Legacy in black and white: The life and work of Ken Elkins

The Anniston Star

Legacy in black and white

The life and work of Ken Elkins 1935-2012

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Sunday, April 15, 2012

The Anniston Star

K e n e l k i n s : p i c t u res a n d st o ries To them, he was just the picture-taker

Pa g e 4

By Rick Bragg

PEOPLE Pages 5-7, 9-11

A legacy in black and white

Pa g e 8

By Basil Penny

The magic of an Elkins moment

By David Cummings

Pa g e 12 - 13

A

children Pages 14-17

animals Pages 18-19

color Pages 20-21

news Pages 22-23

thousand words.

Each picture contained in this special section marking the passing of longtime Anniston Star photographer Ken Elkins must be worth at least that many words.

Elkins, who passed away April 12 at age 76, spent more than 40 years capturing scenes of rural Alabama.

Each of his photographs sets a scene, evokes an emotion, captures a slice of life in the rural South. This is community journalism, capturing life and times in their context.

Elkins had the Southerner’s gift of storytelling; the difference is his camera did the talking.

Like life itself, Elkins’ work covered the ups and downs of Alabama. The images here can produce a chuckle, a gasp, a resigned sigh, a slackened jaw and more expressions than one might think possible with black-and-white pictures.

We present this collection as a tribute to our acclaimed colleague, but more importantly as a reminder of what The Star aspires to do daily: tell the stories of our community.

That’s what Elkins the picture-taker was ever doing.

H. Brandt Ayers, The Star’s publisher, recalls Elkins’ job interview: “It didn’t take long to discover that Ken would be one of the very best. For his job interview I took him to the old Annistonian. As we talked at lunch, Ken’s head would cock and crane, tilting from one side to the other. In mild alarm that he might be suffering from a neurological affliction, I asked, ‘Are you all right?’ He replied, ‘Sorry, I just have a habit of seeing everything through a view finder.’

“Right then I knew he was a photographer who would be on duty every hour of every day. For him, photography was not a vocation but a passion. My next comment was, ‘You’re hired.’ ” —The Editors

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Sunday, April 15, 2012

To them, he was just the picture-taker

By Rick Bragg

T

Special to The Star

he people who ran newspapers and galleries and contests called him an artist and even a genius, a self-taught wizard who could point his lens at a thing and steal a sliver of it, of what made it beautiful or special or just heartbreaking. He could shoot an old woman on a porch and make you feel every pain she ever lived through, and carry you to the lip of every grave she ever dug. He could shoot a boy balancing on a rail and make you feel the possibility of the track — and life — that stretched out before him. He made Clay County look like the most beautiful place on earth. He was almost too good at his craft, because he could even make poverty and suffering beautiful, for a snap in time. He could even make you see color, in black and white. That is why the people who run newspapers and galleries and contests honored him, and spoke of him in noble tones, and called him all those $40 things.

The Anniston Star

The people he shot, though, did not even call him a photographer.

To them, he was just the picture-taker.

I think, now, that they honored him as much as anyone ever has.

I worked with Ken Elkins when I was a young man and he was whatever age he chose to be at the time. I figured out, after a while, that I was receiving a gift, with every mile we drove in whatever raggedy, falling-apart contraption Ken was piloting at the time.

It was not what he said; he might have looked like Mark Twain but he did not talk like him. It was how he moved around people, easy and gentle and peaceful, so that people who had plenty of reason to distrust men in khaki pants and clip-on ties would suddenly go at ease, and tell their stories.

He was not taking, as most journalists do. He was just borrowing, and they could tell that, and one day, when he happened by a place again, he would drop off a picture, to show the people what he had seen in the creases in their face, or in their clouded eyes.

People where I am from, people Ken made a career photographing, know when they are being used. Some of them never forgave James Agee and Walker Evans for “Let us Now Praise Famous Men.” But there was never anything to forgive with Ken. My friend Chris Roberts, who worked with Ken, too, said it better than I can: “When you drove down Alabama 21 and never hung a right on all those dirt roads you always wondered about, you felt better knowing that Ken had been there and had seen it better than you ever would.”

