HOW TO DRAW A CROWD

Day two of the Bonne Bay Regatta comprised of an arcade and the dory races. Thinking that the activities would start early I was down on the bay at 10AM only to find that I needn’t have rushed. Nothing starts until one.

Nothing except the all day long slo-pitch tourney in the field behind the house which seemed to start at six. Cars were pulling up and bottles opened at that time.

We headed down a bit early to take in the arcade, three booths devoted to food. Two to games that required breaking balloons and one with a picture in it – don’t know why or what one was supposed to do.

Obviously the walk through the arcades took less than an hour so with time to kill Kendra order fish and brews from a vendor that of course we knew. Just in time it seems as they ran out of potatoes just after they prepared hers. It was 1:10.

She said that the fish was good and there was a lot of food. Ran into Kris from the Discovery Centre there with her daughter Rhea. Supposedly more people from the park would be down – a surprise as they seem not to descend into Woody Point from the aerie of the centre. Slowly but surely they did show up, Sandra, two people from Ontario who were Screeched in on Wednesday one with his parent who went to Ryerson and seemed only to speak photography.

I was trying to carry on a conversation while tearing as something had flown into my contact. When I could bear it no more I headed back to the Granite City Café to wash it off.

The dory races started late. There may have been a problem in getting teams together. We took our places and sat when another person with a long lensed camera on a monopod who quipped that this must be the photographers’ corner.

Found out that he was a friend of Clyde Rose’s sister, that he almost went to Leyton – now M.I.A.D. – and now lives in Pennsylvania and here. His wife is from Chicago. They invited me over they are the only house in Curzon Village with an American flag.

During the first dory race I regretted not bringing down the Hobo as there was a nice line up of the boats before the festivities began. It was only one snap and I kept debating but once the race had started. Thought against it until it seemed like it would be sometime before the second race. Talked to Mabel to find out how much longer and when I got a non committal answer, decided to risk it.

Made it to the house and back with plenty of time to spare. Walking about with the Hobo drew photographers to me like dust to sheet film. The large wooden beast, had people stopping to ask questions, those with smaller tools following me to comment on technique or to be close to what I was photographing. Spoke to two people who were photographers for the Humber Log – yeah I giggle also – with whom I shared acquaintances, She graduated from SWGC.

Kendra was appalled. She seemed to think that we weren’t part of the snapping masses but seeing them and trying to distinguish between them and their actions and ours had doubt arise. As soon as possible she fled to the sanctuary of the Seabreeze – or so I thought.

I stayed on being the photo whore that I am nodding at the correct times, answering with something salient, was asked if I were interested in going to China as there is a photographic cooperative there linked to Robert here in Curzon Village. Kris said that she was going to look for a person to take me on their boat to Chimney Cove which I should like. Payment is either cash or beer. All said that they would be at the talk on Wednesday – note to self prepare talk.

When the events seemed to be dying down – it seems that they have to go find the winners from the first heat as they head off to have a beer or two between heats - and me wondering why I used all that film at the regatta when all I wanted was one snap, headed over to the Seabreeze, making my way through all those wonderful Upper Canadians finding the activities wonderful on this wonderful day hearing ‘I cannot wait to see these pictures’. ‘I can’ I thought.

Walked in. Didn’t find Kendra. Found Marilyn, Shirley and Elaine. Left for the house.

Mixed feelings, knew that the Regatta was important for the community but our favourite haunts were so packed that we couldn’t make our way around.

At dusk I headed out to photograph Pete’s and Bruce Martin’s Western Petroleum gas bar. The shops close at nine and there is a half light until about 9:30 wanted that time when the sky and the lights would balance.

Too many cars out in front of Pete’s still so headed back to the gas bar and while Bruce talked to Kendra made a couple of snaps. Stopping traffic, constantly waving to people we knew, Marilyn stared while driving by.

When I thought that the final car had left Pete’s, raced – as much as one can with a camera on a tripod carrying 12 sheet film holders – over to set up while setting up someone tried to get in. He pulled up, parked, got out, left his door open, then came over to chat with me – the sky darkening as we talked. Left to go up to the 3T’s then to the Liquor store, still with his door open. Made a photograph as maybe it would be ok especially with the door open.

The main problem was where to set up as I had to be close to the street where it bends and people careen around it at speed. More stares more almost head on collisions – Marilyn passed again. George stopped to ask what I was doing now.

Tried to make one snap which would have been a 90 second exposure but lengthened considerably as another person pulled up and wouldn’t turn off his head lamps meaning I had to curtail the exposure. The bloke with the open car door came back and he started a conversation with the people in the truck. I wait but it seems that they can wait longer so I lose and try to make a snap as they aren’t really moving but now more cars more lights. I give up and go home.

It didn’t matter I didn’t compensate so the images look as if they were taken at mid day.

Will try again.

There was a dance at the Seabreeze meaning a cover charge to get in. Didn’t feel like dancing or paying the charge. Went back developed the film of the day and made it an early night – midnight.

THE ROYAL ST. JOHN’S REGATTA ON THE POND AT QUIDI VIDI – almost

It is regatta weekend here in Bonne Bay which means that everything will be thrown off a bit due to the festivities. Now knowing everybody in town. Even though we wanted to take part in the festivities we had to. I had to photograph Darlene’s brother’s son’s decorated bike, Elaine had her grandchildren there and at the beginning of the festivities we met others that we knew.

Luckily the first event started right down the road at the Heritage Theatre – the bicycle parade – where the mayor gave a speech and the “I don’t know what it means MHA again made another moving generic talk that MHA are known for. Photographically I didn’t know what to do as it was a chance to add to the snaps of people that I have run into on the Rock but it would not be in that almost one on one manner that I had done. Took Ubaldo and the digital and because of that failed miserably.

Kendra had no trouble straight into the crowd photographing everything as while I am the official artist for Parks Canada she is the unofficial photographer for Bonne Bay – a better position – people actually see her stuff.

The parade was off and we walked with the bikes heading north toward the lighthouse then down the hill past the Seabreeze to the Post Office.

This was a time when one could spot the Upper Canadians as they came used the word “wonderful” way too much
Wasn’t this wonderful?
Oh how wonderful!
It’s wonderful.
The bikes are just wonderful
Those wonderful stages.

They came to watch then walked in the opposite direction to the Post Office to see the wonderful awards ceremony and the beginning of a wonderful day.

Spoke with Darlene mentioning that I still have her holy five dollar bill from the Seabreeze, traded insults and embarrassments with Elaine while walking along with the parade – RCMP in front – Fire Truck brining up the rear.

There was a comical moment when turning down the hill there almost seemed as if there was to be a bike pile up as while they were fine on level ground the bikes were not all that balanced when it came to a down hill. Parents started running after and holding on to their kids.

At the last turn by the lighthouse, the whole experience of being in Bonne Bay became apparent. There marching/careening down the hill was the parade with the Bonne Bay, Gros Morne and the Tablelands as a backdrop. This is what I had been trying to show. The fact that while the area is stunning – or wonderful – it is a backdrop to the lives here. That there seems to be a balance here Not the over powering reverence that Parks Canada gives to the landscape not a complete disregard for it, but knowing that being here is effected by the surroundings – George wanting to be on his boat, Edward out fishing, job not recreational – while the surroundings effect them – not wanting to leave. Here was a parade that should have been overwhelmed by the landscape but instead fit perfectly in it.

We stopped in at the post office to see if Kendra’s inks which were to arrive were there.

No and the post office is closed until Tuesday due to a holiday on Monday.

Wonderful.

The day was a wash work wise, made some platinotypes, but it was mainly spent playing or trying to play pool at the Seabreeze with Elaine and Kendra. For some reason I had a headache from the night before when I was down there participating in the darts tourney, paired with Marilyn we would get those points down to almost nothing but not couldn’t finish it off with those double points in the end. This added to the washout of a day and taking it a bit slow.

Elaine tried to give me pointers which I attempted to follow through on but still I was a pretty pathetic sight. It all came down to theory and practice – I knew the geometry but my aim wasn’t true enough.

At the house in the late afternoon to edit images and make more platinotypes and have an early supper until the boat parade.

This was doused by an email and then a phone call from Carol saying that Kool is bad and getting worse – it seems that he has pneumonia on top of the diabetes he has been to hospital and it doesn’t look good. He sits in the shower stall, is weak and Monday a decision has to be made.

If Kool is to be put down, it will be painful for Carol as she will have to make a 100 mile round trip by herself as no one will go with her. Taking Kool to the doctor, I always thought about the last trip and how it would be the ride up knowing that he wouldn’t come the ride back alone. It looks like that time is near and she has no support.

Couldn’t eat waited until we could see boats gathering in the bay before heading down to Pete’s for the start of the Regatta.

Took Ubaldo in the hopes of photographing some of the people I had met here and succeeded in photographing Pete(?) and Ray a man with three huskies. The Sarah Elizabeth had a harpist so there was music wafting in from the bay with a killer whale breaching in the distance. Again a moment like this morning.

There was a delay in the start of the Regatta. It seems there were lacking judges. George and Irwin come up and say that Ray and me look like discerning individuals so congratulations we will judge the regatta. Ah another line on the CV and again truthfully I wore this more proudly than the artist in residence tag.

Tried my best not to vote for the Sarah Elizabeth but it was the best decorated boat. The others except for a pirate dinghy all cynically placed flags and balloons on them.

