Tuesday, February 28, 2006

series 1205

The road down eventually goes under the bridge and there it seems to fly across the sky into another dimension where the sky is less gray.

This moss, depending on the angle of the light and the position of the eye appears to have a soft white fuzz that disappears as you walk by.

Angled at a certain degree to generate vanishing points at the end of lines going off into nowhere one simple subject suffices.

Like small and bright dabs of red paint the translucent drips lose their colour as they prepare to depart the master ship.

Monday, February 27, 2006

another nelson hippie

Robert Arthur Waldie (Art), awesome artist, dear friend and a man with a sense of what it means to be Scottish. Art is a gifted wood sculptor although time has left his hands unable to carve anymore. He started out as my friend Garry's dad but quickly became much more than that. It is always beneficial to have a wise, older person around to get ideas from and he has always been extremely supportive.

Art is getting his hair cut tomorrow. And not a bad head of hair for someone turning 83 in March! It was imperative that we get a shot from behind too. Look at those waves of beautiful white hair. Damn hippies are everywhere in Nelson!

It is rare that I actually walk across the bridge. I don't like it. The heavy trucks shake the damn thing as they pass. I always close my eyes and wait for the swaying to stop. It is very other-worldly.

Lately it hasn't been the same colour. They have been painting it for years it seems and sometime soon they will be finished and bob will shine with youthful vigor again.

Big Orange Bridge or simply bob. Referred to like a dear friend or someone who's been around for so long, 1957 to be exact. Planes have to fly over it to land here, it's gotta be orange!

It affords a view of the city without power lines anywhere so that is kind of nice. Mixed bag day of clouds moving all around and snow slowly melting.

The effect this scene has when you see it in motion is cool. The family feeding the pigeons has enticed all the ducks and they form a line like school children and file up the little hill to the wet place where the birds wait for someone else to control their fate. After all they're dumb birds, they can't find their own food. Oh, that's Lakeside Park and the beach right there although it looks like it could use a little sunshine!

Sunday, February 26, 2006

reserved for the angelic

Like a gray slate palette for drawing out the black and white of the situation unable to be repeated.

Scientific experiment with the border line between static and flowing the moisture from the sky tries to follow the straight line down.

Faces in the clouds of confusion sweeping through a barren landscape mind seem to appear in every place least expected.

The Night Train open mic night was nice with all that thick snow falling softly. Man did it snow a lot in the last day. This is Richard Carver on stage reading.

With an aura of flashing red lights connected to the image lost in the shaky world of weird design where every utterance of forbidden word sets off another fluctuation in the transmission of the colour.

If dreams had wings surely we would fly with the forms of perfection usually reserved for the angelic.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

i wanna be in oprah

At first I was shocked by the image of this long tube being IN Oprah. Don't they mean ON. Well apparently not. Oprah is not only a person and a tv show it's also a magazine. Look closely, therefore the headline reads correctly, however, I beg to differ.

Broken like the dreams of so many Canadian hockey fans the leaf, though golden has fallen to the cold ground where losers go.

Flag as sacred symbol besmirched, surely an act of desecration worthy of criminal punishment, this is our pride we are crowing about!

Time as corrosion eats paint and metal alike along the weakened seams where manipulation occurred.

Like a perfect palette for the performance of time expressed as tree root uprising this sidewalk strives to perfect the art of flat line forever.

Somewhere in the lines reflecting images unseen the angles are calculated to bring the object into view.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

on a streetcorner

Half a degree away from a flowing stream of gutter water and unmarked but for the ripple pattern dripped from above, dirty mud waits for a change in temperature.

Like yellow marks danger, it's the discarded cigarette butts that look the most threatening on a streetcorner graced by ornate standards.

'I have that shirt,' he says, as he stares long into the window. What shirt? Oh the mini-jersey we got in the mail. Yeah, I want that shirt. Me too!

Randomly selected but perfectly positioned to draw attention to the letters spelling out the country as source of the trees shaping the leaves.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

next time crosby will play

Too bad, so sad, Canada lost today in men's olympic hockey. Big deal, it's only the Olympics, it's not like it's the Stanley Cup.

The girls got together afterwards for a few tears and a re-focus on the important issues, like the Toronto Maple Leafs and their quest for the cup.

Thinking of things that change right away I was intrigued by the pattern of the tire tracks.

