Science and Art
-
The teaching of the sciences and the arts needs to be conjoined and
sustained from the earliest stages of education. In the Foreward to
Platinotype my frie...
6 months ago
Saturday 30 June 2007
My day part one
The day of the hanging. It shouldn’t take that much time, simple alligator clips wanted to use clothes pegs as when I am not photographing the people in their clothes I am photographing the clothes in the wind. It was to be an afternoon endeavour as there was an evening soiree – not it is not French remember Baie d’espoir is pronounced bay despair – at the evil twin’s. Being a long weekend I had to exchange some worthless Bush Dollars for the ever more valuable Harper ones and I had to do it without crying.
Then it was to those great Canadian Institutions Staples and Michael’s to buy the alligator clips and four cheap frames – hey I am not some Mercedes SUV driving faux French named artist – I’m artist-bayman.
In the Gallery I was shocked it had been cleaned since the last time I was there. I was told that the car had been moved out since I had been in to look at the prints someone had actually tried to sweep. Nevertheless we swept again.
Must admit hanging a show with someone. It wasn’t for the aid in hanging but to be able to run ideas by. It seems that I seem to pick the most obvious associations then try to break them only to find that I have fallen into another obvious link.
This wasn’t necessarily pointed out but when stating how she would have placed the images, the point was made. I had arrived at ikon on each wall surrounded with more and more whimsy. Only one wall had to be hung due to the paper, it metamorised so much that I could only put them together, placed next to the paper I started with they stood out in their greenishness.
Made only one mistake and the show was hung in only four hours – it seemed like a lot longer and fatigue was setting in. Thought that I would have too many images but no it was just right. 22 murals 4 small prints, hung higher than usual due to the height of the wall when one enters the gallery – it was a basketball court for the school.
Raced back to Petty Harbour to change for the soiree.
Back in Pouch Cove, I am fashionably late, say hello to my evil twin’s mum, one of the resident’s mum came up – it is horrible when the resident’s mum’s come up to talk to you and not the residents – and made some inane comment – they had wandered through when we were hanging the show.
The twin told me to get a beer and true to form I begin to trash the place by opening the patio door to death – there is only scaffolding over the North Atlantic – and proceed to pull off the screen down and have it almost plummet into the sea.
Now everyone is looking at me the twin saying why didn’t you simply get one from the cooler. I thought that he kept it in the “wine cellar” as he did all winter long.
Was about to leave – but another person who had seen the show and had a constant grin on his face came up to talk.
He lives in T.O. but his home is Pouch Cove. They had heard about the residency and drove up to see what Pouch Cove was about. The residency was closed so they tooled around the Avalon then returning for one last look to see if it was open found a house and bought it – I could kill him and is constant smile. His partner is an artist I didn’t bother to remember what he did. Luckily evil twin’s sister came over to chat.
Was about to leave when I saw Kennedy so a quick chat, the twin comes over to ask about and ousted resident trying to make a joke about it but being a friend which I recommended I don’t see the joke. Kennedy backs away slowly.
A picture is made, I leave for the cottage not really looking forward to Sunday at all.
4 AM is the new 2AM
First Mauzy Day
- Ah Tom… there seems to be this clanging noise…
- Bring it in.
With Russ’s Rhubarb – pull it from the bottom! Take more! – wilting on the deck left to unwittingly left to Anna, I coached the machine up from Petty Harbour through St J
ohn’s was as nerve racking as it can get as while aren’t grand stretches of uninhabited areas, I wasn’t in the mood for an enforced stroll.
The problem was corrected and was on my way in no time.
Stopped by the TD Bank in Water Street to change over some funds – what a depressing scenario that was.
1999 $100us = C$130.
2007 $100us = C$104.
Was still recovering from the shock when a horn sounded at Prescott and Duckworth thought that I had fallen into the street but it was only Fennelly who jumped out of his machine and we bear hugged on the corner – any other place in the world this may have been a sight – two men one with a pink white and green bag embracing in public here it were two “patriots”. Brief catch up, told him about the show and we were both off.
Back at the cottage, break out Ubirajara who isn’t used to being the favourite and headed for a marl about Petty Harbour.
Did it once in the winter of the blizzards and seemed to remember things that were no longer here – more conveniences for one. Stuck to the road on the south side of town partaking more in formalist exercises – except when I came to a clothes line – than photographing objects.
Walked until the village ended then crossed the bridge and with the plan of doing the same.
Ran into a person painting the Petty Harbour Convenience.
-it is dementia setting in or wasn’t there mural of the Titanic on the façade?
-yes, I change it every so often.
Made his snap.
Here I left the road and headed for the piers, something I would do when I had objects in mind but usually around the rooms and shed I tend to shy away a bit for these areas are rife with stereotypical Newfoundland nostalgia – SNN – crab and lobster traps – the more in disrepair the better, lines, boats upside down. Looking out from the cottage I see streams of cars stop on the northern shore people get out make their snaps and get back in again. They snake their way over here, drive up the cul de sac, turn around, stop make a snap of the opposite shore and race on down the Irish Loop.
For some reason I concentrated on gutting tables until I stopped at the Scademia tour boat office when Mandy said something.
She didn’t want to have her picture taken, it was a bad hair day but rules are rules and it was pretty painless. Her boss Charlie suffered the same fate. Found out that Charlie has sailed to Baltimore from here.
Wandered back all over the place – a bit of formalism, a bit clothes lines whatever hit my fancy.
For some reason I don’t really get going her until around 11pm, it is then that I start writing, seeing what I did that day with the digital, obsess about whether the images will come out after hauling the film to and from the states – there is a remedy for that but I don’t have a job here.
To-night one of Anna’s friends – is playing at CBTG’s (closest bar to gullivars. The band is 30 000 feet one member was once part of God’s Last Name. The show starts at 23:30.
It was strange to have the first bar I enter not be the Duke – hope Terry doesn’t read this – even stranger when the draughts were out so no Smithwicks. Drank what all the indie rockers drink an India Beer.
Pity musicians when we entered there was a lone bloke on stage trying to be heard over everyone there who was ignoring him. Wasn’t bad but should have stuck to punk rock and changed the volume every once in a while.
Highlights of the night was a Screech In – remember the name of this place is a derivation of a famous bar on the Bowery and they have tourists flocking in to be Screeched. Of course they were Upper Canadians with the exception of one German. So we have the bar keep in a Rolling Stones t-shirt doing the ceremony.
The group was followers of a band which then took the stage and stunk it up – supposedly they are famous in T.O but here they couldn’t keep up a rhythm.
The third set at 3:30 when they jammed again with the pissed Upper Canadians until 4:30. the band was still going, their girlfriends wanted to go.
The RNC were waiting as we left the pub, I am sure the area was rife for drunk driving tickets.
We walk down Water Street to the machine, I pick up a bottle which is standing up beside my rear tyre and place is near the façade of the building.
The RNC pulls up slowly.
-evening sir
-evening
-how many beers have you had to-night sir?
-three, the last one two hours ago.
-including the beer you just put down there sir?
I look – no that as behind the wheel of the machine, I simply moved it.
He went on his way, ah the perks of driving a Volvo.
Got home in time to hear the Ode starting the new day on Radio One and the sun
lighten the sky.
- Ah Tom… there seems to be this clanging noise…
- Bring it in.
With Russ’s Rhubarb – pull it from the bottom! Take more! – wilting on the deck left to unwittingly left to Anna, I coached the machine up from Petty Harbour through St J
ohn’s was as nerve racking as it can get as while aren’t grand stretches of uninhabited areas, I wasn’t in the mood for an enforced stroll.The problem was corrected and was on my way in no time.
Stopped by the TD Bank in Water Street to change over some funds – what a depressing scenario that was.
1999 $100us = C$130.
2007 $100us = C$104.
Was still recovering from the shock when a horn sounded at Prescott and Duckworth thought that I had fallen into the street but it was only Fennelly who jumped out of his machine and we bear hugged on the corner – any other place in the world this may have been a sight – two men one with a pink white and green bag embracing in public here it were two “patriots”. Brief catch up, told him about the show and we were both off.
Back at the cottage, break out Ubirajara who isn’t used to being the favourite and headed for a marl about Petty Harbour.
Did it once in the winter of the blizzards and seemed to remember things that were no longer here – more conveniences for one. Stuck to the road on the south side of town partaking more in formalist exercises – except when I came to a clothes line – than photographing objects.
Walked until the village ended then crossed the bridge and with the plan of doing the same.
Ran into a person painting the Petty Harbour Convenience.
-it is dementia setting in or wasn’t there mural of the Titanic on the façade?
-yes, I change it every so often.
Made his snap.
Here I left the road and headed for the piers, something I would do when I had objects in mind but usually around the rooms and shed I tend to shy away a bit for these areas are rife with stereotypical Newfoundland nostalgia – SNN – crab and lobster traps – the more in disrepair the better, lines, boats upside down. Looking out from the cottage I see streams of cars stop on the northern shore people get out make their snaps and get back in again. They snake their way over here, drive up the cul de sac, turn around, stop make a snap of the opposite shore and race on down the Irish Loop.