The vote was unanimous but George refused the prize. At first I thought it being due to small town politics, we are getting attuned to that now, as the regatta was moved from the Seabreeze to Pete’s, but it seems that he was the grand marshal and forgot to inform us. The pirate dinghy won.

Evening spent developing film and staying away from people as I could feel my self destructive mood hit. Negs were wonderful. Also developed the 120 negs which were almost wonderful.

In between sessions down to the Seabreeze for a Bleu Light and a sit on the deck.

Was wanting to photograph the village when the shops closed at 9PM when the sky is a nice balance with the lights but was too late.
I was lucky, however, as I came out of the darkroom just in time to see the candlelight parade circle the town in the opposite direction than this morning. Again the RCMP led the way in the deep blue of the late evening sky, followed by people walking with torches and ending up with the fire engine.

Sat on the deck as I was feeling socially inept watched the darkening sky then the fireworks – another surprise. George’s daughter Mabel came out for some small talk still not comprehending that this isn’t my first time to the rock and that I do know the place

-do you know the connexion between Ferryland and Maryland?

The second stint at the bar was better more quiet pool was being played but some were slowly heading over to the legion for the dance.

Came back up to have a look at my wonderful negs.

Developing film tonight – not a nice task as I have to sit in the dark for 40 minutes. I am really overdeveloping the negs so as to use the Ware plaintotype system which in essence sucks. It is too Masonic even with the more than doubling of the time there is barely enough contrast to get more than a grey image and even then only after rituals that would make Masons wince.

Off the point, while developing film, I came to the realisation that what I am doing here is not my best work. I more or less hinted at this when I wrote about my working method and how the choice of materials would change it. A week ago I was ready to recant saying that I like the new working method and in truth I do like it. I like to see how quickly I set up the hulking Deardorff. I like the way it makes me methodical, I can tell when I am distracted as mistakes happen. I have to focus.

Which is precisely why I don’t think that the work here is the best that I could do – wow $12 000CDN to come to this conclusion. I would like to think that my work has a bit of subtly, I think that this comes by the ease of anything not tripod bound. It is not that I cannot marl with a Deardorff, I have become quite adept marching up and down the roads from Cow Head to Trout River with full gear, it is the out that with cameras that are not tripod bound one cannot really see everything that is happening within the field of view. It is these mini-epiphanies that, with me add to the image. It is the surprise.

It seems that when I can get the chance, I will over think and image. Returning to photograph a scene that was ruined doing the Ware Platinotype method, I moved the camera microns to make the image perfect – checking everything to the point that the surprise is gone. While I am completely responsible for the image once I choose to show it, I feel that one cannot formulate serendipity.

The part that bothers me is that I know that they are perfectly acceptable to Parks Canada.

Discussing this with Mack, she doesn’t agree totally she sees the same sort of accident coming when I use the Hobo - which I cannot if I want to photograph something less than two metres away – as the edges become problematic since the framing with the viewfinder is dodgy at best, and the surprises come. Point taken but it seems that something is still missing. Something that would lend itself well to the detail of a 10x8 inch neg.

THE OTHER ROOMS

Am still not sure when I set out what will make a successful day and what will make it fall short.

At the Seabreeze the usual crowd – the Brakes – were there, and I started to talk about resettlement and if this area had any communities that were resettled. I also remembered the places that Michael at the Discovery Centre had pointed out which had rarely used rooms. I had asked for a map and was told that it is available at the gift shop. I tried again mentioning that I would like to steal one and was told that there was one always on display at the welcome counter.

Paul told me about Sally’s Cove which was to be resettled but where the people moved back. That became the destination for the day, with side trips to these other places that were mentioned.

The only problem with Woody Point is the fact that one has to make it back to the main road then head North this means that every trip requires that I head south then out in Wiltondale – head north again. I can see Rocky Harbour from the house - it is across Bonne Bay - but it takes almost an hour to get there.

Packed the Deardorff as there wouldn’t be a lot of walking – this is getting to be a problem for usually my exercise programme on the rock is a great deal of walking this time it is a great deal of driving which I am not keen on.

Didn’t know what to expect but didn’t expect what I found at Sally’s Cove. It was pretty much a wash out. While it was a good place to get into the practice of photographing for the day, it was too rustic too stereotypical Newfoundland for me. A fishing area with rooms the tasteful disarray still very much an area in use but I couldn’t get over the tasteful neglect. I made some snaps hoping but thinking nothing would come of them. Stupid to work this way when each exposure costs close to a dollar US.

What was odd was that it was a working area so there was this mixture of picturesque and utilitarian – a lot of plastic, gallon jugs for floats for instance – around. I added to my collection of D.O.F. tags.

While photographically it was a bust, I was slowed down enough to make use of the rest of the day. While I was photographing Kendra was talking with two fishermen who were hanging around waiting to go out. While she was chatting she was making snaps of them. One of them asked if we wanted a beer, yeah sure to which he disappeared. Chatted with the other but as the absence became longer wondered where he went. To the convenience to buy some – Cohr’s Light it seems to be the beer of the Great Northern. We were reassured that he needed some anyway but it again gave us a chance to talk. Both got a look through the Deardorff, tried to photograph them both.

Once again it was reassuring that we had plenty of time to stop and chat and then be able to return to photographing. I like that balance.

A photograph of a church on the way to Cow Head but once in Cow Head I was at a loss, The place is too big too spread out to get a sense of the place didn’t know where to stop.

Did stop to make a snap of painted mural on the façade of Linda’s Place Spoke with Linda as she drove up when I was making the snap, she offered to shut the bar door so that I could get the whole mural. No thanks Then a snap of the ocean with a political poster in it. She invited us in to see the deck and brought the camera through the bar but there wan nothing that really wanted. Thought a bit while she went inside, packed up and then left thanking her.

Left the camera in the car for a walk along a sort of sandy beach just north of the town. Some work with the digital making things monumental, the camera is fine for this meaning that I don’t have to go use pinholes anymore.

Still not really satisfied with the day as the images – while o.k still they seemed more like exercises than nice finds.

This changed on return trip when in the distance on a point we saw some rooms. Turned off and headed out and the contradictions returned. Here at the end of a gravel road in which looked like part of the tidal area were rooms that were cleared of the working contraptions of a contemporary fishing area – no junk hanging about little plastic, but looked used. I think we stared in the building and there were objects that looked like they were in use.

These buildings were iconic. There were the quintessential rooms. That coupled with the Long Range Mountains in the background make them perfect. The sun made the images problematic – the sun and the lobster pots.

Stood and wandered a bit at a loss before moving about with the camera. Three snaps of which two I like. The lists lengthens with places I want to return to but this is one on a RFD day.

Left quite pleased.

The evening ritual continued. Waited for dark but now not night – dark enough so that no light comes in through the drying duct. Kendra headed down to the Seabreeze, I head down to run film, then while washing I head down for a couple of beers.

Line of the evening which I didn’t hear. While talking about the area, one persons mention that there is only area in the world with the same geographical make up of the Tablelands.
-Oh? Where? Kendra asked
-I don’t know was the answer.

leaving/returning

Woke up on the day that we were to leave the Avalon wondering when we would have to set out so that we wouldn’t have to be wary of moose when we were beyond the overpass.

Things didn’t start out well, wanted my Montréal bagels from the Georgetown Bakery as well as coffee – but they were closed until Regatta Day. Settled for Auntie Crae’s for coffee and a partridgeberry muffin while watching the off loaded tourists wander Water Street.

Had to get in touch with Annie and Marian to see where and when the luncheon would be, buy food and supplies then head out. I hoped that we could be on the Transcanada by 3PM.

Walking back from Auntie Crae’s we simultaneously said “let’s get out of here.” Rang Marian saying that we couldn’t make lunch – while I was ringing there was a email saying that Annie had prior commitments with her lawyer so the luncheon was off anyway.

Packed the car left Jim reading as we pulled out.

The errands were methodical and purposeful but not rushed. Churchill Square for fix and inkjet paper, Dominion for $150 worth of groceries, Gasoline at the Irving in Stavenger Drive then on to the Transcanada.

The ride wasn’t momentous. We had our usual debating sessions covering subjects from anthropology, to philosophy, the CFA v. livyer frame of mind, the fun of art making.

The read passages started just past Gambo – Nabokov – we stopped in Badger for food, then with another reading we pressed on to Deer Lake.

Good thing that Kendra was reading as we passed a Gas Bar which was too expensive – only full serve – and thought that I would fill up at the next station. There was no next station. While listening to the reading, I kept glancing at the gasoline gauge. Which was on empty.

Made it to Deer Lake on fumes.

Up route 430 to Wiltondale noting all the markers along the way, talking so much that I was afraid that I had missed the turn off for Woody Point as I only saw adverts for Rocky Harbour.

Finally the last 35 km down route 431 forgetting how long the road is to the town, but glad that I won’t be driving when dark. At first it was the moose that worried me, now it is the drunks.

Unpack the provisions, download images onto the computers, Dinner on the picnic table in the garden, lingering longer than usual, watching the changing sky getting back into the routine of not hurrying. I print a bit in the studio, Kendra edits her snaps, we compare the day’s finds.

She notices that the person at Future Shop didn’t sell her an USB cable – he was too busy on the phone, on hold, waiting for someone. She kept staring, hoping that one would appear, tried all sorts of means to see if she could will the printer to connect. Resigned ourselves to having to go into at least Deer Lake the next day.