I remember, a long, long time ago, when Ken and I were ordered to do a story on the man who dug Paul “Bear” Bryant’s grave. It was a fine idea as far as an editor’s ideas go, but Ken’s truck broke down in Irondale, and we never really found the guy, and might not have even tried that hard, so we got some Mexican food, and Ken drove home balancing a sack of tortilla chips and a styrofoam cup of salsa on one knee, but it was a straight-shift truck and he did not balance it very well. He even made abject failure kind of fun.

But the best time was the last time, on a trip into Clay County. I was leaving soon for The St. Petersburg Times, and Ken and I drove along a ridgeline that fell away to a beautiful valley, the sunlight strong and clear and the land below a patchwork of green fields and deep green pines and red dirt.

He did not talk in poetry, like I said.

But he kind of did, then.

“Ain’t nothin’ in Florida, son, like that.”

“I guess not,” I said.

“Ain’t nothin’, nowhere,” he said, “like that.”

Rick Bragg is a professor of writing in the University of Alabama Journalism Department. He is the author of the best-selling book “All Over But the Shoutin,’” and won a Pulitzer Prize as a national correspondent for The New York Times.

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Sunday, April 15, 2012

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A legacy in black and white First published in the Anniston Star on Feb. 28, 2010, when Ken Elkins received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Alabama Press Association.

By Basil Penny

T

Special to The Star

he rearview mirror framed the surreal scene: horse and rider sprawled spread-eagled like some large spider thrashing about on the glistening blacktop.

I slammed on the brakes to back up or turn my pickup around so Ken Elkins could snap the unbelievable picture.

That particular road in the boondocks of Cherokee County was slippery at the time, not wet but well-worn from traffic of the years.

As I watched the mirror, horse and rider scrambled upright. Elkins had missed a chance that day to get a dandy picture, a rare blank by him.

He laughs about it now.

But we’re here today to talk about successes for the photojournalist who is receiving a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Alabama Press Association.

It honors and recognizes Elkins for outstanding service and accomplishments during his 42 years in photojournalism, 27 of them at The Anniston Star. He retired in 2000.

Elkins suffered a stroke in January 2006. It left him paralyzed on his left side and with some blurred speech. His speech has improved some.

The scene that lazy summer afternoon was a page from our playbook, Elkins’ and mine, as we mined the thickets and roadsides for pictures and words.

It was our job. Find it. Get pictures and words to show and tell readers of The Star about life beyond the asphalt jungle.

That episode could be likened to his second best hobby — fooling fish into grabbing his lure and setting sail. Being the bass fisherman he is, Elkins can identify with the angler who feels a lunker’s mighty tug, but then the subject flinches, rights itself, adjusts its rider and continues to clip-clop along the country road.

Or something like that.

Suffice it to say that Elkins didn’t get that rare picture, not even a shot of the mirror that ever so briefly held the evidence.

But know this. His repertoire of pictures is legion from the time he cradled a Brownie Hawkeye in World War II Germany, not many

days from his classrooms at Arab. Army life across the pond was his escape from the cotton fields of Marshall County.

That Brownie was the first step in a mighty satisfying career that yielded many prize-winning photographs — his forte and rhyme and reason for this essay.

Consider the “Picture Taker” himself, the mantle he’s worn since the release of his book by the same title. Published in 2005, it’s a collection of his best 100 black-and-white photos.

With a reverence for older folks and their good profiles and serenity, Elkins’ objective, as always, was to catch people being themselves.

It’s not easy to tell which type picture he liked best: folks with great faces etched by the toils of hard living, or children brimming with their innocence, their simplicity, their wonder, their happiness or curiosity.

Too, he loved animals, whether framed by his viewfinder or not. More than a few times, he would carry food back to feed a stray dog or cat some cruel soul had abandoned along a road.

Elkins had a born-with talent he honed to a fine skill. He could persuade just about anyone to assume a pose in a feature shot. He had a

kind, gentle tone that set subjects at ease.

He could have that effect on writers, too.

Once he conned me into wading a stream with him to get pictures and story of a Cleburne man who grappled with his bare hands under watery creek banks for big loggerhead snapping turtles.

We never knew as we clambered over fallen trees across the creek if our feet would find bottom or not. We worried about snakes — and the snappers, too. That little expedition of years past is still occasional fodder for nightmares.

As usual, Elkins reveled in the expedition.

Through his career, his focus embodied a touch of Americana, embracing artistic things and landscapes, abandonment and desolate scenes. His passion could be intense.

