King's Cabana

After Christmas passed us by, my dear friend Lisa invited myself along with three other wonderful women to her cabin on Beaconia Beach. It has become a tradition and this year was the second year running. Great laughter, great adventure, great freedom, great fire.

I just came across Brit Willacy's photos of the weekend and they are nothing short of incredible. Thanks woman. All photos below shot by Brit W. As a photographer myself, it is rare to be captured in such a way, not to mention pictured mid shot. The comfort of friendship is obvious here.

White House report

Up from the grave He arose.

That song of calvary is stuck in my head. I am beginning to understand the reality of life amongst ongoing renovation. Whoa la, respect. I have been painting various parts of my imediate environment Cloud White. Clothes are coming tomorrow, bits and bobs are here waiting. The blank white is so incredible I am tempted to let the walls speak for themselves, unadorned.

Today I unwrapped my Omega B22 enlarger that is just a swinging door away from my bed. All parts in fine form. The studio has taken a shape. Nothing beats a studio put together. Things in their place.

This home.

Is a good one.

While I am taking my sweet time adjusting to the switch, so far so good. January is zipping on through. Dragon year woohoooo! I rode a large tricyle through aisles upon aisles of bicycle parts this evening. It was thrilling, a true thrill to find grace around those corners standing up in painting clothes in child's play.

Steve, I don't know if you read this but I made your simple sauce today, slow and low. With miniscule vegetables to boot. Not as good as yours but good enough to remind me of you. Simon, I will miss the ease of walking to your bed when my eyes fail me and all I have is my feet. I miss you both so dearly.

Glass was smashed for waste and process in between the trip through the aisles, shopping for new drop bars with my eyes. Steel all the way.

This is an exciting time in life. Piecing the darkroom together bolt by bolt was exciting. It won't be long. Just a few more things to paint white.

Shlope shien.

The Mask

Party for two.

A typical spin about on Victor. Lifting items for debate near the face and then moving on to the next. Climbing over shit piles to get to the bar in the living room. Vodka shots in plastic throw backs. Finding a stack of turntables in the upstairs linen closet.

Thanks Creme.

iPhone photography, hear me roar. I bite my tongue Virginie!

Christmas in Chernobyl

Two shots from the Krackerias Christmas festivities. Second shot looks like the leader. It is becoming increasingly clear that I need to drop my sight line of composition down a notch. Tilt the bod to compensate for parallax. It is interesting to be struggling with framing after a year of satisfactory shooting with the Kiev. Bizarre.

I am not happy with my 35mm camera stable at the moment (F3 in for repair) thus it is medium from here on in. That beast against my face is reassuring. High time to use my light meter. Guess work is expensive.

This morning my Kiev and I accompanied Syd Reimer to the weirdest place in Rosenort: Jake Horton's. I shot some weak portraits of farmers in hats. To the people who shoot, do you ever find yourself shooting just for the sake of stirring up the energy in a room? I was somewhat shy this morning and kept shooting in search of some sort of reaction or connection. Nada. Come to think of it, a man by the name of Don W did give me a hell of a profile. Usually I go for what I want when I see the opportunity. This morning was a funny lesson in photography. It was new to have a fistful of ideas but no connection. Very new to be ignored completely. Some exchanges must be earned at a slow pace with hard work and consistency.

Not all great portraits happen happenstance. D'accord.

Aunty Marj. She would have had those farmers lined up outside with their mugs, hats and shitty grins, the lot of them. Jake Horton's regulars. How did she do it! The thought What would Aunty Marj do? kept running through my head as I went from table to table. I am Megan Kroeker. Who? I am Cal Kroeker's daughter. Oh bah yo. I am Syd Reimer's granddaughter. Oh bah yo. Not enough. Tough crowd to crack. Only woman in the place. It was a very bizarre journalistic experience and I left without getting what I wanted. I have no choice but to become a regular. What a frightening thought.

More on that later.

Moonbath

In the darkest part of the night, the flashlight in the sky beamed down as yet another reminder that we are all connected. Feeling down? Look up. Surely someone else out there is lying on their back--without a dollar or a path, an idea or a hot clue as to what the future holds--looking up all the same. The great unknown, the great mediator. Oh the questions. No one knows! Hallelujah for that. Keeps us human. Keeps me moored in the now and with this in mind, more appreciative of my surroundings.

I lay in my space (as a wise Richards man has been known to say) in my parent's front yard at two in the morning taking an energy bath in that bright light. Whatever may come, however this year unfolds, okay. Home feels good. This version of home feels good. The home with the yard on which I played Grip It (or whatever) with Erin for hours. Our version of Catch in the nineteen nineties with a fluorescent tennis ball and hand paddles. With memories drifting in and out I lay there trying to quiet my breathing so I could hear the branches and the wind better. Hear the cold better. Mild wind for January. No razor cold edge to it yet. Surely this calm is preparation for what is to come in the Dragon Year.

Whatever happens in the future, I take much comfort in knowing that my family will always come to the airport to cheer upon arrival. Thanks guys. Thanks be to Milky, whom without I could never have pulled off such an operation. Your antics and sensibilities will take you far.

As for the future, I have no choice but to continue to lie down at the crossroads, look the moon in the eye and say a prayer.

To the women we are
To the mothers we will become
May the light of the moon
Bless our wombs
Amen

Slow Leaker / Leader

A Shop Birthday

Erin's birthday at the shop with the Pear alumni. Her and Stef's brand new shop Rhymes with Orange handled our shit disturbing, costume changes, dance jams and champagne guzzling quite well I would say! I woke with gold paint on half of my face so I think it is safe to say there was a face painter at one point in the evening. Love these women, love that gorgeous vintage shop! Well done sister.

To adventure!

