Two places at once. Missing that back balcony tonight.
Strange antics with this one. Pictures of pictures of pictures. Experimental photography at home. Can you see Erin's face? My mother's?
Margot's back. Beware.
March 22, 2012
Experimental Drinking
Alone at home on Friday night in Winnipeg. Slide party for one! The Rue Clark back balcony looked at home enough on the living room wall of the Barber House. Enough to run for the tripod, throw the timer and take a good long sip. Twice.
Two places at once. Missing that back balcony tonight.
Strange antics with this one. Pictures of pictures of pictures. Experimental photography at home. Can you see Erin's face? My mother's?
Margot's back. Beware.
Two places at once. Missing that back balcony tonight.
Strange antics with this one. Pictures of pictures of pictures. Experimental photography at home. Can you see Erin's face? My mother's?
Margot's back. Beware.
March 5, 2012
Mystery March
Tiger suit on a Monday morning. Billie Holiday accompanies the morning coffee period along with a juicy tangerine and thoughts on mystery. Where has all the mystery gone? Perhaps it is time to lay this internet post to rest, along with the rest of them. Without internet outlets to feed recent work, daily thoughts and ideas, perhaps committing these hands to paper and print would come easier. Room for concentration without internet distraction. It is so easy to get sucked in, scrolling with eyes roving for hours, feeding my mind fairly useless information when I could be spending those hours working in the darkroom, drawing, sewing, cooking, printing.
So. With that said, this will be the last post of Margot Pollo until the exhibition at Le Taudis has come and gone.
Preservation of mystery.
If you would like to communicate via paperform, this is my latest address:
132 Barber St
R2W 3J7
Mail is timeless. Film is timeless. Horses are timeless.
It has been interesting, this process of building a collection of images to present to the public (many of them still stewing away, internal fires keep ideas bubbling near the surface). The feeling of GO OUT, hit the streets NOW with a camera at the forefront always surprises and thrills. Okay. Listen to your guts, they know what's best.
Listen to Chopin and Brahms.
Hold a baby.
Put away the computer. Pick up a pen.
A man rides down the alley on a bicycle hauling an empty homemade wooden cart. I watch from the kitchen window. This home is a good one. Living with Lisa King is good. Life is good. And now, let the mystery begin. There is a lot of work to do!
A photo exhibition with work by Craig Dueck and Meg Kroeker.
Friday the 13th, April of 2012.
Le Taudis, 567 Selkirk Ave.
See you there.
So. With that said, this will be the last post of Margot Pollo until the exhibition at Le Taudis has come and gone.
Preservation of mystery.
If you would like to communicate via paperform, this is my latest address:
132 Barber St
R2W 3J7
Mail is timeless. Film is timeless. Horses are timeless.
It has been interesting, this process of building a collection of images to present to the public (many of them still stewing away, internal fires keep ideas bubbling near the surface). The feeling of GO OUT, hit the streets NOW with a camera at the forefront always surprises and thrills. Okay. Listen to your guts, they know what's best.
Listen to Chopin and Brahms.
Hold a baby.
Put away the computer. Pick up a pen.
A man rides down the alley on a bicycle hauling an empty homemade wooden cart. I watch from the kitchen window. This home is a good one. Living with Lisa King is good. Life is good. And now, let the mystery begin. There is a lot of work to do!
A photo exhibition with work by Craig Dueck and Meg Kroeker.
Friday the 13th, April of 2012.
Le Taudis, 567 Selkirk Ave.
See you there.
February 29, 2012
Looking animals in the eyes
Dear Rags,
Thanks for hauling me out of the city limits, for pulling over at a moment's notice in plain sight just like Willy taught you, for a winter day well spent.
This is us. Bright and clear.
Thanks for hauling me out of the city limits, for pulling over at a moment's notice in plain sight just like Willy taught you, for a winter day well spent.
This is us. Bright and clear.
February 25, 2012
Sugar Tappin'
As winter winds down, the golden hour stretches out reaching private places accustomed to the dark.
Light confident.
Four p.m. light hangs similar to quality cloth, shadows leaning against buildings like long cool women. Faith in the future pooling with just a quick look out my window. Things golden, diffusion above, stark contrast below. Alfred Stieglitz would have run for his camera on a day like today. The long shadows drew me out the house late this afternoon.
Tripod.
Scott's light meter.
Big 'ol camera.
While walking around on Barber looking for a good spot, my inspiration was tapped. Connection and understanding came together and the pictures revealed themselves. All I had to do was remember to pull the Dark Slide out between each composition. I haven't shot around in such a way for many moons.
Sweet familiarity.
Since returning to Winnipeg, I hadn't shot a single stranger's portrait until this afternoon. It was starting to get to me, the inactivity. Something switched on in that beautiful light and suddenly there were faces everywhere. Heavy activity.
Made a picture of three young boys, nine years about. My first interaction with neighborhood kids. One of them had flaming red hair and crazy teeth. Big Super Soaker pumped and ready on a cold and clear Saturday. Keith (only name I caught; rookie move) wanted to see for himself--the feeling of shooting--and when I offered him a spot behind the camera he made me laugh when he tilted the giant body on the tripod straight to the heavens with the most extraordinary sureness I have ever seen in a kid. There was no question, he knew what he wanted. Shooting with confidence after a thirty second explanation. Whoa la.
