Family Garden

Gardening from seed is a new endeavor altogether for me. Looking forward to working in the family garden in the coming weeks. It is planted quite a distance from where I live but I am grateful for the experience of planting nonetheless. Here lies a color photo essay that I felt free to capture at the time of leisure garden planting one week in early June. Old as the hills found-film given a whirl within my Nikon F2. Exposure came out a little strange. Might be the meter, might be the old film; who knows. Regardless, enjoy the look in.

Summer is IN! Praise the Strawberry moon above.

Elvis Rempel

I left this print sitting hump-backed in the fixer for about an hour. The strip ain't pretty but I did learn I could push my exposure a little further than I thought. Trial and error; darkroom edition. Printed at home on Ilford 8x8" Pearl paper. Winnipeg, Manitoba; June 7, 2016.

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A few weeks back, Iain and I went to a perogy dinner fundraiser in the basement of Legion No. 11 in Morden, MB. My camera bag was packed and ready to go as soon as I heard Iain's mom utter these three words:

MENNONITE

ELVIS

IMPERSONATOR

Well! The grand spectacle did not disappoint the keen photo journalist in me. Corny "Elvis" Rempel from Steinbach, Manitoba put on one hell of a show. For the life of me, I could not stop laughing while observing the scene play out on the stage before me. The left eye trained on a tight geometric scene within the camera's viewfinder, my right eye free to float in that sweet periphery zone that falls out of the scope of my lens. I took in the many delighted faces of ladies in the audience; my trigger finger firing occasionally when the spirit led. To say the least, I shot many photos (contrast film, full flash). You know those moments when you realize you are laughing at all the wrong times? Yes.

This event deserves no less than a full photo essay (which has yet to be completed). In the interim, here lies a starting point of sorts. A look into the madness that glitters around the very idea of being in the same room as ELVIS even though you know he is long dead, printed at home yesterday after work. I laughed as I printed. There is one shot in particular that just kills me. Elvis is leaning off the stage, serenading Iain's grandmother Marion into the mic. The shutter clapped the moment Elvis ducked in to smooch Marion right on the cheek. The light shining all around her is priceless. Angel among mortals.

The cherry on top of the evening was the moment when a young Elvis enthusiast entered the basement of Legion No. 11 in full Elvis apparel together with his parents and grandmother. I later discovered his name to be Macksom from North Dakota.

Macksom, these ones are for you.

Corny "Elvis" Rempel and a young fan called Macksom. Morden, Manitoba; May 2016. Printed at home on 8x8" Ilford Pearl paper.

Corny "Elvis" Rempel and a young fan called Macksom. Morden, Manitoba; May 2016. Printed at home on 8x8" Ilford Pearl paper.

Pearl River TLR

First shot from the Pearl River TLR. 

Photo of me thanks to Guy Ni.

Atlas and Uncle Iain hanging around on the farm near Morden.

Rebecca and her snoozy girl on a Sunday on the farm.

Portrait of us on a Sunday. Self-timer edition thanks to the Pearl River TLR.

Self-timer edition in the front parlor thanks to my new-to-me Pearl River TLR.

Just another afternoon of me running after the wolf pack with a camera in the back lanes of Wolseley.

Spring mash-up.

A few weeks ago, I picked up an old twin lens camera off an interesting dude in the North End. He invited me in and we ended up having a lovely chat about cameras. Kijiji is a wonderful way to meet wacky people. I must be wacky to invest hard earned money into a camera that I don't understand how to sharp shoot. I will get there. Until that glorious day, enjoy the soft looks in. Here is a slice of spring; captured on the first roll from my new-to-me Pearl River TLR. Shot from the hip. Nothing energizes me more than that first walk-about with a new camera.

