Eastern Time

To market, to market to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again; jiggety-jig. 

Whoosh! Home at last.

With Ni at the wheel, the old faithful Toyota rolled into Wolseley around eight this evening. I hung out the window like a happy hound, tongue wagging, energized simply by staring at elderly couples lick their ice-cream cones and families eating watermelon on their stoops. Neighborhood normalcies of summer. What a novelty after nearly three weeks on the open road.

Naturally, sleep has escaped me (while the Sleeping Giant sprawls across the heavenly bed). This is no surprise. It always takes me a little while to adjust to such change in rhythm. We have been a going concern for the past 18 days. Driving like we stole it and never staying in one place for too long (much too much to see!). I sit window-side wrapped in a cold sheet drinking cold water that came from the kitchen faucet with hardly any effort at all, happy to reflect in the present, now on the other side of travel.

On our first night on the road heading toward the East Coast, I had a hell of a time settling in to the routine of sleeping while camping. Instead I plunked down beside the beautiful Wolf River (near Nipigon, Ontario) we happened to be tenting next to and listened to the silence of the bush engulfing me. No light save for the occasional firefly. This past year spent in school training to become a teacher of Montessori while working full time and completing six weeks of intense practicum work left little time to sit still for long. So I sat there, still as can be alongside the river after the inaugural campsite fire had burned down to coals and promised myself to BE IN THE MOMENT on this particular journey (to the best of my ability). It felt good to make a clear intention to really soak up the majestic, ever-changing landscape from Manitoba to Newfoundland and back. Canada, you outrageous beauty you. I feel so grateful to live in this seemingly unending, jaw-droppingly breathtaking free country.

I photographed to my heart's content in between blazing through book after book on the road, making meals in the most hilarious of locations, swimming once and hanging my head out of the passenger window to really get a sense of the province we happened to be exploring each day. (Ontario smelled of pine, pulp and clearcuts whereas Nova Scotia smelled of sun-dried fish and sea kelp). I didn't shoot nearly as much as I was prepared for, but then again it was an entirely different kind of journey than what I was anticipating. I guess I was content to shoot with my mind's eye for the most part. It was not a relaxing trip in the traditional lounge-ones-day-away type way, but rather an exciting, rolling showcase of striking landscape and roaring water filled with quiet surprises and romantic gestures I had no way to prepare myself for. No amount of roll film could capture all of the looks and laughter exchanged in that cab, in the land. It felt like a damn crime to crop out a single thing with my 6x6 frame every time I fired the shutter. Time to move up to a larger format methinks, no bones about it.

A wise woman in my life often says, 'It is not the destination Madge, but the journey!'. We journeyed! I remember one evening slipping into the water at Eskers Lake in my navy suit and thinking to myself, "I am really living". After clambering up onto a floating dock at some point to watch Iain navigate his way into the cold water in his underwear before plunging back into the lake from the dock, I realized we had never been swimming together before. What a sensation! It was a real hoot to meet in that cold lake as lovers for the first swim. He laughed at my ever graceful doggy paddle (sorry ma, all of those swimming lessons did me no favours) and we got a real kick out of each other dripping wet on a private corner of an abandoned beach.

Together we climbed rocks, boulders and cliffs. We hiked in Gros Morne National Park like loaded pack mules and swore and sweat our way through vulnerable moments.  One evening, we drank a bottle of wine at the very mouth of the Bay of Fundy only to laugh hysterically when we realized our path was submerged under a quick rising tide at dusk. I have never trusted anyone more to guide me through an unfamiliar spruce forest in the dark than I trust Iain. We will always be children of the Prairies; it was obvious as we stood absolutely in awe of what we would see each day the further east we drove.