Keith, respect.
It was a pretty top notch day. Three great meals with great people. Physical labor and a job well done. Children's laughter sounding through the house. Family not my own, but as welcoming. Baby on my hip, the free hand alternating between toast and coffee. South Park over neighborhood Chinese takeout and a dog on the lap.
Basil.
Lisa in the home.
My kind of Saturday.
 |
| Chanel and Margot sitting in a tree. |
February 24, 2012
February 19, 2012
Factory Gals
Rookies in Venice.
Katie Dangerfield shot this five years ago. Young pups. Looking at it always makes me laugh. Craziest chop to date. Wacky bob for baby Margot! Took the entire haircut experience standing up in front of a mirror in Paris.
Katie Dangerfield shot this five years ago. Young pups. Looking at it always makes me laugh. Craziest chop to date. Wacky bob for baby Margot! Took the entire haircut experience standing up in front of a mirror in Paris.
February 17, 2012
Death's Zoo
Loud coat on the corner.
I noticed Chris was in the cab while watching the little blue pickup whip around the fork on Sutherland while waiting in the sun to be picked up for a trip to the photo store for film and supplies. Hadn't seen him since yesterday and it was a nice surprise. Dropped my two F3 bodies off for parts and repair at long last and then wandered around. Brassai caught my eye (well the Taschen book version caught it considering Brassai himself is long dead).
Speaking of death, I stood in a room filled to the tits with dead animals today. Wild! Didn't see that coming on a Friday afternoon. I couldn't help myself but reach out and touch that long giraffe neck coming off the wall. Is it real? Yes. Winnipeg is full of surprises. Grateful upon entering for listening to my guts before leaving the house.
Bring your camera. Bring your camera. Bring your camera.
After the death zoo, we stopped in at Le Taudis to visit Rhayne working away on a new film production and again I felt inspiration pool into my stomach like milkshake through a funnel. Hallelujah. Drink it down. There is something special about the sun pouring down on Selkirk Avenue that fills me with wonder. Vitamin D in the hood. The three of us too poor for breakfast in the afternoon, the suggestion of a homemade meal was pitched and eat we did.
Before the scrambled eggs came helmet shopping. I am in the market these days.
Good company all day. As the afternoon light passed to dusk, I hauled out my projector and got down to business. Organized the mountain of negatives and mounted a bunch for viewing pleasure. Here is an iPhone photography sampler, which does zero justice to the true beauty of slide film. Slide show on a Friday night cause I am crazy like that.
Slides don't lie. And that is something I can get behind.
I noticed Chris was in the cab while watching the little blue pickup whip around the fork on Sutherland while waiting in the sun to be picked up for a trip to the photo store for film and supplies. Hadn't seen him since yesterday and it was a nice surprise. Dropped my two F3 bodies off for parts and repair at long last and then wandered around. Brassai caught my eye (well the Taschen book version caught it considering Brassai himself is long dead).
Speaking of death, I stood in a room filled to the tits with dead animals today. Wild! Didn't see that coming on a Friday afternoon. I couldn't help myself but reach out and touch that long giraffe neck coming off the wall. Is it real? Yes. Winnipeg is full of surprises. Grateful upon entering for listening to my guts before leaving the house.
Bring your camera. Bring your camera. Bring your camera.
After the death zoo, we stopped in at Le Taudis to visit Rhayne working away on a new film production and again I felt inspiration pool into my stomach like milkshake through a funnel. Hallelujah. Drink it down. There is something special about the sun pouring down on Selkirk Avenue that fills me with wonder. Vitamin D in the hood. The three of us too poor for breakfast in the afternoon, the suggestion of a homemade meal was pitched and eat we did.
Before the scrambled eggs came helmet shopping. I am in the market these days.
Good company all day. As the afternoon light passed to dusk, I hauled out my projector and got down to business. Organized the mountain of negatives and mounted a bunch for viewing pleasure. Here is an iPhone photography sampler, which does zero justice to the true beauty of slide film. Slide show on a Friday night cause I am crazy like that.
Slides don't lie. And that is something I can get behind.
Pictoral Scramble
From a random dip into the cache of two thousand and nine, out came a mix of the seasons. I have always liked those birds in the cage. Day off today. Between the coffee guzzling, light maintenance and repair reading and note taking, I have a river of fabric flowing through the main room and pooling at my feet in the kitchen. Four meters is a lot of anything. Time to sew. Last night I finally got my darkroom in gear. Well, into a state that I am inspired to work within. Creme and I hauled furniture, reconfigured, unplugged and organized the state of his own basement darkroom and the finished product along with the last look at him grain finding underneath his behemoth Fuji enlarger as I climbed the stairs made me hungry for my own process. And that felt good. I feel the winter's press upon me and at this point in the season I might as well utilize the long dark hours rather than fight them.
So be it. To the print.
To the sewing machine, once and for all.
