Digital 1 x film nil

Usually I put off going into the darkroom trying to slow the outpouring of money, and to make sure that I have a rational, systematic approach so that I don’t go and make 30 copies of everything only to have 20 left.

There is also that transition between things inkjet and things silver gelatine that takes some time to come about. Letters can be answered more quickly with an inkjetted postcard than one in which chemical toxins are used.

Once there… I headed down to the basement 12C which isn’t bad for winter. Set up everything for a small printing session, the first two snaps of people met this time, two postcards to reply to those who have written via the post, and another as a return to a more traditional way of sending of messages.

The start is illogical as I don’t do the image that I shall send out first as it isn’t the best, but the one of S. Mulley as it is interesting. Place the neg in the enlarger remarking that even though I was fretting while in Pouch about the quality of the negs, it seems that pyro is very forgiving and all look pretty good – well except the roll where the dev temperature was 12C but they are still printable.

Get out the grain focuser and … reticulation.

RETICULATION!!!

When students ask how to do it I tell them it is impossible with modern films you’d have to boil it then freeze it and even then. Come to think of it… The last time I saw it was when someone used straight acetic acid as a stop bath – after my nasal passages were working again.

This wasn’t my usual thrifty stock of film from countries that no longer exist but Fuji.

But there it was. All over the sky all over everything – how large can I make the snaps before it shows up? Are they all ruined? Shouldn’t I be mature enough for things like this not to happen anymore?

The postcard size print looks fine. I am not in the mood to try my luck to see how large I can make the image before it falls apart, it would be too depressing.

Move on to the next neg, which will be the first to be sent out – Kevin from the Goulds - and cautiously look through the grain focuser. It is fine, so are the next four rolls that I make snaps from.

Still am worried, I know that it is still there somewhere lurking in the other rolls, waiting for the images that I shall want large, making sure it doesn’t happen.
Times like these, those digital SLR's seem might tempting especially now that i could hide the fact with a Leica M8 which I can afford working at the WGAS.

Above the 49th...

Two walks of a couple of hours each a day.
Five rolls of film a day
down from the 10 I planned for but never thought it would be that high. I lowered my expectations even more after all the mugs up during my walks in pouch and the siren call of the duke.
Spoke to at least a dozen people a day
Ate when hungry
Only four sugar laden snacks – three apple flips from Bruce’s and a lemon bar.
No sugared drinks.
Lost ten pounds.


Below the 49th

Except for school and the post office, rarely leave the house.
Walks are between the train station and the WGAS.
It took a week to finish the last two frames the last roll – one was of the cat.
Speak to no-one as there is no one about.
Eat whenever...
Sugar laden snacks follows caffeine in amount of intake.
Have gained back the ten pounds.
Tea has still replaced soft drinks so far.

drive, i must

I thought that I had a nice little ending there written on the plane not a complete circle but hinting at it.

It seems that it wasn’t symmetrical enough.

After arriving in Newark, walking down an endless corridor that would do the old Terminal one at Pearson’s proud. I was greeted by a surly immigration officer welcoming me back.

Sod off.

Drag my stuff through security again when the film causes a problem, try to find something to eat, have a large chai in which there is an inch gap between the liquid and the top of the cup. I ask.

-no that is a large with chai.

Welcome back indeed.

The plane leaves late, it seems that a plane has slid off the runway due to the snow in Milwaukee and they haven’t bothered to plough the other runway. We couldn’t leave until we could land. The plane was full off up-talking girls from Carthage College back from Eire.

A half hour later the plane leaves saying that the runway is clear. It is a two hour flight.

A two hour flight.

For some reason we have exceptionally strong headwind and an hour into the flight we still have two to go. It seems that the crew have a bad time estimating time.

Over Western Michigan everyone notices that we are constantly circling. The air hostess who at one time I am sure had hopes of being Miss West Texas after a career in cheerleading with her bubbly demeanour and free use of darling, states that the pilots are busy right now and had asked her to tell us that we cannot land as it has snowed in Milwaukee and the runways are closed. We were running out of fuel so we are going to Midway Airport to refuel and then head up to Milwaukee. We’ll be in Chicago in about 15 minutes. 45 minutes later we land. Remember we are running out of fuel we were 30 minutes from Milwaukee when we were told and it takes she underestimates the time it will take to get on the ground. Not particularly assuaging.

It is snowing, but the planes are arriving and departing with little or no problem. It seems that the airport knows about these things called snow ploughs.

Some of the people have Chicago as their final destination, can they leave? Ms perky consults the ground crew, yes but the baggage goes to Milwaukee, there will be no taxi or travel vouchers. She then hands out more bags of peanut “pretend they are hamburgers”. Most turn them down.

The pilots now refuse to talk to the passengers, Miss West Texas now says that we should be airborne in 15 minutes as they have just finished refuelling. I look out my window to see the refuelling truck only now attaching the hose to the plane.

45 minutes later she says that those who want to deplane in Chicago should do so now as we are leaving the gate in 5 minutes – 25 minutes later the door to the plane is shut.

We taxi to the runway in which she estimates that we will be in the air by 6PM. 6:15 we leave the ground.

The runways of Midway are wet but clear. I can see the grooved pavement. There are ploughs everywhere. Milwaukee’s airport looked like Iqualuit , Nunavut. If they were ploughed you could have fooled me. The plane skidded when it touched down.

Derisive applause. Not a peep from the pilots.

I had just left – well sometime in the recent past – St. John’s International Airport - YYT – reportedly the windiest airport in North America. There was a snow but the plane left on a runway relatively clear.

Milwaukee seemed to have been caught off guard – even though from what I hear the snow had bee predicted – and didn’t bother to try to clear the runways, landing the airport was as empty of snow clearing equipment as Chicago was full of it.

Continental was equally as bad by having the cheerleader stewardess be a foil for the pilots who simply couldn’t be bothered.

Come July I want to drive.

-See m’boy ...

we’re here at the airport and you still have an hour to go. My good look at the crowds, better hurry and beat that lone person up the escalator to security.
Yeah yeah yeah I deserved this got to the pipe house 15 minutes early not knowing what to expect and here we are in an empty airport.

Say good-bye, we’ll work out things for the show in July. He heads back to Pouch and to sleep.

I was half right as I enter the security area, the lone person everyone jumps up.

- are you taking the Continental flight to New Jersey?
- -yes
- do you mind if we do a more thorough search?
- Nope I was expecting it with the film and all.
Thirty minutes later are having a wand run over me a pat down, an innocuous “tool” taken and having to repack my bags.

I am at the gate with only 10 minutes to spare.

We do chat I show one guard some of my snaps. we talk about birding back yard feeders, the tragedy of outmigration how Danny Williams could save the province and once again there is the culture shock within the Newfoundlander between being their normal decent helpful selves and having to function in a world that isn’t that way and to make matters take orders from a prick president of the land to the south.

-You should stay here. Marry a Newfoundlander.

From the window I can see Stavengar Drive. It looks like we will b e heading south over the city but no we end up turning north tantalising close to one last view of Pouch but then bank over Portugal Cove, Conception Bay, Bell Island, then into the clouds.

They break just past the French colonies, in time to see the south coast, the islands - Ramea etc. and how amazing the land is before they go out of sight.

When I was in the Newark Airport and it looked like I would be living there, I started to write what I had learned from the semester in which I didn’t use a digital camera.