For some reason I concentrated on gutting tables until I stopped at the Scademia tour boat office when Mandy said something.
She didn’t want to have her picture taken, it was a bad hair day but rules are rules and it was pretty painless. Her boss Charlie suffered the same fate. Found out that Charlie has sailed to Baltimore from here.
Wandered back all over the place – a bit of formalism, a bit clothes lines whatever hit my fancy.
For some reason I don’t really get going her until around 11pm, it is then that I start writing, seeing what I did that day with the digital, obsess about whether the images will come out after hauling the film to and from the states – there is a remedy for that but I don’t have a job here.
To-night one of Anna’s friends – is playing at CBTG’s (closest bar to gullivars. The band is 30 000 feet one member was once part of God’s Last Name. The show starts at 23:30.
It was strange to have the first bar I enter not be the Duke – hope Terry doesn’t read this – even stranger when the draughts were out so no Smithwicks. Drank what all the indie rockers drink an India Beer.
Pity musicians when we entered there was a lone bloke on stage trying to be heard over everyone there who was ignoring him. Wasn’t bad but should have stuck to punk rock and changed the volume every once in a while.
Highlights of the night was a Screech In – remember the name of this place is a derivation of a famous bar on the Bowery and they have tourists flocking in to be Screeched. Of course they were Upper Canadians with the exception of one German. So we have the bar keep in a Rolling Stones t-shirt doing the ceremony.
The group was followers of a band which then took the stage and stunk it up – supposedly they are famous in T.O but here they couldn’t keep up a rhythm.
The third set at 3:30 when they jammed again with the pissed Upper Canadians until 4:30. the band was still going, their girlfriends wanted to go.
The RNC were waiting as we left the pub, I am sure the area was rife for drunk driving tickets.
We walk down Water Street to the machine, I pick up a bottle which is standing up beside my rear tyre and place is near the façade of the building.
The RNC pulls up slowly.
-evening sir
-evening
-how many beers have you had to-night sir?
-three, the last one two hours ago.
-including the beer you just put down there sir?
I look – no that as behind the wheel of the machine, I simply moved it.
He went on his way, ah the perks of driving a Volvo.
Got home in time to hear the Ode starting the new day on Radio One and the sun
lighten the sky.
Townie life ah wait!
Apparently hyperactive photographers can function on no sleep. Waking at 8am after two hours sleep, I was ready to deepen my townie ties by again heading down to Auntie Crae’s for my morning coffee and the Globe. Colder than yesterday, nevertheless I was determined to sit out in Water Street.
Auntie Crae’s gets a diverse clientele, the shop keepers along Water Street, the pram pushing, wish I were in T.O crowd and the odd tourist who seems lost but “this place seems nice”.
It was moving out day. Since the Swiss Cheesehead was going to help me with the hanging of the show in Pouch, I was going to give up the extra room in Pleasant Street.
The run along route 20 up and back for the belongings and to check on the prints after their odyssey from the Midwest.
A quick stop at Russ and Shirley’s to wish them a happy anniversary. It seems that they are still looking for a house for me to buy and if worse comes to worse I can buy theirs.
Oh no I said I tried that once before with a Langmead won’t do that again.
It seems that the Swiss Cheesehead has actually met the out of wedlock self-gratifier who bought Henry’s place and says he is creepy.
Then back to ease into a new work ethic and relax. With a ton of food, dinner is prepared – coconut vegetable curry over brown rice.
The phone rings – I knew that there was a reason for hating those contraptions – it is the person who rented the place saying that as he had stated a move was slated to Petty Harbour to-morrow until after Canada Day when we would then move back into the city. What time could the move take place?
-In the morning.
-Well it seems that there is a party of five moving in could it be this evening?
-Can we eat?
Food inhaled everything that was unpacked is repacked as it is townie to bayman in less than 90 minutes.
Driving up to the place a clank is heard and the is a definite loud noise coming from under the bonnet.
After the move in an attempt to calm nerves, head over to the convenience to buy some beer and sit out on the deck that overlooks the harbour and the ocean. It closed five minutes before I arrived.
Am hoping that these misconnects don’t become the theme of the stay.
Auntie Crae’s gets a diverse clientele, the shop keepers along Water Street, the pram pushing, wish I were in T.O crowd and the odd tourist who seems lost but “this place seems nice”.
It was moving out day. Since the Swiss Cheesehead was going to help me with the hanging of the show in Pouch, I was going to give up the extra room in Pleasant Street.
The run along route 20 up and back for the belongings and to check on the prints after their odyssey from the Midwest.
A quick stop at Russ and Shirley’s to wish them a happy anniversary. It seems that they are still looking for a house for me to buy and if worse comes to worse I can buy theirs.
Oh no I said I tried that once before with a Langmead won’t do that again.
It seems that the Swiss Cheesehead has actually met the out of wedlock self-gratifier who bought Henry’s place and says he is creepy.
Then back to ease into a new work ethic and relax. With a ton of food, dinner is prepared – coconut vegetable curry over brown rice.
The phone rings – I knew that there was a reason for hating those contraptions – it is the person who rented the place saying that as he had stated a move was slated to Petty Harbour to-morrow until after Canada Day when we would then move back into the city. What time could the move take place?
-In the morning.
-Well it seems that there is a party of five moving in could it be this evening?
-Can we eat?
Food inhaled everything that was unpacked is repacked as it is townie to bayman in less than 90 minutes.
Driving up to the place a clank is heard and the is a definite loud noise coming from under the bonnet.
After the move in an attempt to calm nerves, head over to the convenience to buy some beer and sit out on the deck that overlooks the harbour and the ocean. It closed five minutes before I arrived.
Am hoping that these misconnects don’t become the theme of the stay.
annus horribilus
Am glad that this year is over – being nominally an academic naturally I mean the school year – and while this hasn’t anything really to do with the WGAS, like business people who have their own year, I tend to base mine from September to May.
Following examples of other roles models that I come in contact with – maybe this does have something to do with the WGAS after all – I tried to be a real artist.
Except finding teaching so burdensome that I can only do it one semester a year, I have tried to be more cynical, show little enthusiasm for not only my medium but in the arts in general. I have tried to make sure that no craft was involved in the making of my pieces what so ever and whenever possible farm the work out. I also made sure that what I said about the work was more important than the work itself and that I made sure of the paradox of how involved the process was while at the main time stressing that I did none of the nitty gritty work needed. Being a photographer, I made sure that a good dose of the technical was there to counter act the vacuity of my ideas.
Of course I followed the maxim of if you can make it good make it big.
It didn’t work. While the images seem good and could pass for art, and they certainly fit on a gallery wall now without being lost, there is no satisfaction in what I have produced from the mural archival pigmented prints, to the self-published book. They all have the same feel to me. Oh so very professional while being about as personal as a morning Tim’s double double.
So it comes with great relief that the results of a Google search of all my aliases now fills less than a page for I can now go back to being the Obscure Photographer From Away, and make things that I like the way that I like. Not feeling the burden of trying to live up to the repute of the WGAS now that the dean Carl Pecker and his henchmen have left the scene, I can go back to simply making things and sending them out.
Following examples of other roles models that I come in contact with – maybe this does have something to do with the WGAS after all – I tried to be a real artist.
Except finding teaching so burdensome that I can only do it one semester a year, I have tried to be more cynical, show little enthusiasm for not only my medium but in the arts in general. I have tried to make sure that no craft was involved in the making of my pieces what so ever and whenever possible farm the work out. I also made sure that what I said about the work was more important than the work itself and that I made sure of the paradox of how involved the process was while at the main time stressing that I did none of the nitty gritty work needed. Being a photographer, I made sure that a good dose of the technical was there to counter act the vacuity of my ideas.
Of course I followed the maxim of if you can make it good make it big.
It didn’t work. While the images seem good and could pass for art, and they certainly fit on a gallery wall now without being lost, there is no satisfaction in what I have produced from the mural archival pigmented prints, to the self-published book. They all have the same feel to me. Oh so very professional while being about as personal as a morning Tim’s double double.
So it comes with great relief that the results of a Google search of all my aliases now fills less than a page for I can now go back to being the Obscure Photographer From Away, and make things that I like the way that I like. Not feeling the burden of trying to live up to the repute of the WGAS now that the dean Carl Pecker and his henchmen have left the scene, I can go back to simply making things and sending them out.
Friday 29 June 2007
Beloit v. Janesville
While there is coffee in the place it is in a new tin – both not a good sign which is a good enough excuse for me to start my townie ways.
I head down to Auntie Crae’s for a coffee and the beginning of the new ritual of reading the Globe to start the day rather than end it.
