spring training

Have been trying get up to Sheboygan to see a friend’s work at the Kohler Art Centre for weeks. Normally this isn’t a problem it is only 100 miles north and the main problem is the boring ride along I-43, but all of a sudden winter happened. For the past month of days off it has either been snowing or the machine was deciding to be finicky. So when winter had seemed to be broken, I made a multitasking outing, head over to the post office in Bristol, buy coffee at Alterra in Milwaukee – double stamp day –needed to find some Cranes stationery paper - as the Paper Source has decided not to carry it - in order to continue my schizophrenic photographic existence. I also needed more USB drives in an effort not to carry a computer everywhere while saving the environment from cd’s and dvd’s. I was using them for class and to take prints to the service bureau with the files for the murals for the show this summer.

Winter had been broken, it was 4C, windows were down. I was gaining confidence in the machine as I had to brave Chicago to buy supplies for my class – demanding of me wanting supplies when it is only the fourth week of the semester – it had started, it wasn’t making strange noises.

The idea here was to do all of this without feeling rushed. It seemed to be working, wandered the third ward making snaps while watching the students of MIAD, called MID because there is no art there, fumbling while trying make snaps.

Didn’t panic when Broadway Paper was also out of Cranes Stationery, more snaps returning to the car.

Two pounds of Sulawesi Toraja in beans, and then out to the Interstate. It was then that I realised that I still in somewhat a hurry up mode as I forgot to bring something to read or my notebook for something to do while having a café au lait later.

Still haven’t overcome the numbness of mind when I get on an Interstate. On it I was making time, would annotate potential places for further investigation but not this time. The effort I have to make is to get on the frontage roads.

The art centre has a good series of exhibitions, better than Milwaukee. Was first drawn to it when I heard about the autodidactic artists that they would collect and champion. It seems now that the space is bigger that they take themselves way too seriously now, guards following one around making sure that one doesn’t touch the works. at the beginning they would knock on the toilet doors so that one could go in and see the rooms that were made by invited artists and they seemed to like it now they are dour, officious, and like most additions to museums the space was more eating and gift shops than gallery space.

Thought that I would only have a coffee before heading back but passing the Weather Centre some pavlovian instinct was set off and I had to have my usual –a bowl of soup and black bean quesadilla. Although it wasn’t needed to slow me down, did miss something to read now so as not to stare blankly.

Warm still, windows still down, car starting as if there were never a problem, rattling gone, I headed back to I-43 changing my route, noticing and wanting to photograph the taverns here one day. Now in the mood to skip the Interstate but too dark to make snaps and the only thing more frustrating speeding by places with potential is taking one’s time when it is impossible to make one.

Flânerie knows no season

So it is not the cold. It was –18C. I had to head over to the new Gallery 2 – one floor above the old which had it fit in the with ivory tower aspect of the WGAS. I always walk. I hadn’t the usual paraphernalia that I use as an excuse for not being able to get to the cameras but even so I took a 35mm autofocus SLR that was one step up from a point and shoot and kept it out. I chose the least walked route I could think of.

I was to go G2 then head up to River North all before the 16:13 train back to Winthrop Harbour. It was 12:30.

The wander was fine. The weather wasn’t bad at all and since the camera did everything for me, my point of vulnerability – my hands – were kept warm as much as possible.

As this was an attempt to stave off lethargy and prove that I can get out to make work, I had colour film and for some reason the camera did for me what Holgas supposedly do for other – frees one up.

Cannot remember what I actually photographed a roll was used before I made it to the West Loop and not thinking I only had one roll for the camera. Brought out the leiquinha, exactly the opposite, had to focus, had to meter, had to wind on but continued to make snaps wandering about Greek Town and on the way up to River North. Again the route was one that I rarely take and it seemed to pay off.

The day also helped in reminding me what I can do in a day. worrying about making it up to River North – I wanted to see the galleries there but had been trying to get to Stephen Daiter to see the book that had published by lulu.com, an on demand publisher. Was worried. I left G2 at 3PM and didn’t want to miss the train. I always want out of Chicago and to-day was no different. Walking up Halsted Street, I stopped to photograph two frozen beer glasses placed delicately on a frame outside a restaurant.

- Hey did you photograph me? A man hiding from work having a ciggie asked after I had made the snap.
- No
- Are you sure?
- Yeah

Ah yes, everyone paranoid, everyone suspicious.

Never the less the walk helped reinforce the idea that there is more time then I usually think and that the only impediment to making snaps was me.

postage in 2006

$1515.88

Trawling through the negs to find the first six instalments of Clarke’s Beach I start to dally. The dalliance is due to those negs that have never seen a negative carrier, those negs that I have been meaning to print but never got around to them. They were now far enough removed that while I remember taking them I don’t specifically remember the situations. I do know that they are different than what I am choosing for the show this summer.

In the other individual shows that I have on the rock, I have been a bit wordy in my images. The first one at the gallery when I was hanging some 50 odd prints, I remember Baird coming through, looking and saying Mies van de Rohe.

Less is more.

At the Gander Arts and Cultural Centre. There were at least that many. Come to think of it the space was about the size of the new James Baird > Pouch Cove.

In Gros Morne there were too many “rushes” to show at the end.

So this time I thought that I would be like other contemporary artists. Make less and make them big.

With the small space, that I was originally offered I was thinking eight images - 40x32inches – made from the Parks Canada residency. I was thinking Ikons and had edited down to the eight without a problem – wandering with a heavy camera is made for the searching out of things important.

When I was moved to the large space, again there wasn’t a problem as there were images that I printed – this is where all those postcards come in – which work in a similar vein. They are a bit more whimsical but still pretty straight forward. The ballpark in Bauline, the playhouse in front of the garden shed in Winterton, the close line from the lower deck of the pipe house, a woodpile.

