Tag Archives: Photography

Daily Diversion #81: The Crud Strikes Again

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“Illness is the most heeded of doctors: to goodness and wisdom we only make promises; pain we obey.”-Marcel Proust

I’ve been down since Thursday with what my husband calls The Crud, a hazy combination of the ‘flu, a bad cold, and general malaise. The bottom of my favourite tea canister is visible, the bag of cherry lozenges empty; work is piled high by the bed, and I am cranky. Sleep and reading have been my twin graces. I am almost ready to crawl back into the murmur and hum of the wider world. Almost. Right after I finish one more chapter each of four books and drain the amber liquid from my tea-cup.

Concrete beauty in the midst of delirium.

Concrete beauty in the midst of delirium.

Concrete beauty in the midst of delirium.

Concrete beauty in the midst of delirium.

Daily Diversion #80: Accidental Impressionism at the Car Wash

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I took these photographs from inside my husband’s Saab while he was washing the car last night. The sun was setting, and the glow from taillights and street lamps illuminated the parking lot. The effect was softened through the filter of a soap-drenched window. They remind me of Impressionist paintings.

Car Wash #1
Car Wash #2
Car Wash #3
Car Wash #4

“Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing.”-Camille Pissarro

Daily Diversion #77: The Cutest Reindog in All the World

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I will forgive you for thinking that, when not writing, I like to put things on dogs’ heads and photograph them looking put-upon and silly. If you are one of the few readers of this blog who think otherwise, go here.

This time, it is slightly different. This dog, you see, is not my dog. His name is Zero, and he belongs to my best friend. I did not plop the offending reindeer antlers headband on his sweet, sweet head. I am, however, an opportunist: I snapped this pic with my phone camera approximately three seconds later. Fear not. He still loves his favourite Auntie. I think.

Zero the lead reindog.

Zero the lead reindog.

“The greatest pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him, and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself, too.”-Samuel Butler

Daily Diversion #74: Beat Cat

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She's a calico with excellent taste.

She’s a calico with excellent taste.

Zizi Jeanmaire digs The Beats, too. After much deep feline reflection she marked out, with a lazy lick to the page, the following passage as her favourite: “My roshi said when the word comes out in a flash it’s not a word, it’s your true mental state; when you search for the right word, it will never be the right word.” (Gary Snyder to Allen Ginsberg, 4 September 1961)

Daily Diversion #73: Long I Stood There*

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Mansion Original

Mansion Original

When I snapped this  image in October, I wasn’t too impressed with the result. It didn’t spark my imagination, which is always a bad sign. I was in a hurry and used my camera phone, which was zoomed in a bit too much. Even though this house has stories to tell, I didn’t feel any of them that day. My creativity felt closed off. Since I’m a writer, and not a photographer, it’s normal if I am not immediately able to capture a visual; I tuck everything away until the time is right. I’m familiar enough with this house, which is in my home city, to know that the intuitive call to my creative process would happen, eventually and beautifully.

After a conversation with Jennifer from Quirk’n It, I decided to wade through the 1300+ photos on my phone. When I saw this one, it struck me differently than it did two months ago. I was playing around with some effects, when it hit me: for the last few months, I’ve been writing a short story featuring this house in triplicate. The house is not the star, nor was it the impetus for the piece, but it’s there just the same: altered, transformed, re-imagined into something else. All before I took the photograph. Remembered from previous glimpses, from some unremembered or unnoticed tucking away.

 

Mansion Original Version
Mansion-Altered Version # 1: Because my story is a bit eerie, I chose effects that dimmed the mansion’s bright, well-kept beauty.
Mansion-Altered Version #2: It’s beginning to look as if scary things could happen here.
Mansion-Altered Version #3: Or, perhaps they already did.
Mansion-Altered Version #4-You should probably turn around and leave, before it is too late.
“No one would know if you went pokin’ around the back with your camera. It’s a real boneyard back there, too. Kind of like the insides of a museum was tossed outside and left to rot. There’s beauty in everything, I suppose. Even in neglect.”**

*”Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”-Edgar Allan Poe

**This is an excerpt from my short story, The Brothers’ Boneyard. No stealing, please.

 

 

 

My Velveteen Chair, or: Why I’ve Given Up on the Idea of a Perfectly Curated Reading Nook

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I’d like to think that I’m a relaxed, purposeful, and serene-looking reader,  a leisurely woman out of a nineteenth-century painting. Cushioned in velvet and satin, a pile of books, a pot of tea, and a vase of flowers artfully arranged on an elegantly draped table near-to-hand. Like this, more or less:

Louise Tiffany Reading by Louis Comfort Tiffany, 1888

Louise Tiffany Reading by Louis Comfort Tiffany, 1888

My delusions are so humble, aren’t they? The reality is a bit different. Okay, considerably different. For starters, it involves backaches and too much dog hair. I live in a sea of language, a blizzard of words. If I’m not writing, I’m reading. The former is done at the desk in my studio with neatness, solitude, and organization. The latter is a haphazard affair. I hunker down with a book or three in, on, or beside whatever can pass for a seat: my swinging sixties swivel chair; the bathtub; my too-lumpy bed; on the dining room floor; or, somewhat claustrophobically, on the couch crushed beneath a pile of scratchy dog paws and icy snouts. My solution? A dedicated reading space, of course!

We’ve been in our huge flat for 2 1/2 years, and my studio has been used as such from the get-go. Why am I so late to the party with this? I’ve always been a wallflower but this, this, is ridiculous. I spend far too much time on Pinterest to be ignorant of or  immune to the sweet siren call of The Perfectly Curated Reading Nook. The concept makes my heart sing with girlish enthusiasm. The effort required to make this over-the-top idea come true? Not so much. In fact, it makes me think of this:

John Everett Millais-Ophelia

My girl Ophelia knows how I feel.

What’s a writer-reader with bohemian taste, an absurd imagination, and lazy tendencies to do in lieu of actual work? Drag an old chair that has been in the family for 40+ years to the middle of her studio and call it a day.

Communing with the chair in the late 1970s.

Before: Communing with the chair in the late 1970s.

The Gold Chair is older than I am. It’s now missing a few buttons and is slightly threadbare in spots; it reminds me of a passage in The Velveteen Rabbit (or How Toys Become Real) by Margery Williams: Continue reading →