While many photographs were composed during this particular time away from home, there is one that stands out in my mind. I have yet to process any of the contrast rolls spent but I pray the physical shot of Iain dressed in turn-of-the-century Victorian evening wear, cane in hand and a beautiful Bowler atop his head comes out of the bath alright. I shot this particular portrait around eleven in the morning on an overcast day in a woman called Suzette's photo studio. She was busy in her darkroom, processing the glass plate Ambrotype portrait we had just experienced firsthand. Before ducking in, she invited us to "muck it up" in her upstairs studio. So we did. We played and Iain gave me all of the time and space I needed to soak in the energy of that special place. There really are no words to explain this particular photo experience (especially as a subject in front of a 100 year old 8x10 box camera) but let me just say it changed my life and sent a gust of wind straight into the flame of my biggest dream which is to someday open a proper portrait studio. That's all there is to say about that for now. In the interim, I have much work to do this coming long, dark season in my own darkroom, forever catching up on contact sheets and printing, endless printing.

Suzette, you have no idea what you did for my soul that day. Your work will take a place of honour in our humble home. Thank you for unknowingly affirming so many questions I had that day just by doing what you are passionate about and letting me into your darkroom process.

Sleep beckons now. Photos to come to pick up where I have left off...

M

Here is a small series captured somewhere off the beaten path between Quebec and New Brunswick. Pitstop for a gourmet lunch of KD and Coors, plus an impromptu self-timer Christmas card portrait on the banks of a wide river.

Olympus SP rangefinder / Delta 400

DISCO IS OK

Group shot photograph courtesy of Charles Venzon. Many thanks!

Art City of West Broadway in Winnipeg threw a hell of a Disco a few weeks ago. This photo essay is made up of portraits and observations I felt feel to capture in between shaking my behind and spilling rye on the ensemble I wore in the name of Lisa King. It was a good time, not only for the energy and commitment of the partygoers, but also for the wide range of folks of all ages and backgrounds Art City brought together one hot night in Spring. All photos shot with the old faithful Kiev 60, a brightass flash and a coupla rolls of Tmax. Feel free to click to enlarge and swipe away but always remember to credit the eye behind the angles.

Bon nuit.

Margot (was here)

Farm story

Ten day old Arlo tries on an antique dress for size.

Farmer Atlas takes in his Grandpa and Granny's farm.

Papa serenades mama and babe over lunch.

Brother and brother.

Young Granny and sweet Arlo.

Determination does not lack in this creature.

Longing < Belonging

Full moon lunacy report!

As I teetered on the edge of insanity at Iain's table on Tuesday, I heard the wailings coming out from within and knew how ridiculous it must all sound. It felt good to get them out nonetheless. Solid ground was found, calm and clarity made their way and all is well once more. Sometimes a gal just needs to howl out her frustration to the moon, you know?

Hormonal shift, Mercury in retrograde, full moon, green goop in my chest; these things bubbled up into a full bodied wild woman concoction of crazy stew. And then it boiled over. And smoked up the place for a time. 

Somehow Iain took this all in stride and held my despairing face and impressed upon me the need to CONCENTRATE on the present. Not that I need a man to reel me in in times of lunacy, but it was nice to be accepted, acknowledged and grounded in that moment. I have a tendency to coil up, retreat into the dark and stew. And stew. Solitude stew.  Eventually everything comes to the surface. It is pretty incredible to be in a relationship with someone who is willing to weather the storm with a twinkle in his eye. 

Strong, solid oak in the wild winds of Spring.

Yes I am longing for a home to settle into, yes I am longing for a kitchen to polish and get to work in, yes I am ready to unpack my studio for good, yes I am looking so forward to pulling out of Manitoba and heading for the Atlantic coast alongside an incredible travelling companion, yes I can hardly wait to finish up my Montessori training and move forward. Those wise words (and the word CONCENTRATE specifically) wrapped themselves around my waist and pulled me back into reality, into the here and now. Hold it, winds of change. Hold your horses, cowgirl. Longings be longings; what is important is to appreciate the present. The experiences of my past led me to where I am today, this I know. The future will unfold as it will. No point in wasting energy on the Great Fret about something I have zero control over. 

