It seems while I can arrange an exhibition with the regularity of an impending ice age, the travel buddy seems to walk into a gallery and get shows.
She is in an environmental show that is opening to-day at Eastern Edge – my rejection letter from them is around someplace – and it was an all afternoon and evening affair. It would start with the children’s programming then have a follow on in the evening. She thought that maybe she should get some of these videos made up in the residency ready for it.
I wandered Petty Harbour, not so much looking for outport formalism but things. Becoming braver I walked down by the docks in the hopes of finding things other than lobster pots. I did a dead stranded fish – it was remarked that I photograph a lot of dead things, really didn’t notice – bits of cut coloured line, and three men standing out one having the misfortune to state that it was a lovely day.
I entered the Pig and Whistle a shebeen if ever I saw one – a pool table and cases of empty Canadians in the rear. When I left one of the men went outside to pee.
-come on in let’s see who you are, the person with his back to the door yells, we won’t kill you.
-mighty tough eating if you kill me.
-who said we’d eat you?
-ah killing for sport.
I was invited back later on for some beers.
Headed around past the convenience to see that there was now no mural on the façade, went in to complain. The woman behind the counter took me to the back to show me what was going up – some generic graphic design aware sign comeplete with puffins and a lighthouse.
I was mightily disappointed but not so much as not to buy some postcards.
The Scademia was in and I promised that I would photograph Mandy on a good hair day so headed over.
It was a good hair day so I photographed here again and her co-worker – Carla.
Carla asked if I wanted to go on the Scademia.
- are you kidding I run from places like that.
A bit more chatting before heading back for the trip into town and the setting up of the work which was placing her laptop on a table and pressing play. She had other work up in the gallery as well.
Heading up we stop at the convenience to buy something – eggs – nothing like keeping eggs in a hot machine for hours while one traipses around a city.
I also went in because Quidi-Vidi Brewery is having a free beer tasting of their QV and QV Lite – more water. don’t see anything so decide to leave when the person I saw this morning comes out and asks if I have been out on the back deck for the tasting.
Anna reluctantly comes in and reluctantly takes the 8 bottles of beer left over from the tasting that Des has given us. I put it in my bag to get it through the shop and then place them in the hidden compartment of the machine – taking them out of my bag.
It has been a long time since I was in St. John’s on a Saturday in the summer and I was shocked at all the people. Water Street was a mess, dropped her off and parked in Duckworth.
Opening the machine to rearrange the bottles as I could hear them moving in the trip up, I find that three of the caps had worked their way off the bottles and three others, while the caps were still on only had half full bottle – they were the QV Lite. Ingenious I thought until i realised where the beer had gone.
The car smelled like beer, bad warm beer.
We walk into the kiddie programme with beer on our breaths.
Stayed for the piñata bash helped along by a girl who was in little league baseball, then we headed out for a coffee at a new place in Duckworth Street near the Hotel Newfoundland. Sat outside as is becoming the practice where I noticed someone whom I photographed the second winter that I was here. Neal. He looked worse. I take it that he doesn’t go to the Duke any more.
IT was then time to make my return to the Duke.
- but why not sit at the bar.
- Ok why not am open to new things can see Clarke’s Beach from there – if I crane my neck.
Pretty empty as it was between groups of regulars, a pint of Smithwicks and a glass of Guinness. The early PM regulars come streaming in say hello catch up and then leave for part two at the gallery – having food at Hava Java to disguise the alcolhol.
Too nice a night to be inside so I lend my support from the kerb along Harbour Drive until it is duckish.
Buddy strikes up a conversation. He is from here – up Water Street – but now teaches in Labrador – am intrigued so ask all sort of questions – isolation, how is it to get there, how would my special vegetarian status go over? it seems that his wife is one and when the locals saw her pulling up the vegetables sent over a moose or something fearing she was starving as she was now eating the grass.
He loves it finds it fulfilling challenging and while they won’t be there forever now it is great.
He goes in and his wife comes out, I speak to her about the same thing what’s it like etc.
She hates it, Pentecostal men and women are separate, it is like a fishbowl and wants to leave as soon as possible.
Des comes to the opening – they supplied the beer – apologises profusely and is more embarrassed by it than I an upset with the constant beer smell.
Go back inside as the volunteers started to bail on what could be the longest opening in history – 8PM-midnight. I volunteer to tend bar with the intention of putting it on my resumé as a performance piece. The world’s most intimidating barkeep at an art opening.
Must have succeeded beer sales plummet.
No comments:
Post a Comment