Saturday 31 July 2004

in which things begin to slow down but not before a mad rush in which we are forced out of the duke and have to find solace at the grapevine

it is 1pm on a warm day i am sitting where the pouch cove morning group was only hours before watching a low lying cloud on the horizon over the ocean.

getting up i ring tj to see how the volvo is coming along
- it is getting worse he says – but i just got in a saab but there may be a leak in the gas line. call back at noon. ring angela to see if i can get a ride in. she’ll ring back in an hour. i head out for a walk to make some snaps with ubirajara – i want to photograph the spot that still show remnants of the plastic flowers that were taped to the railing above where adam, a.j. and jesse died.

headed down to the coast guard building to see what else i could find and found myself heading back into a formalist mode. buildings lines signs etc. it was made even more easy due to the normal lens that i was using for the flower remnant image.

returning to the school i find out that angela rang saying that she was on her way. not wanting to hang around the school i thought that i would walk down gruchy’s to the pipe housoe and have her pick me up there.

dannie recognised me, yelling – did you see your pictures up on the wall. went over and chatted with her and since i only have one snap of henry when he helped pull me out of the snow bank in 2001 – i said that i was going to take his snap. he posed a bit much but made two thinking that i would see him again before i left. he pretty much goes to bruce’s at the same time everyday and i know where he lives.

angela pulls into the carpark nearing running me over i hop in and off we go back to st. john’s behind a lorry that is belching smoke worse there is no room to pass.

i’m heading in to finish hanging the show – am hoping that jason’s stuff has arrived. angela stopps at her place to pick up a friend who is in from britain but used to live on the rock. i am invited for coffee and we end up at the bagel café – this is not good for my budget.

at the bagel i cannot resist not having a samosa breakfast angela has the same. sarah hs a lattè and races off to have her cards read. so angie and i sit out on the sidewalk – my preferred spot and have a chat, spread gossip before heading across the street to wordplay.

climb the stairs and see that undrea has put up the sign for the show and jason’s name is left out. didn’t really have to ask but did any. no it hadn’t arrived.

i copy to cd the snaps that david made the night before. i e-mail people for info that they hadn’t sent. and lo and behold jim rings from downstairs saying that jason’s paintings have arrived.

there are only five they are hung in a flash. i then e-mail the gallery in toronto sayingi that some are damaged and send her a snap of the installation.

she e-mails back saying that well the way that they are usually hung is in salon style i had them in a straight line – with certain ones grouped. since i had no instructions i made my own grouping and i was too late to change it now.

the saab is ready i can head out to tj’s so i take the bus that winds through st.john’s to get there. the five minute direct route becomes a 30 minute meander but no worries i have a car, i am a bit more independent and can start to explore – am thinking bell island to-morrow.

took the saab – no radio watch the heat guage ease up to full spead don’t gun it – on a ceremonial first trip to pouch along routee 20 to the school to see if anyone wants to come in and to pick up more film then back to the opening. think about getting coffee but don’t want to be late. park in my usual spot in gower street.

the opening is a sedate affair – being unknown in st. john’s there weren’t a lot of people at the opening those that were there were interested and the ones looking for tourist art left immediately.

the circle became jim angela, sarah, undrea, paul kennedy, and susan a bostonian who lives in st philips on a pond (read lake). she prefers ponds to the ocean as you can do all sorts of things in a pond whereas you can only look at the ocean.

then comes the first encounter of newfoundland surrealism of the evening. as we are all going to head to the duke ruth and peter show up, it seems that ruth is from the same city as gabrielle in switzerland and is translating one of her books into english, ruth and gabrielle have never met but have only worked via e-mail. paul was staying at gabrielle’s and i was soon to be his roomie as his wife was heading back to toronto – cannot wait to get out of that monks cell of the school with the doors always shut, people only scurrying out to get something from the kitchen and then heading back. outside of jim and angie i was the only there who had met gabrielle and that was in chicago. peter is smitten by paul kennedy and keeps bombarding him with questions about the c.b.c.

-the wind has just shifted it is now coming off the ocean dropping the temparature a good 3c. what was sultry is now cool, the mist is getting closer

after another hour of anecdotes half head to the duke half to eat. run a tab and sit in the front of the bar not in baird’s corner. while talking look about the bar and see the evening regulars a different crowd a bit younger but the regulars are in their seats. roz is at the slots.

heading in a kid yells out jim jim and ands him a flyer, i yell out kid kid stand there as i want to make his snap. peter and jim tell him to charge me a loonie and then say that he is going to end up on a milk bottle. the kid wants a loonie and turns his back i say that is fine also but in the end i say too late you blew it as we go in.

as we begin to relax – two pints in – a group of green t-shirted with the flags of switzerland and newfoundland with maps of the bars downtown on the back invade the bar, to the extent that we cannot get to the bar. we leave to find more peaceful place. we’ll pay the tab when we can actually get close to the bar.