As school winds down, I can feel the coil begin to slowly release. I have been reflecting upon the past year plenty, partially out of necessity for the theory aspect of school and partially on my own accord as I deal with my constant urge to settle. As students we are asked to record our impressions of weekly readings and while doing so take into account the journey we are on as we work toward becoming teacher guides to three to six year old children. Have I changed during this academic pursuit? Yes, absolutely. Have I noticed a transformation in my own attitude or approach to life as I know it? Yes, thank heavens yes. How have I made change? I have made a conscious effort to physically slow my pace in life (especially in the company of children), to engage in the minute details of life that I normally whiz right over as a busy woman, as well as to tune into the spiritual needs of the children in my care through meaningful interactions, mutual respect, eye contact and laughter. 

Before this program I took myself for a gentle, soft spoken care giver, but now after an intense practicum in the classroom, I can see now how my mentor's critique and advice helped shape me from what I thought I should be into who I am as a teacher. I have a new awareness of movement that I never would have considered before studying Maria Montessori's philosophy. 

Who am I without a home of my own? I am a strong woman who is learning the hard lesson of patience. This year has been a lesson on timing, trusting the intuitive self and having faith that what I am working towards in the present will allow me to work on creative endeavours in the future. 

Ah, the many musings of a burdened heart. Time will tell. The darkroom and studio will represent themselves in a new light when the time is nigh. Summer is normally my time for high production but this year is different. As soon as school is behind me, I will commit to the one stencil I have been waiting to devour for many moons, a project based off a photograph of a couple of adventurers whom I admire deeply: Rollin and Elma. Then it will be time to shoot another beautiful wedding and THEN I am going to do absolutely SFA for three straight weeks except drive and read maps and make fires and swim and laugh and walk land and shoot photos of new sights and set up camp alongside the person who gets me for me and makes me laugh like a hyena under a full moon. 

And now I must go cram for the Cultural exam I have not prepared for whatsoever! Cool times ahead.

Ice-breakers

We've come a long way, methinks. Photo. Lisa King

Do it right the first time

Quality brothers: Cal & Rick

Meet my dad Cal and his plaid-clad elder brother by ten years, Rick. These two have been in the carpentry business alongside their own dad since they could swing a hammer. My dad has beautiful stories of going to work with his dad Frank KK at eight years old. I hope my children are able to experience that kind of work alongside him someday. These men are Quality Builders. The phrase, Do it right the first time was often heard in my childhood home and to this day I cannot help but approach a project full blast. My folks don't do anything half way. I am grateful to them for it.

It has taken me some time to work through these photos and my emotions attached to them. At the time (shot nearly one month ago in early April), this felt like my first photo essay of the warm season. My initial intentions as I loaded my cameras for the day changed as the auction progressed and emotions began attaching themselves to the images I was composing. I don't normally shoot in that sense, so emotionally invested in the angles and spirit within the scope and so urgently that I forget to meter the light (a reason why the inaccurate exposure ticks me off ever so). Such is life. It goes.... How appropriate that my first auction of the year was my own Dad's. Cal and Rick decided it was time to sell the business, the physical shop and tools within in order to move in separate directions as Rick eases into retirement and my dad blasts into the prime of his independent career. 

As a photographer and proud daughter, I shot with a lump lodged tightly in my throat as I watched through my scope the variety of emotions move across the faces of my dad and his brother, my aunts, uncles, mother, siblings and many cousins as they watched Frank's original tools and dovetailed crates disappear into the trucks of others with zero emotional attachment to these iconic items which marked our lives so. These emotions surprised me. It is far easier to photograph from an arms length. Shooting was a cathartic process in a sense, as I was able to come to grips with the reality of change as I observed those around me work through the same quiet emotions.

