I wanted to head over to Piccadilly Park to see the bike rally, I couldn’t wait to the fireworks over the Pond at Quidi Vidi, it was a great day weather wise – in the twenties, sky a blue and clear that you never see below the 49th any more.
A day to be out and about.
This was the worse day to be a bobble head doll when people inanely talk about your work but it was to be only two hours. When I used to get more intelligent conversation and insight bombing about Gros Morne with a Minnesotan import.
It was also to be moving day when once again I would be a townie but that has been postponed to 3 July.
As usual I needed what others would consider a silly ritual to start the whole day, so I took something important to me to Cape Spear – the Eastern edge of North America – six kilometres down the road – to start the continent and the day.
Outside of finding that release when I came over the last hill and saw the lighthouse and the beginning of the land mass it didn’t help. The hard work was done, and it seemed silly to stand about listening and expecting people to praise your work – chalk this up to being a Friends School lifer. More people see my books than saw the show which is hardly the point. The point in my mind is that we hateful hyperactive photographers always seem to be finding a way to go against the medium – its infinite reproducibility and accessibility.
The space looked good -
like a proper gallery show but so what. I made turned work that was transportable and manageable into something that required a room to see it and the people that I wanted to see the work wouldn’t come as they don’t feel comfortable in galleries.Best and most insightful comment came from Roger who said oh your small stuff made large.
Arrived at the gallery 45 minutes ahead of time as I still had four snaps to hang - smallish ones to put above the guest book and two books to put on pedestals in the middle of the room. Janesville got some chairs for the books and picked lupines from the back to place in a vase.
I went for the last book at my evil twin’s place and some water at Bruce’s. A woman whom I know but whose name I don’t was there we were chatting when Dot came in with her partner and child. Invited them to the show and showed the box that I made when due to Janesville, I realised that with all the time spent in Pouch there were few snaps of the area.
Her partner said something about taking a snap of him and sealed his fate. Went behind the counter and made some of him and their kid.
Felt better in fact felt as good as I did when I hit Cape Spear and turned back. Felt so good that I left the shop without my bag. Heading back saw Sam Newell piled in to a car with Percy Strugnell and the senior crowd at their usual spot overlooking the ocean.
Since I had a snap of Sam’s clothes line, went to show him the box. Percy got out of the machine to look as they looked at the 17 snaps. Sam thanked me for the mural of a couple of years ago when the WGAS has facilities for that. In exchange for showing the photograph I found out that the grave in it was the oldest in Pouch Cove. Which alleviated the envy when Janesville pulled down the book I made in 2002 and looked at it in the library with the librarian telling her the same sort of snippets that I was hearing now.
Went back to the show but decided I needed more water – another reason why receptions are so odious wine no beer – when I ran into Sam talking to people I didn’t know.
Of course being a recovering faculty member of the WGAS – I didn’t have my camera so I asked if they would be there in ten minutes.
- yeah why
- because I am tired of photographing people as old as Sam.
- I’m older a twentysomething said I simply age better.
Raced back to pick up Ziquinho, four frames left was enough – it didn’t seem that I was missed as people were happily chatting.
Actually took time making the snaps to finish off the roll. Chatted a bit then headed back again to the gallery. Passing the Senior Citizen’s Centre a person who had served in the Second War was coming out and dropped his walking stick. Went to pick it up when he started to chat with Sam and me. His name is Bill, he asked if I liked the province.
-so far but am not sure so I keep coming back.
Out of film, I raced back again to the gallery to pick up a fistful and raced back to photograph him, posed hid is walking stick, and again when we got to chatting. Asked where I was staying what I liked that I should simply move up here, and look at the view. I thought that we were going to sing the Ode.
Henry walked by with a determination that I thought he was off to get is mid afternoon six pack of Canadian, asked where mine was
-in the store.
Everyone was surprise when he came back with a small bag of crisps and a fruit juice.
Sam was a social magnet as his daughter then stopped by and naturally…
More chatting but I thought that I should head back to the gallery – don’t really know why had a better conversation on the street and was having more fun. Invited everyone but only Paul came with his wife which was a pity for they had seemed more curious than those who actually came.
So the face goes on, I chat answer questions, most dealing with technical conundrum of the digital divide. Glancing at the Parks House in a snap wished that I was at the picnic table at the evening meal watching the shadows creep up the hills on the opposite shore.
Luckily Fennelly and Beth who like me doesn’t know how to act at an opening came and while we could and did talk about things technical – Roger thinks that I am as hateful as he when I have a camera in my hands – but also about place, the wrongly captioned image and the intimacy. Others had touched on these points – well not place – but would try to have it stated in a way and with enough reserve that it would be intelligent and noncommittal.
They had to go, I walked out with Aleks and Grant who had the correct idea – come with a flask of scotch – saying that I would see them tonight at the Spur…The Victory.
Headed over to see Kennedy and how he was feeling with his eye but didn’t want to dwell on it. Being a traveller wanted to talk about travelling and while I try to stay away from the subject of the CBC it always comes up – said I would front for him on the morning programme here.
He said that I could have stayed in the back bedroom at Martin and Gabrielle’s but no we didn’t want to use each other as an excuse for not working, went out to look at the potato patch with potatoes that Ted had given him.
He mentioned that Ted hadn’t planted his yet and that he had a girlfriend in St. John’s.
- there’s the reason.
Pulled some rhurbarb from the garden and sneaked it past Russ’s place and back to the machine.
Nearly froze at dinner at the Gypsy Tea Room as the doors and windows were open with the temperature outside heading toward the teens.
Raced back to Petty Harbour to pick up a sweat shirt then back to the Pond to see the fireworks, two favourite things merged as descending Shea Heights I see them over the city. It looked as if they were in the harbour.
Raced to the pond, but it was cool to see what seemed to be the fireworks down every street – over Water Street, over Duckworth Street, Empire Road.
Got to the pond as they were ending.
Parked by the old Wordplay and walked to the Spu… Victory. The band were doing a sound check. Talked to Aleks about the proceedings of the day.
Grant did a solo acoustic set which was great but cannot understand how he can deal with the ambience when most people were talking and acting as if he was an I-pod hooked to a speaker system. The music was quiet and barely audible above the din.
Asked Aleks why this doesn’t happen with 30 000 feet.
-they are too loud to talk over.
Saw some irony there.
Left after his set about midnight, the full moon rising but also playing cache cache with the clouds directly over the Blackhead Road.
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