Cross & Water (February 4, 2010)

Taken from the front window of the Church of the Good Shepherd, on Lake Tekapo in the Mackenzie Country, South Island.

Mountain View (November 13, 2010)

I had a nice autumn walk up on Mont-Royal today, and took this picture when I got to the terrasse at the top. There was an interesting mist hanging in the air, it must be something in the weather because there was heavy fog in Hamilton yesterday, and lighter fog hanging over Toronto when I got there in the afternoon.

Iron Man (July 6, 2009)

Iron Man statue by the spire of Exeter College Chapel, Oxford. I shot this picture from the street below (Broad Street), on my way to Mansfield College with my luggage.

I remember that I was "looking up" (at towers, roofs, architecture) because the buildings are so lovely in Oxford, it's hard to keep one's eyes on the ground. And there he was, this inconspicuous fellow, seemingly staring out over the main street, preparing for some moment perhaps (ready to leap into flight?) or merely surveying the terrain with a strange confidence.

Once again I'd taken a picture of an art piece without ever bothering to check out (afterwards) exactly what the piece was. In this case it hardly took any work to discover the statue is a sculpture by Antony Gormley, and it was only brought to its current position on 15 February, 2009 (so about 6 months before I saw it). The statue is apparently seven feet tall and weighs half a tonne, and is part of a series entitled Another Time II.

Beach Hut at Brighton (March 14, 2008)

The picture above was taken from just near the edge of the garden at the Royal Pavilion in Brighton. I quite like the way it feels "of the time", i.e. early 19th century.

The Pavilion was built for George the Prince of Wales (son of "mad" king George III), who later became the Prince Regent in 1811 (and in 1820, George IV). Its development spanned a period of about 35 years (1787 to 1823), and the building evolved over time from a farmhouse into the palatial Eastern Dream (hallucination, more like) that you can see today, refurbished, if you're lucky enough to visit. Its external style is what's called Indo-Saracenic Revival architecture, a late-19th-century mash-up reminiscent of Indian and some Islamic architecture (cusped arches and Russian-style onion domes liberally deployed), blended with a dash of the various British styles favoured at the time.



The Prince Regent's fetish for the exotic extended to the interior of the Pavilion as well. He was obsessed with a decorative trend known as chinoiserie, which is the primary theme of the Pavilion's interior decor; as the name indicates, this style was a kind of Western mimicry of the Vague Far East. Amusingly, George himself had never travelled further east than Germany; apparently he preferred to import the imagined Orient into his ornate banqueting and music rooms.

Unfortunately photography was not allowed inside the building, so I wasn't able to capture any of the stunning interiors (including details such as wooden stair railings carved to look like bamboo, and a large chandelier festooned with snarling dragons and apparently carried by one larger dragon who seems to hover on the ceiling).



The Prince himself didn't exactly have a spotless public image. He was often criticised as being a decadent wastrel, lavishing money on booze, parties, and mistresses; his penchant for a luxurious and hedonistic lifestyle led him into massive debt, in spite of the generous allowance provided him. Undoubtedly, the palace in trendy Brighton wouldn't have helped with this impression. Political cartoons depicting the Prince are on public display on the wall in the hallway leading to what is now the Royal Pavilion Tea Room on the building's second level.



The Prince's character and reputation are well-known enough to have been referenced in the Richard Curtis series Blackadder III starring Hugh Laurie as the Prince and Rowan Atkinson at his servant, who in the first episode instructs the Prince to "take out the plans for that beach hut at Brighton."

The Beauty on the Water (May 22, 2007, 8:12am)

At Menaggio, Lago di Como, in Italy.

I remember I woke up very early, at five-something, and I was sleeping in a top bunk at the hostel where we stayed. I think I had a sore back and couldn't easily get back to sleep. I peeked out the window at that time and the view was even more surreal and stunning, but I didn't to make too much noise getting out my camera (and risk waking up anyone else) so I must have dozed off again instead. When I woke up later I did pull out the camera and this was the picture I took.

I love the way so many of the pictures I took at Como demonstrate a kind of reduced/minimalised colour palette; in this photo you can see it in the top half of the picture where what looks like a slight mist seems to to flatten the hills, the chalk-blue sky, and the grey-teal of the water. It's subdued in a way that highlights the sun tripping across the lake, like a handful of glitter tossed across the water, somehow catching the first sun before anything else even though the rays are already beaming down from on high.

Signs of Montréal (August, 2005)

I've always really enjoyed looking at signs, at boring at that may seem. It's like my supermarket fetish, where every time I go overseas I look forward to seeing what's available in the average local grocer... food touristing. Except with signs you get this impression of whatever was thought to convey a particular message most effectively--generally in a simple graphic without words.

Here, I've posted several signs from Montréal--none of which counts as exotic since I looked at them regularly during the three years I spent living there. They never stopped seeming a bit surreal, though, especially the one I called Electrocution Man:



What always "got" me about Electrocution Man, whom I saw almost every day (a copy of this sign was in the Métro Mont-Royal, near where I lived), was that his designers hadn't been content to zap him through the torso with what appears to be a large ragged edged weapon of some sort; oh no. They gave him a face (zoom in!), a face that has a remarkable amount of expressive power for such a crude rendering in plastic profile; and that leaning posture only adds to the effect. Shudder.



The sign above--"Danger"--was attached to one of the old buildings belonging to McGill, near the downtown foot of Mont-Royal (I think this might be 3674 des Pins Ouest). In case you're wondering, that's not a little man walking under a strangely sloping tree that happens to be dripping on his head and casting a shadow to the east. In fact it's a warning that large, sodden piles of snow barbed with icicles may slide down the overhanging roof and onto your head... so don't walk this way. Creative!



Lastly, "Prudence! Ne prenez pas de chance" was at Métro Université de Montréal, if memory serves. I thought it was a funny and appropriate message... "it's better to be waiting for the next bus than for an ambulance"! Since in the past I'd seen people literally bowling over other passengers in their haste to reach the bus/subway platform, I've often wondered if the signs have had any effect.

...Shepherd's Warning (October 12, 2010)

7:20am today, on the way to the pool.

Rem(a)inders (January 26, 2010)

More relating to my fascination with (in this case, spontaneous) public art: these pictures were taken during a bus ride up the West Coast of the South Island, at Bruce Bay.

They look like Inuksuks...



Below, one made from a ponga log with flax binding, echoing some strange creature dressed in elaborate jewelry:

I'm apparently not the only one who's wondered how this project began. It's quite a striking feature on the beach if you're driving along past it. I think I am even more fascinated because I love to build these kinds of objects myself--when I was a child, I loved making things out of sand, even hanging out in the sand pit at school with the boys, playing with my Playmobil trucks and digging little tunnels through which they could drive. If there was a stream nearby, I liked to paddle in and build a dam or a series of water-courses. And I also collected beach-objects, which is probably why I love these little sculptures so.



Fragile toi toi stalks are incorporated into the design above; and below, a gnarled piece of driftwood resembles a hand clutching at a white stone...

And here is a short video of the beach and stone sculptures, taken a month or so after I was there.

Street Corner Pre-Apocalypse (December 12, 2009)

I have a deep fondness for extreme lighting conditions. This bank of clouds was about to block out the late afternoon sun as I was on my way home from my TA position, for which I was working near this corner at Jane and Finch in Toronto.

The lives of furniture (January 2, 2008)

Visible but not explicit, requiring explanation,
A mystery extending beyond memory, these legends
Long considered not worth telling: the silence of objects,
Their mute encounters.
An evocation of small injustices
Abstract, delicate and beautiful
Like lacework with no discernible pattern.