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.