Same creek from the other day, I tried to position the rock in the same place. Amazingly some of the ice on the right side is almost unchanged.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

when fish fly

Suspended between layers of temperature the manifestation of water hovers individually like sheets of glass reflecting in order to be seen.

Selected section of a circle for protection of little stone people looking for a garden the blood red smear makes the gargoyle appear in the stone.

and there at his feet the sacred leaf to be guarded against weather wrinkling all the moisture from the skin.

When fish fly?

I let Tyla take a jersey to school for their Olympic info session they do each day. The teacher let the kids watch the women's gold medal game on Monday. Anyway I will play with the camera and jerseys tomorrow.

Monday, February 20, 2006

thick bark

Measured in concentric lines the passage of time marks seventy or more years for this tree. The wider gaps in between lines on the right side of the image may have to do with this being the north side of the tree, I don't know, does it stand to reason the bark would get thicker on the colder northern side. Speaking of barks, mine is gone now, which was the main reason for my lack of daily attention here. I just haven't been getting out to take photos.

Nelson has no McDonalds, I repeat, Nelson has no McDonalds. It's true, the powers that be refuse to allow one here. They tried it with Starbuck's too but Safeway just said HAH, it's our store, we'll do what we want and went ahead and put one in their store. It's actually quite silly but hey, it's a small town. Anyway the lack of McDonalds means we miss out on all the cool things they put out, like hockey cards and mini-jerseys (3 in.). Lucky I have a good brother in Calgary who picks up the jerseys for me. Awesome! This is my favourite of all the Canada jerseys. I like the simplicity of the design. After thought: group photo of all the jerseys for tomorrow would be fun, you've been warned.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

one of a kind

I'm looking to start a theme of photos that can't be repeated. Things that are going to melt away work well for this idea as do shadows.

Most that aren't Canadian think we are a frozen wasteland, they're not so far wrong. GO CANADA!

Like little shattered panes of glass the pattern each fallen snowflake makes is fleeting.

Wild animals caged in the corner clamor to escape the confines of the fence. Now, which one's Ryder?

Not a particularly interesting sunset, just to illustrate a point. During the darkest part of winter the sun sets just about on the left edge of the frame and in the summer at about the place the cloud touches the mountain on the right side. This makes for an even earlier sunset in the winter just because of the shape of the hill. This is around 4 in the afternoon. It sure has changed quickly in the last six weeks. Yeah, the return of some colour!

an eskimo pie is ...


January 24 is Eskimo Pie Patent Day. Christian Kent Nelson, a high school teacher, invented the Eskimo Pie in Onawa, Iowa in 1919 or 1920. He originally called it the I-Scream-Bar. Supposedly inspired by a boy having to make a difficult decision; the choice between ice cream and candy, and only having the price for one. This inspired Mr. Nelson to combine the two, and create the Eskimo Pie. It was an immediate success locally, and in July 1921 he partnered with Russell C. Stover the candy maker to market and produce the then renamed Eskimo Pie. They sold manufacturing rights to various other companies in exchange for royalty payments. By early 1922, they were selling at the rate of a million bars a day, and supposedly caused the price of cocoa beans to rise by 50%!

Due to trademark lawsuits and high manufacturing and sales costs, the company was sold in 1924 to the company that made the foil wrappers for the Eskimo Pie, United States Foil Company, headed by R.S. Reynolds. (U.S. Foil later changed its name to Reynolds Metals Company). Nelson stayed with the company, which was now a subsidiary of U.S. Foil, until his retirement in 1961.

I borrowed these images from the internet somewhere.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

get loved

Happy Valentine's Day. A little love courtesy of an image editor and a waterfall.

Leave the door to your heart open and something is bound to find it's way in, as long as it's not a mangy dog.

My Valentine, in a perfect pink frame, what a sweetheart!

Just so no one forgets who we are rooting for in Olympic hockey, and other sports. GO CANADA! Even though I think the Olympics are stupid and further contribute to our segregation and separation as humans but that's another story altogether.

It was something about the way the real lines look like they emerge from the shadow that reminded me again, all is not as it seems.

Ah yes, the house that pot built! The Holy Smoke Culture Shop where Bob Marley, and many others, smoke the day to a close.

Impressions left like frozen boot prints covered by a thick layer of ice lose their impermanence and remain firmly entrenched as a path to the outside.