So be it. To the print.
To the sewing machine, once and for all.
February 16, 2012
Kifeshow
Winter can suck a dick.
Bold. I got a handmade post carte with that written in black ink all caps a few winters ago. Wise words from a swan. Today those words came into my head, the reminder of it matching a feeling on the inside while standing in blue under an orange light.
All day I wanted to weep. Considered it in the bathroom, but held it in. While sharing dinner this evening with Creme, I felt like my breath was off kilter, as if I had spent the entire day holding in air. I spent the day breathing and running and wrapping things in saran wrap. It is plain as day that this job is off. A feeling. Winter fell from the sky and blanketed the streets I have taken to in muck. The idea of riding home in that in that beautiful coat not fit for the spray made me sad too. Thank god Creme picked me up, tossed my bike into the box like it was nothing, Bob Dylan's age in the sound of his voice coming from the warm cab.
Those moments are my favorite of winter on a crap day. Sliding into a familiar space with a familiar creature of a hundred natures, easy to sigh and drop down, warm in my coat, safe and relaxed beside him. Legs working the clutch and pedals. Boots clomping noiselessly in Shoppers in search of cigarettes. We zipped around the north end and eventually came to my home to break bread.
Grateful as hell for that dude in my life.
Not sure what the heck I should do, what steps to take. Work it out, pound out the kifeshow as they say in the bush? Good pay, shit hours, hesitancy, longing, frustration and nonstop polishing. I would rather be the one in the whites "hiding in the kitchen". Kitchen jobs are important too, nothing to be ashamed of there. Someone's got to put the love in the stock.
Fuck.
Take a step back Madge, check out the goods/ good.
These are the good parts of my job:
- Jason's face, a dishwasher who calls me girl (in a good way)
- Julio's laughter, kitchen prep and all around rockstar
- Making eye contact with workers in whites while hustling through a production kitchen
- Classical music from the delivery van radio
-
I am afraid to take the steps to actualize my interests. Darkroom sits wanting, ready. I hesitate out of laziness, distraction and ??? Two question marks punctuated with a question mark. The moped in the darkroom (mon dieu) breathes life into me and I look forward to the first ride with that rascal beside me, eyes sparkling in the dark like shiny stones, the first recognition of an understanding of momentum in a world brand new. Fast perspective. Trips with cameras.
Want to's:
- snake pits
- more bowling
- less soup
- print
Look forward to's:
- swimming at the pits
- road trip
- BLAST (whatever that is)
- breakdown and recovery
- Crystal and Donny's baby boy
- dry riding (cold + wet = ache)
- Friday the 13th exhibit at Le Taudis in April
Bold. I got a handmade post carte with that written in black ink all caps a few winters ago. Wise words from a swan. Today those words came into my head, the reminder of it matching a feeling on the inside while standing in blue under an orange light.
All day I wanted to weep. Considered it in the bathroom, but held it in. While sharing dinner this evening with Creme, I felt like my breath was off kilter, as if I had spent the entire day holding in air. I spent the day breathing and running and wrapping things in saran wrap. It is plain as day that this job is off. A feeling. Winter fell from the sky and blanketed the streets I have taken to in muck. The idea of riding home in that in that beautiful coat not fit for the spray made me sad too. Thank god Creme picked me up, tossed my bike into the box like it was nothing, Bob Dylan's age in the sound of his voice coming from the warm cab.
Those moments are my favorite of winter on a crap day. Sliding into a familiar space with a familiar creature of a hundred natures, easy to sigh and drop down, warm in my coat, safe and relaxed beside him. Legs working the clutch and pedals. Boots clomping noiselessly in Shoppers in search of cigarettes. We zipped around the north end and eventually came to my home to break bread.
Grateful as hell for that dude in my life.
Not sure what the heck I should do, what steps to take. Work it out, pound out the kifeshow as they say in the bush? Good pay, shit hours, hesitancy, longing, frustration and nonstop polishing. I would rather be the one in the whites "hiding in the kitchen". Kitchen jobs are important too, nothing to be ashamed of there. Someone's got to put the love in the stock.
Fuck.
Take a step back Madge, check out the goods/ good.
These are the good parts of my job:
- Jason's face, a dishwasher who calls me girl (in a good way)
- Julio's laughter, kitchen prep and all around rockstar
- Making eye contact with workers in whites while hustling through a production kitchen
- Classical music from the delivery van radio
-
I am afraid to take the steps to actualize my interests. Darkroom sits wanting, ready. I hesitate out of laziness, distraction and ??? Two question marks punctuated with a question mark. The moped in the darkroom (mon dieu) breathes life into me and I look forward to the first ride with that rascal beside me, eyes sparkling in the dark like shiny stones, the first recognition of an understanding of momentum in a world brand new. Fast perspective. Trips with cameras.
Want to's:
- snake pits
- more bowling
- less soup
Look forward to's:
- swimming at the pits
- road trip
- BLAST (whatever that is)
- breakdown and recovery
- Crystal and Donny's baby boy
- dry riding (cold + wet = ache)
- Friday the 13th exhibit at Le Taudis in April
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)