I found that I was quite ready to go back to it as I liked the new wave Polaroid aspect, but for some reason it was now at arm’s length. I brought it up for the online daybook nothing more – so it wasn’t going to be Woody Point two with three series coming from it.

Having a point and shoot meant slow reaction times and a lot of blurs and I balanced that with the trade off between that and immediate gratification.

It breaking up here was probably the best thing that could happen – although the person at Dominion doesn’t think so. The Leiquinha was more than I could hope for and there is no digital camera like it.

I am surprised at this for I hate 35mm, cannot remember why I brought it. I had this idea that St. John’s while great for meandering isn’t New York so small quiet 35’s are not necessary as buildings don’t race away and people are more than used to me by now.

What happened was that I got back to what I think that I do but really don’t - wander with a camera and note take. The leiquinha allowed this – as would a decent digital SLR as does Ziquinho and Ubaldo. The leiquinha doesn’t seem such an appendage. The visual version of carrying a pen – albeit a Mont Blanc – rather than a palm pilot or a laptop.

While tripping all through the paths turned into streams or sliding through snow I realised how much I would have missed if I had the same working method as in Woody Point.

I had a freedom to keep going and not turn back. I didn’t have to think about hills, narrow spaces nor something happening before I could get the camera ready.

While smaller cameras would all work as was in evidence on the other side of the island where I used Ubirajara, I prefer Zequinho and Ubaldo as it doesn’t make a big deal out of making the snap, quiet no showiness, on to the next.

I don’t like the shape of digital SLR, they are too big with those long lenses it is not something you would happen to have on you.

The leiquinha stepped in at making the panoramas that I did with the digital point and shoot – or rather point and shite – quite well.

The leiquinha allowed for a different look for the photographs of people. Now they could be seen as snapsnots, less posed even though it is a Leica dwarf it is treated more like a point and shoot when it is seen by people. it could be that this becomes the camera of choice for photographing people it could be the rectangle is more suitable.

I also liked the idea of rushes like one used to have when making films. At the Rooms some newspaper photographer photographing the artist took a couple and then went over to him to show him what he was thinking of and to move a bit so that the light would be better.

This is probably in this situation but I prefer taking too much hoping that I got it for there are always little surprises and I would hate to think of the lost learning opportunity from looking at alternate images.

As I mentioned before, I liked the cooling off period – two of them actually – one when I finished the roll and waited for another one to be used so as to save on price of burning CD’s, the second waiting to pick them up from Dominion.

I liked seeing what I had done that day. While on the CD were jpg images it was nice to look at them and not worry about scratching a neg or ruining the file as it was on a CD, but knowing that there was film for reliable long term storage. It helped me remember the day.

I know why I brought Ubirajara the ability to get close. Only used him once that way. All the rest of the time I could have Zequinho.

Next time I am thinking of leaving Ubirajara – this is only the third time of extensive use since Britain and the work along the seacoast.

Contradicting myself I liked the step backwards and the relative slowness – ironically due to shutter lag and the screen, I used my digital point and shite like a ‘blad. It is just not the camera one has when wandering about, it didn’t stop me, I did not make a snap because I had the wrong camera. It is simply some are more of what I see myself as than others.

While I didn’t get close to even beginning to work on the grand schemes that I was planning I am more than happy of what came from it.

I realised that I am not the photographic imperialist that I thought that I was. I didn’t need to travel the Avalon looking for new material, I found it here in Pouch – am quite surprised as I thought that I had photographed just about everything in Pouch but evidently not. I was able to concentrate on the subtle, delegating the leiquinha to the grand scenes for the online daybook.

While colour is ok, having all that film left over from the summer of weddings allowed me to fool around much more than I usually would, I still like black and white and prefer it. it still could be the paper as here I was using Epson matte – the only thing available.

I still like negatives. While the CD allowed me to multitask when I was making prints, I still like the darkroom and if Ray will let me in it at night I’ll use it. I won’t waste daylight and my days in St John’s being in a darkroom.

While film is a hassle at airports, I may ship it ahead next time. Thought about leaving the unused rolls up here but am too cheap for that even though I don’t know when I’ll get the time to make snaps intensively with the show in July.

So in a couple of months - I hope – I’ll have to choose again. I want to see how I contradict myself then.

There is a seal in the cove by the Pipe House...

but whenever Aleks reaches for her camera it disappears.

Whether the rain and gale force winds stopped or not I had things to do to-day. I had given up any sort of idea of photographing in St. John’s, didn’t have my last meal at the Bagel Café. Headed over to the Pipe House to return the printer, straight edge, other sundries I had borrowed and some trousers.

Roger was there stayed a bit ranted about The Rooms in which they all joined in. Something was in the works that I cannot divulge until 1 February. Due to what I knew made some snaps and seeing that the sun had come out raced into St. John’s.

It is illogical but I love this city. Illogical because I have been to Rio/Niterói – which I love equally and in what they have to offer are not even close. I think that the reason if that both have great views, they are not amorphous, and cater to hopeless wanderers. While admittedly coming in on the Torbay Road isn’t the best view, it is something when Signal Hill comes into view.

Took Allendale Road in which is better as the entire city from Confederation Building to the Southside Hills are there in front of me.

Went to the rooms to photograph the Harbour, Narrows and Signal Hill one last time and regretted there wasn’t enough time to go to the Battery and photograph in the opposite direction.

Then I realised that it was sunny it was 2PM meaning less than three hours of light left and I was running errands. Bought Thaddeus’’s Terra Nova Suite and then raced back to Pouch, knowing that there were too many choices in St. John’s for me to function.

Well not race back. Stopped at the Hotel Newfoundland to buy two Globes and an Independent – don’t know why as I wasn’t planning on coming back to the Duke. Stopped in Middle Cove to make some snaps then again in Shoe Cove where I ran out of colour film thinking that, with the wind and rain, I would not be making too many snaps.

Kicked myself as it was a long slippery walk to the cove and it was precisely at the cove that I ran out.

Back to Bruce’s to buy an apple turnover for tea. Joked with Henry saying that this was his second home
-you didn’t go out did ya
-yes b’y
-in the rain and wind?
- the rain means that I don’t have to shower and the wind dries me off.
Say good-bye to him and the people behind the counter, get more film and finally walk every street in Pouch which was the goal for about a week now.

Some bayman formalism but more hints at habitation and a comment on how wrong the Rooms got it by photographing – not real ones but ones that were closer. I seemed to be focusing on lights that were left on outside houses. I am not sure what will come of them as it was not really dark enough for them to be apparent.

Said hello to Hap Vaters who had just come back from ATV in the woods and headed along Pouch Cove line to try to re-photograph a dory in front of a split level house.

The days are lengthening. At the beginning of the month it would have been dark by now but I was still making snaps.

But the sun did set and one more realisation that this all is drawing to a close.

Another turnover at Bruce’s where they offer me a lemon bar – am getting ready for the return south. Reach the house at dusk to watch someone over at Ted’s shed peeing into the ocean.

Being dark it was time to run the errands – buy new towels for the place and replace the inks I used - I had planned when I thought that the day was going to be a washout.

Head over to the Pipe House to tell my evil twin to hold his anecdotes on the goings on earlier until I get back when he asks if I want to go to dinner in town.

We head in. Drinks at the Duke first then the Gypsy Tea Room but passing the Bamboo Café, he says that it is good so why not. The bar is back to a manageable level people. Sue enters her boyfriend is waiting, soon enough John and Marion come in. We sit in Clarke’s Beach. I wonder why there is basketball on the large screen.

