untitled

There is something inherently wrong with not owning up to an image, to not giving it a name, a title. I'll endeavor to understand more clearly why I like this picture, to give it a name. Maybe. But if I don't, let it be known that I am aware I should.

Rain

It's unrelenting here, the rain, sometimes. And as a person who purports to take photographs the idea of short, rainy days seems counter to the medium. But on occasion things like this happen. And even though there are other places I would rather be on any given day it isn't so bad being here when it's raining.

Anywhere but here

rain

I can almost hear it.

The View From Here

These are all images taken from bridges in Vancouver with a Leica M3.





To me they all have a small town feel to them, rural even, and yet they are all taken in the heart of Canada's third largest city, not that cities in Canada are that large, the combined populations of Greater Vancouver and Metro Toronto barely equaling that of New York City. Technically Vancouver proper only has 500,000 people in it. But still, it's a city.

Tilt-shift photography gained popularity as a means of distorting the scale of environments some years ago and while it can still be effective it's become somewhat of a parlour trick much like many of the effects that come stock with Photoshop. What I like about these images is there's no distortion of scale but simply a change in perspective but that perspective isn't unobtainable, anyone in Vancouver with a bicycle and an afternoon to spare can find these views with ease. It's a perspective that allows the viewer to understand scale better, juxtaposition of manmade and nature, or even manmade to manmade. They speak of erosions and evolutions, relationships, connections. And secret places, sometimes new and beautiful, sometimes with the sheen worn off but still loved, sometimes exploited, sometimes transitional.

sunrise

film

It's hard to argue the colours that so naturally appear when you shoot film. I'm a little sad that there's images from last fall on this roll of film that I only just got developed this month but in my defense there are no less than four cameras in my possession at the moment with film in them. (sadly, they each probably have pictures as old as the one above.)

Film

It really is hard to argue against how warm film is.

Half Frame Cameras

I recently found a Konica EYE half frame camera at a garage sale. It had found its way into the "free" pile and being unable to resist 1: cameras and 2: free stuff, I ended up with it in my bag. It's a weird piece, very few adjustments or settings and it takes two pictures per traditional film frame. But it's not without faults. The roll of 24 I put into the camera should have yielded 48 vertical format images but instead I ended up with about half that. I thought I was being gentle with what I expected from it exposure wise, shooting mostly in bright light, holding the camera exceptionally steady, avoiding moving subject matter, but it would seem only about half of what I pointed it at was exposed properly. This would include the image above which is actually two images, not necessarily panned either, I'm certain they wouldn't collage together if I could remove the black bar between exposures. They do twin up nicely and they are one of the few good exposures I got from the camera. It will be hard to rationalize putting another roll of film into the camera but I'm glad I did it this one.

There's this one too, I suppose.



You don't have a lot of say about what pictures end up beside each other in the processing and scanning. I mean, yes, I define the order in which the pictures are taken but the juxtaposition of one against another is pretty much a 50/50 affair. Yet, the groupings of the few images that did work out are pretty spot on. I like these two images beside one another. It's good they weren't separated during scanning.

light

It's a little after first light but it always seems to me like the buildings are reaching up and grabbing the sunlight out of the sky.

Another Monday, Same Sophie

Sophie and I spend lots of days together, or part days. Mom gets her a lot of the time. I work some days. And there's daycare. But every so often we get to spend a whole day together without chores involved, without distractions. Two parks and sprinkler time, a picnic, and ice cream. It was a good day.

Paths

Home

I have charged my good friend Johann Groebner with painting me a painting to be titled "Home is where the heart is." I suspect that with any artist the hardest part is the muse. This is a short series titled "Home" but I don't know if this is where you'd find the heart. Perhaps it's where you would find a heart, and perhaps that's why I've taken the photos. I gave Johann the challenge to create the painting but perhaps I should rise to the challenge myself and try to find that photograph that suggests "Home is where the heart is." It would indeed be a challenge because I'm not sure I've found a place for my heart and I suspect it might be some time before I do.

all these brilliant disguises

Little Things

Confessions of an addict.