I'll never forget the day my Kiev arrived. I had ordered it from the Ukraine on a whim. Intuition. At the time I was working seven days per week in Montreal, splitting my time between exploring the city with young Leo strapped to my body and slinging eggs in a wild kitchen in the Mile End. I called in sick on a Sunday (mon dieu!) and headed east on foot as I tended to do at that time in Montreal. I had no idea what I was doing with that camera but it didn't matter, I would come to figure it out eventually.

Two weeks ago I shot my first editorial work on that funny Pearl River twin lens for Tony Chestnut's spring / summer 2016 collection. Can't express how much I appreciate Jill's trust as I experimented. 24 frames of soft looks. When I look at the negatives I see nothing but errors in my execution. When Jill saw the scans she saw soft magic. She always finds the magic in my follies. The rolls shot on the Kiev came out nice and snappy. Coming soon!

Pearl River TLR / FP4 pushed to 400

Hurry up and wait

Diagramming at the Morden Legion; February 2016.

11 month old Lil' Water. Walter and his mama. Rosenort, MB; February 2016.

Walter walking a blue streak towards his dad. Rosenort, MB; February 2016.

Portrait of an armful: my ma holding JJ who holds his little sister, sweet B. Winnipeg, MB; January 2016.

Pa Kettle, the baby whisperer. 

Ni in his corner. Winnipeg, MB; February 2016.

Ten month old Gus taking in the sights from his Chariot vantage point. Winnipeg, MB; February 2016.

Christmas Eve portrait of my parents in their yard. Rosenort, MB; December 2015.

Christmas Eve portrait of Ni and I outside my parent's house. 

Amelia on my stoop in late summer. Winnipeg, MB; September 2015.

A funny found negative from Harvest Moon Festival. Clearwater, MB; September 2015.

Inspiration on Rorie Street. Winnipeg, MB; February 2016.

Finally processed the many rolls that were clackin' around in my print apron. I'm saving my pennies and thus it was a job for the home scanner. This batch of 120 Delta 400 came out EXCEPTIONALLY gritty and quite wretched, though a part of me found them quite fitting considering the gritty and wretched seasonal limbo Winnipeg is lurking in at the moment.

Spring / Winter / Spring / Winter

Flip / Flop / Flip / Flop

Dry / Wet / Dry / Wet

Dark  / Light / Dark / Light

Exposed / Unexposed / Exposed / Unexposed

The seasonal flip-flopping is quite brutal but the warmth of the March sun encourages me to carry on tight lipped. Nothing I can do but move through the slop like the rest of my fellow city slickers and countryside folk. Splash pants and rubber boots. Dogshit and cigarette butts. Lost shoes and wet trash. Somehow the green always manages to cut a path through the grit.

I was walking with Leo yesterday down an alleyway toward the twins' place after four and his attitude toward this time of year was so inspiring! He picked up every piece of trash he found on the ground as if it were some magical treasure. At one point he looked at me as we dumped our treasure into a bin, and he said with such an intensity, "taking care of the Earth is our only job Megan". You said it kid.

Four year olds man, four year olds.

*Kiev 60 / 120 Delta 400 processed and scanned at home / begging to be printed.

Deer Seer

Portrait of Leo's ice cream. Art City Snowball. Winnipeg, MB; February, 2016.

I sat up in bed on Saturday morning after waking from a powerful dream. In the dream I was sitting in a naturally lit lounge area of a mall surrounded by healthy plants. Suddenly I saw this boy from my class zoom through a cafeteria in front of me. Instinctively, I began to chase after him. He pulled all of the tricks he knew as we ran through the place. I finally caught up to him in a crowded and incredibly noisy restaurant. As I held him in my arms, his body begin to morph into a little fawn with the softest body on long spindly legs and the biggest brown eyes you ever did see.

Then I woke.