Dinner was good, hot and sour noodle dish for $7 and vegetarian dumplings. All told it cost $20. Plans are made. Ideas are tossed back and forth. Only three people in the restaurant one couple is seated by the door to the toilets.

Tariq passes, I run out he stops illegally and comes in, I mutter something about damned Upper Canadians.

I leave to-morrow. The twin leaves Tuesday and is trying to arrange a lift to the airport.

I am quiet looking at the city, we head up Holloway street – didn’t think that the Volvo had it in it – then over to a video shop that looks like the visual version of High Fidelity.

Then back I say good-bye to the Alex while her dog want to tear into me. My twin watches his video, I come back to put the place in order forgetting that it is Saturday. Saturday must be the worse night for programming on the CBC so I am at even more of a loss.

Sleeping means waking up.

Last day ritual wake to the national anthem and the Ode.

noon

100k/h winds
horizontal rain so strong that it is being forced through the storm windows
water spouts in the cove
i'm going to miss this place.

a minor rant

When one sees incompetence it usually manifests itself in one situation. There is a balancing out with other aspects done well – or at least with an attempt to do it well.

Then there is The Rooms. They must be trying to write the book on how to not have a clue. I was prepared as when I tried to find out when Kennedy was talking I couldn’t find it on the website nor were there any listings anyplace. I had to ring. When I went to the walk around talk I had to explain to those coming frantic that there would be no seats that we would follow Kennedy and Pratt around the gallery while they talked about the work.


Head back to town and park at The Rooms. I was invited to stop down by Ray who was going and I reckoned that this would be a time to chat one last time. I knew that I was early it was 7PM the opening wasn’t until eight but the place was dark, and the doors locked. Worrying, I ask someone who is trying to get in if there is an opening.

He doesn’t know. He asks the guard who opens the door who states that it is for invitees only.

I walk to the Duke confused.

The Duke is packed, Friday night. Wonder about The Ship Inn. John is at the bar, Marion comes in later, Clyde is playing pool, recognise other people. Terry is frantic, the woman who didn’t feel comfortable posing when all of St. John’s has seen her nekkid was telling people that there are no more pint glasses.

I get a pint of Guinness, find a – relatively – quiet corner and read The Globe. About eight I head back up the hill, and head to the information desk.

- I am confused. I hear there was an opening tonight but when I came earlier a guard said that it was by invitation only.
- No it is not it is open to everyone. He was wrong.
Go into a minor rant.

Climb the heights to the Provincial Art Gallery – catchy name eh? – to see the work – video portraits of famous authors sitting in front of a camera that only really allows a head shot. They were asked questions but the video is silent. We watch them squirm for 5 minutes.

This is not a review of the work – which probably wouldn’t have made it into a juried student show – but the handling of it by the curators – one is racing off to Mount Allison University in Sackville NB without out telling anyone. The powers that be found out about it via the Mt A. website.

It is video. The room is lit as if they were painting, photos anything that that doesn’t emit its own light.

The whole exhibition seems to be setup on the idea of isn’t this cool as there is no usual explanation of what is here – again process. If this were a painting it would say, perhaps. oil on canvas. It is self evident but not really, no indication of duration of the videos, if they were loops, etc. The rooms are supposed to be a learning institution.

It gets worse. Behind the main room there is a show of artists books. In the usual ironic but understandable manner of display – thick plexi one page open all of which screaming do not touch. Last week people were leaning against the Mary Pratt paintings.

Again on the surface the gallery looks great clean graphic text on the wall with excerpts about artists books – except it really doesn’t say anything.

I look at the books and again nice anecdotes but minor details like how it was made, edtioning, if the text/photos were offset, gravure, letterpress seemed to them to be irrelevant. In some they hadn’t even bothered to remove the provincial library sticker from the cover.

The exhibition was almost useless. I cannot imagine the two local artist bookmakers being pleased with this except that the work is at the Rooms.

Someone made the mistake of asking me what I thought.

But I went as it was a last chance to see people and I saw more than I expected as there was a Woody Point contingent there some hoping to see Wayne Johnston.

I can see how I am becoming typecast here by whom people associate me with.

I am sure Clyde only said a quick hello at the bar because again there was no 30 something blond behind me but my evil twin seems to think it is also due to my association with him.

At the opening one person kept a safe distance due to some recent backstabbing of a friend but seemed shocked when I was speaking with all these other people whom I have met by my constant wanderings. I love baffling people like this.

Has enough. Didn’t even have the wine and munchies, which looked quite good in the café next door which was more crowded than the gallery – glad that peoples’ priorities are in the right place. Headed back to Pouch. Thinking to myself that I actually like Route 20.

The day started out with the beginning of closing things down.
Got stuck in the snow photographing Shoe Cove Pond and again trying to get out of a parking spot in Gower Street.

Headed into town to give the tanks back to Ray. In the process the next time I am up I have the use of the College of The North Atlantic’s darkroom.

Imagine that a school and one that specialises in commercial work, actually reinstalling a darkroom, backward bloody baymen. It seems that they take more to heart the theory that my much vaunted department only pays lips service to – dealing with all aspects of photography.

It is he that invites me that evening. I think twice for it means heading out to Pouch then coming back in.

I head over to Baird mère’s place to pick up my pullover and some laundry.

-I won’t invite you in as I am heading out to have my hair done.

The plan then is to make some kamikaze runs – those little outings that endear me to people below the 49th parallel but not those residing in Virginia.

Headed over to Ray’s place and dropped a snap in his box and later I would do the same with the other photographer that whose show I saw.

First I was going to pick up Thaddeus’s book at the Rooms but since I was going to be there that evening… the bookshop was closed during the opening more sound economic thinking.

Angela passed me in her machine as I was walking up Prescott Street, I race down to try to catch up with her but as I near the car, the light changes and she disappears down Water. Now that I am on Water, I decide to stop in at Christina Parker’s Gallery.

- it is January and you are here.
She doesn’t want to talk about the rooms but will be there this evening. Look at the work chat about Chicago as it seems she has a daughter living there.

I start to wander Brine Street past Ned Pratt’s place photographing not so much NFLD formalism but having Signal Hill peep into the frame whenever possible, some street furniture and shops, a convenience which was once owned by the evil twin, a bar and a strange window display.

Bought a Globe for later.

Picked up my film from Dominion
-you should buy a digital camera.
-why?
-you’d save money on development.
-then you wouldn’t have a job.

I plan to make it back in time to photograph up and down more hills and get back to a image that could be made better but it was already 4PM and the light was waning.

- hey camera man some kids yell
- hey sledding kids.
Headed over to Elke’s to try to photograph the tree once more. She told me that they are playing pond hockey up behind Noseworthy’s Hill. Great now that I am leaving and it is dark.

Head down to see the evil twin but the door is locked on the way meet and photograph Eric and Warren who are at the town hall chatting to each other through their car windows. Eric – or Warren – owns one of the rooms by where I am staying on Ted Sullivan’s land – cannot figure out if this is a hint that it is for sale or not but it would have to be a small house.

Would be more depressed if I weren’t busy.

I finish off two more rolls of film to drop off at Dominion when I head in which leaving the opening early I can pick up.

Night cap – Guinness and Keith’s Light – have to watch my figure - at the Pipe House.

Possible breaking news but I cannot say anything until 1 February – after I am away.