Walking in a strange direction for me along Water Street, I forgot the little rituals that go on in cities. Everyone was greeting everyone else it seemed. Everyone knew everyone else. There were chats in front of establishments that were just opening, there were exchanges as people passed in the street. The closest bit to surliness I saw were the people getting their coffee from the counter at Auntie Crae’s and I put this up to having to go to work.
Americano and Globe in hand, after trying to guess what HHR stands for on the New Chevrolet with two of the counter help, I sit out front and start to read.
Don’t get far as I start to chat with a beer delivery guy. Don’t remember what started the dialogue but the usual things were covered. Do remember mentioning that this guy had the proper cap as it was Molson Canadian. The other had on a Coors Lite one. He told me how much Coors is sold here and I mentioned that it was the official beer of Gros Morne it seemed. He said that sales took off when they started brewing it in Georgetown it is the water here – made a note buy bagels
But how can one proudly say I AM COLORADAN!
Shock of the day – The Spur is gone. Stan Dragland now only has 11 bars.
Finished and walking back I checked the bus timetable to see how I could get out to TJ’s to pick up a machine. The schedule had changed that day, in my case for the better but the bafflement on my face had a lady come to the rescue and tell me when and where to stand for the bus.
The plan get the machine swing by Pouch – am anxious to meet up with a traveller that puts my mere wanderings to shame. It usually happens over a couple of Guinnesses around the Midwest as our orbits meet, usually I am the stationary one. It is on a loose three year cycle. This is a rare second chance in the same year as I was my usual social ineptness when the last almost sighting occurred in January.
Walking toward TJ’S I wonder what it will be this time, there is a good chance that it will be a Volvo, one cannot move around the capital without seeing his front plate on one it is like this secret society.
- I forgot to ask an important question…
- Manual or automatic?
- Yep
- Automatic
A gap then no problem as he runs out back for a bit. Maggie seeing him appear before I do says oh the swank car.
I swallow heavily.
It seems that it was to be a Mazda broken in to the point where I feel comfortable with the car. It runs but will win no clean car pageant. Perfect for the roads that I want to take it down.
It is now a beige 10 year old Volvo wagon with only 230 000km on it. It was driven by Newfoundlanders on their trips between here and Florida. Way too clean for me probably the closest to a proper machine since the soccer mom caravan that Hertz set me up with the year they confused St John’s with Saint John.
I can see my money going to the development of Hibernia to fill the thing but no matter this trip has broken my budget to the extent that I can only laugh at it now.
My first drive along route 20 and already am tired of it. It seems that where once no one went less than 10k/h above the speed limit now they couldn’t manage to get to it. Then there was road work. Would be going the Bauline way sooner and more often than before.
Stopped at the Pipe House to see the evil twin but the way that his machine was parked had to park across from Sam and his group by Keith’s house.
Caught up on the goings on since January, what was going on with the problems with the School and took my leave to head over to Keith’s to meet the fellow cheesehead traveller for the first time on foreign soil.
- Oh she is in town. I was told when I knocked on the back door. Went in early this morning. E-mail tag was turning into machine tag.
Race back into town – via Bauline – to find a stack of notes on the stoop all timed with the last one only five minutes earlier.
I race back to Pouch – after stopping at the Georgetown Bakery to pick up a dozen of Montréal Bagels, I have my priorities. Of course in front of me there are some people up from Trepassey who seem to be taking forever to buy few simple loaves.
Run into Keith’s house to find that the reunion will be delayed a bit longer as I have made here before her. Tell the inmates to restrain. While I go across the road and sit having Sam and his crowd wonder what is going on.
I see what could be the last iceberg of the season off Sullivan’s Loop and decide to make a snap of it where the old Pouch comes back, Meet Russ who welcomes me back and informs me that to-morrow is his anniversary. He asks if I am staying at Martin and Gabrielle’s to which I say no Pouch as become too posh for me, that I cannot afford it anymore.
He searches the area. looking for property for me. He says that the house next door behind Sharon’s is for sale – but no ocean view I am spoiled I tell him. Thinks some more but to no avail.
Am about to leave when Shirley comes out hearing my voice a little longer chat. They tell me to stop by to-morrow.
Cannot find the iceberg.
Someone is hanging laundry at Klunder’s place and greet me. Fate sealed I take their snap and help them in their installation – they are artists – it seems that Pouch is filled with them.
Up and Elke is out another chat as there is the machine that was poking along Bauline Line when I was trying to get here.
See Henry but he disappears before I can get a chance to talk to him.
Finally the orbits collide.
In a scene that smacked of a recreation of Parks house in Woody Point - picnic table behind the house that overlooked the water – we began to catch up.
A brief tour of the area as I am tired of both routes into St. John’s so I extend it even further by going in via Portugal Cove.
Realising that in the playing car tag the only thing eaten has been a few of the bagels, I remember the Asian noodle restaurant in Duckworth Street which was cheap and with gigantic portions.
Little did I know that there are now two Asian restaurants beside each other, was confused momentarily but in the end realised which one I wanted.
It was closed.
We chose the other which was an all you can eat Sushi restaurant. It was packed as they took us up to the third floor to be seated.
Bring it on.
It seems that I committed my first faux pas. The waitress talked to me I pulled out the camera and was making her snap in the time that I was asking. She was nervous. I was oblivious. It was brought to my attention but the saving grace for me only came to my attention when we went to pay the bill.
My name was asked and I hadn’t finished responding when another waitress yells out Davis.
I look and look she says that she knows me, I am running mentally through my picture file to see who she could possibly be when I realise that it is Dylan. I am surprised that I remember her at all as the last time I saw her was the regatta three years ago when the evil twin she and I hit every bar in George Street.
Caught up with events, was invited kayaking, informed her that I cannot swim, think that the invite was rescinded as we headed out.
I head down to Auntie Crae’s for a coffee and the beginning of the new ritual of reading the Globe to start the day rather than end it.
Walking in a strange direction for me along Water Street, I forgot the little rituals that go on in cities. Everyone was greeting everyone else it seemed. Everyone knew everyone else. There were chats in front of establishments that were just opening, there were exchanges as people passed in the street. The closest bit to surliness I saw were the people getting their coffee from the counter at Auntie Crae’s and I put this up to having to go to work.
Americano and Globe in hand, after trying to guess what HHR stands for on the New Chevrolet with two of the counter help, I sit out front and start to read.
Don’t get far as I start to chat with a beer delivery guy. Don’t remember what started the dialogue but the usual things were covered. Do remember mentioning that this guy had the proper cap as it was Molson Canadian. The other had on a Coors Lite one. He told me how much Coors is sold here and I mentioned that it was the official beer of Gros Morne it seemed. He said that sales took off when they started brewing it in Georgetown it is the water here – made a note buy bagels
But how can one proudly say I AM COLORADAN!
Shock of the day – The Spur is gone. Stan Dragland now only has 11 bars.
Finished and walking back I checked the bus timetable to see how I could get out to TJ’s to pick up a machine. The schedule had changed that day, in my case for the better but the bafflement on my face had a lady come to the rescue and tell me when and where to stand for the bus.
The plan get the machine swing by Pouch – am anxious to meet up with a traveller that puts my mere wanderings to shame. It usually happens over a couple of Guinnesses around the Midwest as our orbits meet, usually I am the stationary one. It is on a loose three year cycle. This is a rare second chance in the same year as I was my usual social ineptness when the last almost sighting occurred in January.
Walking toward TJ’S I wonder what it will be this time, there is a good chance that it will be a Volvo, one cannot move around the capital without seeing his front plate on one it is like this secret society.
- I forgot to ask an important question…
- Manual or automatic?
- Yep
- Automatic
A gap then no problem as he runs out back for a bit. Maggie seeing him appear before I do says oh the swank car.
I swallow heavily.
It seems that it was to be a Mazda broken in to the point where I feel comfortable with the car. It runs but will win no clean car pageant. Perfect for the roads that I want to take it down.
It is now a beige 10 year old Volvo wagon with only 230 000km on it. It was driven by Newfoundlanders on their trips between here and Florida. Way too clean for me probably the closest to a proper machine since the soccer mom caravan that Hertz set me up with the year they confused St John’s with Saint John.
I can see my money going to the development of Hibernia to fill the thing but no matter this trip has broken my budget to the extent that I can only laugh at it now.
My first drive along route 20 and already am tired of it. It seems that where once no one went less than 10k/h above the speed limit now they couldn’t manage to get to it. Then there was road work. Would be going the Bauline way sooner and more often than before.
Stopped at the Pipe House to see the evil twin but the way that his machine was parked had to park across from Sam and his group by Keith’s house.
Caught up on the goings on since January, what was going on with the problems with the School and took my leave to head over to Keith’s to meet the fellow cheesehead traveller for the first time on foreign soil.
- Oh she is in town. I was told when I knocked on the back door. Went in early this morning. E-mail tag was turning into machine tag.
Race back into town – via Bauline – to find a stack of notes on the stoop all timed with the last one only five minutes earlier.