Recently

The first one, the starker one, it may have a more powerful message. The second one, it works because of the first one.


This was taken the same day as the other two. It's a colour photograph but most of the colour had been sucked up by the clouds.

Simulacrum revisited

There are so many distortions here I don't know where to start. So I won't.

crows

They come as a swarm, literally hundreds of them, heading to the lake just blocks away from the house. It really is quite eerie.

Santa says...

Not much to say these days. I have a new camera arriving early next week, a little point and shoot but of a higher quality than most. At least I hope it is. Should be interesting to see how it affects what I'm taking pictures of.

Listening to Eric's Trip, Behind the Garage. It's an old one. I've been listening to a lot of older music these days. My days of walking into BeatRoute contributor meetings and walking out with a fist full of new indie music have dried up but two years of that means all the old stuff I have and neglected to listen to sounds new again. Oh yeah, and I still have your Smashing Pumpkins CD, if you ever want it back...

Monday with Sophie

I've meant to do a "day in the life of" series with Sophie for a while now. Today we did it. You can view the whole thing here as a slide show but I should warn you it's the kind of thing that may be more interesting to relatives. There's a lot of pictures there, a days worth I guess, but at least I'm not holding you captive as I get out the wallet full of photographs. We had a good day today. She walks a lot for a kid just over 2. And I could take a photograph of her eating breakfast every day for a week and you'd more often than not see her eating French toast. She's a good kid.

voyeur/surveillance

I suppose being a voyeur is an intrinsic part of being a photographer who likes to take less formal images focused (pun intented) on the casually observed. I mention Eggleston a lot in conversations about photography and it's a skill that he has sharply honed. Every photograph gives the viewer the anonymity coveted by the voyeur, the ability to sit and stare, to study the details, to linger on that which may be impolite or improper to notice in polite company.

This photograph is about being a voyeur but more about the act of voyeurism. It's an attempt to capture the act of voyeurism or surveillance, not about what is being observed or the observer. It's the inbetween space, the action, not that act or the actor. I don't want to take a photograph of William Eggleston, I want to take a photograph of his camera, or even better, if it were possible, I would like to take a photograph of the light entering his camera.

I've been feeling a little directionless lately when it comes to photography. I suspect this will be a part of an ongoing project.

ideas

So often it's not about the light but about the absence of light. Is it possible to take photographs of the voids?



And trees. I've taken these pictures before, some seven years ago even. Perhaps I will see if I can find them.

I've been in a funk lately. I might have been looking forward to the excuse of oppressive and incessant Vancouver rain but it's been sunny more often than not. The snow at Christmas stuck around for the better part of two weeks because of the lack of rain. There's still hints of it along many side streets, snow banks clinging to curbs.

Is there an equivalent to writer's block for photographers?

The last time I took a photo every day it seemed to sap my energy from time to time. Is the same happening now?

I don't know. But in the mean time Jennilee Marigomen is a good way to spend some time. And maybe I'll find a photograph today. Or maybe not.

Burrard Bridge

I spent some time walking around the other day. I'm usually walking across the Burrard bridge but this day I was on the Granville bridge and got a somewhat unique view crossing over False Creek.

doors

The idea of individual expression when manifesting itself in two identical buildings is amusing.

Fleeting moments

I'm not one for taking photographs of flowers. These particular flowers though, they were planted by someone who is about to step away from my life. She's a wonderful person and I'll miss her dearly. But I can't help but think these flowers are a metaphor for our relationship. These flowers spring from bulbs that precariously perch themselves atop a small handful of stones and a drop of water and they grow at an alarming rate. Today they grew somewhere around 3 inches or so. Incredible. And they produce these beautiful flowers for a few days and then they die. You pop the bulbs back into whatever cloth sack you might find handy and wait again until next year.

I've known Sabina for essentially a year and she's a good egg. I'll miss her.

open

Sometimes the pictures just don't fit in with anything else.