The 100k/h winds that were predicted have started but not the rain.

am so pissed at the rooms that i cannot write

nfld formalismlower studio of the pipe housesharon and reg's patiothe only eric and warren in pouch cove
elke
nina

sea fog

14 sullivans loop

view from sharon's - william's hill
the site of the former st. john's bubble

nfld formalism
the baird ancestrial home
maggie

wifi spot in the car park in rawlins cross

the steps to valhalla - or at least a smithwicks

one of god's last name
clarke's beach/baird's cove

art dealings - bayman version

Woke up to sea fog. The air was so cold that the fog mimicked the waves in the cove. I heard that the harbour and the Narrows in town disappeared.

Another cold day as it was –11C when I woke up and the temperature was dropping. But the hardest part of the day is bracing for the cold not the cold itself as it hasn’t been all that bad once out in it. I, however, picture it as worse than it is.

The fire had gone out so there was a rush to heat the place and have coffee before heading down to the even colder Pipe House for another trip into town.

The evil twin also decided that it was time to buy firewood and rang a name that he got from over at Bruce’s.

Nope they were out.

??!!!!

Headed across to Bruce’s to ask again and put up a sign. Noticed that the light was out on the Volvo making me wonder why the RNC haven’t stopped me. Out of date tags, broken lights and windscreen.

A typical day at the foundation, there was money being wired from Britain so into town to pick it up and spend it immediately. That was the plan for yesterday but the funds didn’t show up – again a smirk international sales from an outport in the middle of the North Atlantic – this must be making a River North gallery wonder what those baymen have.

Going to the bank is an event parking is impossible in St. John’s as they have more meter patrols than actual policemen. Stopping for any time risks a ticket so I manoeuvre the one way system while Evil Twin heads in. This part of St. John’s makes San Francisco look like Kansas so I am spinning and sliding all over. My favourite courses are the S curves of Prescott Street and the Downhill of Catherdral Street

The funds still haven’t arrived. Just over a century ago Marconi sent a signal across the Atlantic and it seems the TD cannot get it right yet.

We drive behind the video in Rawlins Cross as someone in the area has Wi-Fi – as does the Don Cherry out Freshwater Road, a café in Duckworth Street. Knowledge of Wi-Fi spots in this modern world comes second to good public lavs.

A stop at the Baird ancestral home to pick up and drop off items – and tea and bikkies. I am wondering if I should stop at the old Baird manor and steel some firewood.

More e-mails are sent using the neighbour’s wi-fi.

Out to TJ’s to get the light replaced then over to Future Shop to spend the money before it arrives.

I get wi-fi as a gift for Martin and Gabrielle for letting me stay at Sullivan’s Loop.

- hello
- yes is Martin there?
- no. he won’t be here until… oh … august.
- I’ll call back.

The alcoholic in training looks at fridges.
-get the side by side you can fit two bodies in them if they are thin.

I am over looking at digital cameras as one will be needed if everything turns out – joke with a sales clerk who writes up the wi-fi
-when you leave go up front and let them disengage the security system
-damn I like a good chase
-bruno is pretty fast.
- oh I was hoping for a Glenda
- funny you should mention that –buddy shows me his name card “Glendon”
- I said GlendA
- That happens after I get off.
Back to the office to wait. Both Baird’s Cove and Clarke’s Beach are occupied so we have our Guinnesses between the two.

An awkward moment when the woman who made the shamrock on my Guinness is serving us.

A photograph of Angie’s lawyer.

More e-mails when Terry gets it working again.

He walks over to the bank, I finish my Guinness and then head over with the machine. In one block four meter people. Keep circling when he comes out heading in the opposite direction – down Water Street makes a phone motion with his hands which I don’t understand as I don’t have one. Park in a free zone in Cathedral Street which must dip three feet in the length of a car. Cannot find the parking brake so turn the wheels and hope.

Back at the Duke – which doesn’t surprise anyone – I phone to find that he is now in the opposite direction at Livyers in Duckworth. More slalom driving through downtown.

But there are funds, artists are paid there will be a new bath at the Pipe House, and now how about that camera at Future Shop.

Glendon is still Glendon


-you don’t want to see him as Glenda believe me. One of his coworkers says.

He turns into the type of camera sales person one would find in a loser Camera Shop in South Wabash. Trying to sell the alcoholic in training everything from an extra battery through a case and an extended warranty. It would make that owner of that rat invested shop for the mentally challenged proud.

Finally up to Pouch but not before we stop at the liquor store in the pharmacy to pick up some Guinness in the machine beside us there is a woman fiddling with her digital camera. Mention this in the shop and someone states that she is pretty good.

His die is cast, I go back to the machine to finish him off. Then head out to the machine to photograph her.

I remake a couple of photographs that were a bit over exposed due to the tempermentality of things Swedish.

Tonight is to be the last night of developing film as I have to return the tanks to Ray in the morning.

Set up the Wi-Fi when the phone rings
-may I speak to Paul Kennedy?
- he is not here
- can you take a message
- you don’t realise that he is here only a fortnight a year – less if I have anything to say about it. he won’t be here until July if then.
- The is Rogers wishing to speak to him about updating the internet connexion.
- I take the number..

Head over to the Pipe House to show how the camera works. He is in the process of signing up with Skype and proceeds to phone his living DNA sample who is in Britain.

He likes the movie mode.

I am freezing I come back to make dinner and start the fire as the place is 10C, I need it to be twelve. Developing film is a real experience as I have to heat the tank before I can start.

Back over there where it is now warmer – until I drink the Guinness – and we talk over plans that cannot be divulged until I am a CFA who is away.

Head back over to start to clean and see how the fire is going, thinking that this is precisely the type of day that one has when one lives in a place not when one visits. Again it is made manifest that I am comfortable here and as soon I as am not in a rush it is time to go.

There is a job at Memorial but I would have to grow breasts.

With little time left I should be running all over the place panicking trying to finish stuff but instead I have a day where I only used up three rolls of film – was surprised as I was wandering about without my pullover and as I stated didn’t miss it until I was unloading the machine Baird’s mum rang saying it was at her place.

Acclimatising

It was –12C to-day when we headed into St. John’s. Nevertheless I went marling about town not realising that I had left my pullover at Baird's mum's place.

I realised this back at Pouch.

winter flânerie

It is -12C.

I have the machine, Baird needs to go into town. We plan to head out at 10, he’ll do his chores, I wander and get culcher and we’ll meet at the…Duke.

There is a wind chill. I take Zequinho, and the leiquinha. On the way I head up to Elke’s to give her some of last night’s dinner to prove vegetarian food isn’t boring. Sharon is there having coffee and am invited in but have to rush. It seems that Sharon was headed down to my place next to introduce me to Tracy.
-to-morrow?
--yeah I should be home.

The Volvo is great fun with no winter tyres, I go tobogganing down Sullivan’s Loop turning just before I hit one of Ted’s rooms. Driving it requires a whole new strategy as steep hills have be bypassed. I can go down from Elke’s but to get to her place I have to head out on the Main Road and take the lesser incline.

It is more like the luge where Noseworthy’s Hill meets the Main Road. I park in the street fearing that I will never get up the Pipe House Driveway.

It is determined that Baird will drive.

In town I finish my souvenir shopping, stopping in at Living Planet to pick up some t-shirts and a sweatshirt. They give me a more permanent replacement for my free NFLD sticker and mentioning this pain in the arse north-east liberal, they throw in an “ I CLUB BABY SEALS” Sticker.

I make their photograph and the woman working- Jenny Gear gives me her music CD.