Went down to the Seabreeze to announce our return.

CHEZ MARTIN AND GABRIELLE WITHOUT THEM (thanks)

Pouch was different. Driving out the stress - even though I had no place to stay – was relieved. It was Patricia’s birthday and Lori Butler was preparing a meal at Martin and Gabrielle’s. We headed to the school to pick up Samantha I went out on the roof to look at the village and make some snaps, went over to drop off posters to Sam Newell.

Coming back Jim and Sam were already over there leaving us with the beer, and bourbon so instead of walking we had to drive the 500 metres to Sullivan’s Loop.

Walked into the house and greeted Paul Kennedy saying “Mr. Enright a pleasure as always. When are you leaving?” Kennedy always gets Sullivan’s Loop before I do.

IT was a great evening, while Martin and Gabrielle’s place is my second favourite place in Pouch, it is great for dinner parties as we can sit on the front deck and look over the ocean which we did.

Again not having to deal with ‘tute effetes who can only talk about talking about art here I was with people who actually had lives and where all manners of subjects were brought up. Kennedy and I talked a bit about Canadian baseball, he pointed out the boat that Ted the next door neighbour finished. He was again trying to finish another book and to do so this time had locked himself in the back bedroom so as not to stare at the sea. Jim and Samantha were off somewhere, Lori was busy in the kitchen but also would come out to chat while serving hors d’oeuvres. IT would have been great anywhere but in the waning light of Sullivan’s Loop it was even better.

Dinner was spectacular – with Patricia comment on the correct use of pepper. Found out that there is a farmers market in Portugal Cove which has great produce – something that I shard to come by on the Rock.

It was even more spectacular as Lori had only started to cook about six months ago when she was hired by a restaurant in St. John’s to chop vegetables. The last time I saw her she was working in the gallery.

Despite what I coming up, Pouch is special, while I liked the changing light hitting the mountains from the house in Woody Point and the dramatic changes of weather in Gros Morne, I still like the moonrise over the North Atlantic. Like that line where water hits sky. Like looking around being able to name the people in the houses. During the evening walked outside simply to have a look at Pouch and the night sky

We drove back to St. john’s I - having only a Guinness - was the designated driver. Paul offered to put us all up but there were more people than bedrooms or beds. It was strange driving in the opposite direction heading toward the city and looking for Stavenger Drive rather than the rise, pharmacy, the curve then all of Cape St. Francis being revealed in front of you.

Back at Jim’s Mum place at 3AM feeling that something wasn’t right and how could I get Kennedy out of the place.

TOURING THE AVALON...well Cape St. Francis

St John’s was strange. It was the first time in a long that I had been on the Avalon and not had a place to call my own for the time there. Likewise all of a sudden I turned into a tour guide having to show Kendra all the salient points from Cape Spear to Cape St. Francis where the road had become even worse.

It was also the idea of picking up provisions to move on which threw me off. I was coming into the big city to buy food and goods to take back home.

Ate breakfast with Jim at the Bagel so I got my samosa breakfast and saw who was still there. headed over to the store to look at what was upstairs, check my film and e-mail before heading out.

Kendra got the idea of making books so we also hit the Future Shop to buy an inkjet printer and inks, paper – can you figure out what is missing? – check to-morrow. Over to the new Michael’s – sometimes St. John’s worries me – the Stavenger Drive area now is all big boxes working as the eastern bookend for the same shops just west of Mount Pearl. Mount Pearl deserves them St. John’s no.

Over to M Francis Kelly for bookbinding tape, and Kendra’s first Avalon sticker shock, it was a substitute that had to work as it was the only thing available.

Spat at The Rooms.


While in Pouch tried to find Sam Newell to give him the posters I made of him saw Jordy who still didn’t get his book asked him about the skater picture – he knew no one.

Lunch at the old Pasta Plus with an over zealous waitress, then off to Cape Spear where while going Kendra got a phone call from her father. I was hoping that it would make it to Cape Spear as in my constant searching for milestones it would seem that phoning from the edge of North America would be somehow significant. Of course she lost the signal at Blackhead Village.




Back to gather what we needed for the evening in Pouch – meaning cameras and more cameras – and the ride out.

Settling in

R.F.D. last week at this time I would have had cabin fever with this weather. Last Saturday I was chomping at the bit to work but couldn’t because a Parks Canada to-do was in the middle of the day. It was the inauguration of the new website cbc.ca/grosmorne and the official unveiling of the Berry, Bryan, Major artist book Gros Morne Time Lines.

Jessica who was taking part in a woodblock workshop in the school behind the house came over and walked us through the path to the Discovery Centre where we mingled until the presentation. Kendra tried to buy a drink and even though she was the only one in the queue there was no one to be found to serve her. We later learned that when that happens simply walk into the kitchen.

The presentation was to be about 30 minutes with a 30 minute screening of the video. For some reason there were six people who had to say something before we could actually see the video – which in hindsight am not sure whether that was a blessing or a curse. They ranged from an interpreter at the centre through two of the artist’s representatives and on to the MHA for the area – who was nice and honest – I didn’t understand any of it – but still took all of his 10 minutes and the CBC in the Maritimes.

We had a lot to talk about on the walk back.

The book is nice it would fit into any artists book collection and to make sure that one knew that it was special only 65 were made. The powers that be who when I asked for a map of the area said it is available in the gift shop, didn’t twig that they could actually make money on producing a mass market version.

The book is an accordion fold, total length about 3 metres of images by Berry a 1000 word – exactly – poem by Major that was printed by Bryan.

The website is ok but is better for seeing Gros Morne than promoting the book, this being said despite the love of pixalated stock imagery.

The video… ah the video… it would make a good first semester project for a film student and then s/he would just barely pass. We kept repeating “this was the CBC?”

Again it was what I find hateful in nature, the overabounding awe, that fundamentalist leaning reverence. Except for the talking heads – most of which were inside – and were the same that were on stage – there was no human presence.

Nevertheless met most of the people with whom I have exchanged voice mail greetings.

There was going to be a music performance down at the heritage theatre that evening one of the Parks Canada people were playing Irish music.

The evening was going to be busy as we were invited to a dance by the Brakes at the Rusty Jigger over in Trout River. It started at midnight. We were already trying to think up excuses not to stay long then we remembered the last leg of the journey to St. John’s we would have to make an early start.

Bought food to prepare for the trip over – reckoned that it would be fitting to eat under the nose of Joey Smallwood at the Joey’s Lookout in Gambo.

Amy Brake and her mother passed by where insults were exchanged. They were heading to the legion to for the dinner and dance there. Asked if we would be at the Rusty Jigger later. Maybe but…

The problem with living behind the Heritage Theatre is that all eyes turn when walking into town. IT was difficult passing the place with the band playing and not being inside mentioned later that it was at supper time and didn’t want to walk in while the performance was on.

Reckoned that we would see the people at the Seabreeze later but no.

The Seabreeze was empty for a Saturday night. Asked Georger about this and he brought up the legion dance. I said that I guess that it would fill up after the show up at the theatre but no it wouldn’t. It seems that there isn’t much of a mixed between the people associated with the arts – the arties – and the townies. Asked if the other artists in residence frequented the Seabreeze.
-once, they’ll come in once and say they’ll be back and don’t usually.

Since it was empty and he had seen me traipse all over with the camera asked if he wanted to see what I had done. With the affirmative walked back, picked up the Powerbook and showed him, Elaine looking over his shoulder.

Met Sid. The Brakes came and left but only after meeting Paul’s nurse. We said that since we have to head out early in the morning we would give the Rusty Jigger a pass which seemed to confound them. found out later that the dances go on until the next morning and leaving “early” is 4AM.

Was ready to leave but since I had been watching all night, thought that I should participate in some of the goings on, I put my quarter down for a game of pool.

This will be quick – I thought – as I am horrible at pool. Hitting the balls isn’t the problem getting them to go into the pockets is. One the first game by default the person who play against me pocketed the 8 ball a bit too early.

That meant having to play a second which I won again, again by default this time through misplayed ball.

A third game followed in which finally my incompetence paid off and I left at 1AM.

Last week I sort of felt my usual antsy self as I hadn’t been out to photograph that much, the day seemed to be about waiting around.

Yesterday while recovering from the Rusty Jigger, I didn’t feel that way at all. Again it was rain fog drizzle but I have images to print and negs to develop and hoped that I could use the day to catch up.

There was also a need to go into Corner Brook as vegetables were running low and Kendra was almost out of the inks she had bought at the Future Shop, curtailing the books she was making for people around here.

Ah the immediacy of the digital world, we talked about the irony of the clashing of the two working methods both self contained but centuries apart.

Needed food though so headed into town to buy some eggs and orange juice to counteract all the Blues only to find all the conveniences closed. They open at 1PM on Sunday. Bruce in Pouch would never approve, and have been spoiled by the fact that D&L opened every day at 9AM.

In shock we walked back to the place wondering what to do.

Kendra read. I headed down and tried to come to some sort of working method in what I was doing. I needed to focus. The rain gave me the excuse to do so. The day was pretty productive because of that. So productive that I went through half of the platinum that I had brought and now worry about ordering more from the States as the last time I tried to order something from Bostick and Sullivan to send up here they screwed up royally. The material arrived the day I was leaving.