down the steps to water street and the grapevine. couldn’t be anything more different than the duke. bar covered in spaklely lights, women in low cut tops behind the bar, the crowd half people on the prowl half regulars who are there to be seen. a dj spinning cds and dancing with himself.

luckily they have smithwicks.

not ten minutes later the green t-shirt crowd enters again by now i have had enough pints in me to ask who the hell they are. it is a wedding party where the groom os from the rock and the bride is swiss they are making all the bars.

second bit of newfoundland surrealism. the bride is not only swiss like ruth but like ruth is from the same city. again they are moving on but not soon enough. paul says he has to go back and write that we are corrupting him - but he never starts until midnight. he doesn’y sit where i do finding the view too distracting – he say just going to the kitchen he starts to stare and forgets why he went.

he has turned the back bedroom with no view what so ever into his office.

ruth and peter have to go also leaving only jim and me to soldier on. think about grafenbergs but the george street festival is on and it is impossible to get up the steps. walk the long way around where jim runs into some other people. this time it is little toronto. two asians steve and ann who introduces herself as i’m so sorry , a woman my complexion, karen, and her boyfriend. don. we head back to the duke pay the first tab and start a new one. about my seventh pint of smithwicks that evening i forget why we left the duke – unless it has something to do with donald the realtor who i take it has something to do with grafenbergs – but we end up there where i have to switch to guinness.

hate grafenbergs last year it seemed like a sleezy airport orhotel bar where toupeed men would wait for facelifted women. this has changed it now has black light and a band doing bad covers of fleetwood mac where men in their twenties try to look cool for women who want to be band groupies.

one guinness and we left. walked slowly back to the saab to sober up. drove jim home and headed to the airport for a coffee at tim’s to post the blog at 4am and answer e-mail thinking that there is something wrong here.

This blog is sponsored by tj's place and the st.john's international ariport

it is 2:45am
what do you mean you haven’t bought the latest issue of newfoundland quarterly with work by un certain terre neuvien par hasard!!!!!!
in which some things get accomplished but others not.
but first some explanation. getting these published is no mean feat at present.
the plan was to write them on the i-book use the tom ridge to transfer the imagery to the computers at wordplay and thus publish publish them there – the computer there are so old that i cannot find a usb connexion and i will be banned from the pouch cove public library if i upload - download? – anything. with the volvo i can go the airport and in the 30 minutes of free parking that i am allowed download while having my tim’s.

problem is i don’t have the volvo yet.

rang angie to pick me up in pouch and was told that jim was heading out to talk to someone who was leaving the next day. he would give me a lift into town.

while waiting i head down to the ocean where the morning group hangs out and sam is there. we chat a bit talking about the building in pouch and he gives me the low down on what is for sale some up insullivan’s loop but too crowded, one out by him but he doesn’t know where, don’t see why the gruchys hang on to their place it could house four families. whale were seen a couple of days ago, caplelin are pretty much gone, wat
ched a seagull guard a lobster pot. paul’s?

arriving early we do an outing around pouch and bauline where i pointed to all the houses that i had looked at to buy. he rubs it in by showing me one that i knew about in bauline that was for sale in 1999 for $5000. – remember all funds are in loonies. full ocean view.

while he was saying good-bye downstairs – i was dragged into the upstairs studio to hear tirades about the place. the dirt, the disrepair etc. i said i know but it has improved and proceed to point out the improvements made in the last year. i found out that the welcoming committee at the elementary school residences was to see my reaction when i walked in and only to disappoint them when i said things look great. people forget that i was here during the demolition of the school, i was here when the old wiring was pulled out, when there were barely doors. so to me it does look great. i still prefer the pipe house or anything on the ocean but it is cleaner than the lower pipe house.

i also have come to realise that the place is treated like a hotel in a vacation resort. people expect sharon to come in and clean their mess daily, they expect to leave the place in a mess and have sharon drop by to clean. i have seen better but these places have definitely been worse.

two people in the school now must be part of a secret society as they lock themselves in their rooms and never come out. i like being alone up here but the idea of the school was to have an artist colony to foster communication and since there is no bar close by the common rooms were to be used that way. david and i leave our doors open the others only come out to get food from the kitchen and head back to their rooms.

stopped by tj to see about the volvo, the breaks work now and vibration in the steering column was fixed i should ring him in the evening.

at the gallery undria and later ally helped in the hanging of the show which was done in an afternoon when we finally fond some touch up paint to match the wall. it looks good and as soon as jason’s work arrives it will be finished – oh canada post. the opening is to-morrow.

nothing is hurried – which i like at wordplay - so while hanging i ran up the street to canada customs to get back my $21 that i paid in tax on the film i had shipped.

i stopped into the family barbershop to talk see if the newfoundland quarterly got the portrait of messeuirs doyle and powell? they did the issue is out and i cannot find it.

