house and cabin

ruth is writing her dissertation. peter and julia are at their cabin. it is john’s birthday
to-day was a perfect day. perfect in that it was normal. finished reading the saturday papers listened to the sunday edition and headed into st. john’s photograph people that i hadn’t had the chance and to do the same with the irvings at elizabeth avenue and portugal cove road – i wanted to do it at dusk meaning that i would have to pace myself.

intellectually i knew that i was leaving – hence the mopping up exercises. i stopped at the pipe house to photograph dennis and renée, went to the ball park in red head road in flatrock, did the same with the go kart track in torbay road and the sign for bruce and noelle nearby.

was a bit tired so before heading into the gallery got my double double from tim’s.
the blog was a problem for some reason 50 identical entries were posted. knew that deleting 50 would waste a lot of the time i had left, but couldn’t leave it like that – gave myself a time limit and erased 25 odd versions.

ginina came by the gallery to pick up the battery for the digital camera and fell victim on the fire escapes steps – hand twitching the entire time.

told jim that maybe i’d see him at the duke later.

headed down to petty harbour again feeling pretty proud of myself as i knew the short cut through shea heights as i know the way to avoid all the bad intersections in town, and the rat runs through town.

knocked on peter and julia’s door. this time they were home and invited me in. i said that i - feeling it improper – didn’t make any snaps of them during the pot luck. i would like to do so before i leave. no problem.

again i liked their place – compact every space used and because it was so compact every space subtly delineated from the other. books art work and knick knacks all over. it was fitting as julia is a landscape architect who worked on the grand concourse in st. john’s and peter is a writer – a real one not the dean and deanette type of writer which in any sort of english that isn’t s.a.i.c. english would be called an editor in one case, a poseur in another. he started the writers alliance of newfoundland. he is also instrumental in the development of the east coast trail.
they were in flatrock and pouch yesterday – they know elke – julia is german – but elke also was in on the east coast trail.

sat around the house chatting a bit here is was about rock lit, crummey v johnstone. historical fiction v. romance. made a few snaps as this was strange to me. i usually have it happen but since i announced my intentions there was a bit of un ease.

i was also realising all the things that i will have to unlearn in two days. things like door open walk in. that one doesn’t have to ring first. i will have to remember not only to wind up the windows on the car but to lock it. the same with the house.

after sitting a bit they asked if i wanted to see the cabin? didn’t want to put them out but no bother, we would take two cars as they would stay.

got in followed the one way system through petty harbour – that caused problems as i saw quite a few potential newfoundland formalist situations – cross the bridge went up what i knew was a long cul-de-sac that didn’t lead into the country at all – thought that we were going to have to walk the east coast trail a bit to get to it. they stopped did a u turn and parked. we were maybe a kilometre from their house. i could see their house. they walked up to the beginning of the east coast trail into a house with a canada selects on it.

the cabin. better view than their house as it wasn’t penned in as their place in town was, up high one could see all the harbour and the ocean as well as maddox cove – great view but not up to my mother’s stringent standards as it wasn’t on the water and the ocean was framed by the cliffs on both sides. petty harbour is still an outport fishing community.

more open still small rooms, two bedrooms bath , living room kitchen they kept the television here. they do rent it out to tourists and use it when they have friends stay as their place is too cramped.

this was a close contestant to martin an gabrielle’s an urban equivalent, as one overlooked the town to the water but the deck ran the length of the building. east coast trail at the front door.

it was bought for $15 000.

here discussion turned to rampant capitalism societies based on fear rather than on trust. i had noticed in the past couple of days in photographing that children here still have the kind of childhood that i seem to remember – time wasn’t over regulated some risked were involved one could play out of sight of one’s parents again mentioned the cul-de-sac where – even though there is a playground a couple of blocks away everyone plays within sight of their house. in the end the art world on the rock. they had seen my work in gander. he wanted to know what my plans were with the images, besides filling the shelves in the basement.

similar interests as he photographed resettled communities which allowed me to trash scott walden and his unsettled book – yet again. peter worked with the people who were resettled again there was a poignant image of a man who knew just about everything about placentia bay and was waiting for historians to ask – old blind at the time. no one was interested.