All those bittersweet emotions aside, the auction was a great success and not a sad day whatsoever. It was a day marking the beginning of great change for the Kroekers! A launch, if you will. THAT I was happy to capture on film. Auctions are exciting! It was open season for capturing portraits of all of the characters who came out to support, place bids and bid adieu to Frank Kroeker, the man who passed Quality Builders onto his able sons when his time came to rest at last. I felt his spirit near all day, I felt him smirking a smirk that said it all. You did good, sons. I asked my dad at the breakfast table on Mother's Day, "how did Grandpa Kroeker wind down?" and my dad replied, "he did the books". There you have it. I shot many slides on my Kiev as the day progressed but it feels rather shameful to share slides that have been digitalized. That said, the pictoral narrative is right at home on the projector screen, blasting light through 6x6 color positives as intended. Slide show to come.

* I was hesitant to share these due to the strong (overkill) contrast and strange results of processing film in a broken tall can without a thermometer. But screw it, these are my people and here is a look in regardless of perfection. My favorite shot between the two contrast rolls is either this top leader shot of my dad partially chopped off at the place where the 120 film is taped to the paper backing  OR the shot of Jord wolfing a hotdog, curls flying. 

Photo Essay no. 1: Quality Builders auction, April 2015

Rick's corner.

This man was a gentleman and part of the auction team who came out to get the job done.

Hesitation. I asked and this is what he gave.

My Uncle Jim smirks beautifully.

Iain observes. I receive so much joy in watching this man watch the world.

Jord wolfs a 'dog.

Grill man.

Sometimes I notice characters like these and I thank my lucky stars for my eyeballs. I followed this man around all morning and yet couldn't find the nerve to ask for his portrait. Enamored I was, which doesn't happen too often. Too bad I fudged the exposure on this roll, that face (on the left) begs to be worked with. Unveil the beauty Margot!

Cousin Derek and my Aunty Lavina (wife to Rick).

Shop still life. 

Settling the bill after a successful auction.

Community. I love that happy face of Uncle Jim in the crowd, hamming it up with someone or other.

The auction begins on the shop yard.

My dad and brother, talking shop with Tim.

While his face may reveal little, this man is a deep soul. Uncle Rick takes in the auction.

Gareth and Erin take in the sights.

One of my favorite Aunt and Uncles: Karen & Rick F.

Rick & Rick share a laugh.

Checking out the merchandise.

Funny how off my exposure was outside in high sun, yet inside? Just right for me. I love those bones of the shop.

Portrait of myself on the counter where my dad and uncle would work with the books or blueprints. Shot by someone who was freaked out by my request. Soft looks, that's alright by me. 

My dad enjoying the people who came out to support him.

My dad and Uncle Rick in front of the shelving I have known my entire life, in the shop their dad built.

---

And that's a wrap. The Quality Builders company may have sold part and parcel, but the roots of integrity hold fast. These two brothers have taught me so much about work ethic, honesty, quality and how to maintain healthy relationships between builder and client. To this day, my dad goes to work whistling with a spring in his step. I want to find a way to enjoy what I do thoroughly throughout my life. Life is too short not to enjoy one's bread and butter. Thank you to both my parents for the many lessons you have modeled over the years. As a teacher and artist, I hope to pass a similar legend of integrity on to the young generation that I encounter whether it be in the classroom, kitchen or studio. Quality or bust.

Last night Lo and I sat around Iain's table bathed in candlelight. We caught up in a hurry as only sister wives do with one evening and two bottles of rouge on our hands. Willie Nelson, Abner Jay, Fleetwood Mac, Emmylou Harris (among others) crooned in the background. How I have missed that woman's force in my life. Laura the fish. We worked through the NYT 36 Questions across from each other at the table with gales of laughter and quick notes. Two writers, writing. Try your hand at them with your own sister wife, partner, blood sibling, perfect stranger. Makes for a great date at Vera Pizza ;)

Kiev 60 / Tmax 400 / processed at home (clearly) / professionally scanned by Ashley of Photo Central.