Bought a couple of artist’s books at the Devon Craft House before heading back down Duckworth and beginning to make some Newfoundland formalist snaps in the neighbourhoods trying to hit as many small streets as possible.

Porches, steps, graffiti, building heights, windows, discarded Christmas Trees, ladders.

Down to Eastern Edge and St. Michael’s Print Workshop, passing the bubble and with fog burning off Signal Hill and the Narrows coming into view.

Remembered that the oil tanks on the Southside Hills were being demolished that ikonic Irving Oil sign that was a beacon in the night is threatened. A few attempts as documenting it before they disappear although it looks like I’ll disappear first.

Yea yea yea it was –12C but it was a great wander. It could be the hills that warm me by climbing them but I wasn’t cold.

Headed past the Duke and down Duckworth past the CBC building then behind it with more formalist snaps – boarded building, back gardens, lawn chairs on a roof top, blank wall, satellite dishes.

Time for lunch and I was hungry so to the Duke for a pint of Guinness and my Globe.

The director of The Rooms came in – thought about offering him my condolences. The assistant director is fleeing to New Brunswick. Richard is at the bar. Order my pint from Terry and head to Clarke’s Beach to read.

A section in Baird arrives errands unfulfilled and we move to Baird’s Cove. It then becomes an office away from Pouch as Three of the four members of God’s Last Name come in – one is baffled as I introduce myself as Jim Baird. We are invited to hear them play at Roxxy – better since they stole my images – which supposedly gives the word “dive” a bad name.

Depression sets in as things are planned that will happen after my departure. I am now once again feeling like I live here and I have to go. I had passed the chat with people that I was back and was now into other discussions. Now it is time to prepare to leave – my last day of developing film will be to-morrow as I have to get the tanks back to Ray on Friday, I’ll return the printer on Saturday, etc.

It is a one Guinness lunch for me as it is cold out and I hate having to keep running into Tim’s or hotels. Later in the day it is colder. I decide to head to George Street as I know it is rife with street furniture and am not disappointed.

Asit gets dark I head back to Pouch skidding out of Gower and into Queens street, sliding through Bannerman Park but never the less doing 100 on the straightaway.

The cold has chilled down the house the bedroom is in the 40’’sF. I develop film averaging the beginning and ending temperature but forget about the fix that is about 60F.

Start a fire, move a space heater, make soup and everything is fine.
Head over to the Pipe House to drop off some stuff to find my evil twin shivering and cursing the cold. The joys of smaller spaces easier to heat.

driving the "back way" into St. John's The Killick Coast

Wind Gap Road - Flatrock Signal Hill and Cabot Tower in the distance (good luck)
Marine Drive - Middle Cove
Marine Drive - Outer Cove

Snow

Not a blizzard but constant. That and the mauze had Shoe Cove disappear.

Sharon stopped by to borrow the tyre pump and a mug up. She gave me a couple of Reg’s prints.

Ventured out in the morning when it was still only –5C, up the hill to Elke’s to drop off some prints. Then down to the evil twin to transfer the images from the Pipe house brunch.

Looking out over the big sea, mentioned my feeling of cabin fever due to being a terminal Newfoundlander. When I was here longer days like this would have been a respite, a time to slow down and catch up, stare out at the ocean and realise how great this place is.

Leaving at the end of the week, I had things to do and was my south of the 49th antsy self.

Said I’d make dinner, and walking back surprisingly calmed down.

I had two books to make and letters to prepare, this would be the day to do it.

Drove the unploughed road back to the Pipe House with the food, a squash bake and a mushroom risotto – using Israeli cous cous instead of rice.

Leaving had flash backs to the time I stayed at the Pipe House as I couldn’t get the Volvo out of the driveway.

Forgot to start a fire in Sullivan’s Loop a mistake made manifest even more this morning with it a sunny 12 below.

I am more fully aware of the weather up here. Not that it is colder than the upper mid-west. It isn’t. I am aware of it as I have to prepare for it. The house not having central heating since the wood furnace was taken out, there is a ritual of opening and closing doors to heat and forsake various parts of the house. The back bedroom is a wine cellar. During the day everything is open. At night I strategically close what is not being used and just before bed open the door to the bedroom to allow the heat to infiltrate in just enough to be able to sleep. The place is at 16C.

I am aware of this as I headed out to the town where most students – and others - think I am from Witless Bay. I saw this house via Property Guys that overlooks the bay and ocean for $38.000CDN. Wanted to see it.

Needless to say it was a disappointment as it seemed that there was a better view of the water. It is between two houses and while at the price it is nice, I have been spoiled.

It was also small. Like Elke’s up the road, Hansen’s place in Kingman’s or even Peter’s in Petty Harbour, the rooms are quite compact. Sullivan’s Loop seems spacious, and the Pipe House…well with no walls.

On a –10C day I twigged. Easier to heat. While both Peter’s and Elke’s places seemed intimate they were also warm and only needed a wood stove. Baird sits under an afgan.

I am also aware as I have to start the fire when it is needed and I am still not a pro at it. I write this until the fire goes out and the chill seeps back in

Even though it was a –10C day it was nice enough to do my morning wander about Pouch with Ubirajara – the last time I use him in winter. Again I got overexposed negs – not so much that I cannot use them but they are definitely dense. Particularly worried as I found one of those ikonic snaps that I look for. It was Sam Newell’s clothes line with a head stone from the cemetery next door. There were quite a few juxtapositions to-day. A dory “parked” in front of a split level home behind one of the many Noseworthys places – this one had a statue of two “coloured boys” fishing. Am thinking maybe I should put two grinning people in Sou’westers on the front lawn.

Also photographed Jamie Lynn with her kid wrapped up on her back as she was waiting for her other daughter to come home from school in Gruchy’s Hill.

There are many things that I am not doing this time that I wanted to – no regrets just a statement one was to take that great mother road. So after snaking into St. John’s via a diversion through Flatrock and all the coves along Killick Coast Drive from Torbay passing under the new beginning point to the Trans Canada, passing the old Mile One and out Pitts Drive – at one time the TCH. Then down route 10 – The Irish Loop through Bay Bulls to Witless Bay.

Don’t much like the southern shore. It could be that it is on the way to someplace – you pass through Bay Bulls, Witless Bay, Ferryland etc. you end up in Pouch, Woody Point. It could be that I hate driving through the Goulds.

I liked Witless Bay, got out for a walk parking in someone’s lot
-taking pictures?
-yeah can I park there?
-yeah.

I keep wanting and meaning to spend more time in St. John’s and out of the Duke, but there was the formalism that I was looking for here coupled with the juxtaposition of objects and space that I like in the outports.

Zequinho was with me and he being able to take to the cold - it is easier to change film in him also - I could wander at will. A demonstration of faith as there was laundry on the line over the Atlantic in 30k/h winds. A dory in front of an 18 wheeler, A graveyard overlooking an area where well used items were “left”.

There was even a beach, black sand but still I haven’t been this close to the water since I arrived. Drove through Petty Harbour on the way to the late afternoon ritual, a flash back to the road to Bonne Bay for a few minutes – not the 30 there – I was winding my way through wooded hills. The Pipe for the water supply for St. John’s killed the magic a bit.

Like Petty Harbour again it is intimate, all along the hills on both sides of the harbour – Houses tucked in but there was this abomination that one sees in Peasant’s Pissoir usually built by F.I.B.s to impress someone – five stories high on a hill – the residential equivalent of the Rooms.

