/photoblog

Fall Bounty from Quebec

September, 2021

An early morning visit to Quebec’s Parc National d’Opemican yielded an encounter with a bear (after taking my measure, it turned around and made a hurried exit from the scene) and classic fall color tinged foliage and wonderful textures too.

And being fall, a poem is in order, no?

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold

By: William Shakespeare

Naturally Occurring Abstracts (Israel 2020)

Bark

Red, Red Lilys

Using focus stacking to get the sharpest possible result and minimal tone adjustments, these Lilys show off their glorious colors and mind bending textures. The third photo is a 100% crop from from the first photo in this series - showing off this plant’s mechanism for propagation.

100% crop from the first photo in the series. The textures and folds at the base of the petals are striking…

CeCe

CeCe (pronounced seh seh) Haba landed in Canada just over a month ago from Guinea. He’s a Djembe and Dundun drummer and after marrying Lua whom he met when she visited the West African country, he now hopes to apply his talents here in Canada.

It was a cold and blistery day when Lua and CeCe dropped by for a session in my home studio. When I asked what were his immediate and impressions of Canada, cold weather was the first thing that came to mind. But on reflection he contrasted the orderliness and calm he feels in Canada with Guinea where the rule of law is lax and occurrences of corruption are far higher. The potential for personal progress, financially speaking, is far more difficult as a result. He noticed that things go “by the book” when he encountered Canadian authorities. This suits him perfectly. Little to no corruption simply means more opportunities. If you don’t have money, you can’t “afford” bribing authorities and therefore secure the kind of jobs that could earn you money and so spins the vicious cycle. This is a human rights issue at its core.

After well over 2 hours of a talking over tea and a portrait session that followed, with Lua translating from French, it became clear that his journey is taking place on more than one path. Instead it’s a convergence of changes now happening in his life.

Recently married to a successful and well established Canadian choreographer and the driving force behind her dance company, marital life is a dramatic change - probably for both of them. CeCe is also coming to grips with a unique upbringing and its lingering effects on self realization and his relationships with others. And then of course there’s the act of immigration itself and the wrenching adjustments that it entails. It’s complicated.

There are well over 300 thousand people who immigrate to Canada every year. This is a significant number of newcomers for a country with relatively small population. Yet it felt special to be one of the first to welcome CeCe. It is a unique privilege for someone like me who made Canada his home well over 30 years ago.

It was bound to happen...

My love for cooking and photography is finally coming together… Strawberries and Blackberries turned Sorbet photographed in my home studio and then promptly consumed. Ice creams and Sorbet tastes better when fresh - best right out of the ice cream maker.

Ingredients:

2.5 Lbs berries (mix balance should tilt towards Strawberries 3:1)
2/3 cup sugar (or less)
1.5 Tablespoons lemon juice (or to taste)
1/2 teaspoon salt (or to taste)

Prep:

Clean and trim berries as needed
Macerate in a blender or food processor until smooth
Add sugar, lemon juice and salt and blend for additional 30 seconds
Strain puree vigorously through sieve and refrigerate for at least 2-3 hours
Churn Sorbet in ice cream maker according to manufacturer instructions

At the Necropolis Pt.2

The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never any more the dead.

- read the rest of this wonderful poem “In a Disused Graveyard” by Robert Frost

Objects of Desire

Within a few doors of each other on Parliament St. - two different stores and their wares. Yet not entirely different.

"Religion is a unified system of beliefs and practices relative to sacred things, that is to say, things set apart and forbidden.”

- Émile Durkheim

At the Necropolis pt.1

The things you see in an old cemetery when it is frozen over.

My dad used to joke that an ATM should be installed at his graveside so people will have another reason to visit.

Some cemeteries, especially older ones that are geographically located within a community, are often visited for reasons other than their central function. It’s an obvious place to be inspired and reflect on ones own mortality, the passage of time, decay, beauty, sadness and our ephemeral existence. Or in the case of its younger visitors, to hold hands and reaffirm to themselves how alive they are.

On a few of my visits to the Toronto Necropolis, situated in Cabbagetown where I live, I saw young couples strolling, retirees holding hands, families with their babies and dogs as well as visitors to the grave site of a relative or a friend they now miss or long for.

Perched on the edge of the Don Valley it offers a treasure trove of photographic subjects, textures and context. Its one reason I return here often when in need of a photographic fix to be reliably satiated.

Most interned here are a generation or two away from obscurity, even the more famous of them: Thornton Blackburn – a former slave who made his way to Canada on the "Underground Railroad" and established the first cab company in Toronto, or Jack Layton a leader of the New Democratic Party and George Brown the founder of the Globe and Mail.

And so it is.

The Library Box

Long before Wikipedia and the vast library that’s the Internet, the good people of Cabbagetown as part of Little Free Library shared books with whomever passes their house.

Lily

Snowy, stately lilies in a jade-green bowl—
Feast for my earth-dust wearied eyes,
Refreshment for my soul!

Let me sit here in this dim room,
Quiet, in a willow chair—
Drifting, your faint, intriguing breath makes perfume.
The still air seems a magician's passageway
For holy-heart-deep dreams.

Snowy, fragrant lilies in a jade-green bowl—
Peace, born of your exquisiteness,
Sanctifies my soul!

- Lilies by Ellen M. Carroll

A Young Women

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,
As any she belied with false compare.

- Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare

In the photographs: Hilla. 2019.

Early Winter Wilting

“If you really want to draw close to your garden, you must remember first of all that you are dealing with a being that lives and dies; like the human body, with its poor flesh, its illnesses at times repugnant. One must not always see it dressed up for a ball, manicured and immaculate.”

- Fernand Lequenne

Essence

There are things I would not see if I didn't photograph them.

- After Diane Arbus

The old neighbourghood

Maybe outside there’s
a tree, or a wood,
a garden,
or a magic city.

Go and open the door.
Maybe a dog’s rummaging.
Maybe you’ll see a face,
or an eye,
or the picture
of a picture.

Go and open the door.
If there’s a fog
it will clear.

Go and open the door.
Even if there’s only
the darkness ticking,
even if there’s only
the hollow wind,
even if
nothing
is there,
go and open the door.

At least
there’ll be
a draught.

- The Door by Miroslav Holub

Shakeil

Shakeil Rollock is a dancer and a photographer. We ended up talking about his life and aspirations. He admits that talking is harder for him, and that movement is his preferred mode of expression. But he did well enough doing the talking and me the asking, that our studio time was shorter than expected. He naturally assumes a performer's regal demeanour expecting to be watched by his audience, but when he lets his guard down, also a pensive side. He's in the midst of trying to figure things out in his life.

Pink Parking Lot

Mid way through my drive back from New York I blew a tire and spent a day in Syracuse, NY. I drove around in my rental waiting for the car to be fixed, and found myself right across the exhibition grounds in one of the parking lots.