He talked to me at length once about an old broken sofa dumped in some tall weeds along a roadside. He thought, with the proper cropping of his picture, good page display and the right words, the old sofa could have been a prize-winner.

It sure had more argument power than the horse that went belly down in that road.

Basil Penny is retired associate editor of The Anniston Star.

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life

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Sunday, April 15, 2012

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T he magic of an Elkins moment First published on Sept. 4, 2005, upon the publication of the Ken Elkins book “Picture Taker”

By David Cummings

I

Special to The Star

t’s one thing to be a photojournalist in a place that has rich and varied photographic opportunities. That’s the easy part. It’s quite another thing to amass a body of work that can be proudly shown in a book as strong as “Picture Taker.” This is a gorgeous book of world-class images that deserves a far wider audience than it may get.

Ken Elkins is a Marshall County native who spent a distinguished 42-year career taking photographs of what happened every day in rural northeast Alabama. After beginning at the Huntsville Times, he spent the last 27 years of his career as the principal photographer for The Anniston Star.

Of course Elkins shot the Kiwanis lunches, the graduation ceremonies and the football games. He had to, because that’s what The Star needed. But long-time readers of The Star remember those wonderful photo essays. Elkins would occasionally get a full page — or two — to show the dignity of the poor folks, the character of the old folks, or the humor of the young folks.

A friend taking pictures Photographing Alabama’s people and their lives was what he loved to do, and what he did so well. He would travel the back roads, always scanning the surroundings and just seeing what was there. Sometimes he would stop, turn around, and go back just to meet somebody, all the time sizing up the surroundings for photographic opportunity. Many photojournalists would not see the details and personality that Elkins could see.

“Picture Taker” contains 100 of these wonderfully crafted images. It makes the reader want to explore the thousands of others he took over the years.

“Picture Taker” is a book that can be appreciated on two different levels: On the one hand, these images of rural Alabama can be enjoyed for the simple pleasure of what they reveal. Working-class folks of all races relate to the camera in a relaxed, honest way that few photojournalists can show.

These are strong portraits of our neighbors, cousins and friends just living their lives. They do not appear to be self-consciously aware of the stranger with the camera. They seem to be just spending time with a friend who happens to be taking photographs.

This is quite an achievement for Elkins, and it is one of the secrets to his success. So many famous photojournalists have produced well-known bodies of work that quite obviously look like staged photographs. Their ego is projected into the work.

12/13

The Anniston Star While setting up the shot, Elkins had to keep the subject’s interest and cooperation to get the patiently bemused expression we see. The hair is perfect. The pose is perfect.

But the first time you study the photo, you may not notice the element that makes the image transcend mere portraiture. The hole in the roof produces a beam of light from the upper right that shoots straight to his head, being a figurative “ray from heaven” that can give a receptive viewer a new slant on the symbolism of the image.

When you’re aware of the ray of light from above, you see the photo in a totally different context. He doesn’t have to be The Goat Man, he can be a Spiritual Man. Most likely, the hole in the roof didn’t project such a prefect beam of light at the correct angle to hit his head.

Quite likely, Elkins has such vision and darkroom skill that he simply dodged the light in this area to produce the ray of light from outside. That means that he physically blocked light from the paper at that spot during the print exposure to keep it light and produce the effect seen. If that’s the case, it’s the use of high skill and vision. Anyone who spends time in the darkroom respects such seamless, technically beautiful prints. And there are a lot of them in this book.

Henri Cartier-Bresson was known for capturing the “decisive moment” through photojournalism. But nothing that Cartier-Bresson has produced trumps Elkins’ Plate 65 (Ku Klux Klan Rally, Talledega). An elderly black lady in the foreground passes a streetful of robed Klansmen.

She is bent over and seeming to hide from the men in the street. Is she cowed by their presence, or just ducking in front of the camera? None of the famous Northern photojournalists that came to the South to photograph our racial troubles did any better.

Anyone who has posed for Elkins, however, is aware of his friendly, homey manner of securing the cooperation of his subjects. He does not strain the comfort level of his subjects, and it shows.

Wizard in the darkroom On the other hand, the images in “Picture Taker” can be appreciated on another level entirely. Technically, this country boy knows his stuff, and it shows in every photo in the book.