met angela antle who interviewed me on the cbc when i had the show in gander. wasn’t at all what i expected.

for lunch didn’t go to the duke as it seems that no one was hungry thus thought about arthur arthur for some samosa – closed 11 months ago. thought about auntie cray’s but remembered that the other bookshop in duckworth street was now closed and there was a middle eastern restaurant in its place.

the short life span of businesses along duckworth street – the buck weavers fast food is now a sushi restaurant, which is beside the middle eastern restaurant which is beside django’s the bistro. i still have my $100 gift certificate that i cannot seem to make use of.

entered asked for a falafel and tabbouleh. the falafel was being cooked as we speak. so what is usually a fast food type of thing was going to take some time – 30 minutes actually.

there were a few strange things, the falafel in fact everything was serve on a burrito – a falafel wrap – instead of pita. you could get a pickle with it. the manager name is rafael diaz.

there was a woman in the seated in the window also waiting and looking over a pretty bad map of st. john’s. where should she go? the tourist board was open.
-where have you been
-the bars in george street. the first mistake.
mentioned the ship for music.
she hadn’t been to signal hill, didn’t know what it was even though it was outside her window at the hotel newfoundland. i ranted.
mentioned the battery – if she could handle it she was very preggers and to get a axi to take her to cape spear so at least she could say that she could go no farther in north america.

it is funny how things are circular here in newfoundland – she is an airhostess for …
continental airlines – another rant about the quality of service – well not really as i don’t know what the service is like. she was here because she didn’t know what the airport code yyt was. she also had no clue on where the rock was.

there were many things – never eaten middle eastern food her first falafel and tabbouleh – which was now out of the cooker and being broken into even smaller pieces by hand by the person behind the counter, then arranged neatly on the tortilla with a hummus spread.

i reckoned that i had plenty of time so i ran back to the gallery to pick up ubaldo and make a snap of her, the manager and the woman making lovingly preparing the falafel.

i was right there was still a good ten minutes left as she then took the falafel wraps and placed them in a george forman type of grill to toast the tortilla a bit.

the tabbouleh was mainly mint with a spittle of bulger and a hint of tomato, there was so much mint that it took on the appearance of mould.

it looks like there will be a new enterprise in the spot come next year.

ringing tj we found out that everything was fine but it needed a speedometer.
-what for?
-in case you’re pulled over
- i won’t get pulled over

it will be ready to-morrow. ( no airport, no dominion for decent coffee and food) have to go back to pouch early.

the lift of the evening was sponsored by a reporter who wanted to make snaps of david who is the next show at the gallery – paintings made at dusk around st. john’s
and pouch. i scammed a digital camera so that we can wander later – between dusk and dark using the excuse to document potential property for me and my mum.

ride back starts with a how modern newfoundland should be and ends with a anti bush rant – no disagreement here. early evening when we arrive at the school, i head south to a house that has potential on a hill with nothing but land between it and the ocean. i add to the homage to carl english series with a great basketball hoop behind the house. problem is there is too much land – my mother is very picky one can only see water no land whatsoever along the horizon. it fails. i also photograph in a livyer formalist style – merging clothes lines wires with fences, houses with an atv thrown in..

notice that i am nodding more at people but not stopping them to take their snap.
photograph the mural under the pipe house but ignore the lobster pot sculptures.
passing paul’s place he calls out and entering his shed i ask if he got the snap i h ad promised – nope. furious i ask if jordy did – he doesn’t know. his wife was there – whom i photographed in the blizzard of 2001, i promised to send her an image also. i was recognised by other who remember me photographing the capelin last july.
i photograph their daughter and will bring up a print from st. john’s to-morrow.

i come back to download the snaps and head to northern pouch to do the same making sure that i show that harold’s house has land – the most promising spot even if his house would need improvement to be a pit. run into henry langmead – whose house was sold to other yanks when we pulled out $75 000. three acres on the ocean no land in sight on a cliff with an outbuilding am always a bit depressed when i pass 28 sullivan’s loop.

am escorted by a dog on my way up and his friend on the way back, i stop at sharon’s place to photograph a bench and broken swing set. before heading back as it is getting to be time to make snaps with david.

pick up the digital and go scouting, looking for pratt like building - think of ted’s place. ted’s there, i ask after the boat that he is building and he shows it to us, almost finished needs paint. david asks to have a light turned on as he wants artificial light with the waning ambient light. i worry that we will piss off ted. he is awaiting his son to help plough his potato patch. i head over to the ocean and find a pile of potatoes that didn’t make it from last year. some snaps made of the outbuildings. tell him about harold’s place and now he is interested – pisser. walk over to sharon’s place to see the new deck that she built, didn’t know about it and thought that it was the picnic table that i had seen or jesse’s seat for her. i stumble across a deck made from pallets with a restaurant chair on it. too late in the evening for me but david is fine.

