Welcome to PJB's Classroom

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Here lie three scans from the modest mountain of my great grandfather PJB's negative collection. Three examples plucked from a very slim pile of doubly (or triply) exposed negatives. Old, strict Peter was a hawk eye and technically sharp. Or else he was very, very good at editing his own work. Or perhaps majority of his work was lost or dispersed in his transition into old age and forgotten beyond death. Or perhaps he wasn't as prolific as I make him to be in my mind and the negatives in my possession are it. In that case, I shoot a hell of a lot more than he did. 

Based upon the fact that majority of his negatives are 6 x 9 cm, I imagine him shooting on a Voigtlander Bessa folding camera or something of the like. When I am bent over my light table in the basement and thinking about PJB at work in his own darkroom, I become abuzz within (if he even had one that is, as I am 100% unsure upon whether or not he even printed or processed his own work. Never have I seen any original prints). There is something so powerful about handling hundred year old artifacts. Being around old things has always energized my soul in such a way that nothing else can hold a candle to.

My goal is to eventually finish printing my own contact sheets of every single negative from his collection, but the work is slow and daunting at times so sometimes I scan a few to get an idea of what I am working with and to feed my passion for the project like a slow, satisfying burn. Life work. Eventually I will present my own children with a thick binder of contact sheets alongside the preserved negatives of their great, great grandfather. At this snail's production pace, I better live to be 102, no less. When I grow discouraged about not devoting enough of my personal time to bringing his mind's eye musings to life, I try to remember that I have time and repeat the wise words of South African embroidery artist Hendrik Stroebel to myself as a mantra.  I do not limit these wise words to only the PJB focus as they have an ultra affirming and calming effect on my work as an artist as a whole.

SLOW ART IS SUBVERSIVE

SLOW ART IS SUBVERSIVE

SLOW ART IS SUBVERSIVE

SLOW ART IS SUBVERSIVE

SLOW ART IS SUBVERSIVE

Back in the saddle I go hi-ho. Until that glorious day when I am finally ready to hang the hand printed work of Peter JBR with pride, have a look into his classroom in the interim. I like the look of the environment, though I have a strong suspicion there was no Tom Foolery in his classroom. These images must have been shot in the early 1920's as he was establishing his teaching career in rural eastern Manitoba (most likely captured without a thought in the world about where these images would someday end up). Someday, I will have a one room school house on my land and I too will capture photographs of my pupils at work. I hope one of my granddaughters will like them enough to explore the narrative in her own space and time.

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Tot Lot

Atlas, myself and a new cat photographed around Easter Time in Morden, Manitoba; 2016. Photo thanks to Iain Petkau / Pentax 67

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'Been thinking a lot about kids lately. What good is this world without the hilarious observations of children? They are showing up in my photography work left and right these days. No complaints here.

Do-or-Diner

Doo-do-dooo do-doo-dooot dooo.

Andy Shauf's new album The Party on repeat over here. In celebration of my thirtieth birthday back in April, my sister and brothers gave to me said record along with a wizard of a mop by Norwex. My witches broom now sits sadly in the corner, trumped. There is something about Shauf's latest album that pierces the target of my soul. I like his funny voice that easily carries his tune with depth and emotion, those easy melodies, not to mention the strings, piano, horns and most excellent bass and drum rhythms altogether. Holy smokes! I can hardly wait to hear his real live voice at the Park Theater on October 6, 2016 in Winnipeg.

I write from my old faithful metal desk. I've hauled this ladylike desk all over the country over the course of the last decade. This morn I woke early to wish Iain well as he left for work. Puttering in the house I did, tending to the plants and laundry lying neglected thanks to a four day cottage getaway with my family; all the while drinking coffee slowly. Good mornings, these kind. I am set to print textiles at Martha Street Studio in the coming hour. Margot Pollo for Thought Shapes, my sister's shop. Check it CLICK here! It's been a real treat not to mention good practice for the illustrator in me to come up with stencils and designs for Erin. Sometimes she suggests things to make or directions to go and other times she encourages free reign of anything I can come up with to silkscreen onto a top. I love printmaking and the process of zipping that goopy ink loaded on a sharp edged squeegee over a wood-framed silk screen lying on top of whatever the heart desires to print upon. Magic! Flood, zip.

Part deux: I wrote that first section a few days ago. Before Lula Browning was born. The healthy babe of dear friends of mine and Iain's arrived on Saturday, July 16th, 2016. Praise be to the waxing moon. I heard the great news and proceeded to whisper her name to myself a trillion times that day. Lula, welcome dear one. We have been waiting for you. I just came up from the darkroom. It is one in the morning. Iain snores contentedly, the dishwasher runs at this ungodly hour and I am drinking an Original 16. It's not very cold but still very enjoyable. The last negative I enlarged and printed was of a couple I met on the coldest day of winter shot in February of 2016. I was cycling down Notre Dame Avenue in the late afternoon that day on my newly built winter bicycle (Jessica Alba had been reconfigured into a ghastly snow plowing machine by the gentlemen of Natural Cycle. Much to my chagrin, the studded tire is presently on the front wheel. I rode it today thanks to a flat on my temperamental but lovely Mercier. It is mid July. Terrible! I'm sorry Alba, I'll slick you up sooner than later). As I was cycling, an interesting swatch of light hitting the tiles of a neighborhood community center caught my eye. After composing the shot, a jaywalking couple caught my eye. I walked over to meet them as they climbed up to the curb and we got to talking. I swear to God that was the coldest day of the year and this dude--Amber Dawn's sidekick (I never caught his name)--all he was wearing was a bulky Winnipeg Jets zip up hoodie. It was -35 C outside. My hands were aching from the forty seconds they were exposed to the wind while shooting. I asked for their portrait and they happily obliged. I didn't have any cigarettes for them and we went our separate ways. In retrospect I wish I took Amber Dawn's address down. Hindsight is always 20/20. I knew it was a good portrait when I shot it. She adjusted her leg into him in such a way that the photo nods to the seductress. She reminds me of a beautiful serpent. Mysterious and tempting in black and white.

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Belles of Art City's Winnipeg Social; corsages et al. Winnipeg, MB; April 2016.
Photo thanks to Amy Zach.
Printed at home in July on Ilford Pearl, 8x8"

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