Visual report

A collection of photos shot from Montreal to Winnipeg. So many tiny people to capture in those quick windows of growth.

Get Our Guns

Here are some new things I have been working on. Ladies in hats on my mind. Light table in the bedroom. Basking in the glow of late night Vitamin D. Work standing up then sleep. Drink coffee all day. I tried to print within my work room last night and must have looked ridiculous with knees splayed in equal pressure on the frame, pulling a way-too-long squeegee loaded with art school ink in the space between. It was not pretty.

Today I am going to print at a new place. So exciting to see new workshops, the first glance at layout home to machines and presses. Multiples of things. Neat lines.

Studio fever.

'Been getting my hands moving in the name of Le Taudis. My friend Rhayne is on the cusp opening a new space for art viewing and production. Le Taudis can be anything. That is the beauty of open space. Rhayne is one hell of a woman. It takes incredible gumption to open an artspace on Selkirk Avenue in Winnipeg (in winter). Poor, rough and hard. She has the right attitude and a good handle of the reality of the neighborhood to make something amazing out of it. Faith in the future!!

The Stinker

Dear Poulet, salut.

Ca va? Cooking up a storm over there, I imgine?

My friend Leo, I need you in my life. Je m'ennuie de toi. You would like my new room and tear it a new one. I wish we could walk around together. There are lots of dogs around and a great Splash Park near my house. Good view and light from a floor up. Pots of ink to spill all around. You would dig it. Your ma sent me these photos and made my day. Thanks V. This is us alright, clowning around and making an omelet.  Miss you buddy.

Love, Megan

* all photos shot by Jeremy Spry

75

Miss you, you crazy bird. Today is Sara's birthday. In some strange way this balloon is definitely for her from you, her mom. Odd that I even came across this in the stacks today. Feeding missing with looking. I shot this photo at Grandpa Reimer's 75th birthday in 2008 in a mud room of a gerhiatrics apartment. A laughing matter then. I can hear your laughter when I look at this.

Love you.

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


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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.