We see compositional elegance and technical mastery that couldn’t happen so consistently by accident.

Elkins is a wizard in the darkroom, and these images would not be so strong without the same person doing both the exposing and the final printing.

The quality of a black-and-white image depends on every step of the process. On a low-contrast overcast day Elkins would expose the film differently than he would on a bright sunny day. Then his development time and printing technique had to vary according to the light level and contrast of the scene. When printing the image, Elkins would use the negative as a mere starting point.

In the book’s photographs, we see time and again where dodging, burning and local contrast control were used to accentuate the presence and importance of the main subject. Plate 11 (Crystal Gayle Vaughn, Cleburne County, 1981) is a gorgeous print of a difficult backlit subject that most people wouldn’t even attempt to shoot. The highlights are controlled, the shadows are open, and the overall effect is as skilled as anything printed by anyone anywhere. One shudders to think how long it took to get a good print of that scene the first time out.

Some of the images show a keen visual sense of design that transcends mere local photojournalism. In Plate 15 (Crops Planted, Cherokee County) a farmer on his porch leans back in a chair and exactly mimics the shape and form of a woodpile behind him.

In Plate 25, Sut Matthews in a white shirt exactly mirrors the white values and form of a white horse in a field. The photo is exactly balanced from one side to the other.

Such compositional elegance doesn’t just happen. Elkins had to choose a lens, choose a viewpoint, and show what he saw in his mind.

Remember that these are film images. He has to print exactly what he put onto the negative, using darkroom skills and tricks developed over the years. No cheap Photoshop tricks could be used to remove unwanted elements or improve composition or camera angle. These are journalistic images that took form when Elkins walked around the scene, using his rather basic equipment to capture his subject within its surroundings.

Elliott Erwitt, famed photographer for the Magnum Photo Agency, is known worldwide for such visual skills. He doesn’t beat Ken Elkins, though.

Chicken bone funny

ABOVE: When sent to cover an accident on Quintard Avenue involving a chicken truck, Ken Elkins framed the shot perfectly.

LEFT: Ken Elkins, center, poses with the Goat Man, right, and his son.

The Goat Man Another world-class image is The Goat Man (Plate 7).

Spend a minute roaming around this photograph. This character lives in an old bus, and the windows make the lights in the background. It’s always hard to keep windows behind a subject from overpowering the face and putting it into shadow. Elkins knows how to fix this.

He first moved the subject around in the bus until the natural side-light on the face was closely balanced by the background light. Intimate knowledge of exposure and subsequent film development kept the contrast under control.

Do you want perceptive visual humor? In plate 5 (Chicken Truck Wreck, Quintard) we see a jumbled pile of plastic chicken boxes. A truck spilled them onto Quintard.

If 50 professional photographers had worked that wreck, only Ken Elkins would have gotten THE shot: He shows a lone chicken balanced at the top of the pile trying to decide whether to jump off to freedom. A huge billboard looms over the scene. It has one word: “JUMP.” Josef Sudek, the famed Czech photographer, was known for using shadows and other minor picture elements as compositional foils. Most photographers don’t notice the shadows until their prints come back. It’s hard to use something that isn’t really there as a major element in a photo.

Elkins is so aware of his scenes that he uses shadows as leading lines that point to the subject. Plates 8 (Jennie Lee Morrison, Centre) and 95 (Zinn Park) both rely on shadows to lead the eye to the subject.

After looking at the beautiful smile on the little girl in the Zinn Park image, some folks may be satisfied by what’s on the surface. They may just smile back and turn the page.

That’s one level of appreciation. But if you’re paying attention, you’ll see the shadow leading into the frame. You’ll see how Ken Elkins transcended the moment. Instead of just a high-angle shot of a girl on a swing, it’s got it all — compositional artistry, technical mastery, empathy, love and human understanding. And those are all things that we have too little of nowadays.

David Cummings practices dentistry in Anniston. He is a long-time amateur photographer and has for years been a student of the history and trends of the medium.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

T he magic of an Elkins moment First published on Sept. 4, 2005, upon the publication of the Ken Elkins book “Picture Taker”

By David Cummings

I

Special to The Star

t’s one thing to be a photojournalist in a place that has rich and varied photographic opportunities. That’s the easy part. It’s quite another thing to amass a body of work that can be proudly shown in a book as strong as “Picture Taker.” This is a gorgeous book of world-class images that deserves a far wider audience than it may get.