I race back to Pouch – after stopping at the Georgetown Bakery to pick up a dozen of Montréal Bagels, I have my priorities. Of course in front of me there are some people up from Trepassey who seem to be taking forever to buy few simple loaves.
Run into Keith’s house to find that the reunion will be delayed a bit longer as I have made here before her. Tell the inmates to restrain. While I go across the road and sit having Sam and his crowd wonder what is going on.
I see what could be the last iceberg of the season off Sullivan’s Loop and decide to make a snap of it where the old Pouch comes back, Meet Russ who welcomes me back and informs me that to-morrow is his anniversary. He asks if I am staying at Martin and Gabrielle’s to which I say no Pouch as become too posh for me, that I cannot afford it anymore.
He searches the area. looking for property for me. He says that the house next door behind Sharon’s is for sale – but no ocean view I am spoiled I tell him. Thinks some more but to no avail.
Am about to leave when Shirley comes out hearing my voice a little longer chat. They tell me to stop by to-morrow.
Cannot find the iceberg.
Someone is hanging laundry at Klunder’s place and greet me. Fate sealed I take their snap and help them in their installation – they are artists – it seems that Pouch is filled with them.
Up and Elke is out another chat as there is the machine that was poking along Bauline Line when I was trying to get here.
See Henry but he disappears before I can get a chance to talk to him.
Finally the orbits collide.
In a scene that smacked of a recreation of Parks house in Woody Point - picnic table behind the house that overlooked the water – we began to catch up.
A brief tour of the area as I am tired of both routes into St. John’s so I extend it even further by going in via Portugal Cove.
Realising that in the playing car tag the only thing eaten has been a few of the bagels, I remember the Asian noodle restaurant in Duckworth Street which was cheap and with gigantic portions.
Little did I know that there are now two Asian restaurants beside each other, was confused momentarily but in the end realised which one I wanted.
It was closed.
We chose the other which was an all you can eat Sushi restaurant. It was packed as they took us up to the third floor to be seated.
Bring it on.
It seems that I committed my first faux pas. The waitress talked to me I pulled out the camera and was making her snap in the time that I was asking. She was nervous. I was oblivious. It was brought to my attention but the saving grace for me only came to my attention when we went to pay the bill.
My name was asked and I hadn’t finished responding when another waitress yells out Davis.
I look and look she says that she knows me, I am running mentally through my picture file to see who she could possibly be when I realise that it is Dylan. I am surprised that I remember her at all as the last time I saw her was the regatta three years ago when the evil twin she and I hit every bar in George Street.
Caught up with events, was invited kayaking, informed her that I cannot swim, think that the invite was rescinded as we headed out.
Thursday 28 June 2007
Wednesday 27 June 2007
townie
How long have you been away, the jiffy cab driver asked as we were tooling down Portugal Cove Road.
Staring at the my skin, I say that no I am not from here but constantly come up. I am heading into to a new life as a townie, through Rawlins Cross past the old mile one of the Transcanada turning right then left past a the City Superette that I photographed some time ago.
Getting to the new digs, there is no key where Peter said it would be left and there is a light on in the flat that I am to occupy. Had I made a mistake?
Knock and Peter answers he is finishing up the bedclothes and shows me through the place. Am tired but there is a chat about current affairs before he takes off.
Am no longer tired, better still my life of not 24 hours earlier is a distant memory. While I am not a bayman this time, I am sort of looking forward to being able to walk to the Georgetown Bakery, not have to risk driving after the Duke, to be able to pick up a Globe and Mail without heading some 15 km down the road, and wander the neighbourhood without have to worry about parking or leaving early so that they will still be depopulated.
But first, sleep
Tuesday 26 June 2007
it is not their fault. the tsa guards at mitchell were quite nice. it is the fault of trying to second guess what people are going to say.
getting different advice every time i pass through security, i am tending to put more and more things in the basket so that they can see what i have – the film. usually at mitchell someone yells out as my bag passes – film in those, i say yes and i am on my way. but this time my bag is packed with lead bags and i wanted to cause the least amount of hassle as possible – some people would say it is simply my hyperactivity acting up when one takes 350 rolls of film for a month’s outing.
i get up put most of my stuff on the tray then pull out a bag and say it is film
-what type is it
-black and white 400 iso
-give us the bag
- but there are six of them
- give us all of them. inspection and you are going to need help.
as i head through the check point the video monitor yells out who has the hasselblad.
-the hasselblad is fine but you should take out the liquids.
-what liquids?
he searches, finds none and apologises.
get my stuff and meet up with buddy on the other end who informs me that he will have to slice open all the wrapping around the 120 rolls.
-actually no you don’t i have checked and in fact got someone fired for doing that.
he check with his supervisors who agrees with me but they have to handle all 350 rolls.
this gives us a lot of time to chat, he asks what i do, i pull out the book and show it to him. mention that i should go digital but don’t trust it, no i am not a professional. i teach and yes the students all have digital cameras, i am some sort of living fossil who sticks to film and causes all these problems.
15 minutes later i am packing when one guard comes over and asks how old the lead line bags are.
-oh 10 at least.
-they are no good
-but i only put them in as a safe guard you could have run these through the machine. i only told you what i had so you would know what was coming.
-we’d have to look anyway and you want to be safe not sorry the bags won’t work.
-usually you don’t i wanted to be helpful.
no matter unlike the surliness of the guards at the wgas they were pleasant realised the humanity on both sides and besides i was on my way.
getting different advice every time i pass through security, i am tending to put more and more things in the basket so that they can see what i have – the film. usually at mitchell someone yells out as my bag passes – film in those, i say yes and i am on my way. but this time my bag is packed with lead bags and i wanted to cause the least amount of hassle as possible – some people would say it is simply my hyperactivity acting up when one takes 350 rolls of film for a month’s outing.
i get up put most of my stuff on the tray then pull out a bag and say it is film
-what type is it
-black and white 400 iso
-give us the bag
- but there are six of them
- give us all of them. inspection and you are going to need help.
as i head through the check point the video monitor yells out who has the hasselblad.
-the hasselblad is fine but you should take out the liquids.
-what liquids?
he searches, finds none and apologises.
get my stuff and meet up with buddy on the other end who informs me that he will have to slice open all the wrapping around the 120 rolls.
-actually no you don’t i have checked and in fact got someone fired for doing that.
he check with his supervisors who agrees with me but they have to handle all 350 rolls.
this gives us a lot of time to chat, he asks what i do, i pull out the book and show it to him. mention that i should go digital but don’t trust it, no i am not a professional. i teach and yes the students all have digital cameras, i am some sort of living fossil who sticks to film and causes all these problems.
15 minutes later i am packing when one guard comes over and asks how old the lead line bags are.
-oh 10 at least.
-they are no good
-but i only put them in as a safe guard you could have run these through the machine. i only told you what i had so you would know what was coming.
-we’d have to look anyway and you want to be safe not sorry the bags won’t work.
-usually you don’t i wanted to be helpful.
no matter unlike the surliness of the guards at the wgas they were pleasant realised the humanity on both sides and besides i was on my way.
shaken and stirred
I am here starting this in the airport in Milwaukee alone. Carol is not coming with me. Might as well get the suspense out of the way immediately.
Earlier in the week when Gilbert swallowed a bit of plastic and we raced him 60km to an animal emergency ward only to find out that this too will have to pass, we found out that he has a heart murmur.
This wasn’t major as we were going to have Carol’s mum house sit for the week that she was on the Rock – actually she is good for Gilbert who is on a diet of no more than 200 calories a day she makes him exercise by constantly playing with him.
We picked her up yesterday morning to show her the run of the place and dealing with Gilbert’s medications and feeding schedule.
Carol was also worried about her gardens – we are becoming the gardening subversives of the neighbourhood as she is tearing out more grass and adding more plants we have half the grass we did last year. We are also letting the area by the road turn into prairie – am sure the person who washes his driveway is freaking – we even have weeds. She suggested that the new plants might want to be watered.
We settled down to a nice afternoon, reading the papers, after a quick trip to R.E.I. to see if there wasn’t a smaller bag that Carol could carry on her walks. I made a couple of books, and tried to find a place for the three months of New Yorkers that I was taking determined to read and leave.
The garden was being watered everything peaceful when there was loud cracking sound.
Raced out back to find Carol’s mum in trying to turn off the back sprinkler had fallen through the plastic window well cover and was in the window well arm bruised facing up trying to say help.
Broke took out the fire escape window in the basement – it needed airing out anyway, got some steps and eased her out through the basement.
She was scraped and scratched but not bad for someone who had fallen four feet on her butt. Being in her eighties though a trip to hospital was in the cards and while she protested and since she said nothing hurt, no x-rays were taken. It seems that they didn’t even do the minor things one see on the sidelines of football games when someone is injured – no checking for concussions.