he makes more snaps heading back to the school we download them on the i-book and head out again. all the time talking about art and life and their links. am shocked this sort of thing doesn’t happen in the real estate conglomerate that fronts as an art school below the 49th. it is not the talking that is shocking everyone talks – and talks and talks – it seems to be a pentecostal like justification for not actually making any art not like that seems important.

david is one who keeps his studio open for chats, more or like the studio cooperatives people were in at goldsmiths’.

we head out again to the town hall, he making snaps me watching the skateboarders in the main road and the potential for accidents as it is narrow and a blind spot for traffic.

get up the nerve to go over and speak to one of the kids. mention that i have been documenting people that i run into on the rock and i would like to photograph them sometime soon so that i can rid people of the idea that the province is made up of toothless cod fishermen, yearning for the days that flakes stretched to the horizon.
it would have to be earlier in the evening
-how about to-morrow?
-will be in st.john’s maybe over the week-end ok?
-ok and he gives me a ghetto like handshake.
cannot wait to start based on what was said in the car up to pouch and this the new series will be the other 10% or is it 5%. from the fact that 90 (or 95%) of canadians live within 160km of the states.

head into bruce’s to show david some of my work that is on the wall there. one of the subjects is behind the counter. we chat a bit and i threaten to make another soon.

it is now ten we download the work to take into the gallery to-morrow. am quite pleased with myself the day was no great shakes but it reinforced that i am more a c.f.a. than a tourist. feel much more at home here than in peasants pissoir more subjects of substance are discussed here than in the intellectual mecca of the saic realty company.

in wisconsin the tension line is the illinois border. i now know that the tension line is the 49th parallel and we are hundreds of miles above that.

now to get that volvo…

to-day's blog
CHASED FROM THE DUKE!
GRAPE VIEN
AND, SHOCK HORROR
GRAFENBERG'S

terre nuvien plus une fois

at the airport i notice that :
there is free wireless internet access all over – take that o’hare
the flight from newark that was to arrive a 10:30pm still hadn’t the arrival board had 1:30 am newark liberty delayed.
that the tim horton’s in open 24 hours a day.
after sending off the blog thought about spending the night in the airport. i could write e-mails and serve the web thanks to aliant – which swallowed up newtel while downing my double doubles and dutchies.
thought better of it and headed out into the night air.
the first thing that i noticed was the smell of pine.
walked the half mile to the airport in, checked in asked when check out time was and tried to fall asleep. difficult i wasn’t sleepy.

awaking the plan was to head over to the airport and check e-mail while downing a double double. walk in the other direction to tj and see if i can get a car then back in time to check out.

i was so glad to be back that i liked the houses by the airport. usually when i was in this area i was racing into and out of st. john’s and couldn’t really find a place to park the motor. this time being without one i was walking in the environs of the airport – small houses minor industries that were either closed or body shops. thought about trying to document the attempt at normality in the flight path – veg gardens, bad sculpture, inflatable swimming pools. again walking was perfect no need to find a place to put the car. what i found shocking was that i found these places not all that bad. i chalk this up to wanting to live here even if the view is of the wal-mart and my back garden is the trans canada.

down the torbay road to tjs where i ask about a car, can i drive a manual gearbox?
no.
ok do you care what the car looks like?
no
do you care if the locks work?
in st. john’s jim leaves his unlocked with change on the dash.

we went out in the junk yard and there was this nice little volvo station wagon one of the front turn signals was and there was a bit of rust but if it was ok with me he would check it out and have it ready by to-morrow . ring him this evening to find out.

the idea of triumphantly heading down prescott street and parking in front of wordplay was dashed. i walked back to the hotel to check out and see if i can get a lift.

the light in newfoundland is strange. the usual way of guessing exposure doesn’t work here – it could be that it is so far north. the day was a bit mauzy and i thought that my exposures seemed to be a bit off – it seemed that i was underexposing the film. kept thinking that this couldn’t be correct this exposure seems wrong, then i looked at the front of ubaldo and the metering window seemed not the way that i remembered it it seemed that i saw things behind the frosted glass that i didn’t remember.

panic.

here i was proud of my choices i was happy that i didn’t have to make decisions on what to take every time i left the house. things seemed to be falling into place but now the age of the cameras have come into question is ubaldo going to act up again?

returning from tj’s i remember that since i didn’t want to leave everything in the room, i had an external lightmeter. pull it out and i was right the two meters aren’t even close.

when i calm down i realise that i have only so far gone through two rolls of film and i am retracing my steps so that i can very easily make the images again. i will simply carry the meter with me at all times.

make another check – and now the meters are reading the same. a few minutes on make the third comparison reading and they are horribly off again. i think – see i don’t follow through on rational thought – that i can compensate for the difference by adjusting the film speed.