However not only did the prints work but liked what was happening. For the most part what I was focusing on weren’t the best images they seemed to be the ones I just happened on. Yesterday a lot of icons were showing up when I thought I was making Newfoundland formalism photographs.

A soaking up of alcohol at the Loft Restaurant where it took forever to be served – one person does everything – where we were surrounded by Upper Canadians and their screaming kids, named Kenton. Had a sandwich but wanted the chips.

Stopped in at the Seabreeze to ask Elaine if there were anyone in Trout River that she wasn’t related to.

-Arsehole.

The slowness of the platinotype process warranted discussions on all sorts of matters so while the paper was either hydrating or being exposed, there were debates on various aspects of the art world – mainly centring around publishing due to the books Kendra was and an article about book publishing in a terrible free magazine that get delivered to the ‘tute six times a year.

The general make up of the chats are talk, go down to look at print, formulate rebuttals, talk again.

Not made any images that day, after Kendra went to meet Elaine and Marilyn down at the Seabreeze took out the Deardorff and headed over to Curzon Village.

Misting and colder than I thought but after lugging the outfit around the temperature was just fine. I had some trouble getting into a rhythm as I ruined on set of negs by forgetting to turn around the darkslide, once on the water however things seemed to work nicely. The mauze over Norris point served as a nice backdrop as once again not by design I was photographing icons.

Have to be careful with this as I don’t want the old falling down rooms tend to steer away from lobster and crab pots. This day it were modern versions of tradition Newfoundland objects – garage that looked like a saltbox, a clean gutting table with a great view of Bonne Bay – worried that my Deardorff was going to become flotsam trying to make the snap.

Along the way there was an homage to Carl England – one of the best that I have done, and some Newfoundland formalism. While making the homage a woman stopped wondering what I was doing but seemed quite please with the homage she got a peek through the camera.

Heavier mist now with a rapid darkening of the sky had me heading back to the house to develop what I had taken yesterday.

With them washing and Kendra’s return from the Trout River outing, headed over to the Seabreeze where we met George’s daughter. We’d knocked on her door in Torbay but only spoke to her husband.

Small talk about the new needless road being put through the field and why they don’t repair the one to Trout River – Debbie has gone through three mufflers up there – George starts to walk away as he is on the council

Ansty to catch up so take my leave early and head back to develop the negs that I made down in Curzon Village.

They look nice and am mighty pleased with the day of relaxation.

SKIPPING AHEAD ONE WEEK

Before I forget as it is already getting hazy.
I went out early yesterday as Mack was awaiting a phone call. At first I thought that I would wander with the digital as I needed more pictures to piss off the people below the 49th parallel, however with the walk almost over I decided to get the Deardorff out and walk more slowly it seemed that I was seeing a lot of Newfoundland formalism and I wanted to get it on film before I forgot.

Passed Jessica who was in Kris's car they were escaping to the other side Bonne Bay for the day. We both did the usual “stop by”.

With the Deardorff, I became braver as I started asking if I could photograph people’s laundry lines. IT was strange but strange enough to allow me access and make other snaps. The camera keeps drawing remarks as a person who pulled out of the driveway across the road asked all sorts of almost technical questions.

Minor accomplishments please me, was happy that I could walk after the long climb yesterday out of Green Gardens, but legs and back felt fine. It also seemed that I finally had carrying the Deardorff down pat. I wasn’t any faster using it but it was more comfortable carrying it around.

Stopped at another house with an empty line and again asked a woman who was sitting out back on the deck. She yells in the house “it is a man who wants to take a picture of our…” when Fred walks out. Chat a bit with him make a snap of the wash line and then another of the garden.

Turned the camera on him and let loose.

We are talking the entire time that I am working and when finished he asks me up for a coffee. Don’t refuse. Back down there I would have. I would have been too busy, had things to do, but here this is “things to do”.

Left the camera in the garden and had a seat on the deck where we talked about the area, the Canadian Forces the yellow ribbons on the cars up here – brought up by a yank – the sightings of killer whales in the bay yesterday and others this morning.

While chatting Kendra finished with the phone call and seeing the camera parked on the lawn, joined us. He brought out a photo album to show us the area, mentioned winter here when he pulls out the skidoo and heads up in the trails. Mention that I want to photograph both him and Doris so he goes to drag her out.

After two snaps of them, we pressed on to just around the turn when the process was repeated, this time Dorothy came out to look under the camera to see the image. A pattern was emerging I went for the laundry line but would make some other image when I was through before taking leave,

George passed me for the second time and stated to Kendra we all have our crosses to bear.

Along the water a couple of the Seabreeze closed, one of George’s boat on Bonne Bay, one between Stan’s and the building beside it – pure formalism that and one of the Butts building – Mr. Butts coming out to have a look under the camera but couldn’t see anything as he didn’t have his glasses on. Bruce Martin passed for the third time.

Walking by the café we see Elaine inside so we stop in to talk about the preparations for the evening and to tell her that I won the boat tour so now we have four hours accumulated on the Sarah Elizabeth.

She is sitting with two people – the people with the Florida plate we have been seeing all over town. It seems that the woman is a Newfoundlander and is related to Clyde Rose – it came out in a roundabout way as she mentioned a relative in St. John’s – where – 100 water street – that is around Breakwater Books – it is Breakwater Books, say that I know Clyde and Ray she knows Ray wonders how I know both. The Duke. They have a place in Shoal Brook.

They leave and we joke around with Elaine, talking about the evening who will drive over to Trout River when we are coming back etc. None of us are night people and having to wait around until midnight when the music starts is going to be likewise when to leave. We wee thinking up codes.

It seems that I am being ordered about as her daughter – Amanda – comes in to order as she cannot leave Pete’s, I go in the kitchen to place the order then when out of a bread race over to Pete’s to see what she would want as a substitute then back over again to deliver the sandwich much to the embarrassment of her daughter.

Had brunch there then pressed on so that I could do my Parks Canada duty.

But I didn’t know what that entailed. Early in the morning I moved the area where I was making the platinotypes and it seemed to have help things considerably, I was actually making inroads on the backlog. I had used up – almost my allotment of a box of film to-day so technically I could stop. I like this method as it means that I am not constantly prowling with a camera which is a great change.

Decided to walk the road to Glenburnie.

Cheated and left the Deardorff at home and took Ubirajara and some film. Looking back don’t know why as I had just stated the nice thing about large format is that it makes photography and active choice – I cannot marl with it. I had just stated – which came from my first time in Pouch - that it is nice to not be making photographs yet I took a camera anyway.

Good thing. As we were walking – not a particularly great walk, some oddities along the way, some nice views etc. - curious about a shipyard, we turned down a road and ran into Darlene the person who had won the five dollar bill that had the dart holes in it. I wanted to photograph her the night that she won but it was one of the rare occasions that neither Kendra or I had a camera.

She noticed me as soon as I noticed her. Went over asked about the fiver and she pulled it out. Like paparazzi we started photographing her and the bill. I then bought it from her for…$5.00, remarking that considering the holes in it it probably only worth about $4,95.

She, her brother and others were making a racing car to be put on the bicycle for the Bonne Bay regatta next week. We chatted was offered a beer and her father came and showed us his workshop.

Again it was nice to slow down and chat and not feel rushed, nothing was pressing the initial shock of being here was over routines were established and it seemed as if I were in a continual present. There was always to-morrow to finish do something and this was helpful for me as I found out more about the place.

Was glad that I took ‘bira along as it meant the continuation of the people met series. Here it looked promising and since I can develop them here I will be able to tell the people that they came out (or not).

After a while continued on more walking than photographing and since we wee moving there was the continuation of some running conversation that we have been having for the past couple of days. They rotate perception, meaning how we are perceived, showing, culture v. Culture and misreadings when one wanes another gather steam.

Losing steam quickly – blame it on the beer – Cohr’s Light – everyone drinks Cohr’s Light guess that no one is Canadian, we make it to Shoal Brook and then turn around.

IT starts to rain and we are picked up by the Floridians who were at the Café earlier who are related to Clyde Rose. Dropped us off at Pete’s so that I could buy tortilla shells for samosas – great food to combat hangovers – for later.

First time that we had to have supper inside due to the rain which could have been a blessing as I don’t know how much Irish sounding music I can take. The heritage centre had its doors open.

Then the long wait. Three hours before we could head out, I made more prints and became more and more tired and not wanting to go.

Headed down to the Seabreeze to wait for Elaine to get off work, the usuals were there. Steve from Corner Brook saw me lugging the Deardorff and started to ask questions luckily Kendra had made books for George and Elaine and I diverted him towards those and her.

Said hello to Sid. Sat and chatted with the Floridians who were at the bar – showed them the digital camera made some snaps of them to show them how it worked.

Kendra had befriended Ralph and in doing so a beer came for her and then seeing me for me also. Went over to say thanks.

That was a mistake. Ralph was 18 sheets to the wind and kept saying how when people enter he says hello and buys them a drink. To which he downs his whisky and orders another blue for me, I have yet to drink from the first one. I plead with Elaine to get me out of this by not giving me another. Ralph will have nothing off it saying drink up as he holds the beer to my mouth. We high fived everytime he heard the chorus to I never promised you a rose garden.

Luckily Kendra came over to talk to Sid and fell into the trap. No high fives there pure groping. Luckily Elaine was off and so were we.