Feeling that she may feel fine knowing that the next day – to-day could be worse and the fact that she doesn’t know how to drive meant that Carol wouldn’t feel at ease being so far away with no quick way to get back.
I am on my way out she will follow later on.
Earlier in the week when Gilbert swallowed a bit of plastic and we raced him 60km to an animal emergency ward only to find out that this too will have to pass, we found out that he has a heart murmur.
This wasn’t major as we were going to have Carol’s mum house sit for the week that she was on the Rock – actually she is good for Gilbert who is on a diet of no more than 200 calories a day she makes him exercise by constantly playing with him.
We picked her up yesterday morning to show her the run of the place and dealing with Gilbert’s medications and feeding schedule.
Carol was also worried about her gardens – we are becoming the gardening subversives of the neighbourhood as she is tearing out more grass and adding more plants we have half the grass we did last year. We are also letting the area by the road turn into prairie – am sure the person who washes his driveway is freaking – we even have weeds. She suggested that the new plants might want to be watered.
We settled down to a nice afternoon, reading the papers, after a quick trip to R.E.I. to see if there wasn’t a smaller bag that Carol could carry on her walks. I made a couple of books, and tried to find a place for the three months of New Yorkers that I was taking determined to read and leave.
The garden was being watered everything peaceful when there was loud cracking sound.
Raced out back to find Carol’s mum in trying to turn off the back sprinkler had fallen through the plastic window well cover and was in the window well arm bruised facing up trying to say help.
Broke took out the fire escape window in the basement – it needed airing out anyway, got some steps and eased her out through the basement.
She was scraped and scratched but not bad for someone who had fallen four feet on her butt. Being in her eighties though a trip to hospital was in the cards and while she protested and since she said nothing hurt, no x-rays were taken. It seems that they didn’t even do the minor things one see on the sidelines of football games when someone is injured – no checking for concussions.
Feeling that she may feel fine knowing that the next day – to-day could be worse and the fact that she doesn’t know how to drive meant that Carol wouldn’t feel at ease being so far away with no quick way to get back.
I am on my way out she will follow later on.
Monday 25 June 2007
A variation on a Newfoundland joke.
A Canadian, a yank and a Mexican are walking along when they see a person being hassled. They step in and chase off the harasser.
Grateful, the person announces that he is a genie and will grant the three one wish each.
The Canadian – who goes first after trying to insist otherwise asks for a reversal of global warming.
Poof it is done, the icebergs are back the glaciers stop to recede and the skies clear.
The yank wants a twenty foot wall constructed around the U.S.
Poof it is done from coast to coast, North to South the wall is up.
When it comes to the Mexican he asks “Is the wall water proof?”
The genie assures him that it is.
“Fill’er up.”
Grateful, the person announces that he is a genie and will grant the three one wish each.
The Canadian – who goes first after trying to insist otherwise asks for a reversal of global warming.
Poof it is done, the icebergs are back the glaciers stop to recede and the skies clear.
The yank wants a twenty foot wall constructed around the U.S.
Poof it is done from coast to coast, North to South the wall is up.
When it comes to the Mexican he asks “Is the wall water proof?”
The genie assures him that it is.
“Fill’er up.”
Saturday 23 June 2007
had to go to the wgas to change a grade as grades there have about the same currency as old brasilian cruzeiros. am in the new utopia building but even there they are now scanning id’s. mine still cannot be read.
change the grade, and while leaving i see two faculty members who double as advisors fumbling for their id’s. mention how that i was in crack whore town and the vd capital of the states but i can walk into maryland institute without an i.d. mentioned my sister is at hunter in hell’s kitchen and again one can actually enter the building without a pat down but here…
- actually, we like the policy.
i mention the irony of a being literarily in a ivory tower – this part of the school is on the 12th floor – and this exclusivity doesn’t fit with the supposed openness and wanting to welcome the community.
-it is not “us” that we worry about.
ah the demonised other. the current regime in washington couldn’t have put it better.
change the grade, and while leaving i see two faculty members who double as advisors fumbling for their id’s. mention how that i was in crack whore town and the vd capital of the states but i can walk into maryland institute without an i.d. mentioned my sister is at hunter in hell’s kitchen and again one can actually enter the building without a pat down but here…
- actually, we like the policy.
i mention the irony of a being literarily in a ivory tower – this part of the school is on the 12th floor – and this exclusivity doesn’t fit with the supposed openness and wanting to welcome the community.
-it is not “us” that we worry about.
ah the demonised other. the current regime in washington couldn’t have put it better.
Thursday 21 June 2007
So in my hyperactive way, I have developed the film I used up when in NYC. Just realised that I used a leiquinha that just before leaving for points east, had ruined 4 rolls. I reckon that the facility that had me forget what was on those rolls –sort of – also had me forget that I was trusting an outing to the same camera and film.This time bought new hc-110 that after all the pixtures of Mediterranean countries, had to convince myself not to take a swig.
The negs show promise. They are strange there seems to be the effect of what 35mm looked like in the 50’s part Dave Heath, part Robert Frank, part U.S Camera Annual. Haven’t printed them yet – the downfall of 35mm with me they fill neg sleeves nicely never ever to leave – but scanned some as to threaten my sister and e-mail to the Brasilians at the Spa.
There seems to be this nice halation along with the randomly placed grain that I thought was long gone except for some Photoshop filter that only a digiot would know about. It looked like my lens had never been cleaned – which is incorrect as I had wiped it with my shirt constantly.
I wasn’t worrying as I usually do about having everything in focus – mauzy most of the time I was there which meant that I had to choose – with varying degrees of success - what would be in focus but those areas that are out of focus are so nice and soft.
The only thing that I can attribute the quality to is the film, Arista.edu Ultra – Fomapan from the Czech Republic which is probably made to the 1950’s formula of Tri-X. With the big photographic manufacturers only paying lip service to film and even then making products that pretty much are indistinguishable from one another, I am thankful for the “micro breweries” of the photographic world.
Wednesday 20 June 2007
Monday 18 June 2007
For those taking photographs in France and Italy
Don’t.
Have been in a tony southwestern suburb of Chicago being greeted by cicadas and heat. I was there to be a judge at their summer art fair that was being held in the main park downtown. Arrived early to wander the place and make snaps before taking up my duties. Typical suburb, Starbucks, Einstein’s Bagels, gap, an Ace hardware camouflaged as a village general shop…
Was doing it for the first time trying to build up my funds for the tab at the duke within a fortnight’s time with the plummeting Yankee dollar I had to take on odd jobs if I am to keep to the standard that I am used to.
Was handed a clipboard and my assignments, I was to judge photography, sculpture, and mixed media. It was a numeric system I was to assign a number between one and seven to the work seen and if I wanted give comments.
There was the NYC artist wannabe as she rattled off as soon as we were to set out how she had to race through this for she was off to… then had a show in … then ….
At first I was going to go to the booths in the order than they were lined up then assess the work. I found, however, that it was too confusing going from one media to another when I was trying to compare like and even harder to assess numbers when I hadn’t seen all of the work.
Thinking it would be more interesting, did mixed media first. Well there is mixed media and there was mixed miedia. Being of the pedigree of the WGAS, I was expecting this category to be those works that used different media equally – photobased sculpture say.
It was mixed media was printmaking for the most part with a bit of handmade paper. Printmaking here was inkjet prints imitating a more traditional method
- am glad to give up the acids, lead and respirator and get the same look.
In this category though were collages. But also woody sculptural thingies – which were also found in sculpture
The categories were bothersome not in the way of the WGAS but in the way that booths had to fit somewhere. When I finally finished mixed media and was on to something more rational – sculpture – there was the same problem as it contained – jewellery – but not all was included, a lot of wood boxed, hand made furniture, stained glass and lawn ornaments made from tasteful junque.
As painful as this was it was at least for me illuminating – I think that the clichés that one doesn’t see is less objectionable – so I could take the barns, the seascapes, the clouds and enough flowers to bring on my hay fever.
Heading into photography – I could see how envious fibroids that seem always to be making snaps could hate photoids and everything photographic.
If I never see another photograph of France and Italy I will be quite happy, the work was so similar that I wasn’t sure if I had been in the booth before or not. All had the orange façaded bistro with flowers in the window and a leaning old bicycle. For italy it was houses on a hill, a narrow street and knowing a successful formula they would be repeated with minor variations in all the towns visited. It seemed always to be the south of France, and never in a city of any size – although some Eiffel Towers were slipped in.
It seems that with colour the super white façades of Greece that were so popular when everything was black and white, have lost favour
There was the Asian variation with photographs mimicking Chinese paintings – mountains, water and mist.
There were exceptions but those were placing their images on canvas and stretching it so that it was now a bad painting – should it be in mixed media?
There was one nude booth with work so stereotypical that I would have left if the photographer hadn’t corralled me.
- this was to be black and white but it was muddy. Black and white doesn’t work in the studio.
Buddy here seemed to have imitated the worse of Uelsman, and Brandt and realised that full frontal was fine as long as the model was in a lotus position on some slick rock.
