grace

I realized something when I was on the climbing wall the other night, trying to muscle my way up a route that was clearly beyond my current level; using only upper body strength, all my load on my finger grips, lactic acid building up in my forearms, knees knocking against the wall.  As I struggled, seemingly drowning, clawing and fighting for my life, looking like a crab with four hooves, I realized there is something to be said for grace. Grace in movement, grace in attitude. And if gracefulness is indeed the outward expression of the inward harmony of the soul… then my soul be frazzled.

I eventually gave up on the 5.10 and on my way down, I remembered the wise words of a bar tender from La Petite Idée Fixe, the Mile End’s local dive (don’t knock the dive bars… they serve their whiskey tall and they serve it cheap).  I was having a particularly existential day of the variety Oh! woe is me… what am I ever going to do with my life? So I met my friend Roma for Jameson’s and pontification.  As we were talking, the bartender came outside to smoke a cigarette and started telling us about her 27-year old daughter who was going through a rough patch.  “I told her sèche tes pleurs,” she said between two puffs, “You are young and you have your whole life ahead of you.  Stop searching so much and let life happen to you.”  And though this is not mind blowing, spiritually enlightening material, she was my guru that night.  She said exactly what I needed to hear at that moment.

One might think all these thoughts are mutually exclusive but one would be wrong.  Because there is a point and my point is this.  Sometimes, you need to stop fighting, stop holding on so hard to your grip and your preconceived notions of what your life should be.

I often can’t see a way to the top because I have this idea in my head and I am so bent on taking a particular path there (one that is full of road blocks and dead ends) that I fail to see the big picture.  It’s only when I stop struggling and take a step back that I suddenly see everything so clearly. Paths that didn’t seem to exist moments before magically open up to me.

When I’m on the boulder, I don’t have time to worry about all the petty things floating around in my head.  The only thing that matters is the next grip. And from there, it’s one grip at a time.  The basic principle of starting at the bottom and making your way to the top is, in and of itself, a metaphor for life.  And when you fall on the mat, discouraged and exhausted, there is always a complete stranger there to encourage you with an allez, allez… Get up. Wipe yourself off.  Try again.  And you do.  Over and over, until you make it to the top.

When you are so weak, give up to grace.
The ocean takes care of each wave
till it gets to shore.
- Rumi

adventures in night photography

My adventures in night photography began this summer.  Prior to meeting Karl and Roma, I had never really ventured into that world.  Besides the fact that I used to be in bed by 10pm and spent most evenings in front of the television (such a waste), the idea of a tripod and night settings seemed daunting, especially given my particular dislike for the mighty flash. The flash is “in your face”, obnoxious and unflattering. Unless you are going for the Urban Outfitters meets American Apparel look, nothing says cold more than a flash filled photo.  But beyond the settings, beyond the tripod, beyond the blinding beast… with night photography comes adventure.  There’s a whole other world out there after midnight. And that is my guiding principle while I learn to hone my skills.

Karl and Roma took me on my first rooftop excursion this July. We left the house around 11pm and biked across downtown towards a silo complex located at the mouth of the Lachine Canal overlooking the famous Farine Five Roses landmark.  We climbed the bridge that sits atop the train tracks and sat there for a good hour taking in the cityscape of buildings cutting out the night sky. Cities by night look like Christmas year round with a thousand tiny balls of light.

After the last train crawled beneath us, after the crowds disappeared and the city quieted down, we made our way to one of the buildings they climb regularly. We quickly scouted the area to make sure nobody was around then slowly pulled down the fire escape staircase.  One by one, flight by flight, we made our way to the top.

We are not hooligans. We don’t deface public or private property. We silently climb to the top of roofs, play quiet music on our iPod dock, listen to the night, lie near the edge, look at the stars, pass the whiskey, set up tripods and once in a while, someone snaps a shot (can you believe I forgot to put a battery in my camera that night? thank god for my friend’s point & shoot), we watch the city from up above, wait for the sun to rise, bike home at dawn, stop at a greasy spoon, fill up, then go to sleep as the rest of the world wakes.

It is not a party night.  It is a night of conversation and silence and contemplation.  It is a different way of seeing the night, the urban stillness at 3am, the complicated beauty of abandoned buildings and parking lots.