We had to though as we didn’t last Saturday using St. John’s as an excuse. To have a bit of fun since Elaine is related to all of Trout River it seems, we would enter with Kendra our Daughter from an time of passion when Elaine was in Toronto. She had Elaine’s hair and my chest. I had come to the rock to reunite her with her daughter whom I had raised.

We went up to the bar ordered drinks and somehow Kendra pointed out her “daughter” when asked who was the father, walking away I said I was.

I didn’t think that jaws could drop in unison. We kept it up all evening long, when she danced with one of her hundreds of cousins she’d go to Kendra and say that don’t get angry I’m not cheating on your father.

Kendra in the meantime was seated by Paul – her date. He was there when we arrived. To make the evening more surreal Kendra goes next door to get Amy only to be almost mauled by the dog belonging to her sister.

Prefer the Seabreeze, more light can talk the band was so loud and the place so dark that we couldn’t see anymore – worse neither of us could make snaps. I couldn’t hear Paul’s nurses kept wanting to dance, Kendra was being chatted up by a 22 year old who said that he was 25 while Paul started to fume.

I was sitting on Elaine’s bad ear to so hear what I was saying she would have to turn her said which made it look like we were sharing intimacies. I cannot wait to read the Humber Log this week.

The other problem came with a table where there were, 6 people. 6 rounds on top of the 2 at the Seabreeze we all wanted to stop but bottles kept appearing.

When they slowed down we took our leave and made the way through the Tablelands back to Woody Point – me remembering all the moose sighting stories I had heard in the Rusty Jigger.

I heard told that the dance went on until 6AM.

Friday Mornings with George

RFD - Jim’s shorthand for rain, fog, drizzle - seemed to be the prevailing weather pattern. Since we had arrived there hadn’t been a sunny day and at some time each day a bit of moisture falling. To-day the day of the boat ride it was raining.

The plan was rain and the boat ride was off it would be no fun tooling around Bonne Bay on the Sarah Elizabeth with an open deck. None of the Brakes had got in touch as even though the trip was to be for one or two George had said that up to four or five could come along, so we were guessing that the weather would keep them back in Trout River.

The rain turned to drizzle and the drizzle slowed so we walked down to the Seabreeze to see if George was willing. Caught him coming from the restaurant and made a date to meet back within 30 minutes.

We almost didn’t make it as I got three calls from the Discovery Centre. Two were voice mails from two different people saying the same thing – wondering about when I could give a talk – it had been arranged already. The third was in person but nether the less asked the same questions yet again. Said that I was racing out the door to go on a boat ride but still the person talked unhurriedly, and in more detail than was needed and seemed not to hear when I mentioned that most of what she was saying had been agreed upon.

Ran down to the Sarah Elizabeth with George waiting, went aboard as George cast off and climbed down the dock at the Seabreeze as if one of his legs weren’t artificial.

Pulling away he puts on his sailing cap and give us a tour. We head out to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, he telling us about parts of the coast line, he points out Clyde Rose’s place, what happened at certain coves and rock formations that appeared to be rabbits, Snoopy and Woodstock and the like. We saw some, some we thought were a product of an over active imagination that had plenty of time by itself on the water.

The sky had cleared.

The nice place to be if we didn’t know George would have been on the open deck behind the cabin the boat was so close to the water if felt as it were in the bay.

Once again it was duelling cameras, this time I took Ubirajara out – even though I promised myself that I wouldn’t use them over here as it would become too easy and it would be harder to use the Deardorff. I wanted a snap of George though. Kendra brought out the Pentax 67 for only the second time. The outing was mainly digital and more chatting with George that actually looking at the scenery – or rather looking at the scenery through the windows in the cabin while talking to George.

It is hard to explain and even harder to differentiate the difference from a chat here versus a chat back in the world. It seems that here it comes from genuine curiosity rather than control. Small talk is rarer, one is more direct, there is a comparison but not necessarily to establish a pecking order. I cannot say that guards are let down more readily as there are no guards up. Talk simply happens.
Traded histories, jokes, he made instant coffee for us.

The tour was great. Although it seems impossible it made the life here even more pleasant as George slowed the pace but not the
intensity even more. It also showed both the history small “h” of Bonne Bay and at the same time the tenuousness human habitation of the place –the abandoned settlements, the cleared areas where no one lives any more.

Returning to the dock it began to drizzle.

Back to the house to regroup and so that I could do some work for Parks Canada. While some of the images done the first day were quite nice the Hobo didn’t frame exactly the way I wanted when it came to more or less precise compositions. I would retrace my steps with the Deardorff seeking out specific pictures to be remade.

Kendra stayed behind enthralled with the dial up connexion.

Known enough in town especially walking in that direction around town circle, that people don’t really look up, but with the camera and dark cloth I became some sick super hero – Photo man.

If someone passing seemed curious I would give them a look under the darkcloth. Of course heard later about my escapades at the Seabreeze. It was mainly an outing of rephotographing but did find a basketball hoop that Kendra had found the day before. Spent time photographing a new picnic area and what seemed to be a jellyfish graveyard, still gelatinous but washed up on the shore.


Headed back toward the circle hoping to get some of the buildings downtown, but couldn’t find the Newfoundland formalism that I was looking for. Will still work around Stan’s and the Butt’s shop, Tried a couple of piers but the best photograph of the day seems to be the wood for sale in a wheelbarrow. Amanda – Elaine’s daughter - caught me photographing the smoker’s chairs outside of Pete’s.

Stopped to photograph the war memorial when a person came up to ask, was almost in North American mode but not quite. It was Fred who runs the Legion here and when I told him I liked the way it fit in he gave me a history of the monument what they had done to it and to stop in some time.

George passed and said that sometimes people get nervous seeing a man with a cape around here, I said that I would simply say that I knew him and that would explain everything. He drove off.

Passed by the Seabreeze to tell George that no when people see a man with a cape here they thing “another bloody tourist”.

A screaming match with Amy Brake and her mother in the street so when I walked into Pete’s the clerk says “so you know Amy do you?

They were off to the legion hall for dinner.

Dinner at the picnic table was interrupted by a phone call it was Patsy from Trout River. She was to go on the boat ride yesterday but didn’t make it. Now she was on the phone with someone who didn’t know how to be on the phone, long silences between periods of abbreviated small talk. When it became too painful for me to be on the phone, I said “We’ll see you at the Seabreeze this evening.” She didn’t have a car and Francis wasn’t coming over. “Want us to pick you up?” I regretted as soon as it left my mouth, this meant a ride over to Trout River at 10pm then when the evening was finished a drive back.

I know that it seems that we are working on what once was said of my evil twin in St. John’s that were are alcoholics in training. It is not he case after developing film there is a thirty minute wash which translates into two Black Horses. It is also the way to catch up on the gossip. I usually head down at 10:30PM. I am not a night owl. It seems around here though things only start at midnight.

Picked her up. Asked after Francis, She didn’t know what he was into that night. The car struggled up the hill trough the Tablelands and careened down the Woody Point side.

Dropped Kendra and Patsy off and parked by the house, as Kendra had forgot her camera. When I had arrive the entire Brake clan was there with the usual alignments the locals drinking Coor’s light, the CFAs drinking the Black Horse, Patsy having Tia Maria and milk. The usual frivolity when Francis arrives great I think I won’t have to go back to Trout River and now can leave when we want. Which we do just after Amy has to go to work. Offer to drive her back but no it is alright she will go with Francis.

Say that we’ll see them to-morrow at the Rusty Jigger over in Trout River. While trying to think of reasons for not having to head over.

Somewhere in here there is the outing to Trout River

We couldn’t stand it any more the world was passing us by as we had no internet access. Kendra would come back and stare blankly at her Powerbook screen thinking that maybe there was a mistake there would be a line to the outside world. The day in Rocky Harbour was bad enough but when we went by the library here to find out that if we didn’t go to-day – Thursday - we would have to wait until Monday

No fear I thought I am the artist in residence – at least Paul Kennedy thought it was a big deal and he squealed when he saw the Gros Morne free pass – we would go to the Discovery Centre. I would simply ask to use the internet from there saying that part of the project was an online daybook that was woefully behind.

Met Sandy asked it Jessica was in? No. Could we use their internet access so that I could check e-mail and download the blog. I could use hers as they had only one terminal and it was broken she brought in her computer and modem. They didn’t have wireless no DSL it was dial-up.

That and having to navigate the world of Windows threw me into a tizzy. Checked e-mail and left.

Sandra said that we can get dial up from Aliant that can be paid for with a bankcard. Raced home to ring up. And yes it was possible, all I had to do was drive into Deer Lake and pick up a CD. A mere 100 mile round trip drive. Progress was in sight.

Kendra has a moose burger at JAck Adder on the way back - don't think it tasted like chicken.

Get back drop off the CD and head out to…

…Trout River which would the first outing with the Deardorff. Since we had to go over and leave the phone with Patsy and that hinted at a place to park thought that I could use the car as a base camp and head wander I bit. If I needed to run ahead or back I could simply leave the camera set up and race back to the car or do a bit of scouting. Didn’t really plan on the traffic snarl ups caused.

Patsy’s address is the house with the socks – she knits and sells socks – and while we turned the wrong way when we entered town we found it with little trouble.