Cape Spear Drive and Shea Heights coming into St. John’s is second only to driving down the old Trans Canada and first seeing Signal Hill and then the harbour. I could see the Labatts brewery and from this distance the Rooms almost seemed ok.

It is late afternoon this means a search for a Globe to keep me and my Smithwicks company will be difficult. Head to a convenience in Duckworth that always has them, passing the CBC crew that was out at the Pipe House filming Kennedy cooking.

-Do you have a pet story? We’ll include you in the segment – as they head into Sue’s place.

No globe at the convenience but as I leave I run into Barb Daniels who was the next door neighbour in Woody Point – I kept calling her Pat as I was on a mission. Heard more about the scandal that happens within the Rooms.

Desperate, I head to the Hotel Newfoundland where having one I can now justify a pint before the long arduous trip back to Pouch listening to the Fisheries Broadcast where there is an alert of a dead whale warning and they give the coordinates.

Baird says he doesn’t mind the mouse running about when he is up nor the droppings it is the racket it makes when if gets in the food.

I see mine for the first time as we both go for the garbage at the same time.

Entering the last week

A quiet day as the kitchens of the Pipe House were to be put to use again as my evil twin had decided to throw a brunch for the usual suspects most of whom were at a birthday party in the Harbour until 4AM down in St. John’s.

It was at 11:30 I decided to head over at 10 to see if he needed any help. The coldest day so far – 7C still there were people out and about. Sharon’s bitch was watching over the house. The leiquinha wasn’t being used for the planned use – real postcards of Newfoundland – but instead as pieced together panoramas. This was the idea as I was walking toward the Pipe House.

Stopped over the stage as did Wayne and we chatted starting off with the weather which he liked as he is an avid skidoo rider. Talked about Western Newfoundland and the fact that there are more trails than roads. He is making more trails behind Pouch. Travel – drove a caravan to the States and up to the Battery Park in New York. Like me he would like to see some of the more remote areas of the province.

Finally got to the Pipe House at 11:15 and was the first person to arrive by about an hour. That party on the boat in the Harbour the night before must have been something. Even the birthday boy was expected to make an appearance.

The nice thing about the Pipe House – outside of the view – is the cross draught can clear smoke in no time.

Asked why my evil twin had become a social butterfly all of a sudden – was he trying to imitate Kennedy? This was a practice run for the summer when he wants to do this with each opening at the gallery.

A hidden – well not so hidden – smirk as I realised that everyone coming buys art and a lot of it. I cannot help thinking about a certain photo gallery that sells pottery that scoffed at the idea of a gallery at the end of the earth.

By the way the Flat Earth Society has one of the four corners of the earth here in Fogo Island. If only there were more time…

To keep from being social I cooked the eggs.

Newfoundland and Upper Canadian accents competing with Brasilian music.

It was a nice sunny day and I was getting cabin fever. I kept staring out the window but no one noticed as everyone does. The cabin fever wouldn’t have been so pronounced if this weren’t my last Sunday here. With more time I would have taken it in stride hung around Pouch rented a video form Bruce – great selection better than the Hollywood Video Kenosha – and read the Globe at the house.

A shock to the system: the Satellite Lounge has closed it is now a kiddie day care.

Being at a loss I heading into St. John’s to drop off film at Dominion and buy supplies to last the rest of the time here. Am definitely eating better this time in Pouch – thanks to the dinners in Bonne Bay. Am cooking instead of buying prepared foods and am surprised at the lack of desire for sweets.

15 rolls developed all turned out well. Am glad I learned photography back in the dark ages up here that knowledge came in handy specifically the idea of flow by time temperature.

Ted Sullivan's land
Main Road
Gruchy's and Noseworthy's Hill
The stage by the town hall
Sharon having a mug up

the view from here (pintless)

the building of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation - which is for sale. The camera was in the circled window.

Are we sitting quietly?

Then I shall begin.
OK I know it was a lame brained idea. It came from the mormon who said that she and her father – both challenged it seems in the having a life department found a camera someplace in Utah. Hearing that there was this idea of sending images to each other without using our cameras. Think photo department on a grand scale.

I had planned on doing this when I arrived. I had planned due to the unique nature of not only the time zone but also the placement and the shortened days, to do it on a weekend. Then with all the goings on, I forgot.

I realised on Friday that it was either this week-end or next Saturday as the days have become –even more – numbered. I realised the resolution problems I should have taken something bigger to be seen but I am not a blond Minnesotan so signs are not my thing.

AS soon as I got up I went to the site to see exactly where I would have to stand and found that the camera had moved since last night. Usually you cannot see the McMurdo’s Lane – the steps to the Duke or its sign. The camera is pointed more toward the court house. I was glad that I looked then panicked that it would move again and I wouldn’t know about it.

I had everything planned I would cheque the tyre, get into town about one park right there so I could if necessary stand on the machine. Did worry a bit when I saw the spaces filling up – people drinking that early? Parking is free in St. John’s on week-ends.

Then Baird rang. He needed the machine to go into town to buy food for the brunch to-morrow. I’d be there at noon.

I am getting ready when Sharon stops by. I am thankful this is not Tilting up on Fogo when people can simply walk in but I cannot bar her from entering.

She takes off her boots – curse the fact that Martin and Gabrielle have no back kitchen – I offer her tea. She accepts. Tea or herbal? Tea. I remember that I have no milk. She thinks a bit and goes for the herbal. I have one bag.

It is 11:45 and she is here for a chat. The house, the party this evening in St. John’s, her idea for a stand by her place next door to sell her art and some hot dogs. I like chatting but I really have to go. Tell her so and we leave.

It seems that Kennedy has left his phone at the Pipe House. I take pictures of us with it driving into St. John’s. Baird opines that he won’t know how to erase them.

He lets me down at his mum’s place. I see graffiti over in St. Pat’s ball park and am off.
-How are you getting back out.
-I’ll mange
-depending on the goodness of the white folks?
-yes they are so wonderful.

Yes b’y the capital is a great place for marling. It has been raining but now it has stopped. It is 3C, I am too warm but it intend to stay in town to watch the Ravens Colts match at the Duke.

Head over to St. Pat’s then down Carpasian Road into Georgetown to photograph the Georgetown Pub and the bakery. Michael from the Gould’s comes to chat about the place and how great it is and his snap is made. Down Williams Street and some paths between streets to Monkstown Road through Rawlin’s Cross down King, Bond, Gower making snaps that are both street furniture and urban formalism.

Into the Fairmont Newfoundland – voted the best rest rooms in St. John’s – I prefer the Delta - the Spur came in second.

Picked up a Globe and Independent for later and with 15 minutes before I have to get into place, I wander down Duckworth waving to the people in the Family Barber shop and to Sue next door.

It was raining but it stopped. I don’t like all the cars around but there is nothing I can do. I pass the time trying to find the camera. It is in the studio on the fifth floor wonder how it was moved. I cannot stand in the street as there is a lot of traffic.

A man comes out of the Duke to have a smoke. He ignores me as it looks like I am waiting for someone. Besides he is more interested in the 20 somethings photographing each other with a pro looking Canon digital camera – white lens. They are in the empty lot beside the CBC, then in the car park. They cross the street to sit in various doorways. Buddy behind me is really interested. Then his friend comes out.

I want to photograph them but even time I turn to try to do something I fear that that will be the new uploaded image and there will be a minute of my back.