My second rooftop adventure was this past Halloween, which is always a good time to explore night photography.  Wrap your tripod to the back of your bike, go down alleyways, pick up a pizza, encounter zombies and drag queens and 80’s aerobics instructors and giant bananas along the way, climb up the fire escape, drink that wine, eat that pizza, listen to the sounds of people cheering and shouting during the Rocky Horror Picture Show.  It’s a different way of participating in the spooky festivities.

So, if you ever feel stagnant and are lacking inspiration… there is a whole other world waiting for you after the sun goes down.  It’s like Alice’s rabbit hole.  Dive in and try it at least once in your life.  Turn your routine on its ass.  Trust me, you won’t regret it.  Also, night photography is probably one of the best things you can do to get to know your camera intimately.  Because the truth is, you can’t really count on automatic settings to pump out good night shots.  And all I can really suggest is to go out there and play.

The tools you will need:

a camera
a tripod
a flask of whiskey
or a thermos of coffee/tea/hot chocolate
a bottle of water
an iPod with mini speakers
a bicycle will get you there faster but walking shoes will do the job t0o
warm clothes
a blanket to lie on
a place to eat when the sun comes up
a cup of coffee before leaving the house
a willingness to stay up way past your bedtime (or a night owl friend to get your ass out there)

the tao of ttv

The first time I saw Through the Viewfinder (TtV) photography was on Alicia Bock’s blog and I’m pretty sure I must have thought something along the lines of holy shit, what is that and how do I do it?, because before I knew it, I was on eBay purchasing a Kodak Duaflex vintage camera.

TtV is “a form of photography that involves using one camera (digital) to take a picture via another camera’s viewfinder (twin lens reflex). The result is a slightly distorted, vignetted, dusty, square image.”

My Duaflex, I am ashamed to admit, sat on a shelf collecting dust for many months along with all the other grand plans I ever had.  I then packed it up and it stayed in a box for a while as I transitioned from Nova Scotia to Montreal.  It was eventually removed from the box and put on a new shelf where it could be gazed upon with a stare that said what am I ever going to do with you? The Duaflex was starting to feel a little dejected as Duaflexes are want to do.  It became the Duaflex with a complex.

And then, finally, Squam came around and among the many workshops being offered was a TtV class with the marvelous Andrea Jenkins, aka Miss Hula Seventy.  I took one look at the Duaflex and said Baby, we’re going to Squam.

I don’t know how many of you have been lucky enough to meet Hula but I have to tell you… she is just as lovely in person as she is on her blog.  Actually, even lovelier because you get to experience first hand her exuberance, her charm and her humor.  And to top it all off with a pretty little cherry, she is an amazing, inspiring photographer.  She takes the type of photos that feel like the summer of 1975.  And really, is there anything better than the summer of 1975?  I don’t think so.  I just love the woman.  I can’t say it enough.

Her workshop was phenomenal.  We spent the morning building our contraptions to specific measures for the type of DSLR and TLR we each had; an endeavor that involved complex mathematics and quantum physics.  We were like kids waiting for recess… can’t we just go out and play?  Luckily, Hula came equipped with colorful scissors and rulers and I was surrounded by such a great group of women, that it felt more like a morning of coffee and crafting than the thing you do to get to the thing you really want to do (the actual taking of the photos).

We then spent the entire afternoon in the sun, testing our contraptions and snapping away.  Andrea had brought props.  She brought PROPS, people.  Colorful balloons and striped straws and pink super balls and fake mustaches and umbrellas.  It was TtV heaven.

TtV gives me an entirely new perspective as it literally turns my world backwards (everything is flipped right to left), which makes it more challenging to get my composition right.  Also, the convex lens makes me feel like I am looking through a bubble into a romanticized dreamy world.  Not only is TtV an adventure in photography, it is a celebration of imperfection as it comes with the full package of vintage qualities:  dirt, dust, scratches, ghosting and vignetting included (though I often remove the vignette in Photoshop for a different look).

Also, it should be noted that walking around the city with a vintage camera and a light-blocking cardboard contraption that looks like a ghost capturing device, gets you about as much attention from creatives and geeks as men with puppies garner from us ladies.  It is a curiosity, so don’t be surprised if people stop you on the road to ask you what you’re doing.

Needless to say, now that I have my contraption, there aren’t nearly as many dust bunnies gathering around ye olde Duaflex these days. If you have one of your own, sitting on the shelf, sighing long sad sighs, grab yourself a can of Pringles or a box of cereal, block that light and give TtV a chance.