An aside…these are still a week behind. So while the online daybook is still talking about exploration and getting bearings. We are official come from away. On the walk into town to get milk chatted with Fred who runs the legion saying that the snap of the monument came out and I’ll give him a copy. Joked with the men on the scaffolding painting the church again saying that their snap was fine. Gossip is told, jokes exchanged. Picking up the milk small talk at Pete’s Convenience. Heading back two Ontarians stop me while I am talking to the men on the scaffolding to ask if I am from around here – well they are Ontarians – find out that they live by John Hartman but only know the tourist gallery in Petenguishine. Two bikers ask me where the Discovery Centre is. The daybook seems like ancient history.

We throw the town of Trout River into a frenzy, Patsy is in Corner Brook so we leave the number with a relative. Ask if we can park which doesn’t seem to be a problem and she watches while we photograph her socks.

I find it best to unpack the camera place it on the tripod and lumber up the street with the film holders in a smaller rucksack. It seems to work fine. I have to build up my courage by photographing “safe” subjects first. Things that can be seen from the street, then slowly go more personal – people’s front doors, street furniture, wood piles, laundry – the usual suspects people stop. I let them look through the camera, some joke with Kendra and it is easier to talk to someone who doesn’t have their head under a dark cloth.

Two events made the day. While photographing a triple header – laundry line with a wood pile and a basket ball hoop – a Japanese family drive up and while the man is out the woman keeps staring at me. I wave she does nothing - I guess that she thinks that the car makes her invisible. Make the snap then race over to the front of her car and aim the camera at her. While I am doing this the man returns and aims his digital camera at me. At that time Kendra aims hers at both of us. Photographic standoff. They were from Japan rented the car in Alberta and drove out.

While making a snap of a wood pile, Kendra photographs a group of bikers who were on the ferry with us. One comes over to chat and have a look through the camera. The scene is reminiscent of the Trepassey bikers, so when I am finished and she had made a snap of them I do the same. Give them places to see on the Avalon when they get there and alternative ways of going. They take down the website and the online daybook and off we both go back through the Tablelands to Woody Point.

Back at the house, Kendra chomping at the bit to be in touch with everyone from coast to coast to coast, grabs the CD and installs it in her Powerbook.

Suddenly a wail. The programme runs on OS9. Neither of us can access it. a phone call to Aliant so they can troubleshoot and I am told that everything can be done over the phone.

It is after stating my address in the states at least 25 times, that my address is really General Delivery Bonne Bay Post Office Woody Point Newfoundland A0K 1P0 that the phone was a business one – Parks Canada finally time is getting short it is either now here or a race to the library Kendra races down the hill to get to a internet station.

15 minutes later I ring off assured that within minutes we will be connected. Try. Nothing. Try again. Nothing. I race down the hill to the library.

Returning home and checking again to find no internet access, I ring Aliant once again and find out that the persons who wanted my address 25 times had mistyped my password. We were up and running.

The settling into a habit in the late afternoon after an outing, dinner on the picnic table in the back garden with the meal documented - we felt that we could use cameras and even call ourselves photographers as no one from the ‘Tute was in earshot.

This would set the precedent except that Kendra’s boyfriend from the Seabreeze stopped by for an extended chat and to see if she would be at the bar later that evening. One can only stir fry for so long.

Dinner al fresco, talk about what had been done exchanges of the day’s happenings, then a race to the new dial-up service.

Show and Tell

It seems that one of the evening rituals is coming back and comparing what we have done during the day. It comes sometime during the late afternoon or late evening starting before dinner on the picnic table in the garden but going on as both of us edit what we did.

Since we wander more or less together – I am a bit slower than Kendra with the size of the my camera – we most of the time photograph the same thing minutes apart. With the Deardorff I am a bit more selective at the outset, and due to the Deardoff being my “serious” camera, the digital is relegated to the on line daybook.

Kendra, while she brought a “real” camera, has been epoxied to the digital she borrow. Never the less the same subjects come up. The first thing noticed was how I approach objects head on as much as possible, she has no qualms about using the diagonal. While I centre she doesn’t.

A discussion follows, who is elevating the object to the thing itself who is letting the form rule, why should one abhor the diagonal. Is straight on more direct more confrontational.

I tend to allow space around my snaps and leave myself out of the visuals of the image, she holds things gets close. She worries about surface, I about atmosphere.

There is a reaching out to others in hers, there is an acceptance that they won’t be there in mine.

She photographs people well with the digital I cannot master the hour time lag.

Then the next day all of a sudden, the traits of one start to migrate into the other’s. Where once there was claustrophobia now there is a distance, where once there was a portrait of the object now there is a “tasteful” decentring.

While the show and tell happens sometime in the evening there is an extended crit session usually in the Saturn heading from some place to another – Cow Head to Sally’s Cove or from here to Trout River. Typical Midwestern crit, 20 minutes of debate then silence when again another point is brought up.

At times I cannot believe she is a ‘Tute student as she does more in a day than the average ‘Tuter does in a semester, or a faculty member in a decade, incoming chairs a lifetime. There is an engagement with the world that isn’t trying to be detached and Laputian like. I am not to this.

I am sure it is the air up here back in the land north of México things will return to normal and talking about work will again be much more valued than actually making it.

West Coast Life

Slept like I usually do on the rock fall asleep quickly wake up slowly, was in a half awake state at 5AM taking in the damp and the scents of the Island – pine. Drifting in and out of – not sleep for I don’t wake up and am shocked at the time but dozing. Finally when I have and enough of this – usually about a half hour – I get up.

Got my coffee, wondered how long and in what way would we get internet access and was ready to use the Deardorff.

It was bought after seeing the colour in Joel Meyerowitz’s work on Cape Cod and some sort of misplaced romanticism of working with large format. It was a difficult relationship at best. Remember carrying it around the loop and having to deal with people putting their heads under the cloth with me invited the minor problem, it was the setting up and taking down that I hated.

Gave up more or less when I wanted to photograph the Grant Park underground car park and was stopped as they thought that I was some sort of spy – would have to be a pretty stupid one to go through all of this.

Before breakfast, seeing a ball park behind the house the day before, I set out to make some snaps. Packed the camera took only a few film holders made sure that I had everything and headed out. The weight was fine. The backpack helped with the balance. Some ground rules had been played out mentally – don’t be afraid of placing things on the ground, don’t hurry, up here you can leave the camera and walk around, take everything.

I didn’t do the last and had to go back to the house to pick up more film holders. I did, however, work pretty well with it.

After breakfast, I reckoned that we should get out of the way the one thing that was bothering me immediately. That image of the man in rapture overlooking Western Brook Pond that is on the map and the tourist catalogue.

Had checked the map it looked like there would be a 8 km walk tried to decide whether I should take the Deardorff or the Hobo, decided on the Hobo – which turned out to be a great decision.

It was a good choice to start the destination was near the northern end of the park giving me the chance to survey the place and see how difficult it would be to get around.

After a water stop on the outskirts of Rocky Harbour, we made it to the car park for Western Brook Pond.

This wasn’t what I was expecting. The car park was packed, there were people of all sorts of hiking skills everywhere, we were used to relative isolation, normally we see one or two people at a time never more than say five here was a complete city of day trippers. I wondered how they would know that I didn’t have to pay a fee as Parks Canada charges for using the park. There was even a nicely groomed path complete with boardwalks over the bogs. In the distance there was a moose.

The view was stunning – I have simply run out of adjectives – an immense flatland leading to a mountain range in the distance with an giant “V” cut out of it. As I said the view was awesome, but not the view we had come to expect – even without the hoards of people – from the brochure.

We reckoned that we would have to hike to it but I didn’t realise that so many other people would or could do it also.

Well they weren’t they were all heading to the boat ride along Western Brook Pond. The main trail led directly to it. we branched off thinking that there would be a trail to the spot we were looking for and the trail – muddy, narrow - did look more promising.

It wasn’t we were skirting around the pond heading more inland but never actually rising. There came a point when we had to decide whether we should keep going or turn back. We turned back.

Walking back was like walking against the flow in any mid sized town the people just kept on coming. No one really stopped at anything to look out they simply kept moving. Found some raspberries that were nearly ripe.

Headed north to Cow Head so see what the northern end of the park was like then back down to Rocky Harbour to see if we could find some internet access time – it was becoming hard to keep everything in my head, I needed to download.

Was getting into my method of working - speeding along the highway until I saw something when I would slam on the brakes and turn almost always garrotting Kendra, pull off make the snap get back in repeat exercise.

The best place of the day was sandyish beach with erratics. A few photographs and a wander to look at what had been dumped.

Am pleased that I am not in Rocky Harbour – endless tourists wandering about in a daze and everything one would expect from a place that deals with endless tourists – except internet access. Well that was hyperbole there was internet access at one shop. It was dial up and there was no place to use a flash drive – someone tried it once and it didn’t work. They had one terminal.

Dinner was something special, ate and felt relieved as the restaurant had vegetarian section - I wouldn’t be spit at as I was in Port-Aux-Basques – I had the Vegetarian chilli which was rice covered in Ragu chunky tomato sauce umm good.

A wander to Norris Point where we stopped at the Photographers Lookout, made snaps of each other looking out then a closed go cart course with water slide and pond, where a lot of clothing had been left.

Another successful day, Another day in which I had chosen correctly, where I could function in this new way. Was quite pleased with myself.

First dinner in the residency, cooked, ate en plaine air at the picnic table out back which would become the place for the evening meal and to celebrate a drink at the Seabreeze.