we talked of the balance of beauty, the past with the contemporary which we both agreed was pretty hard to do - especially the beauty aspect. the are few places on the rock where one doesn’t stop and gawk.

he had a show in eastport – told him that i sent a packet the same time that i sent one to jane prior and heard nothing. told him of my experience with the agnl and the old curator suspicions again were confirmed.

took my leave to head back in town, it was duke of duckworth time. driving back i saw a potential image in new gower and springdale so parked the car at the duke and walked back. i then wandered springdale and george street looking for capital formalism.

what i found was – once off george street where people were desperately trying to look hip in the bars – tourists from a cruise ship that was in port – desperately trying to find a place to spend money on a sunday evening. they wandered up and down water at time trying doors. a few made it up to duckworth.

a bit peckish – auntie crae’s was sold out of everything. thought about the bagel café but even though i swore that i wouldn’t any more, had a big zig.

while waiting – chatted with a securitas security guard. again showing how perfectly normal the day was. started with the habitual lovely evening. yeah b’y but we could use a bit of rain. then we discussed the water shortage the low water level of ponds, the chance that they would use the pond beyond cochrane’s. we then moved over to the boondoggle of mile one stadium once the baby leafs leave, that québec junior hockey isn’t looking to expand. and even though last years championship between flatrock and (?) fill the place you cannot expect that to happen with local hockey. again felt like an true ex-pat so much so that i almost forgot to take his snap.

peeked into the duke and was relieved to find no jim as i wanted to say good-bye to peter and ruth as well as photograph the irving. waved to the bloke behind the bar and headed on.

down duckworth street to the hotel – cleanest toilets in the city, then up through bannerman park to knock on their door. being st. john’s the door was unlocked and open, being c.f.a.’s didn’t know if they adhered to the etiquette of allowing people to walk in. i knocked. no answer. knocked again. still no answer. looked at the sky and headed over to the irvings.

noted to myself that one of my initial images – two mormons – were made on this walk. there was a game at st. pat’s the ball park was crowded again, there was a softball game in bannerman park. wanted to have the luxury of having the evening pass at the game.

realised that i would arrive at the gasbar too early – way too early for dusk. it was now or never however so i worked with the low evening light having a self portrait with irving image. gasoline prices went up to-day as it was the 15th.

again felt like a resident of the avalon as i made a cynical image of a constuction site soon to be a generic building for assisted living with signal hill just over the hoardings.

wished that there was time to wander georgetown as wandering st. john’s on a sunday late afternoon/early evening is one of my favourite things to do. it is also nice at 1 am if the bloke isn’t brandishing a sword outside the museum in duckworth street.

my plan was to wander about the downtown and near west side seeing if i could do anything with capital formalism. maybe somehow incorporating the conveniences in the snaps.

another difference, sharon told me that at one time pouch cove had six conveniences 2000 people six conveniences. peasants pissoir has 15 000 and no food shops.

walking back i was prepared walk in knocked one more time peter heard me told them that i wanted their snap. it was too dark in the house now – although the kitchen would have been great. so we stood out on the front steps while i made a few snaps and chatted.

they had rung friday when i was writing the blog down by the town hall and me not being at home headed over to the duke to look for me. these hints of residency pleased me as did the fact that my circle of friends were now expanding from various sources. chatted quite a bit in the waning light. was invited up for a beer but ruth did have a thesis to write. said our good-byes and i set off.

severe depression hit. not a paul kennedy whelp but david marshak put on the dark glasses sadness.

the lights at the battery hotel were beginning to show, there was a drl coach full of tourists at restaurant 21 in queens and prescott. had two quintessential views of the city – looking down the length of gower street and at queen’s and chapel where one can see the narrows. headed over to the duke to read the sunday independent. the place was emptying i think that i saw annie from breakwater books. only john and marion stayed at the bar a golf tourney was on all three screens. got my smithwick’s and sat in my corner to go through the paper.

sundays are quiet at the duke, it seems to mirror what is going on outside.

john leaving came over to say hello, asked how long i was in town, said maybe he’d see me to-morrow.

it was duckish. one more thing i had planned on doing that will have to wait. sunset in bauline. clear sky in pouch without my eyes adjusting i feel like i can see into deep space, the north star is directly over head.