make a fourth check and they are off but by a different amount. i look at the hand held lightmeter and realise that it is set incorrectly. another reason why i didn’t get full professorship – couldn’t read a lightmeter.

i go through three rolls on the little outing , photographing signs, the bit of nature complete with culvert under portugal cove road with the airport heights subdivision in the background.

ring jim on his mobile and it cuts out ring again and cannot get him. take a taxi to wordplay.

everything seems normal, chat with the cabbie he tells me the history of the airport rates with certain taxis – it is double if you don’t know this – going into town. we are disgusted with the gasoline prices. we talk about the weather. i don’t remember if i make his photograph or not –i think not as my cameras were a mess in the bags.

jim follows me into wordplay with a carton of used books. he needs used books like i need plastic cameras. say hello to daniel who has devised a plan of wordplay – actually try to sell the books. there are more shelves the place is even more of a maze now you don’t have to go into the basement to have a shelf fall on you as it did with tania last year. they replaced here with a new tania. headed upstairs where angela lets out a few obscenities in seeing me and i retort on having fogo islanders about is newfoundland’s version of affirmative action.

the work is on the floor they finally open the cases and laid some of it out. there is more than enough room in the space. it looks like we can hang it in time for the opening friday. i meet undrea the new gallery director and put my foot in it as we are discussing art on the rock and i go into my tirade about a rock art star. she thinks the person is great.

i also know where everyone w ho goes to grenfell – the arts school of the province that in some bad joke was put in corner brook - end up. st. john’s working for jim.

paul kennedy comes in and i find that we will be roomies when his wife leaves this week-end allowing me to move out of the school and into martin and gabrielle’s.
i don’t want to put him out he says no problem he likes to work from midnight to dawn. i read from midnight and wake up at dawn.

the conversation comes around to pouch and i profess my preference for the pipe house as the sea is closer – with the windows open one can hear the sea while falling asleep. there is also a calming effect for me in seeing the car lights wind down the main road past the post office into town.

he uses the printer incurring angela’s wrath, shows his output and disappears into st.john’s

start pulling hangers off the wall when both jim and i realise that i have yet to go to the duke and it was already 1pm.

said hello to terry jim ate i simply had my two pints of smithwicks and chips to keep me sober someone came over and joined us. jim is heading to argentina in january so the argentina/brasil debate arose. caught up on the gossip in pouch cove. photographs made.

with no car came the negotiation of getting to pouch. undrea’s car was in pouch being worked on – well not really david had brought it in and was looking for her and a ride back out himself. while trying to decide i drove with him over to m francis kelly the art supply shop someplace of lemarchant road. he didn’t remember where it was i thought that i did and was nearly correct it is behind a hospital i just chose the wrong hospital.

chatted about toronto, how crappy chicago is. st. john’s how it is easier to work here how the days are longer creatively. he drives me by houses behind mile one that are single level on the street but in the back due to the hill have two levels below street level.

back in wordplay angela is ready to give me a lift with jason up to pouch – things are really getting back to normal now.

being a bayman it is impossible to shut angela up so we chat about the priors who lived by her sister in appleton, if i was going to pick blueberries – as soon as i get unpacked – the best places for them and why they are so big and tasteless below the 49th parallel. we talk briefly about central newfoundland while i am looking out the window and waiting for the final rise after the pouch cove pharmacy when all the town up to the cape opens up in front of you as you wind down to past the bark pot – horrible food, the post office, bruce’s and the pipe house.

here the shock of the new came in. angela was complaining about the few houses and failed subdivisions along route 20 between flatrock and pouch. i was shocked seeing vince’s place being resided – it was up for sale and this obviously meant that it was sold wondered if vince and lloyd’s wife were still there. – saw vince later. other shocks were decks on the fronts of houses. this is new. that everything was bought up. walking up the road to cape st. francis to pick blueberries in the cemetery found rehabs that would make inner cities proud. three houses for sale none with a view of the ocean. another five rolls wandering the dirt road to the cape. for some reason i forgot where the path to the cemetery was. i had taken a plastic bag with me for that was to be dinner. instead i relied on some cracked eggs from bruce’s along with big 8 mountain burst – nova scotia’s mountain dew.

met the people in the residency tom at the pipe house – eva and susan who are here in the school with jason - a livyer - who is in the kindergarden. they seem to know less about pouch then other former residence. there are mutual acquaintances with susan – people at the tute and nyc. jason and i had a talk about the essence of newfoundland art and who gets to define it. is his work about newfoundland even though there are no flakes, weather beaten saltboxes and a red truck? a discussion of theme park newfoundland and why it doesn’t change.

getting out to walk a bit ran into sharon – whose father died last week – have to remember not to ask how she is. she was over at the pipe house i was heading into bruce’s for something sweet. someone was out on the ocean checking their pots, there was a sign on the garage at the main road and noseworthy’s wishing --- mulley a happy 33rd birthday. headed over to the library via the spot where there used to be flowers for adam aj and jesse, only the marks left by the gaffer tape is left – to use the internet and asked if the sign was meant for diane’s daughter – married to a texan. walked back via the new park across from the town hall already filled with pouch’s youth.

they later gravitate over to the school and hang out below my window but right in front of the kindergarden window. again am glad that i chose an upper floor. reminded me of the corner brook studio where everyone hung out also. another chat with jason. the day marvellously normal cannot wait for another like one to-morrow.