Only one person photographed the world around him. All wanted to talk about – not with me – with other photographers – technique
- I use/don’t use digital because…
The astounding aspect of both mixed media and photography was the editioning. The average was an edition of 350 there were as high as 950 – not 1000 but 950. So far all the numbers were in the low two digit range.
- how can this Polaroid emulsion lift have an edition of 350?
- Oh I just print more.
Have been in a tony southwestern suburb of Chicago being greeted by cicadas and heat. I was there to be a judge at their summer art fair that was being held in the main park downtown. Arrived early to wander the place and make snaps before taking up my duties. Typical suburb, Starbucks, Einstein’s Bagels, gap, an Ace hardware camouflaged as a village general shop…
Was doing it for the first time trying to build up my funds for the tab at the duke within a fortnight’s time with the plummeting Yankee dollar I had to take on odd jobs if I am to keep to the standard that I am used to.
Was handed a clipboard and my assignments, I was to judge photography, sculpture, and mixed media. It was a numeric system I was to assign a number between one and seven to the work seen and if I wanted give comments.
There was the NYC artist wannabe as she rattled off as soon as we were to set out how she had to race through this for she was off to… then had a show in … then ….
At first I was going to go to the booths in the order than they were lined up then assess the work. I found, however, that it was too confusing going from one media to another when I was trying to compare like and even harder to assess numbers when I hadn’t seen all of the work.
Thinking it would be more interesting, did mixed media first. Well there is mixed media and there was mixed miedia. Being of the pedigree of the WGAS, I was expecting this category to be those works that used different media equally – photobased sculpture say.
It was mixed media was printmaking for the most part with a bit of handmade paper. Printmaking here was inkjet prints imitating a more traditional method
- am glad to give up the acids, lead and respirator and get the same look.
In this category though were collages. But also woody sculptural thingies – which were also found in sculpture
The categories were bothersome not in the way of the WGAS but in the way that booths had to fit somewhere. When I finally finished mixed media and was on to something more rational – sculpture – there was the same problem as it contained – jewellery – but not all was included, a lot of wood boxed, hand made furniture, stained glass and lawn ornaments made from tasteful junque.
As painful as this was it was at least for me illuminating – I think that the clichés that one doesn’t see is less objectionable – so I could take the barns, the seascapes, the clouds and enough flowers to bring on my hay fever.
Heading into photography – I could see how envious fibroids that seem always to be making snaps could hate photoids and everything photographic.
If I never see another photograph of France and Italy I will be quite happy, the work was so similar that I wasn’t sure if I had been in the booth before or not. All had the orange façaded bistro with flowers in the window and a leaning old bicycle. For italy it was houses on a hill, a narrow street and knowing a successful formula they would be repeated with minor variations in all the towns visited. It seemed always to be the south of France, and never in a city of any size – although some Eiffel Towers were slipped in.
It seems that with colour the super white façades of Greece that were so popular when everything was black and white, have lost favour
There was the Asian variation with photographs mimicking Chinese paintings – mountains, water and mist.
There were exceptions but those were placing their images on canvas and stretching it so that it was now a bad painting – should it be in mixed media?
There was one nude booth with work so stereotypical that I would have left if the photographer hadn’t corralled me.
- this was to be black and white but it was muddy. Black and white doesn’t work in the studio.
Buddy here seemed to have imitated the worse of Uelsman, and Brandt and realised that full frontal was fine as long as the model was in a lotus position on some slick rock.
Only one person photographed the world around him. All wanted to talk about – not with me – with other photographers – technique
- I use/don’t use digital because…
The astounding aspect of both mixed media and photography was the editioning. The average was an edition of 350 there were as high as 950 – not 1000 but 950. So far all the numbers were in the low two digit range.
- how can this Polaroid emulsion lift have an edition of 350?
- Oh I just print more.
Sunday 17 June 2007
Ok so I am not driving to the rock – the snaps were too big and even I cannot see myself bombing up the Trans-Canada with my type of packing duct taped to the roof. This means not seeing the southern shore of the St. Lawrence and if the villages become more isolated the closer I make it to the Gaspé. It, now, simply means a circular tour around the island to see those things that I would have while rambling to the Avalon.
I am writing all of this to stave off any sort of laziness on my part thinking that if it is in the public view – an average of 17 – I will be more likely to follow through – even though there is a long history of public embarrassment on my part.
I had already wanted to spend more time in the Barrens and walk the path between St. Shott’s and Cape Pine. IF I am brave enough – the road is pretty rough – I’d like to see mistaken point. My excuse is so that I can see a village that said no to Joey Smallwood’s relocation scheme and the closest landfall to the Titanic.
I want to drive coast to coast to coast and the only coast left is the route up the Great Northern – having down the entire island portion of the Trans Canada. I want get to the tip not to see the Viking site but to look across the Gulf to Labrador - and well to see if where Annie Proulx supposedly stays is any better than where I do.
Looking across waters and at maps had me remembering that France was off the Burin Peninsula facing West. Another excuse to see more of the island off the Avalon and away from the Trans Canada.
Speaking of which there is Buchans and which looks about as far inland and one can get and substituting for the road to Burgeo – since I won’t be heading over in that direction the roads to Harbour Breton or Bay d’Espoir – or any road that seems to have a destination and nothing in between.
Like the all plans these probably will be modified and to no detriment on the outcome. The main objectives are the Great Northern and the Barrens, which has me wondering why I keep putting off the supposedly the most Newfoundlandish area of the island – the Bonavista.
Calumet has backordered some film so I ordered 100 more rolls from Freestyle, if it all comes there will be 250 if not about 150. Everything is falling into place. A lot depends on what I can do after my return from the east coast.
I am writing all of this to stave off any sort of laziness on my part thinking that if it is in the public view – an average of 17 – I will be more likely to follow through – even though there is a long history of public embarrassment on my part.
I had already wanted to spend more time in the Barrens and walk the path between St. Shott’s and Cape Pine. IF I am brave enough – the road is pretty rough – I’d like to see mistaken point. My excuse is so that I can see a village that said no to Joey Smallwood’s relocation scheme and the closest landfall to the Titanic.
I want to drive coast to coast to coast and the only coast left is the route up the Great Northern – having down the entire island portion of the Trans Canada. I want get to the tip not to see the Viking site but to look across the Gulf to Labrador - and well to see if where Annie Proulx supposedly stays is any better than where I do.
Looking across waters and at maps had me remembering that France was off the Burin Peninsula facing West. Another excuse to see more of the island off the Avalon and away from the Trans Canada.
Speaking of which there is Buchans and which looks about as far inland and one can get and substituting for the road to Burgeo – since I won’t be heading over in that direction the roads to Harbour Breton or Bay d’Espoir – or any road that seems to have a destination and nothing in between.
Like the all plans these probably will be modified and to no detriment on the outcome. The main objectives are the Great Northern and the Barrens, which has me wondering why I keep putting off the supposedly the most Newfoundlandish area of the island – the Bonavista.
Calumet has backordered some film so I ordered 100 more rolls from Freestyle, if it all comes there will be 250 if not about 150. Everything is falling into place. A lot depends on what I can do after my return from the east coast.
Friday 15 June 2007
bringing the work ethic south
As my sister doesn’t reset her web browser, I wasn’t hard to search her out when I began to feel trapped in the loft decided to go for a marl and catch up with her.
Wandered down Church to Reade and was in front of her old place, looking for the hairdressers – Connection Beauty Spa - that she had roped my niece into, but she saw me first. Out she comes running mobile phone glued to the ear in the New York fashion.
She had me come in as the place was owned by Brasilians and wanted to see me make a fool of myself by saying that I speak Portuguese as some sort of pet that can do party tricks.
You’d think she’d know by now.
Yes after a few pleasantries – I do speak there are few mistakes there is a carioca accent – which I correct saying it is a fluminense – Niterói and the old state of Rio not the city – accent but I’ve heard that I sound like a hick from the northeast – sounds better in Portuguese.
One by one they came over to chat and then in Portuguese mentioned that this wasn’t my sister that I was following her as she had kidnapped a young woman and was trying to get over to Jersey – laughing all the time so that my monolingual sibling would have no clue.
Needed the practice but losing myself in the chats I forgot my role in life - to document anyone who talks to me - went back the next day.
Somehow they remembered me.
Wandered down Church to Reade and was in front of her old place, looking for the hairdressers – Connection Beauty Spa - that she had roped my niece into, but she saw me first. Out she comes running mobile phone glued to the ear in the New York fashion.
She had me come in as the place was owned by Brasilians and wanted to see me make a fool of myself by saying that I speak Portuguese as some sort of pet that can do party tricks.
You’d think she’d know by now.
Yes after a few pleasantries – I do speak there are few mistakes there is a carioca accent – which I correct saying it is a fluminense – Niterói and the old state of Rio not the city – accent but I’ve heard that I sound like a hick from the northeast – sounds better in Portuguese.