I made coffee and then a list at the kitchen table as I thought about him. His eyes. Those expressive dark eyebrows that often speak volumes more than he does. I put down my pen and picked up my telephone. I checked Instagram and the first thing I saw was a post from an old good friend Demetra. She had posted a photo captured through her living room window. Just beyond the lace curtains lay a group of deer basking in the spring sun. Below the photo she wrote:

"Deer medicine teaches us to use the power of gentleness to touch the hearts and minds of wounded beings who are trying to keep us at bay. Deer has the gentleness of spirit that heals all wounds. Deer does not push to get others to change, Deer loves them as they are. Deer folks apply gentleness to a situation and become like the summer breeze: warm and caring. 

Deer folk carry the message of purity of purpose; of walking in the light to dispel shadows. They know the work that they must do, and go about that work with no fanfare and no need for personal glory or recognition. 

Deer blend well with their environment but are very sensitive to every sound or movement. They are often described as being swift and alert. They are intuitive, often appearing to have well developed, even extra sensory perceptions. Some times their thoughts seem to race ahead, and they appear not to be listening. 

There are no shadows about deer; not ulterior motives; no hidden agendas; no lies or misrepresentations, and it is not possible for deer to knowingly hurt anyone or anything"

- author unknown

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When the universe sends such a clear message, there is nothing left to do but apply the lesson. I feel so incredibly challenged and charged by my work teaching the Montessori method to little ones. There really are no words to describe the many funny exchanges I share with little kids on a daily basis. It is such a different rhythm than I used to know. But slowly, I am learning the new dance and steadily I feel myself relaxing into the new role and just having fun with it. Less worrying about the future. More enjoying the moment. Perhaps this is good, clear sign of aging. I am growing into a wiser woman and I am proud of that. There is still much to learn. Next year I will teach full days and really sink my teeth into it.

Most days I teach until two in the afternoon and then zip home in time to pick up Leo from school and then scoot over to pal around with Noam and Effie until the sun goes down. Montessori in the morning and then free play in the afternoon. This is how I roll these days. On Friday we cruised around the neighborhood for two hours. No complaints about wet boots or hungry bellies, just delight. I shot a bazillion photos of the three boys on their respective push bikes and scooter. They are at the amazing age (4 and 5) where they genuinely want to understand how every little thing works. Cameras provide endless amounts of entertainment and teaching opportunities. We cruised to the camera shop on Friday ('twas a big ordeal for them to cross Portage apparently) and picked up film to load their cameras with. In half an hour we will start shooting. Then we will process the magic. Then we will make contact sheets. And then we will print!

Life is good.

Spring is flippen' IN.

MP

You do know I'm dead, right?

Early this morning, I woke with a start and a strong yearning to print. With the negative in mind, I rose, slipped on yesterday's clothes and put on water for tea. With the Blue Betty and cup settled on the shelf, I got busy setting up the trays to print. There is nothing better than being up and around in the early dark morning hours of Winter, working on a project I feel free and compelled to complete at the time of day when I am usually heaving my body, bicycle and saddle bags over the Maryland bridge towards No Man's Land of Lindenwoods.

Happy at work in the darkroom, I put a favorite Iris DeMent tape into the player. Infamous Angel makes a good soundtrack when an empty brain is necessary. After Iris came my usual darkroom standby: John Prine's The Missing Years which always makes me think of Matt Seftel, Iain and my dad at the same time.

Years ago, Craig encouraged me to use blazing hot water in every tray. Blazing hot Developer. Ca va! The Schleddog told him so and I trust their wisdom. It is quite satisfying to see that magic appear lickety-split thanks to the hot temps. While exposing my first print around 7 this morning, it suddenly came to me why I felt so compelled to print twelve 5 x 3 3/4" prints of the same photograph. Marj!

Early this morning, I dreamt of Marj.

The original rascal at work.

As per usual, I announced my wonder over her striking beauty in a shouting voice, with urgency. While her physical body has been gone from this earth for five years now, I feel her spirit often in nature though the sighting of a wing or the brush of wind at the cheek is not quite the same as one of her crushing hugs. Thus, these Marj sightings are rare and precious. Perhaps this explains the consistency of my shouting habit in the dreamworld.