Ken Elkins is a Marshall County native who spent a distinguished 42-year career taking photographs of what happened every day in rural northeast Alabama. After beginning at the Huntsville Times, he spent the last 27 years of his career as the principal photographer for The Anniston Star.

Of course Elkins shot the Kiwanis lunches, the graduation ceremonies and the football games. He had to, because that’s what The Star needed. But long-time readers of The Star remember those wonderful photo essays. Elkins would occasionally get a full page — or two — to show the dignity of the poor folks, the character of the old folks, or the humor of the young folks.

A friend taking pictures Photographing Alabama’s people and their lives was what he loved to do, and what he did so well. He would travel the back roads, always scanning the surroundings and just seeing what was there. Sometimes he would stop, turn around, and go back just to meet somebody, all the time sizing up the surroundings for photographic opportunity. Many photojournalists would not see the details and personality that Elkins could see.

“Picture Taker” contains 100 of these wonderfully crafted images. It makes the reader want to explore the thousands of others he took over the years.

“Picture Taker” is a book that can be appreciated on two different levels: On the one hand, these images of rural Alabama can be enjoyed for the simple pleasure of what they reveal. Working-class folks of all races relate to the camera in a relaxed, honest way that few photojournalists can show.

These are strong portraits of our neighbors, cousins and friends just living their lives. They do not appear to be self-consciously aware of the stranger with the camera. They seem to be just spending time with a friend who happens to be taking photographs.

This is quite an achievement for Elkins, and it is one of the secrets to his success. So many famous photojournalists have produced well-known bodies of work that quite obviously look like staged photographs. Their ego is projected into the work.

12/13

The Anniston Star While setting up the shot, Elkins had to keep the subject’s interest and cooperation to get the patiently bemused expression we see. The hair is perfect. The pose is perfect.

But the first time you study the photo, you may not notice the element that makes the image transcend mere portraiture. The hole in the roof produces a beam of light from the upper right that shoots straight to his head, being a figurative “ray from heaven” that can give a receptive viewer a new slant on the symbolism of the image.

When you’re aware of the ray of light from above, you see the photo in a totally different context. He doesn’t have to be The Goat Man, he can be a Spiritual Man. Most likely, the hole in the roof didn’t project such a prefect beam of light at the correct angle to hit his head.

Quite likely, Elkins has such vision and darkroom skill that he simply dodged the light in this area to produce the ray of light from outside. That means that he physically blocked light from the paper at that spot during the print exposure to keep it light and produce the effect seen. If that’s the case, it’s the use of high skill and vision. Anyone who spends time in the darkroom respects such seamless, technically beautiful prints. And there are a lot of them in this book.

Henri Cartier-Bresson was known for capturing the “decisive moment” through photojournalism. But nothing that Cartier-Bresson has produced trumps Elkins’ Plate 65 (Ku Klux Klan Rally, Talledega). An elderly black lady in the foreground passes a streetful of robed Klansmen.

She is bent over and seeming to hide from the men in the street. Is she cowed by their presence, or just ducking in front of the camera? None of the famous Northern photojournalists that came to the South to photograph our racial troubles did any better.

Anyone who has posed for Elkins, however, is aware of his friendly, homey manner of securing the cooperation of his subjects. He does not strain the comfort level of his subjects, and it shows.

Wizard in the darkroom On the other hand, the images in “Picture Taker” can be appreciated on another level entirely. Technically, this country boy knows his stuff, and it shows in every photo in the book.

We see compositional elegance and technical mastery that couldn’t happen so consistently by accident.

Elkins is a wizard in the darkroom, and these images would not be so strong without the same person doing both the exposing and the final printing.

The quality of a black-and-white image depends on every step of the process. On a low-contrast overcast day Elkins would expose the film differently than he would on a bright sunny day. Then his development time and printing technique had to vary according to the light level and contrast of the scene. When printing the image, Elkins would use the negative as a mere starting point.

In the book’s photographs, we see time and again where dodging, burning and local contrast control were used to accentuate the presence and importance of the main subject. Plate 11 (Crystal Gayle Vaughn, Cleburne County, 1981) is a gorgeous print of a difficult backlit subject that most people wouldn’t even attempt to shoot. The highlights are controlled, the shadows are open, and the overall effect is as skilled as anything printed by anyone anywhere. One shudders to think how long it took to get a good print of that scene the first time out.