What I was noticing while looking for victims for Clarke’s Beach, were images that were more what I think I do – notations in passing – if I can steal the title of a Nathan Lyons book from the 70’s. the image were more subtle, I allowed for you to miss what I was looking at when I made it. It was less judgmental – as would whenever someone tries to designate something as an ikon.

The sense of the place had to be built up over quite a few images and nothing is really apparent. I realised that I did edit the images in the other shows, but I still needed a number to make my point. while there may have been some in the images themselves, there wasn’t the superfluity between that one would think – I hope - as every image was there to place the others in context.

Having said that though I realise that I need a regulator – hence the references to haiku in the books of wander and just about anything that I send out. It is enough to get my idea across but limited enough to make sure that every image stands for something the series – which is different than an ikon where in my opinion the image stands for something outside of the series.

I was a bit innerved as one is always see ikons of the rock – I was looking for something sharp when the tourism board came out with the clothes line segment. It seems that the province is reduced to a series of ikons – cod flakes, rooms, dories, cliffs, icebergs, whales…

Over a bottle or two or ten of Keiths from the beer cellar of the upper pipe house – the scaffolding that hangs over the North Atlantic - my evil twin started rattling off the ikons of my work that he remembered when we started talking about the show.

They weren’t mine.

What this did though was have me break the room into its walls in the hopes of the oh so definitive Gros Morne images will be off set by more subtle ones when I am simply out and about. I’ll have them on opposing walls. So the gigantic dory will be opposite the toy plane windmill up by the Newells. The line disappearing into Bonne Bay will counter a laundry line. The visitor’s dug out in Woody Point will have the home dug out of Heart’s Content (or Desire cannot remember where it was).

On one wall will be the images that Jim sees as ikons – truly fitting here as they are all things - the pinholes from my first visit.

While I was excited before – for some reason this show holds more promise for fun on my part even though the Duke is 15 miles away – but now am more so. I realise that I prefer the image that can be missed, the image with insignificancies, the ones that I see with the periphery of my vision rather than the those stared at.

route 80 - heart's desire

anniversaire de jean-eugène-auguste atget

il faut flâner aujourd'hui
basho restaurant and lounge
duckworth street - st. john's

jenkins & puddicombe sheet metal ltd.
hamilton avenue - st. john's

Illogical wants

For some reason, I was surfing the usual haunts where I look for used cameras. Don’t know why for despite the anxious moments trying to develop the film this time, it seems that I had finally figured out what to take with me when I head north and east. I had ignored the siren calls of those about me who are now ga ga over the new Panasonic/Leica point and shoot digital camera thinking that I worked pretty well with film and the good folks at dominion. The Mamiya 6 comported itself well.

But there it was in a site that will remain nameless in case I give in, there it was a Plaubel W67. the camera that fits my psyche perfectly, it compacts to the size of a paper back allowing it to be stowed and carried with me constantly. Since I see what I do as constant note taking, the camera fills the role perfectly. Here in the states it is the camera that I carry most of the time. it simply didn’t go north and east as it is on its last legs. Being 20 years old – something that we will never see again in photography as new cameras are outdated semi annually – the bellows are duct taped to cover the holes and there is so much of it the lens won’t lock when it is retracted into the body, the focus scale is missing, more tape is used to keep out light where light baffles used to be – think the type of camera Red Green would use. The Mamiya was bought when the Plaubels were discontinued and I couldn’t really justify $600 repairs with the camera away for months at a time as repair shops searched for parts.

The Mamiya while small is bulky. It doesn’t compact as well. It makes an indentation in my back it is difficult to get out of the bag – as I noticed in the airport at the first sighting of a Newfoundlander awaiting the plane that seemed would never come.

So here it is a worthy replacement at only double the price the camera sold for new – actually 2 1/2 times. I trust the person who is selling it but do I trust that there are parts for a 25 year old camera that was discontinued 15 years ago? What I am hoping for here is that my indecision will resolve this. It is still there, however, taunting me from the site. I am surprised it has lasted this long.

Up north...

tonight OH CANADA will be sung in Cree at the opening of an NHL match in Calgary adding at least a third language for the national anthem.

Meanwhile down south riots almost break out when The Star Spangled Banner is translated and sung in Spanish.

Digital 1 x film nil

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

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

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

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

Get out the grain focuser and … reticulation.

RETICULATION!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Above the 49th...

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


Below the 49th

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

drive, i must

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

It seems that it wasn’t symmetrical enough.

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

Sod off.

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

-no that is a large with chai.

Welcome back indeed.

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

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

A two hour flight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Derisive applause. Not a peep from the pilots.

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

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

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

Come July I want to drive.

-See m’boy ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

-You should stay here. Marry a Newfoundlander.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but whenever Aleks reaches for her camera it disappears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sleeping means waking up.

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

noon

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

a minor rant

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

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


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

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

I walk to the Duke confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone made the mistake of asking me what I thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bought a Globe for later.

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

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

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

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

Would be more depressed if I weren’t busy.

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

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

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

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

am so pissed at the rooms that i cannot write

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

sea fog

14 sullivans loop

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

nfld formalism
the baird ancestrial home
maggie

wifi spot in the car park in rawlins cross

the steps to valhalla - or at least a smithwicks

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

art dealings - bayman version

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

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

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

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

Nope they were out.

??!!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A photograph of Angie’s lawyer.

More e-mails when Terry gets it working again.

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

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

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

Glendon is still Glendon


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He likes the movie mode.

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

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

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

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

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

Acclimatising

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

I realised this back at Pouch.

winter flânerie

It is -12C.

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

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

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

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

It is determined that Baird will drive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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