One by one they came over to chat and then in Portuguese mentioned that this wasn’t my sister that I was following her as she had kidnapped a young woman and was trying to get over to Jersey – laughing all the time so that my monolingual sibling would have no clue.
Needed the practice but losing myself in the chats I forgot my role in life - to document anyone who talks to me - went back the next day.
Somehow they remembered me.
Thursday 14 June 2007
Wednesday 13 June 2007
TRI(p) BE(fore) CA(anada)
The best time for me in NYC is the early morning – not so much to see the people readying the city but because there is no one about.
This place is too crowded and even out of the way streets are overpopulated once the business day starts.
There is this balance though as it is nearly impossible to use windows in most shops before they open as they are shuttered with metal. As I see it the window of opportunity is about an hour.
Nevertheless I was up and out and about at 7 to wander. TriBeCa is made for this as it is only barely rectilinear.
Surprised at how focussed I was. While I headed up with the leiquinhas and the point and shoot digital. Most was due to having to photograph Davis’s graduation. I soon ditched everything but a leiquinha with a pocket full of black and white film. Cannot recall the last time I went out like this – no courier bag simply camera an film – no I am not getting all romantic here but I did like not being burdened down.
I was to stay in TriBeCa and was heading west before I realised my mistake I have wandered the west side great deal as my sister has always lived there. I know the east river side hardly at all.
I wasn’t turning back it was wander no destination usual method make it to a corner see what looks interesting go there. Took to the alleys which are good for formalism but not as socially oriented as others I have walked through. Photographed what was left, Remarked on how nice the trendy taverns looked when they were empty and shuttered – but this could have been due to yet another geographically challenged new yawker who either kept saying that Chicago was in Wisconsin – actually the other way around – when hearing that I live in Wisconsin saying well that’s Chicago. Then in the next breath startled at how far it was, then contradicting herself by then not realising how close they were. If I were in a less generous mood… instead I simply answered her inanities with obtuseness.
West side circle and because it was more successful than I thought – places saved from the night before for those workers who will be out on the street I a couple of hours, Desk chairs in alleys by freight entrances, bedding rolled up for the day. I needed more film back before the east side walk.
Walking east couldn’t have been different. It could have been that it was later but where oh so trendy western TriBeCa was still dormant. The east side and Chinatown were already functioning. The stands were up, the restaurants were open, people were doing their buying for the day.
Note to self, avoid bean sprouts as I see them left outside every restaurant in leaky plastic bags.
In comparison to the west side this wasn’t as cleaned up and thus had nicer juxtapositions. Fell into the formal but hope that it was tinged by the odd.
The usual method, deciding at a intersection and ended up under Manhattan Bridge at East Broadway and wanted to continue east but thought that even my vampirish relatives would be up by now and started winding my way back.
A bit of street theatre as I try to photograph a block where it seems that there are a lot of shopping carts with possessions in them, I back up and back up only to fall up some stoop much to the amusement of a parking attendant.
Everyone – but my mother - was still catatonic as I entered.
This place is too crowded and even out of the way streets are overpopulated once the business day starts.
There is this balance though as it is nearly impossible to use windows in most shops before they open as they are shuttered with metal. As I see it the window of opportunity is about an hour.
Nevertheless I was up and out and about at 7 to wander. TriBeCa is made for this as it is only barely rectilinear.
Surprised at how focussed I was. While I headed up with the leiquinhas and the point and shoot digital. Most was due to having to photograph Davis’s graduation. I soon ditched everything but a leiquinha with a pocket full of black and white film. Cannot recall the last time I went out like this – no courier bag simply camera an film – no I am not getting all romantic here but I did like not being burdened down.
I was to stay in TriBeCa and was heading west before I realised my mistake I have wandered the west side great deal as my sister has always lived there. I know the east river side hardly at all.
I wasn’t turning back it was wander no destination usual method make it to a corner see what looks interesting go there. Took to the alleys which are good for formalism but not as socially oriented as others I have walked through. Photographed what was left, Remarked on how nice the trendy taverns looked when they were empty and shuttered – but this could have been due to yet another geographically challenged new yawker who either kept saying that Chicago was in Wisconsin – actually the other way around – when hearing that I live in Wisconsin saying well that’s Chicago. Then in the next breath startled at how far it was, then contradicting herself by then not realising how close they were. If I were in a less generous mood… instead I simply answered her inanities with obtuseness.
West side circle and because it was more successful than I thought – places saved from the night before for those workers who will be out on the street I a couple of hours, Desk chairs in alleys by freight entrances, bedding rolled up for the day. I needed more film back before the east side walk.
Walking east couldn’t have been different. It could have been that it was later but where oh so trendy western TriBeCa was still dormant. The east side and Chinatown were already functioning. The stands were up, the restaurants were open, people were doing their buying for the day.
Note to self, avoid bean sprouts as I see them left outside every restaurant in leaky plastic bags.
In comparison to the west side this wasn’t as cleaned up and thus had nicer juxtapositions. Fell into the formal but hope that it was tinged by the odd.
The usual method, deciding at a intersection and ended up under Manhattan Bridge at East Broadway and wanted to continue east but thought that even my vampirish relatives would be up by now and started winding my way back.
A bit of street theatre as I try to photograph a block where it seems that there are a lot of shopping carts with possessions in them, I back up and back up only to fall up some stoop much to the amusement of a parking attendant.
Everyone – but my mother - was still catatonic as I entered.
Tuesday 12 June 2007
Meeting was so much easier...
at Stony Run Friends. Am in New York for Davis’s graduation from Brooklyn Friends. The first time I have been in a meeting house since Upper School at Baltimore Friends Lifer that I was there, meeting was something that I had come to look forward to, 30 minutes of quiet every fortnight. A time to actually take into account what had occurred and anticipate what was to come.
Remember walking up the steps to what looked like a pretty non descript suburban type of building on Charles Street near the edge of campus completely engulfed by the Catholic Cathedral next door and from 9 to 9:30 simply sitting, supposedly waiting for the inner spirit to speak but my inner spirit wanted silence.
At this time of year the trees
would be in full bloom the windows open so during the silence maybe a bird would be heard. Charles Street far enough away that cars were only a murmur.We’d then file out down the hill back to classes.
The Brooklyn meeting house looked more like the meeting house further down
Charles Street - federal style, up the stairs the room was bright airy and austere – benches and white walls. More facing benches, bigger room but and brighter than the Stony Run meeting house but familiar enough to sit, be quiet and let the world assume the proportions that it really warrants.Except that being not far from Flatbush, with car horns, police sirens and people shouting, I could see that while this place is even more needed than in big lawned Homeland, it would be harder to actually have the spirit move you except to yell shut up.
Sunday 10 June 2007
I have a good relationship with the post office – well except for the one that serves the house. The peasants pissoir post office belongs to the same universe as WKRP in Cincinnati, Hogan’s Heroes and Gilligan’s Island.
So in I come to the Bristol Post Office with a package that is 48x43 inches act like it is a postcard and ask to have it posted. It was too big.
I misunderstood this idea of girth. Nevertheless we stood there staring at it the ceiling was too low to put it on the balance. I left.
I am told that the way to send things to the rock is via Fedex never UPS. Who am I to question that.
I go on-line, it seems that I have to register with Fedex to do anything – three hours later I am registered have an account but can do nothing with it as what I want to ship keeps getting bounced back.
There was a time when I could go to the airport in Milwaukee and there would be a Fedex Office that would do anything as long as you had a bank card. Look on-line for this and all I can find is Fedex Kinkos who cannot handle this size of package I have to do it on-line.
I am more patient now so on-line I go once again and get all the way through the process when it says that I have to ring a number.
The person on the other end says yes I do. Do I want to schedule a pickup? No as the packages aren’t ready yet is there a place where I can drop them off?
The airport in Milwaukee.
This will be a problem as the packages will have to be balanced on the top of the machine while driven along I-94.
I have run out of glassine paper so I plan my next day on getting these packages out as time is running short.
After picking more rolls of glassine paper in Chicago, heading back I pass I real Fedex office.
No they won’t take the packages they are too big it is not the weight it is the girth. But there is this place…which so happens is only three miles from peasants pissoir down wind from the landfill.
I stop there – the place doesn’t look like a customer oriented place at all, I park outside the gates and walk into the equivalent to walking out on the runway of a major airport. All is see are gigantic juggernauts.
Go into the first door I find and yes I can send things from here.
-Do you have the papers I need to fill out?
A silence as she goes off to get the papers. If I get the package back by 8pm it will go out that day.
go home make the final package seal it try to fill out the paper work and cannot as I need a customs broker.
Go back with the paper work with all of this balance on the machine and ask her about this they can provide one but they are closed and I would have to ring to-morrow.