In a flash she was there, in my presence. No idea where we were gathered, but that doesn't matter. I yelled at her, "Aunty Marj you look gorgeous!!". And did she ever look lovely. Close crop pixie cut, high and healthy cheeks, laughter all over her face. Green outfit as always. Whenever I do meet her in my dreams (the last time was over a year ago), she always has an effervescent glow about her, along with a true-to-form air of confidence, warmth and pride. There was laughter in her eyes when she answered, "You do know I'm dead, right Megs?".

Yup. I do. And damn does that fact ever make my blood boil (when I allow it to). I had to laugh at her nonetheless. Her humour is just as wicked dead as alive. Still got it Marj! I miss you, you beauty.

I printed twelve copies of the same negative with love. One for each Reimer woman present in the photograph Marj herself should have been in--or at least photographed. I love that it was my grandfather Syd who captured us here. Grandma Helen should be front and center, Aunty Daryl's eyes are closed and Ziggy is missing, but other than those minor details, we make up a clan of strong women who love as fiercely as Marj did and miss her all the same.

From left: my mother Kim, Marj's girls: Kate, Jen, daughter-in-law Meaghan, Sara; my sister Erin, Grandma Helen, Nally, Aunty Daryl, Alex, myself and Aunty Christine. We are Reimer women, hear us ROAR!

120 Color Photo essay: Winter on the Farm

Bella on the run at the Petkau farm. Morden, MB / Portra 800

Apple doesn't fall far from the tree. These two are jokers. Laughter and tenderness abound.

Atlas proudly holds young Bella. Winter 2015.

Beatty-Petkau's moon for the camera. We woke on the farm to a winter wonderland. 

The fog was dense and the light was incredible. Behind this family and hidden by fog lies a thick treeline. 

Atlas, Rebecca, young Arlo and Conrad. Quality family right here. 

All photos shot on my old faithful, the Kiev 60; shown in consecutive order in which they were shot. Portra 800 film did the trick to pick up on those warm colors on a cold day. The light was right thanks to a heavy fog and zero wind! Magic combination. Thank goodness my camera was loaded with color film. Contrast film would never have done the beauty of that day justice! I had never in my life seen such impressive hoar frost as I did the morning this roll was shot. Mind's Eye just mad snappin'.

Winter is magic!

D A R K R O O M

T I M I N G
C H E M I S T R Y
M A G I C
W I L L
L U C K

I was sitting in my front parlour after work this afternoon reading. An excerpt from photographer and printer Elaine Mayes found in a well-loved coffee table book of mine titled 'Darkroom' struck me in the silver gut. It goes like this:

By far the hardest part of darkroom work for me is getting started in the first place. I have tried all sorts of ploys to make it easier. My current darkroom is at home, and I designed it with the procrastination problem in mind, feeling that it should be a comfortable, pleasant space. Being in a darkened, orange-lit place with the sounds of water and fan (for ventilation is very important) accompanied by acrid odors, are not ideal working conditions for me. Working at home is certainly better than having to go elsewhere, but still I find all kinds of distractions to keep myself away. A friend suggested that I reward myself afterwards, by washing the dishes or cleaning up the house, both tasks that are infinitely easier than taking the first precarious step into the mysterious arena called Darkroom.

I struggle between compulsive order and the will to abandon all rules, so the kind of darkroom I have, and the way I relate to its procedures, are in keeping with these extremes. The room itself is 7 by 17 feet, with a 2 by 17 foot wooden sink along one side, and the dry counter enlarger area, film drying cabinet, and door along the other side. This arrangement means that I don't have to walk around endlessly. After exposing a print, for example I just turn 180 degrees to the developer tray. The long sink is extravagant but it makes it possible to carry the printing procedure to final washing by sending the print through the chemicals in a continuos motion, although I normally tone the prints with selenium after all the developing and fixing have been completed. With 16 x 20 or larger prints, the long sink is perfect. The most special aspect of the room is the carpeted floor with a thick foam pad underneath, so I can work barefoot for hours without suffering from tired feet. I have a pull-chain light installed above the fixer tray so that I can reach up and turn on the light the instant the print has been sufficiently fixed (one to two minutes, usually). 

