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| Stephanie Hall by Amie Milne. Image from Fashion Gone Rogue. |
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| Stephanie Hall by Amie Milne. Image from Fashion Gone Rogue. |
Monday, August 15, 2011
Brail Blazer READY.
Full moon lunacy carryover. My rooftop recharge seems to have done wonders. Today was a surprise day off from my work with Le Poulet. Love those. I slept in, woke to Steve's 500 pound Ad Hoc cookbook at the foot of my bed. How did it land there? Read in bed.
Nothing beats reading a cookbook in bed at noon on a Lundi.
Ran about town, cruised on Jess, drank some coffee and then got to WORK.
Introducing The Belly to the Sea House project. Whatever the heck that is. I get images stuck in my head sometimes (when I'm lucky), and it always feels good to follow through and put the project to bed. Fred.
One million start-of-somethings. Story of my life.
Also, it must be said that the photograph pictured below is one of my favorite pictures ever, of all time.
Rags, I swiped it from your Flickr without permission. Sorry, it's too damn good. And thank you. Those are my sister's elbows, stamped same as my own two hands. Eating cake at Rollin's second birthday party at the park. So sorry to have missed that!
Nothing beats reading a cookbook in bed at noon on a Lundi.
Ran about town, cruised on Jess, drank some coffee and then got to WORK.
Introducing The Belly to the Sea House project. Whatever the heck that is. I get images stuck in my head sometimes (when I'm lucky), and it always feels good to follow through and put the project to bed. Fred.
One million start-of-somethings. Story of my life.
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| Trace negative space to your heart's content. Xacto that shit. Stain digits, who cares? Apron, always. |
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| Stencil away. Simple. Montreal; Aug 2011. |
Also, it must be said that the photograph pictured below is one of my favorite pictures ever, of all time.
Rags, I swiped it from your Flickr without permission. Sorry, it's too damn good. And thank you. Those are my sister's elbows, stamped same as my own two hands. Eating cake at Rollin's second birthday party at the park. So sorry to have missed that!
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| Photo by the talented Andrea McLaren, my friend. |
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Zara Woman.
Je t'aime Samedi. Yesterday I lay on a rooftop and soaked up the moon. Someone had taken the initiative to paint half of a basketball court on the crushed gravel roof. It was brilliant. I shot some hoops, practiced my lay ups. Was it the Harvest moon? It really had power, whatever it was. Strong reflections caught my eye as we climbed. No camera, but I shot the night as if there was. Four of us walked up and around the concrete skeleton of a huge building, just concrete floors and piers, walls gone, blown out. It was a very strange climb.
The building itself reminded me of climbing around the Royal Bank many summers ago in Winnipeg. That night I saw a man roll down down down a staircase in a wheelchair. Intense. He survived and now hangs around Black Sheep. Wild night, lots of screaming and dancing to music from a stereo, climbing and running, watching so many released balloons float up from below.
The building itself reminded me of climbing around the Royal Bank many summers ago in Winnipeg. That night I saw a man roll down down down a staircase in a wheelchair. Intense. He survived and now hangs around Black Sheep. Wild night, lots of screaming and dancing to music from a stereo, climbing and running, watching so many released balloons float up from below.
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| Tanya's Grandmother; ink on cardstock. 2010 |
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Coast homes.
This is the house that spoke. Someday, if I were to be so lucky I would like to raise a family here.
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| House on a hill at low tide; Bell Island, July 2011. |
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| Belly to the sea; Bell Island, July 2011. |
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| Eat your heart out Dwell; Green Bay, Nova Scotia (or near to it); 2011. |
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| I think is just might be my favorite of the LOT. Empty coast home, je veux. Bell Island; 2011. |
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| From the side. Bell Island, July 2011. |
Monday, August 1, 2011
Color Harvest.
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| Classic, delicious. La Have Islands; July 2011. |
Finalement.
Here are some of my favorites from the Color crop (that I picked up after reading Grandpa's Flying Journey book. Made it downtown in six minutes on Alba, whoa la). Trip pictures; the long wait, the computer dump, the sort through. Oddly enough, most of my favorite photos are of Simon. How I miss his island outfits, that easy laughter.
Enjoy.
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| The empty Belly to the Sea house; kill me. Bell Island; July 2011. |
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| Looking down and looking out of lost sea homes. Bell Island, 2011. |
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| My favorite shot; sums up my holiday well. Bell Island, 2011. |
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| The Smith's fireplace. Out of place, yet appropriate. Bell Island, 2011. |
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| Fool's Cove. Bell Island, 2011. |
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| Looking out across the bay from my rock perch at Fool's Cove. Bell Island, 2011. |
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| Moose pining after Geof; Bell Island, 2011. |
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| Exploring the island yard at Fool's Cove (do you see bike spokes? I do); Bell Island, 2011. |
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| Boys putting the Dory in the water at Fool's Cove; Bell Island, 2011. |
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| Bowl on top of La Have Bakery (dream life for someone); La Have; July 2011. |
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| Choosing his board; La Have, 2011. |
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| Ripping in topsiders, what a guy; La Have, 2011. |
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| Contemplating life at the best swimming hole. Near Lunenburg; July 2011. Photo. Simon Richards |
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| One of my favorites from the Underwater Cam; in water pictured above. Photo. Simon Richards |
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| Feet in nature; Fool's Cove. Bell Island, 2011. |
Flying with Grandpa.