Ah the Seabreeze, certainly not the duke, initial shock when I had to choose between Labatt’s products and that of Molson. Since I am not an Canadian chose Black Horse, Kendra followed suit. Went on the deck to look out on the bay and talk and watch some kids fish with aplumb. They were pulling out fish as soon as their line hit the water. Like true landlocked C.F.A’s we stared at jelly fish.

Went in when one of the fish caught landed at Kendra’s feet.



We found out it was ladies’ night all drinks for ladies were 50¢ off – I said that I would get my mini skirt – there was free pool and a prize for darts – hit the five dollar bill three times and it was yours. Kendra did it in only 100 tries.

Chatted with George the owner who told us a bit about the area, then sat at a table where we met this family from Trout River the Brakes – Paul and his brother Francis and Francis’s girl friend of six days Patsy.

Kendra had a new boyfriend as Paul couldn’t stop looking at her. Went out with her when she had her smoke and asked if she would share her life with him.

At midnight I was chosen to draw a name out of a hat to see who would win the prize for a boat trip on the Sarah Elizabeth – George’s boat – and lo and behold I drew Kendra’s. It wasn’t the fix that it seemed as there was only one other woman in the bar at the time.
She made a date for that Friday George said that he would take up to four so it looked like it would be a Brake Family reunion on the boat – worrisome as Patsy wasn’t a small woman.

She didn’t have a phone and would be in Corner Brook the next day. No matter we would drive out to Trout River – hadn’t seen the place – give her the phone to the residency she could ring us. Said goodnight to George and headed back glad to find a local tavern – well the only tavern.

Stop and get going

Incredible is a word that comes up a lot around here. Just seeing the house was started us down that track. Opening the front door continued our gawking, two floors three bedrooms, two baths, a completely outfitted kitchen with a somewhat stinky fridge, dining room and a front room that overlooks the water and downtown woody point.

We start to complain sarcastically– this isn’t right how can anyone expect to do work in this, it is too far from the water, The view from the bathroom wasn’t good enough – only looking over Bonne Bay and the mountains.

And the studio who can expect to work in only a 12x20 foot studios complete with two drafting tables and two work benches. Then were was the laundry room and a light tight room behind that.

We put up our things, put away the food read all the notes that other people had left and headed out we couldn’t take it.

It was a simple walk around town to see what was here. I brought the Hobo and a backpack of film holders. Kendra the digital borrowed from the school. Walked to shops down by the water then south – at this time we really couldn’t figure out directions. Then away from them. Two conveniences – three is you count the liquor store. We wondered how we would choose? would we alternate? Both could tell where you were heading.

The large camera drew as much stares as two cfa’s laughing constantly while walking along the road.

Serious testing could I carry all this stuff? What would I do? How long can I walk with the Hobo in my hand? Can I hold it even and steady? A nice horizon?

Walked along the water front south. Photographing wood piles. Saw an open boxcar with a chair in it and wanted to photograph it but for some reason talked to three people who were in a garden. They asked the usual questions which allowed me to ask the same.
-I’d like to photograph that shed does it belong to you?
-it belongs to him and no b’y go ahead.
The owner walked back with me as I said I liked the way that the chair was placed.

Joked a bit about the size of my camera and finally we continued on the walk, a figure eight around town following the path as far the main road coming back on the main road to the street downtown then – this time - turning right seeing a compact village right on the bay. There were shops – tourist and non – the fish plant, legion hall, library, post office, a few restaurants, one bar the Seabreeze.
There was a house that looked like it had been launched.

Returned to the house much calmer for I had been able to function with the Hobo without too much trouble, while I wasn’t making images in the quantities, I would have or Kendra was, I wasn’t racing to get the outing over with due to all the drawbacks of large format.

Dinner in town that evening as neither of us wanted to cook, bringing back a six pack of Black Horse to sit out front and watch the “weather” roll in and over the bay and the waning light playing tag with the mountains, waving every once in a while at a child who kept staring out the front door of her home.

At dark, went in the basement anxious to start, wanted to prove to Jessica that I didn’t come all this way to not make work and to get used to a new working method.

Setting up took longer than I thought I wished that I had brought one more tray than I had but everything worked out really well. The 25 minutes in the dark developing the negs was manageable but next time I would have a chair so that I wouldn’t be constantly bent over. The negatives were fine. Minor problems that could be solved but I could work very well this way.

Impatient to see one as a print, made a platinotype of the shed with the chair. Again no trouble everything was fine and I was on my way, relieved.

Half Hour Later in ...

Don’t know exactly where I should have set my clock ahead, which seems should be important to me as I find crossing borders and making milestones so crucial to my being. Only know that on the ferry, couldn’t get to sleep. Excitement had nothing to do with it, it was the constant traffic to and from the snack bar. It was the giggling kids three seats in front of us. It was because it seemed that the seats were meant for Munchkins. Didn’t bother Kendra who was wound in a tight foetal position.

In between fits of trying to nod off I noticed the sky lightening, Stumbled up on deck – for some reason I couldn’t walk – climbing two flights of steps fighting the wind thinking that must make it territorial waters. Brought the digital camera forgot a sweatshirt. In the distance the rock, darker than the water and the lightening sky, climbing out of the water. A little to the right were the lights of Port-Aux-Basques. I wanted to scream, embrace someone something but as usual here I was mumbling the ode under my breath, Freezing on an open deck in the North Atlantic.

The ferry had been so late in leaving North Sydney that it had the arrival that I wanted and it looked the way I had imagined. Stayed on deck with the few die-hard smokers until appendages started turning colour then stumbled down the stairs to try once again to sleep.

Soon after the preparation for arrival began a yellow light flashed an announcement in English and what tried to pass for French – then movement. People racing to the café, restrooms etc. when the announcement for returning to the cars was heard people began queuing at the lifts to go the one or two floors.

We, like salmon running upstream, fought the flow and made it to the stairs. Around 6am we were in Port-aux-Basques looking for the last bad restaurant that we would have to eat at, if we could find one open.

It was in a hotel, we sat for 10 minutes until someone came. In truth they only came when someone else tripped the bell entering the restaurant. Knew I was on the rock when I got this cold look after I mentioned that I was a vegetarian.

Groggy, bad coffee, waited for the food waited to pay the bill it seems that while everything was open no one had actually bothered to come to work.

Never the less we were back on the road heading to the Tim’s for a coffee to wash down the one there and heading north on the Transcanada to Corner Brook.

I was wrong about Nova Scotia standing in for Newfoundland in a pinch it would be impossible there were no more meadows, the houses were on the ground not in it. the roads were empty but slowed for construction. Now while anxious I was calmer as I had a plan I would eat decent food and sleep in a bed.

I was heading to Corner Brook to buy food at the Dominion and get a hair cut with Tom who did remember me and thus cut my hair for free. He brought out the snap I made of them to show Kendra after she made a piece in the barber shop window.

Photographed his brother and said our good-byes but only after he gave me his phone number just in case I had a problem since I didn’t know anyone in Corner Brook.

Stopped into Taylor’s shop to say hello to Carol but she was busy, so made it out to the university to see if I could buy fixer in the campus bookshop. Nope didn’t have any.

Not to worry I tried to convince myself I’ll buy it in St. John’s. This time I won’t go over board.

Up to the Dominion to buy tofu and other foods so that we could eat that evening and after the gas and my first Canadian Tire money headed back out on the Transcanada to Deer Lake then north to the Great Northern – neither of us could make out the man in the mountain but the giant moose at the Deer Lake Gas Bar was easy – and disappointing.

Finally the park entrance. Pull up and say that I am here for the residence. The attendant said that the person from the discovery centre had been by to say that I was coming the discovery centre was in Woody Point…-
-Woody Point? I thought that it was in Rocky Harbour.
-No turn left at the next road and head down 35 km if you want to go to the house it is the blue duplex the key is under the mat.
-Are you here most of the time?
-yes
-I’ll be back to make your snap.

Already we were dumbstruck by the scenery but in the park it was even more beautiful, the winding of the water the height of the hills when we first saw the Tablelands we were gob smacked. Where was the Avalon, I thought? Pouch where.

Stopped at the Discovery centre to let them know that I had arrived.
Spoke to Sandra who then got in touch with Jessica Butler who knows Ally Baird – they both went to a real art school NSCAD.

Introduced them to Kendra saying that I know that she couldn’t stay but just the night…until we can get her to a campsite…
-As long as you make work.
Head down into town see the house and pull up.
1900 odd miles later the journey ends.
Finally.

WE INTERRUPT THIS NARRATIVE TO BRING YOU THIS…

...Kendra Mack has been spotted in the Duke of Duckworth in the corner known as either Baird’s Cove or Clarke’s Beach. She seems to have been drinking a Smithwick’s.

An orderly unrushed departure from Woody Point in the drizzle, of which to me it seemed that the longest drive was to the main road.

By now both of us are pros at this, and considering what we had to go through to get here this distance was laughably short…. Miles. A topic was brought up and it was discussed with breaks for pit stops in the sun at Bishops Falls, lunch in the mauze – peanut noodles - under the gaze of the giant Joey Smallwood profile over looking Gambo and a fill up at the Ultramar in sunny Goobies. I drove through Appleton to see if I could find Angela’s sister’s house this time. Noticed that the Prior’s place was still for sale.