Wednesday 28 July 2004

mke-ewr-yyt

i have found that i treat my cameras as major league baseball teams treat their pitchers in the 21st century – each has its specific use and due to this the bag becomes leaden with all that i have to carry. ubaldo’s square format is great for urban formalism as it doesn’t commit either horizontally or vertically. joãozão is great for objects in the land as the horizontality allows one to read from left to right, front to back and lower left to upper right. this also would be great in the barrens around st. shott’s as well as the town halls and abandoned conveniences. the leiquinha being 35 is the notetaking camera and the camera for experimenting. am thinking digital for the instant gratification and its even greater use for experimentation – no film wasted.

i also remember my best time on the rock – the first. i had made a commitment to 5x4 inch film so that i could develop and print the work there. the evening before the departure, i was still in doubt thinking of putting some sort of portable camera in the bag. am glad that i didn’t. i would have followed the easiest route to make snaps, i would have never touched – beyond a dilettantish dabble – the pinhole much less the deardorff.

so this time - tis the gift to be simple tis the gift to be free tis the gift to ….. – the crew joining me on the rock will be – ubaldo and being brought back out of retirement – ubirajara . while it has been on the seat beside me while i travel the highways and byways of southern wisconsin, i hasn’t been out of the country since my days at goldsmiths’. it is going in the roll of backup due to the tenuous reliability of all of my cameras.

thought about a digital camera to document the show that i am curating and hanging and for diary like use. but no while i find it frustrating that never seem to have simple snapshots of the place. no such camera is going – well except for the tom ridge which i used in nyc and seconds as a flash drive.

while i made this decision over the week-end, as i was pulling out of the driveway on the way to the airport coach, i was still second guessing. stood resolved by default i was on my way and there was nothing i could do about it now.

feel better.

mke – ewr – yyt
milwaukee

it is a burden getting to the rock, spending more time in airports than actually in the air. in that spirit i have ulysses with me and the i-book. after the coach ride up from kenosha seeing that once again the stops had changed, i tried to decide whether i should spend most of my time in main terminal or pass through security the terminal that houses continental has the dining pleasures of usingers sausages, pizza hut and miller beer served in plastic bottles. chose to spend some quality time at the starbucks boutique asking for a 20 once strong coffee and a blueberry muffin.

at the continental counter, seeing the st. john’s they gushed and asked what it was like,"i hear it is like ireland..." "no they speak funny in ireland..." being the professional international traveller that i am i handed them a business card with the website and said check it out. asked how far i would have to run when i arrived in newark to get to the gate to the rock only two away and 30 minutes to make the distance. this was going to be great – not having to wait for the shuttle from the satellite terminal at pearson’s, worrying about getting through immigration and customs and racing to the other end of the airport after going through security again – any cameras, as i empty out my bag. i would simply do that at st. john’s international airport and walk into the city with the duke still open.

found comfy seat by an outlet so that i could write the first instalment and when finished moved to the window so that i could read. if i paced myself it would be 1pm before i knew it.

at 12:30 the continental representative came over to speak with me – i guess that i am the only one heading to newfoundland – bowing and scraping saying that the flight into newark will be delayed and my not leave until 2:20 which would mean that i would miss the connexion. they could get me on the air canada flight that leaves at 6:30 making the big smoky at 9 for the 10pm flight to the city of legends arriving at 2:20.

is there any chance that continental will leave with time to make it jim and a pint of smithwicks were waiting. a free room for the evening was to be had. now it looked like the airport in with its stunning view of the wal-mart in stavenger drive and $100 loonies already spent.

hung around as long as possible but finally the representative gave me a my new air canada ticket and a $8.00us food voucher – that gets a bag of crisps and a coke i think.

leaving the terminal slowly i hear “will all continental passengers heading to newark return to the gate as the delay has been lifted and the pilot would like to leave. make the 100 yard dash back to the counter – relieved that i am not rife for a heart attack - to be told oops she used her words incorrectly – what she meant was she wanted people on the plane the delay was still on – again she was sorry. when i could finally breathe again i left and headed over to united/air canada.
make that mke-yyz- yyt
the good people at united/aircanada – knew nothing of my predicament. it seems that ever since continental has had this newark to st. john’s leg and they cannot keep to schedule they have been saying that people are on air canada when they really haven’t booked the ticket – i should have twigged when my boarding pass said milwaukee – newark – st. john’s but they crossed out continental and wrote air canada. i’ll remember this the next time i need a ten dollar bill – take a single add a zero.