Some of the images show a keen visual sense of design that transcends mere local photojournalism. In Plate 15 (Crops Planted, Cherokee County) a farmer on his porch leans back in a chair and exactly mimics the shape and form of a woodpile behind him.

In Plate 25, Sut Matthews in a white shirt exactly mirrors the white values and form of a white horse in a field. The photo is exactly balanced from one side to the other.

Such compositional elegance doesn’t just happen. Elkins had to choose a lens, choose a viewpoint, and show what he saw in his mind.

Remember that these are film images. He has to print exactly what he put onto the negative, using darkroom skills and tricks developed over the years. No cheap Photoshop tricks could be used to remove unwanted elements or improve composition or camera angle. These are journalistic images that took form when Elkins walked around the scene, using his rather basic equipment to capture his subject within its surroundings.

Elliott Erwitt, famed photographer for the Magnum Photo Agency, is known worldwide for such visual skills. He doesn’t beat Ken Elkins, though.

Chicken bone funny

ABOVE: When sent to cover an accident on Quintard Avenue involving a chicken truck, Ken Elkins framed the shot perfectly.

LEFT: Ken Elkins, center, poses with the Goat Man, right, and his son.

The Goat Man Another world-class image is The Goat Man (Plate 7).

Spend a minute roaming around this photograph. This character lives in an old bus, and the windows make the lights in the background. It’s always hard to keep windows behind a subject from overpowering the face and putting it into shadow. Elkins knows how to fix this.

He first moved the subject around in the bus until the natural side-light on the face was closely balanced by the background light. Intimate knowledge of exposure and subsequent film development kept the contrast under control.

Do you want perceptive visual humor? In plate 5 (Chicken Truck Wreck, Quintard) we see a jumbled pile of plastic chicken boxes. A truck spilled them onto Quintard.

If 50 professional photographers had worked that wreck, only Ken Elkins would have gotten THE shot: He shows a lone chicken balanced at the top of the pile trying to decide whether to jump off to freedom. A huge billboard looms over the scene. It has one word: “JUMP.” Josef Sudek, the famed Czech photographer, was known for using shadows and other minor picture elements as compositional foils. Most photographers don’t notice the shadows until their prints come back. It’s hard to use something that isn’t really there as a major element in a photo.

Elkins is so aware of his scenes that he uses shadows as leading lines that point to the subject. Plates 8 (Jennie Lee Morrison, Centre) and 95 (Zinn Park) both rely on shadows to lead the eye to the subject.

After looking at the beautiful smile on the little girl in the Zinn Park image, some folks may be satisfied by what’s on the surface. They may just smile back and turn the page.

That’s one level of appreciation. But if you’re paying attention, you’ll see the shadow leading into the frame. You’ll see how Ken Elkins transcended the moment. Instead of just a high-angle shot of a girl on a swing, it’s got it all — compositional artistry, technical mastery, empathy, love and human understanding. And those are all things that we have too little of nowadays.

David Cummings practices dentistry in Anniston. He is a long-time amateur photographer and has for years been a student of the history and trends of the medium.

The Anniston Star

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The Anniston Star

The University of Alabama Press remembers photographer Ken Elkins

“The old scenes are gone, or going . . . and the people are different, less likely to be in overalls and print dresses, less likely to cut a sliver of tobacco off a sweet-smelling plug of Brown Mule. So we try to remember, imperfectly. But not Elkins. . . . He and his camera have found value in their lives that so many others--a world full--were unable to see. I have worked beside the very, very best. But I only know one picture taker. When he turns his lens on the mostly rural, mostly poor pockets of his native Alabama, something beautiful happens. He draws out the dignity and loveliness that is in these people, and spreads it out for the rest of the world to see.”

--Rick Bragg, the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and author of All over but the Shoutin’, Somebody Told Me, Ava’s Man, and The Most They Ever Had, in his foreword to Picture Taker

This collection of 100 haunting, sometimes humorous, but always deeply honest black-and-white photographs highlights the 42-year career of Ken Elkins, a master photographer and photojournalist.

ISBN: 978-0-8173-1478-1 $35.00 hardcover

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