I knew it would be small, I liked the feed back that it was hard to see and make me out – not in my usual torturous way but, in hindsight, it seemed fitting. There at the top of the image was Signal Hill and the Marconi Tower where the first transatlantic signal was received “…” the letter s. again it was simply something but it was a start. My puniness was a proper homage.

Knowing that people who go through the WGAS are time challenged I stood for a bit longer then headed up the hill to the Rooms for the walking talk of Paul Kennedy and Mary Pratt.

The place was filled with art guild biddies as Mary Pratt looks like the queen of art school biddies.

I got in because I had Paul’s phone, they wanted to bar me from the gallery due to my “book bag” until I held up the phone again. There were bag bigger than mine and someone was walking around with a Coke.

Talk was disappointing as it was a gush fest worthy of the likes of Sheilagh Rogers. The talk was more about technique than meaning. It was interesting listening to Mary Pratt insult people without them knowing it.

Printmakers hate my work because it is so perfect.
You have been to University so you know about a lot of things. I know how to paint.
She dissed Northern European still life paintings and painters, people who think. My hands cramped up taking notes.

She didn’t talk about any sexual innuendos in the paintings of food, only technique. I had heard this – over and over but I had to see it for myself.

Baird’s mum was there with her date but left early. Chatted with Kennedy a bit about Sullivan’s Loop until an art guild biddie came to talk about something marvellous.

IT was dark and rainy when I left but still made a couple of snaps on the way to the Duke.

A pint of Guinness – thought it was Sunday – and sat in Clarke’s Beach to read and await the game. Arsenal v Blackburn was on.

The Guinness was poured beautifully the bar keep even drew a shamrock with the foam.

While reading the Globe saw that the game wasn’t until 4:30PM Toronto time. It was only 3:30 here. Drank up and decided to go back to Pouch.

But I hesitated. I asked the bar keep if I could photograph her since she made the shamrock in my Guinness. She hesitated but was on the verge of giving in when Richard a week-end regular asked if he could be in the picture also.

She then said no and backed down saying that I should take a picture of Richard instead. I said fine.
- I feel funny about having my picture taken.
So is that why I saw you starkers in the exhibit that I saw last week at the florist’s, I thought.
I took a snap of Richard we started chatting.
Later back in Pouch related this to Baird who said ‘fine darling if you want to take off your clothes…

Out on the street it was beginning to drizzle. When I got to the Torbay Road it was raining, As I was leaving the city it was snowing. No one was stopping so hopped in a taxi at the Irving Gas Bar at Stavanger Drive by now the roads were becoming covered
with 80k/h winds.

15 rolls developed.

I keep fooling myself and am surprised on how often I do this. The AM ritual was in effect but it was a supposed to be a short wander. I was going to retrace my steps from the day before but only in Pouch as I wanted to make the snaps that were iffy on the negs.

Saw Henry coming out of the Post Office.
- a lot of miles on those legs.
- -about as much as on yours,
- got to use them or they’ll freeze up
- yep am thinking of walking into St. John’s
- naw it must be 17 miles.
He heads to Bruce’s, I head south.

Stopped along the Main Road as I saw Richard, one of the first people I had seen back in 1999 and I never had made his snap. he accommodated by greeting me chatting about how great the weather is exchanged names and he was off to Bruce’s.

I really meant to only photograph those images that looked marginal, A caravan under the tolt, a formal image of roofs meeting at the old Bark Pot, the back hoes, I didn’t even bring the Leiquinha for those envy snaps.

Before I knew if though I was heading up Meetinghouse Road toward the tolt. Thinking that if the short way was too wet there was the long way and I would simply see and photograph along the way.

This was the less picturesque side of Pouch. The city dump is up here. There is a quarry. The new cell phone tower is between the tolt and the saddle. But I was going to try to find the ponds that were hidden in the woods.

An 90 minutes later I turn back as – the excuse was that I had to descend and I would come back when I had more time – pissed off as the sun had come out and there were these great views – again the cape, bay verde peninsula but also toward Flatrock.

Into St. John’s for money, drop off film, food, a stop at St Michael’s to ask about book making materials, Auntie Crae’s for a Globe and to see what breads was on offer then back.

Stop in to know the estimated arrival time of Kennedy. He hadn’t rung but the Pipe House kitchen was to be turned into CBC studios as Paul was going to cook a Newfoundland dish – in conjunction with the exhibit of Mary Pratt, and his soon to be published, since 2001 book and he had to be there soon.

Drop off the film at Dominion and run into Kennedy buying the provisions and being frustrated as he cannot find caviar, nor pumpernickel bread.

-tried Auntie Crae’s?

I head downtown he tries to find his rental before heading into the liquor store.

Buy gift certificates at the Tim’s for the people who helped with the machine.

My luck is no better. At St, Michael’s, which is a printmaking co-op, when I ask where in town I can get bookbinding materials, I am told that it is shipped in but there is a person who works with Tara Bryan who may know.

Yes bring it with you, I could go out to and beg some book board from a publisher in town…

Someone honks and waves in Gower Street as I go back to the car.

Head back, pick up my film, stop in at the Garland Body shop, hand them the Tim’s certificates, and make their photographs.

When I arrive at the Pipe House Kennedy has just got his machine out of a pot hole and the CBC crew have arrived and are setting up.

It is to be a traditional Newfoundland dinner but we have to get all the booze off the table. Everyone notes the irony. Angela Antle is nervous but not as much as Paul as the atmosphere is charged enough with the evil twin and me when Kennedy arrives the barbs just start to fly and we are threatened with being banned to the lower studio.

Chat a bit with Angela - although she has interviewed me for the week-end morning programme some years back - she sees a book and Niterói and asks if i lived in Brasil. It seems that she was on the same type of government exchange for Canada as I was for the States. She lived in São Paulo.

Baird attempts to launch an olive at the set. I am amazed that they can make the kitchen look presentable. The place fills with smoke when they pull the dish from the oven. It takes three takes before the cameraman can see anything.

Things calm down. They leave, Angela says she’ll try again to get in touch.
-when do I leave?
I won’t hold my breath. We talk about the Rock, sense of place, the creative process, etc. before Kennedy has to run off to another party.

Develop 10 more rolls of film and would have done more but I had to fulfil a duty as a board member of the foundation writing a long letter of reply to someone from below the 49th parallel. Culture shock as differing outlooks on the world clash, good will efforts versus the bare minimum needed to be done.

snow day

It took me some time to get moving the day of the snow but I am not sure if it was because I was expecting more and hoping to stay in to work on the books or because it finally looked cold outside and thus I should stay in and work on the books.

I would do a little walk on the south side. the path to Shoe Cove then finally develop some film.

It wasn’t all that bad, I was already too warm as I left the house. Met up with the evil twin who was going t pick up his mail.

-two targets are better than one. As we walk up the Main Road.

A two packages from me. The postal worker states that I am back again that she didn’t see me last year etc.

-stop by for tea.

Needless to say the short walk lasted a couple of hours and once again in the woods and it wasn’t the East Coast Trail as there was a river running through it. This was a walk that I couldn’t have done without the snow as I would have got lost. I followed foot prints along a path that was so narrow that I wouldn’t have guessed it a path. It went to claustrophia with the trees and snow to more and more astounding views of the Cape and as I moved further out Bay Verte Peninsula and Baccalieu Island. While I was in the woods for about 30 minutes I came out just a bit further up the road from where I entered.

Strange for Pouch no one was out. No sounds of skidoos or ATVs in the distance no chain saws.

Spoke and photographed someone shovelling – who shouldn’t have been, Jonathan again asked if I had photographed from his property.