united got me to toronto after speaking with air canada i was then told that i should go to the gate and they will get me a new boarding pass.

but but but. there is this nasty obstacle called security how do i get through them to get to the gate?
-show them the boarding pass.
-but the boarding pass says newark … how is this good in pearson’s?
-air canada said it will be fine. but i have to leave the secure area and re-enter it..
-air canada said it will be fine.

arriving on the rock has always been an adventure. the first time when the taxi ride to pouch was only $20cdn, the taxi driver told me of his days speeding along the straightaway between pouch and flatrock. there the thrill of trying to find the key at 2am on a moonless night in january. the driver after leaving returned worried that i may not get in and freeze to death.

i remember tripping down the outside steps of the pipe house - the sound of the waves of the north atlantic just off the last step -to the lower studio and opening the door and finding somewhat “rustic” conditions with a wood burning stove for heat.

there was the winter of the blizzard when again i arrived in pouch at 2:30am this time in my neon rental car and i couldn’t find the key. that night i slept in the car until bruce opened and i could get a coffee. it seems that 2:30 am throws a lot of people. not being sure of the time and date relationship - think television listings.

there was the time that air canada arrived late even for the night owl to st. john’s and i had to stay overnight in beautiful mississauga.

there is the time that carol and i did the yyz sprint from customs to the end of the terminal that serves atlantic canada – at times i thought that i was walking to atlantic canada. as there was only 20 minutes between flights.

there was last year when i book a car rental online saying st.john’s and yyt and hertz made the reservation for st.john new brunswick.

air canada is always adds to that experience.

the trip through newark was mixed, i like getting out of the states as quickly as possible, i like using money that doesn’t smell, i look forward to the globe and mail and canada’s answer to the onion – the national post. but the ewr-yyt flight meant possibly flying over robert frank’s place in mabou – felt like i was doing him one better by picking an even more remote island. Over alastair’s mccloud’s island. seeing or rather not seeing the ocean rather than the dark expanse of the st. laurent. i could compare the cape breton at night with newfoundland – which would be darker, is halifax brighter than st. john’s? besides i had a seat all to myself.

so now i am pacing myself choosing the perfect time in the four additional hours that i shall have to wait before turning in the food voucher for a small pizzeria uno pizza.

yyz - oh (air) canada
finally it was time. there is not much to do at mitchell and after a while trying to the passing wisconsinites with large mammals gets boring and repetitive. the pizza – i had two as i reckoned that it would be the last food that i would get until i heard the ode coming over the cbc in st.john’s – made me feel bloated and lethargic – kept falling asleep and it wasn’t due to jimmy joyce. air canada 1010 was ready for boarding and i was ready for the next round airline fear factor begins. am almost poisoned as i choose oatmeal biscuits for the inflight snack. read the ingredients – lard – who uses lard anymore?

the flight arrives at pearson’s and 9pm the flight to st. john’s departs at 10pm but where. the flight gets off on time we arrive early in the quonset hut that air canada uses for secondary us flights. the doors don’t open until the luggage is available at the bottom of the steps.

tick tick tick

get my bag with ubirajara and the 50mm lens just as a yank – who asks if the airport is a big one – pulls his from under mine having mine start its plummet to the tarmac
-nice catch
-wanker.
the shuttle waits for everyone to get on before heading to customs and lo and behold customs is empty. i am third in the queue this may work yet.

not quite. in a bastardisation of the i am canadian advert, it seems that the customs officer chatting to the woman in front of me finds out she is from sudbury and by coincidence did date her cousin’s sister.

tick tick tick

moved to another queue. carrying my luggage – all of a sudden immigration wants to know about your luggage – one man was hassled for only having a brief case. i raced through and up the stairs to an empty terminal 2 – it seems that the u.s. has pissed off the canadians so much that they moved all the domestic flights to the new wizz bang terminal 1.

good point i no longer have to run from one end of the terminal to the other, bad point i now have to wait for a shuttle then run from one end of the terminal to another.

tick tick tick…

the shuttle seems to creep up to the terminal where everyone packs in and as we are about to leave a woman entering missteps and tears the outer layer of skin of her shin.

blood gushes – no hyperbole, there is a pool on the steps there is a pool at my feet as people hand her tissues to stop it to no avail. i look through my luggage to find a handkerchief but only pull out my underwear. finally a first aid kit is found all the bandages are used as one resourceful woman makes a super bandage from all the bandaids that were in the kit.

by the way t.v. has it all wrong this blood wasn’t red it looked more like well stirred dannon blackberry yogurt.

there are still pools of blood everywhere. teaching at the tute was for once a benefit as bodily fluids are so common in work that this seemed minor. one man’s - who tried to help - hands were covered in it. i offered him a sock (clean still only pull up uinderwear from my bag) to wipe his hands. he has already used his. another gives him bottled water to clean them off.