While I was pleased at how the time was passing I became impatient when we finally hit the Avalon. I wanted to be there. I wanted the distance on the sign to lessen at a faster rate. It seemed that St. John’s never any closer than an hour away.

When it was finally time we took the Pitts Memorial Drive way into town, this came with the usual quips about Paradise and Mount Pearl. Kendra was in the midst of an anecdote and I wondered if I should interrupt so that she could have the first sighting of the end of the continent. There was a pause in the narrative just a Signal Hill cold be seen for the first time in the distance.

Reach the bookshop five minutes past closing, Kendra gets out knocks and looks nothing. We head for the Duke to see if he is there. I point out the bubble head up Prescott and Park by the Duke.

Crossing the street, I see a Volvo wagon with TJ’s plates on the front. Know that someone is there. Walk in look in Baird’s corner and its namesake is there. We sit down he gets up to get us our pints and all is right with the world.

K and Jim talk while I recognise John who is not in his usual corner, Annie whom I hadn’t seen in years was there. It seems that she is moving to Toronto in a few days and Marion was having a drink with her. She demand that I take snaps of them but in black and white.

Two pints later we were on the way to Pouch in the Volvo, stopped off at the Dominion to pick up food – closed.

Toured the school to see the improvements, K and Jim chatted I went for a walk. Headed up to Reg and Sharon’s to say hello. Since Sharon was the last person I saw the last time I was here. Reg saw me heading up the hill while I had stopped to make a panorama of Pouch Cove.

A new sight for Pouch was two RCMP cars in the square.

Caught up a bit on what was going on around town then walked over to Bruce’s stopping to talk to the man on the bike along the way. No one I knew was at Bruce’s bought a bag of salt and vinegar crisps Leaving did I see the evening clerk out in the lot said we exchanged the usual greetings.
-back again?
-yeah.

Jim and Kendra were heading over to the pipe house to show her the “renovations”. Walls down completely open space bathroom smaller, the same downstairs.

Back to the school to see if Samantha wanted to head back into town. She couldn’t so back we went - running commentary along the way - looking for a place that would be open at 10PM on a Sunday in St. John’s.

Django’s? nope same for both Pasta Plus, Guv’nor’s, Oliver’s – where we ran into Lori Butler – and her boyfriend walking along Water Street. Settled on Celtic something or other in Water Street.

Was ambushed both Jim and Kendra. Told me to stop my whining and move up. Kendra taking the approach that I don’t because it is safe what I am doing right now, that maybe a month up here is enough, maybe more than that would spoil the magic. Jim taking the opposite said that if he with a high school education can make it here I would have no problem and proceeded to mention the names of people who did.

My answer to Kendra was that it wasn’t simply the 'tute bipolar philosophy of all or nothing that I am not sure how long I would like to be here but would like to find out. I would like the chance of becoming bored with the province and until I am able to do my view of the place will be through a romantic vision filter. The second question out of my mouth to c.f.a.’s is what do you miss and do you feel like you have to leave.

To Jim it was that I am constantly looking for employment here but I admit it is in teaching and would be worried about coming here without a job. I realise that I am a coward in that manner for it is hard to give up a secure job - even one in an art school that is rapidly becoming more and more an outport in the grand scheme of art schools, even one where the king’s ransom of an $800 faculty enrichment grant ended up being $500 after taxes – at my age to try to start again. So I do fight for the time up here and know that the ideal compromise – is there such a thing? - would be to spend the entire summer.

We are crashing in Jim’s mother’s house, one of the bottles of bourbon was opened and drunk on the back deck. Kendra went up at midnight Jim and I followed not long after.

Where Robby Frank may have played baseball.

Had to get up early as we had tracks to make. Headed over to the Tim’s for a large double double – needed the energy – and a large with cream and a stop at the Esso gasbar.

A few snaps then off to the restaurant at the other motel for breakfast. Was looking about to see if I could compromise and live in Fredericton, the river was nice the town seemed ok but needed that ocean

We pressed on stopping at Sackville – wanted to see Mount Allison University where Thaddeus Holownia teaches but the stop was a pit stop and another gift of bourbon for Jim. Kendra needed an ATM - First two successful the last not so.

Into Nova Scotia, where the importation of honey bees is illegal, and the realisation that we are ahead of schedule, as we somehow had miscalculated the time needed and we could now cruise.I put it to translating the distances in kilometres but the speed in mph. IT seemed to make it a faster trip We weren’t comfortable enough to go into Halifax but we did stop along the road to make snaps, A third Dylan Thomas Story was read – out of order. Kendra read the second in of the trilogy in the ADVENTURES OF THE SKIN TRADE first which had me wondering how the bloke had come to have his hand stuck in a bottle but didn’t want to show my lack of attentiveness, Like coming into a movie in the middle and drunk, we didn’t proceed to the third but instead went to the first story and then to the final instalment making the read a real test of recall.

Pulling into Musgrave, we prepared to leave the mainland. Gasoline once again, the search for an ATM and some snacks. Rickety bridge and a diversion crossing to Cape Breton, the CN tracks on our side.

We have enough time to take the coast and make it to the Cape Breton Highlands. I was heading to Mabou. Part time home of Robert Frank – and the Rankins – only the Rankins are on the sign.

I had forgot what the Rock was like and Cape Breton does a passable job at imitating it. The rolling cliffs to the sea, the meadows, Kendra kept remarking on the friendliness of the landscape – two words that don’t go together in Newfoundland. I could certainly live here and Carol would be happy as it is only a couple of hours drive from Halifax. The roads were winding, There was ocean, sort of, the fog made seeing P.E.I seem like a mirage.

Stopped at the Mabou sign and was outraged to find home of the Rankins instead of part time home of Robert Frank. Knowing full well that we wouldn’t find his place we still headed down some back roads to see if we could find anything similar – photographs hung out to dry etc.

Knowing my propensity for roaming, I reminded myself that I had to focus and returned to the route 19, stopping along the way to document the ball park – brought out Ubirajara and raced about.

In Mabou proper, Kendra again did her ATM survey and found one that would dispense cash. I photographed downtown.

A debate again on whether we could do the loop through the highlands and decided we couldn’t due to the distance. Even though the ferry left at 10Pm we had to be there an hour early. Headed Inland to North Sydney.

Seeing the NFLD FERRY sign and mileage we again had overestimated the distance and would have four hours to kill in North Sydney.

At the wicket in Marine Atlantic asked the woman when we had to be there in truth and yes 9PM.
-Are you looking for a place to eat?
-Does eat include beer?
-There is the Rawley’s Wharf you have to back out as you cannot enter yet, turn left, then turn right at the stop sign then….
We were lost at after the stop sign and was wandering the town looking for the place until we asked a local who pointed to it not 50 metres from the Marine Atlantic Terminal. In fact we could have parked there and walked over.

Scoped the car park for the variations on the Newfoundland plate and found disappointingly few.

Hesitated when we entered as it seemed that Marine Atlantic was a shill for this place. There was a bar with three stools as we entered, then a vast empty space where I would guess bands and dances were held then all these people cluster about tables eating slowly waiting for the ferry.

We almost turned around but noticed that the entrance looked like the door to the women’s toilet next door. Looked at a menu to see if there was anything I could eat – we were entering territory where vegetarians are endangered species – ah yes fettucine alfredo – a favourite among the minors of Cape Breton.

We were in luck as the wait staff was inattentive and we had time to kill. Ordered a beer which was out, settled for a Labatt’s Bleu. While waiting for the meal we made value judgments about the people eating. I was entering my Atlantic Canada bold mould asking some biker at the table behind us what was written on his t shirt.
BEER IS PROOF THAT GOD WANTED US TO HAPPY BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

Tried to match the people inside with the plates on the cars out front. I kept scanning the horizon for the ferry even though we were told that it would be an hour late.

The fact that it would be an hour late was hopeful as it meant that the sun would rise while at sea.

Dallied as long as we could – we obviously weren’t pros at it as there was this elderly couple, the woman never let go of her purse, who seemed to spend hours over a cup of tea. Their meal did eventually arrive but with the acumen of wasting time wondered if they would make the ferry.

While walking out to a promontory because I saw a ball park, we heard this god awful wail in the distance. It stopped and then horns were being sounded. Looking out we saw beyond ball cars parked as if in a drive in movie facing a stage the size of a dugout. It seemed to be a drive in live show where people sat in their cars. From it came the wailing someone was trying to sing. I think it was country western but wasn’t sure. When the song was over people would honk, I think as a way of applauding but I couldn’t be sure it could have equally been annoyance. Wandered the beach area thought that I saw the ship then headed over to the ferry. We passed the bikers who were just then coming out of the bar
- Enjoy the music?
- Where?

We were there on time parked the car and awaited the ferry. A first we entered the terminal where they were celebrating three days since their last accident – nice big plaque for it. Some people were watching a video on a giant screen.

We decided to go back to the car and finish reading the Thomas – am sure that got a lot of people looking.

It was a slow and arduous process loading the ferry, when on we had to remember all that we needed as we couldn’t return to car. A strange ambience for a ferry that was now going to leave at midnight, there was a show area, in another area there were people queuing up for food, we were going to take a seat up front but Friends was blaring on a giant video screen.

Finally found a place claimed it and then went on deck to see the departure.

The Leif Erikson left at midnight. The time that I had hoped meaning that there would be a bit of light hitting the rock while we were still at sea. I only hoped that I could get up for it.