Fast day. Leo's ears were bothering him, poor kid. It is terrible seeing a baby in pain, but oh oh oh how I love to hold him close when he is sick. We hung out in the rocking chair for a solid portion of the day. It was the only place he was quiet. In my opinion, there really is nothing better in life than singing a baby to sleep. Wet curls drying into the softest bed of chicken hair. Leo, how I will miss you.
In the morning we cruised to the Jean Talon market. I picked up a bunch of fresh produce to have on hand while Lisa King Craftswoman is in town! Oh I could just burrrrrst at the thought of her in my bed tomorrow. WHAT!?! Excellent. Can't wait to roam town with that woman. Splash parc hang out. Made a pot of soup, whipped up some pork/ veal/ mushroom/ parsley burger patties. Pretty delish, and so simple too.
Came home, zoomed to Outremont to pick up a Mother Parcel (Kim Kroeker, you are out of this world) and ripped it open greedily on the front step of Casa Clark. Inside I found all kinds of things! Animal crackers, soup, wild rice, chocolate, candy (of course), People magazine (haha) and my Grandpa's latest book based on his flying career. I read it cover to cover, so engrossed I forgot I was still wearing my helmet. See cover below.
Grandpa, I was very impressed and proud. It made me cry! I miss my family so blinken' much, and to read stories I had never heard before just hit home. I am assuming it was Grandma who slipped the cash tight into the spine, thank you! I miss you two. I wished there had been more photos of all the Reimer grandkids squeezed into the back of your Archer. Those memories of flying together on Sunday afternoons are some of my most dear. I will never forget my first night flight with you, Mike and my dad. We flew from your airstrip in Rosenort towards Winnipeg and I will never forget the creeping orange glow of the city. Ever a child of the country, I was baffled by the color in the dark and you explained how the lights of the city lit up the night.
One of my greatest pleasures as a young girl was riding in your baby blue VW Bug to the hanger for plane rides. Shit, that car was so awesome. Plane rides! How lucky were we, that that was the norm?! Wild. I loved the process at the hangar; watching you pull the plane out, testing testing testing to make sure that thing was safe, the first noises from the prop, climbing aboard, small feet on the wing, Erin and I taking turns with the headset. Anyway, thank you for your stories; they brought upon a wave of my own sweet flying memories.
I am a granddaughter of a pilot, the sister of one too. Considering the long list of To Do's in my life, learning to fly is high among those. We'll see. For now, you have control.
Love, Megs
In the morning we cruised to the Jean Talon market. I picked up a bunch of fresh produce to have on hand while Lisa King Craftswoman is in town! Oh I could just burrrrrst at the thought of her in my bed tomorrow. WHAT!?! Excellent. Can't wait to roam town with that woman. Splash parc hang out. Made a pot of soup, whipped up some pork/ veal/ mushroom/ parsley burger patties. Pretty delish, and so simple too.
Came home, zoomed to Outremont to pick up a Mother Parcel (Kim Kroeker, you are out of this world) and ripped it open greedily on the front step of Casa Clark. Inside I found all kinds of things! Animal crackers, soup, wild rice, chocolate, candy (of course), People magazine (haha) and my Grandpa's latest book based on his flying career. I read it cover to cover, so engrossed I forgot I was still wearing my helmet. See cover below.
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| My Grandpa Syd, the Pilot (and writer). His latest family book. July 2011. |
Grandpa, I was very impressed and proud. It made me cry! I miss my family so blinken' much, and to read stories I had never heard before just hit home. I am assuming it was Grandma who slipped the cash tight into the spine, thank you! I miss you two. I wished there had been more photos of all the Reimer grandkids squeezed into the back of your Archer. Those memories of flying together on Sunday afternoons are some of my most dear. I will never forget my first night flight with you, Mike and my dad. We flew from your airstrip in Rosenort towards Winnipeg and I will never forget the creeping orange glow of the city. Ever a child of the country, I was baffled by the color in the dark and you explained how the lights of the city lit up the night.
One of my greatest pleasures as a young girl was riding in your baby blue VW Bug to the hanger for plane rides. Shit, that car was so awesome. Plane rides! How lucky were we, that that was the norm?! Wild. I loved the process at the hangar; watching you pull the plane out, testing testing testing to make sure that thing was safe, the first noises from the prop, climbing aboard, small feet on the wing, Erin and I taking turns with the headset. Anyway, thank you for your stories; they brought upon a wave of my own sweet flying memories.
I am a granddaughter of a pilot, the sister of one too. Considering the long list of To Do's in my life, learning to fly is high among those. We'll see. For now, you have control.
Love, Megs
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