Go back home. Phone Fedex who tells me that my trouble is that it is my first time and it will get easier. They also confide in me that it is really for businesses they don’t expect people to send big stuff so there is no provisions on their form or the a box marked gift or personal effects. But if I go back on line and try again I’ll find that my account is activated and I am ready to go.
go back on line to see if I can try it that way but once again it refuses to accept the contents. I get back on the phone and talk to another Fedex representative who tries to walk me through then says that I’ll need a customs broker. The other person said nothing of this. I ring my evil twin to see if he has one.
-why?
I give him the story. He has one.
Type it in but still cannot get any further.
Everything is closed by now except – UPS
Ring them – they’ll take the package and I can even drop it off at the UPS shop not three miles away.
Are you sure?
Yes?
It is 48x48x3 and 48x43x3.
No problem it will be there in four days.
Don’t trust them and decide to drive to Windsor to run contraband photo across the border.
Ring UPS.CA and the package is too big
-but but but UPS.US will take it and send it to NEWFOUNDLAND and Labrador.
-they will?
What do I have to lose, I cannot get through to the automatons at Fedex so I head up to The UPS store snaps balanced on the machine.
The woman checks has me fill out the paper work she say it will be there yesterday.
I say that it just has to be there by the 25th
I get home to find that the date has been pushed back to the 18th as it left Illinois.
Right now it is in the True North Strong and Free – well sort of Québec –due to arrive 15 June.
I hold my breath.
Friday 8 June 2007
It was the wrong way ...
to start the day, racing about getting ready to run errands, but having time to develop the four rolls that were sitting from the Leiquinhas. Feel like some bad fibre student taking photo for the first time but all four rolls were ruined. They were ruined as I don’t use the developer for the Leiquinhas all that much and it was way past its date. Four perfectly clear rolls – no markings outside the frame at all.
Was glad that it was 35mm as I never remember what is on the rolls too many images and I guess that this hints at me not taking the format seriously even though I try.
Then I did remember some – a pity someone I hadn’t seen in three years, the biker messenger that I had chatted with outside Cal’s. I also realised that recently being so indecisive that I had made the same images – more or less in colour.
This happens at the wrong time as I have just booked a ticket to Baltimore to head up to NYC for my nephew’s graduation and had thought about robert franking it with 35mm only – in truth thought about only 35mm as I wouldn’t have time anyone on the eastern seaboard and thus might as well try to really make some charm city post cards.
Headed out wondering if I should take a Leiquinha at all. Reckoned that I better get up and try immediately or I would never use it. Took Joãozão also. The fifty miles into Chicago took 40 minutes to the Kennedy then another 60 minutes to get downtown. A gasbar was selling a gallon of regular for $4.00 but it didn’t seem to change any habits.
Little errands made major – prescription for the cat, up to the Main Magazine Stand in Evanston to pick up some art magazines instead picked up Orion, 8 and Art on Paper.
Made a snap – using Joãozão - of an entryway to a condo blocked from the inside by a tree.
Over to Paper Source to try to find a match for one of the remnants I have on hand to finish making a portfolio for Pouch Cove. Paper Source is more a shop for the fake blonded decaffed lattè drinking Starbuckians looking for something whimsical for their next tête-à-tête more than a source of handmade papers.
Saw a cicada – that makes eight.
Raced over to Bristol to drop off the daily postings and was on the way when along County Trunk C just east of County Trunk MB there were two women waving at passers-by from their long driveway.
Circled the block – which is about three miles – and pulled into the driveway . I could see the “oh oh what have we done” look on their face. Went through the same spiel I give on the rock – translated for people south of the 49th. No “yes b’y” no “lovely day” There was the giggle a trend toward no then yeah sure – this is cool.
Two photographs made with Joãozão – only remembered the Leiquinha when it was all over – told them that they know me at the Bristol Post Office and I would leave word there if the snaps turned out.
-This was the best yet, I heard as I got back in the machine, hoping that they would turn out.
A good way to begin the evening.
Wednesday 6 June 2007
As they were spewing out of the service bureau, I was thinking – so this is it eh? The process was all so professional and, I am guessing, so 21st century artist. I would try to drop the file off on Wednesday, look at the proof on Thursday and lo and behold the next Wednesday when I was ready to drop off another file a print would be ready.
I became so bold as to drop off two at a time and so obsessed with the cost checked and doubled checked the file so that only one print had to be done again.
I don’t think I would ever do this again though. I am pleased with the way the snaps look, particularly pleased with the spotting and
smoothing the water in Pete’s at night that was ruined making platinotypes – and due to when it was made didn’t make a duplicate.
Since size matters, those who have seen them are impressed and this isn’t a tirade against things big, it was simply not satisfying.
I cannot see why this method of working is any different than waiting for the snaps to come back from one-hour photo lab at the Dominion. It is more money but in essence it is still the same passive way of working.
I am fully aware that in current art practice – seeming detached and farming out all unnecessary work is de rigueur. I reckon that I don’t see as the actual craft of making the snap as unnecessary.
It has nothing to do with proving my skill, or making the image mine as in the end these arguments are only valid for those who nothing else to argue about. It is about my practice how I want to make my work and this simply isn’t this.
This was a compromise – the wgas eschewing anything that would look retro and knowing that the future is digital. The mural room became the mural closet that was too small to do what I wanted.
I thought that I should practice what preach and not hate the hands off approach in ignorance. In truth handing things off is easier and printing digitally is significantly easier. Work on a file when it is ready print ad nauseum. Dust is a one time problem as is nay negative flaw once it is fixed it is fixed. it isn’t faster but it is easier.
Topping this was the cost factor - 22 prints that will be seen by maybe 100 people at a cost of $70/print. For the price of one print I could make 45 of my livrinhos of 17 snaps and send them out. 990 livrinhos for the same price. If what one does has something to do with communication rather than covering gallery walls, this exercise seems to be a big misstep.
But – even though I get off the point it is not about that, it is about me, it is about me feeling as I have been a bit more enlightened when I finished the work. To me the passivity of making work this way gained me nothing in fact my life carried on while the work was being made. Heading into the darkroom where I can do nothing else but listen to Paul Kennedy go on and on about he being Paul Kennedy and this is Ideas, on the radio, I am forced to either think and or concentrate on that snap coming up and thinking if it is really worth it. it is a forced 5 minutes with that image and realising what may have to be done, honestly assessing whether I want to continue. I have missed that and now that this exercise is over can go back to it.
I became so bold as to drop off two at a time and so obsessed with the cost checked and doubled checked the file so that only one print had to be done again.
I don’t think I would ever do this again though. I am pleased with the way the snaps look, particularly pleased with the spotting and
smoothing the water in Pete’s at night that was ruined making platinotypes – and due to when it was made didn’t make a duplicate.Since size matters, those who have seen them are impressed and this isn’t a tirade against things big, it was simply not satisfying.
I cannot see why this method of working is any different than waiting for the snaps to come back from one-hour photo lab at the Dominion. It is more money but in essence it is still the same passive way of working.
I am fully aware that in current art practice – seeming detached and farming out all unnecessary work is de rigueur. I reckon that I don’t see as the actual craft of making the snap as unnecessary.
It has nothing to do with proving my skill, or making the image mine as in the end these arguments are only valid for those who nothing else to argue about. It is about my practice how I want to make my work and this simply isn’t this.
This was a compromise – the wgas eschewing anything that would look retro and knowing that the future is digital. The mural room became the mural closet that was too small to do what I wanted.
I thought that I should practice what preach and not hate the hands off approach in ignorance. In truth handing things off is easier and printing digitally is significantly easier. Work on a file when it is ready print ad nauseum. Dust is a one time problem as is nay negative flaw once it is fixed it is fixed. it isn’t faster but it is easier.
Topping this was the cost factor - 22 prints that will be seen by maybe 100 people at a cost of $70/print. For the price of one print I could make 45 of my livrinhos of 17 snaps and send them out. 990 livrinhos for the same price. If what one does has something to do with communication rather than covering gallery walls, this exercise seems to be a big misstep.
But – even though I get off the point it is not about that, it is about me, it is about me feeling as I have been a bit more enlightened when I finished the work. To me the passivity of making work this way gained me nothing in fact my life carried on while the work was being made. Heading into the darkroom where I can do nothing else but listen to Paul Kennedy go on and on about he being Paul Kennedy and this is Ideas, on the radio, I am forced to either think and or concentrate on that snap coming up and thinking if it is really worth it. it is a forced 5 minutes with that image and realising what may have to be done, honestly assessing whether I want to continue. I have missed that and now that this exercise is over can go back to it.
Tuesday 5 June 2007
why i never ask for interns...
it would only spoil the myth of the working "artist"
print preparation stations.
Sunday 3 June 2007
while picking up the new york times at the speedway gasbar…
i found out that gasoline is so expensive now because the japanese own all the pipe lines in alaska and send all the oil off shore to penal colonies where it is refined and then sent back to the states – so stated a geezer who was informing the counter staff while paying for his gasoline for his buick regal.
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