to emulate this). 

Consequently, once you start adding more than one strong light source, images tend to move away from that painterly look.

And then if you get rid of the colour too...

So I decided to create a black and white portrait against a pure white background.

For this, I still used my large softbox, but placed him in front of a translucent screen behind which I put another speedlight, which caused it to white out. However, I wanted to build another layer of light in the shadow, so I set up a 3rd speedlight behind and to one side which lit up the edge of his neck, jaw and cheekbone.

It's a recognisable photographic style that has very little to do with traditional painted portraits.

Finally, I wanted to get a shot of the the artist surrounded by his studio and paintings.

My original idea was to do this using the ambient light coming from the large skylights, but when I moved the camera back into position for a test shot, I'd forgotten the previous lighting arrangement was still in place, and all the speedlights were triggered when I clicked.

The result was far more dramatic than I was expecting and seemed to embody a much moodier narrative, which sent my brain into excitement overdrive. 

I also realised that leaving all the lights in shot added another layer to the image. This was a cinematic photo of a more conventional photography set up in an artist's studio. So then it was just a case of nudging various items in or out of shot, or changing their angles until there was a good compositional flow to the photo.

Without doubt, of all the photos I took of Ewan that day, this one gave me the deepest sense of delight and satisfaction, which was fed by the unexpected nature of it.

There is a school of photography that emphasises the idea and importance of pre-visualisation – where you decide what the photo is going to look like before you take it. The clearer that image is in your head, the easier it is to see what corrections you need to make when you take the photo.

Much like Ewan placing his board next to me as he painted – it allowed him to see how his portrait compared to the person sitting beside it – so your pre-visualisation gives you a reference image to compare to.

While many photographers find this to be a useful technique, personally I feel it restricts the possibility of the happy accident, which is where some of my greatest creativity has come from.

Whenever possible I try to leave space in a shoot for the unexpected. In turn this means I am primed to recognise when something more interesting comes along than my original idea.

If I had been trying to match up this photo with my first thoughts, then I would have inwardly sighed, and berated myself for not turning off the lights before doing my test shot. I would then have then removed all the lights and the backdrop from the line of sight and started again.

I may well have come up with a photo that I was pleased with, but I somehow doubt I would have created something that I found as fulfilling.

Every creator has their own set of processes, with their own set of challenges and rewards, generated by their own brain wiring and life experiences.

If we simply copy someone else's style without that same internal drive then we may well create something that looks superficially similar, but we will rarely ever experience that deep sense of satisfaction that caresses our bones.

For Ewan it is those moments when he briefly touches his truth of the light. For me it is when the unexpected leaps out at me, full of new potential.

What is it for you?

- - -

And for those who are interested, I discuss these topics in Episode 227 of my podcast, "Understanding Photography with Kim Ayres"

1:58 - Welcome, what's coming up, greetings and comments
4:43 - Smug Points Leaderboard update
6:22 - Introduction to why I had my portrait painted by artist, Ewan McClure
9:28 - What the final painting looked like
10:42 - The set up for the painting process
17:05 - A short time-lapse of the painting process
18:11 - An approach to the painting process, and un-tricking the brain
26:23 - A default face rather than a posed expression
30:41 - Art is the process - the finished product is a side effect
34:17 - Do you "take" or "make" a photo?
41:09 - Pre-visualisation vs The Happy Accident
43:14 - I returned to Ewan's studio to photograph him
44:01 - A painterly approach
46:50 - Never say this to an artist!
47:50 - A photographic approach
53:40 - A happy accident that completely changed what I did next
1:02:43 - Google Pixel's "remove people in the background" option, not quite working...
1:05:08 - A reminder that we now have a new Flickr group to accompany the podcasts
1:09:52 - End