Tea at the pipe house was a nice evening chat while we were waiting to see what Kennedy was doing that evening. Such a social butterfly when he hits the Rock.

When it was apparent that he wasn’t coming out, I went back to start developing film, trying not to psych myself out to proceed calmly.

Made the bathroom light tight and turned out all the lights. My measuring device is a film can 30ml. Made sure the temperature was correct and …underdeveloped negs.

It seems that even if the chemistry is fine when it is poured into the tank in a 15C room it isn’t when it comes out. they are printable but thin and what I had done that day so the ones that were too bad I could go back and re-photograph.

Deep breath. Deep breath. I go for the second batch trying to compensate for the temperature drop. This time a bit over but again usable except one roll from Ubirajara, it looked like the was sluggish due to cold – what pieces of trash those Swedes put out you’d think that a Swedish camera would work well in the cold. The Volvo…well.

Calm down eat something. Listen to an Ideas rerun. Round three.
Perfect.

Sleep with ease.

gasoline is under a dollar!

back soon.

The 15-25cm turned out to be more like 5cm changing the landscape into a black and white wood cut - the pines against the ground of Shoe Cove.

I was planning on having my usual day, out in the morning here wandering the town and the hills, breakfast, then another wander until the evening where I will develop film.

Am getting more and more nervous about my lack of action on this part. Wandering the hills, it hit me that Ubirajara may have a minor problem that I know nothing about as I have yet to see the negs.

Call it paranoia but after having the digital turn Diana and the Leiquinha develop a wobbly lens from loosen screws – now fixed – I tend to worry.

The morning walk was again trying to get far enough into the woods above Pouch to see the ponds. This time up Strugnall’s Marsh out of town following a path that I knew until I came across one that I didn’t and, well, took Robert Frost’s advice.

Finally it was a dry one. Photographed well especially when I ran into a clearing for fire wood that doubled as a dumpsite. Strange this as while an ATV could make it here it would be difficult it would be easier to dump the stuff off a cliff.

The usual rules applied walk until the path ended, then turn back,

Never made it to the pond – or a pond but found this well kitted out cabin looked in – chairs and mini bottle of whisky - complete with nice looking outhouse 20 yards away.

Stopped in at the pipe house.
-did you get a phone call?
-nope
I talked to angela antle asking about this week’s show and she has nothing I told her you were in town.

The afternoon was a trip into St. John’s to have the machine checked out by TJ. It would take about an hour. I would drop off the film at Dominion, then walk about the area.

The area of choice was due to the conclusion that I came to that I am a fraud. Here I am stating that I want to photograph the province that isn’t all landscape and “characters” but it didn’t even cross my mind to photograph the East Side of St. John’s – those subdivision type of houses with lawns instead of trees. Treeless areas on the Avalon – outside of the Barrens looks even stranger than those suburban tracts in the States.

I wanted the dichotomy but not much of a difference. While I wasn’t aware of it, it seemed that I was still going for the salt box, the rooms, the traditional ikons of the Rock and allowing some newness or habitation to show up. I wasn’t allowing for the fact that while there is a Wal-Mart and Eddie Bauers, I wasn’t allowing for the fact that there were places that looked like any other place in North America.

I was going to venture into this territory. Dropped off the machine, crossed Torbay Road just south of the Trans Canada and walked down Highland Drive. I was in an older “suburb” – still trees, hills - I tried to somehow incorporate Signal Hill into the image.

When I had the chance however, I headed for the Virginia River walk. The walk through the neighbourhood wasn’t all that successful. The division of property wasn’t all that pronounced. I couldn’t find anything formally nor enough street furniture.

The Virginia River walk was little better. Except for a ball park, I simply wandered, passing a woman with her two granddaughters, someone who looked like they lived in the newer sections – lycra running suit wearing pushing a racing pram - and a few couples.

I do better when I reach Newfoundland drive as people have covered their plants and the houses are closer together.

Turning north as the machine should be ready by now – pass the same woman with her grandkids who stops to chat.

-I think that I know you. You photographed me in St. John’s.
sure enough it was Theresa England. I photographed her with her son who is in MUN now and in the reserves. I had photographed her after photographing her husband in King Street as they were working on his car. Her daughter works in Hallidays. Their friend is now 80 and still around the corner. Photographed her grand daughters talked a bit longer and headed we went our separate ways.

TJ’s wife said they took the machine out and the wobbling I feel disappears at 100, the fuel gauge doesn’t work but I should get around 300 km.
-but I cannot fill the tank
-yeah I think that there is a pinhole that fills the car with the smell of gasoline.

There is no charge. I thank her and off I go. Leaving their place the car sputters. It almost stalls crossing Torbay Road.

I stop at Stavengar Drive to get everything I need to work at home in case of the blizzard.

Heading up to Pouch just outside St. John’s the machine sputters and stops. I cannot turn it over. Try over and over and nothing happens. Go across to a metal foundry and use the phone to ring TJ. They cannot think of the problem except maybe lacking gasoline.
I cannot photograph the people as it is dark and I hate myself.

Turn on the flashers, walk the mile back to the North Atlantic gas bar buy a tank and 4 litres of gasoline and head back to the car. The RCN pass and I worry, a broken down machine with expired registration.

Almost to the machine buddy stops and offers me a lift. It is less than 10o metres but I accept.

-sorry I didn’t see you sooner.
Again I cannot make a photograph

Gasoline in but the battery is dead. Stop into Garland Auto Body to ask if someone can jump start the engine. A couple of minutes later a mechanic comes out and the car starts, how much do I owe?

-Nothing

-Well I am trying to photograph everyone I talk to on the rock can I come back and photograph you and your assistant?
- I know who you are.
- -you do?
- Yeah you are out in flatrock and make those giant sculptures (Peter von Tiesenhausen)
- Nope I’m in Pouch and only make snaps. I give him my website.
I left it at that.
(someone just moved in behind me across the road)

Drove back to Pouch to drop off stuff then race back to St. John’s to meet the evil twin and go to Paul Kennedy’s lecture at The Rooms.

Gave a lift to a hitcher- again no snap – heading into town from Torbay. He’d been to the states and found yanks not all that bright – ignorant of anything that isn’t the States. He was asked where Newfoundland was, if there were roads and if they lived in igloos. I related the story of a post office thinking that Newfoundland was in Finland or Norway.

The twin was in his new St. John’s office – the Duke now wireless – how tempting I can now spill my Smithwicks on my laptop.

John came in and we exchanged news, Clyde came in said hello again looking… hoping…

We were debating on how decorous we should be at the lecture and for some reason we were pretty demure.

IT seems that Kennedy becomes the social butterfly when he reaches the Rock. Couldn’t make it out to Pouch, or to the Duke because of interviews. Angela Antle has roped him into cooking a Newfoundland dish while she interviews him for her programme up at the pipe house to-morrow – that explains the lack of a phone call.

Dinner at Casbah before the drive north, the machine behaving itself.

Winter returns

The snow has just started and before it ends at 3AM, Gander has predicted 15-25cm. That being the case I thought that, it being late, after an eventful day that I would write the entry in the morning as I won't be going anywhere, and finally post some pictures of the place.
it is annoying when the rising sun comes streaming through the bedroom window

north part of pouch cove
main road at sullivan's loop
sullivan's loop from the ocean
my evil twin practising hands signals for the type of alcohol wanted
the alcoholic in training at work in the pipe house
the gallery where the show will be in july