everyone is telling the woman - who by now must have lost a pint of blood –to go to hospital. she insists on catching the rapidair to montréal.
-it looks worse than it is.

tick tick tick.

the new terminal 1 is beautiful – i think. i was too much in a panic to really stop and gawk it did seem light and airy better than any airport i have been in. art all over the place. didn’t see a tim horton’s though. instead there was the microsoft expedia café.

didn’t spend too much time as it was 9:30 and i hadn’t a clue as to where to go. the counters were packed with people so i blazed ahead to security showed them the not valid boarding pass, they discussed it, i told them about continental – united’s assurances and me doubting the whole procedure. they asked when the flight left and if i had a laptop.

got ready to pull out the cameras which used to be de rigueur in canada. no need walked through and on to find the gate.

i should mention that at the new terminal one – one enters on one floor climbs two floors for departures and security then descends a floor for the gates. while trying to take in the new terminal i realised that i couldn’t find my gate i didn’t even know what gae it was as i couldn’t find it on the board – it was probably there but they already had flights up for the next day an all i saw was flights to st. john’s that didn’t match my time or flight number. asked at a counter with an edmonton flight and got to the gate in time to hear – we are now ready to board all remaining passengers stand-by please wait until your name is called.

up to the counter a shorthanded explanation and i still had time to use a land based toilet before boarding the plane.

everything is grand now – the accents of the rock are heard all about me, even though as usual the plane is packed, i have an aisle seat, there is a tail wind blowing us to the province so we’ll arrive early – 2:20. anyone for a round of let me fish off old st mary’s?

but wait someone just threw up two seats behind me.

it is 2:30 am am in the wi-fied airport glowing irving oil sign in the distance everything is great.

Thursday 1 July 2004

MAYBE NOT

as usual no sooner as a decision has been made than i am second guessing. trying to make something of the days when i have to sit at home and watch the house being painted, when i realised that the painters’ day end at 3pm, i made plans to pack the motor with something that i had been meaning to try and head out. putting my money where my mouth is, i took the hobo 10x8 mistake of a camera that i bought from bostick and sulllivan with a back pack of film and headed to the flooded areas by the desplaines river.

although i know that i don’t have the disposition for it nor the comportment, i have always been jealous of mammoth camera users. this was brought about recently as thaddeus holownia’s name came up someplace and i went to stare at his website – wounds open he got a gros morne residency – deservedly – but it didn’t stop me from being envious, this time it was the image of rocky harbour that did it. then i heard of the limestone barrens project - http://www.swgc.mun.ca/research/limestone.html - that i heard from listening to the week-end programme out of st. john’s. a photographer was being interviewed about his work in the great northern. looking at the website the usual bunch of suspects show up – burtynsky doing the bruce peninsula etc.

headed out along route 164 here park the motor and head into the wetlands –and almost immediately know that this isn’t for me. don’t have enough exposures with my arm is falling off from the weight and this camera doesn’t need a tripod.

nevertheless, cursing i move to make just one more than again one more and run out of film before i want to. returning to the car i am happy that this has confirmed my decision not to take large format to the rock.

the next day when again the painters vanished at 3pm – i look out and the pick ups are gone - i lugged the deardorff out to photograph all the things that they left strewn about the place. it was another attempt to make something of the day. used the 10x8 to narrow the focus as much as possible – swinging and tilting the standards and using the lens wide open. sharp focus was always overrated. used another box of film which brought up another problem with cameras on steroids – unloading and reloading film. i am always afraid that i will make all these photographs and the film holders will be empty. it was another nail in the large format on the rock coffin.

well not so fast.

while developing the film isn’t the most enjoyable thing to do –twenty minutes in pyro – the developer that gave all those west coast photographers parkinson’s – in total dark strains even the most zen like state that i can get into, even with the wireless on and this time i didn’t have one, the second hand seems not to move. this time i had three such sessions, i did like the negatives.

on another day when i was trapped at home, awaiting the owner of the painting company to have a look at the shrubbery that they butchered, it being sunny brought out the printing out paper and the print frames and made prints in the front yard. i stored them in a box until i could wash and tone them.

the pang of slow photography was awakened. it was completely possible to do this on the rock. it would save me the agony of coming back and having to face developing all the film that i used. it would calm my fears of security and x-rays.

i wouldn’t do this at martin and gabrielle’s – don’t want to mess up their place and there are no interior rooms, the pipe house would be perfect. this i know from former experience when i was the only one in both studios - a perk for being there in january. i’d live up stairs and use the downstairs as a lab. in january when the nights were longer there was plenty of time to develop the negs. in july it would mean that i could have more pints at the duke before starting.

the option died quickly when i made a list of what i would have to take. another reason why a place, my place on the rock is needed. wonder how holownia does it