Bon Iver on full blast. Thanks for the reminder BKH. What a crooner, perfect for a winter day. I slept until noon, pulled my lazy bones from the warm bed and dressed accordingly. Cold as a witch's tit in Montreal today. On the bright side, conditions were perfect for cycling. Dry and clear. I walked to Steve's and hauled Ruby the red Velosport down the stairs after a good catch up with the Squirrels. High rise bars, three pairs of gloves and wool covering every inch of skin, I free wheeled my way down the mountain. Legs free to rest as the wheels did the work. Alba, I am coming for you. Bartape in hand, sorry for the crash.


Looking forward to's---

- white painted floors

- Ruby and June and their mother in the car, in the woods, everywhere

- holding all the babies possible
- meeting Beatrice
- Willa's first birthday!
- new studio
- setting up the darkroom
- unpacking
- winter bicycle date
- job hunting
- baking the first loaf in the dutch oven
- utilizing an oven that works!
- red booth with Edie
- visiting Will's house
- Creme and Cat Power


//

A face only good friends could love. Photo from here.

Land ho

From this spot in my bed in a room no longer mine, it is plain as day that my stay at Fool's Cove in Nova Scotia was the highlight of 2011. Richards men, merci.

Following images shot with Kiev 60 TTL/ 80mm lens. HP5 vanilla.

ARMS AKIMBO

Moving to Winnipeg in the new year. Hallelujah. It is time is the same thing as I am ready. My home came down like a finished circus this afternoon. After you pull down the center, it doesn't take long for everything else to come with. I realized while packing that the artwork hung on the walls is the center of my home. It is the first to come down and the first to be put up.

What makes a home a good one? Light. Niki Trosky and Sula taught me how to light a home properly. Andrea taught me how to build a functional kitchen (what I didn't already know from my mother). Rebecca taught me the importance of candles. Yosh brought about the Listening Station and Josh Ruth the art of hanging art. Homes are wonderful places. I look forward to the next.

Giles here I come. Can't wait to sit on the counter and drink coffee, dogs and fitness. Bread baking, in house workroom. Built in cabinets just begging to be opened and closed. Last night I listened to people move around the home I have built in Montreal from behind a closed door. Not interested in interacting, I listened to the movement and exclaims until Kurt Vile slid around my head and sang to me. Thank god for the album Smoke Ring For My Halo. This is the one home I have ever felt one hundred miles from home in my own room. When I say home I mean house. Displacement in my own home is something I refuse to settle for.

Next.

Yesterday I went to Zoi's house, the first friend I made on my own Montreal. Mabel's personal rescue ranger. Zoi rescues cats. My cat introduced us. I can safetly say that there is no one else like her. Tiny little greek woman, wise as the hills, a fierce whispering tiger. Zoi set me up for a future in darkroom with such incredible kindness and generosity. Pushing my loot down the street from her house a few weeks ago felt like highway robbery. Thanks woman. She listened to my indecision and advised me to seek fun in the new year.

Here are some goals:

- FIND MY VOICE
- take an art class in something new
- take a stand in my art
- birth a freaking website already!
- write a story, even if it reads terribly
- have a lot of fun in the adventure
- archery
- ride more horses
- master the feel of the Bessa
- use my lightmeter more
- ride through winter/ buy new lights

And just for the hell of it, here is the most recent roll I have shot (with the Voitlander Bessa). Critically speaking, the exposures are mediocre at best (which satisfies me well enough), the composition is nil (shot some great portraits but they were lost due to me not knowing how to set up) and blurry. Other than the fact that the one photo I was excited to see of Abdul the cook in an ally was lost on film, the camera's working mechanics encourage me to keep shooting until I figure out the balance. No hand-to-eye focus on this pup. The external trigger is a new avenue. Makes me feel like I have lived a life before this one, releasing triggers under black throws. Twenties. Probably just as baffled then as I am now.

There are many more factors involved with the Bessa than other other camera I have used. First. Load (120, rectangle exposure, don't F up the reel). The tension from the fresh roll pulled over must be taught but graceful in order for the film to take up evenly on the empty roll each time the camera is wound. There are no teeth to guide while advancing; eventually there comes a feel for the take up. Watch the film backing roll through the light safe peep hole. See a number? Stop advancing.

In the making of the actual picture there are many aspects to consider: aperture, shutter speed (which I am lost on as it needs to be reset manually), distance, advancing.

Adjust aperture based on the intensity of light (I have only shot in daylight and usually set the aperture (diaphragm opening for light) somewhere between 5.6 and 8. This seems to work with a shutter speed between 25 and 50. Adjust dials as necesary. Guess, I am always guessing. Terrible habit. The metal body clicks, there is no denying the feel which helps to memorize the steps. Then declare the line of focus (depth in feet from subject to camera). 2 ft, 4 8 15 infinity. Choose. Set dial.

Everyone stay still. It was really thrilling to yell that on the verge of exposure at the first wedding shot with the Bessa.

Chelsea & Adam's wedding; Manitoba, 2010.

Once all those aspects are established, you can push the trigger in the right hand while trying to stay very still, camera at waist view, eyes registering the image reversed. Release. Major parallax. The trigger opens the shutter allowing light through the diaphragm to expose the film and remains wide open until the next order of operation (unsure about this). The shutter is closed by the flip of a slim metal arm on the body. After all of those steps, the film must be advanced. As there is no reminder to do so, I often forget and fumble over (see below) buggering each shot. It usually takes three or four double exposures out of seven until I remember to wind.


Nerd alert.

Mechanics are exciting! I find it incredibly difficult to shoot with grace with the Bessa. Clearly, as I have learned this week, there is no point to rush the image making process as the picture will inevitably be lost. DAMN learning curve. It can be awkward fiddling around while a stranger waits patiently, two garbage bags hanging.