Another important piece of equipment is the radio-cassette tape machine which provides music while working. Waiting for prints to fix sufficiently or waiting for another thirty seconds during film development are endless repeated times with nothing to do, so I often sing along and sometimes dance to the music. 

Ultimately I am not a fine technician, and the technical aspects of photography don't interest me at all. But having a usable and adequate skill is essential, so I seek out methods that best suit the way I photograph and relate to the medium. Simplicity is important because I want to be able to concentrate on the image. If procedure gets too complicated or takes too much time, I get bored and anxious.

From Darkroom; Lustrum Press, Inc., 1977.

I struggle between compulsive order and the will to abandon all rules
I struggle between compulsive order and the will to abandon all rules
I struggle between compulsive order and the will to abandon all rules
I struggle between compulsive order and the will to abandon all rules
I struggle between compulsive order and the will to abandon all rules
I struggle between compulsive order and the will to abandon all rules

"I struggle between compulsive order and the will to abandon all rules, so the kind of darkroom I have, and the way I relate to its procedures, are in keeping with these extremes". Amen sister!

The Darkroom has been on my mind of late. These thoughts on rotation confirm that winter is here to stay. All I want to do is print. After taking a step back from textile production and backing out of the sale I had commit to in the first place, I thought it was absolutely necessary to at least make something if it wasn't going to be money. So I started by printing contact sheets of the Peters family. The contact sheets tell a sweet story of love at first sight and the debut of a wonderful soul called Ellis. My first portrait printed in over a year of moons was of that sweet boy. His little face still dripping wet on a nice, snappy 8 x 8" print hanging on the line encouraged me to keep going. So I did. Next I chose to print a few copies of a shot I took of Noam & Effie at ease on their push bikes. I set up the negative and then left to go pick up the brothers with a plan in mind. This was Friday. Noam, Effie and I walked over to my house after four. I made hot chocolate and set up the trays while they watched Tom & Jerry at my kitchen table. I invited them down and gave them their first lesson in the darkroom. We printed 5 copies of Brothers on Push Bikes and three of another print titled Three Muskateers at Halloween. They were mystified, stupefied and spell-bound by the magic of Developer. I'm thrilled they now think me a magician, but! The wonder of it all was they it was they who made the magic. Christmas is about joy and generosity. These boys made their parents a wonderful gift to remember. I am so proud to know them and spend time teaching them what I can while they are still hungry to learn. My children will be printers, no less. Well, at least until they are old enough to choose for themselves. Four year olds are magical creatures.

Why? Why? Why?

I have this child in my group who I shall call Mapchild here, to protect his spirit in this public space. I admire him deeply and appreciate the way he challenges me to meet him where he is on a daily basis. His eyes are fierce arrows that pierce me in the most surprising ways. At school he lives for map reading and talking passionately about the places in the world he is interested in. As a teacher I push myself to take the steps I need to push him and guide him in his quest. When he does math he brings in his older brothers, using their ages to mark his progress as he learns the numbers 0-100 and their physical values. I imagine that the numbers 6 and 8 will be with him always as he is so fixated on these values during this particular sensitive period to numbers.

Atlas the Astronaut

Trying on his dad's old dirtbike helmet and looking so grown up.

Grandpa Ed and Arlo rocking in the sun and laughing at Atlas. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree with those laugh lines.

Arlo is a happy girl at five months old. October 2015.

Pensive about his new career. 

Atlas the Astronaut, all suited up for space thanks to his out-of-this-world mother!

Pensive Conrad at the poker table.

Iain's Aunt DeeDee setting up the quilt to prepare for basting.

Mother and son staple the quilt to the board for basting. October 2015

Olympus SP-35 / Delta 400