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Phil was on the phone to his nan tonight giving her a crash course in bookmarking websites from the internet - she's 81 and has just gone 'on-line' - how cool is that. Anyhow, I took a few shots whilst he was on the phone - they didn't turn out so hot, so after dinner (veggie chilli) we did a re-enactment with photographic style based on Mr Gilles Pinault - who, in our opinion, is a photographic genius - check him out - he's in our contact list
Photo Details:
Vivitar 285HV zoomed in full hence the vignette type effect, at 1/16th power with an ND gel on top. Fired using Gadget Infinity Catus wireless triggers, from on top of a pint glass on the table to left off the picture. Pam sat snapping away on the floor with the G5 set manually 1/60th f4.5.
Photoshop, S curve, hue adjustment layer blended 40%, flattened and then some reasonably heavy unsharp mask something like: Amount to 50%, Radius to 100% and the Threshold to 0. I think the important bit it Threshold 0 to increase local contrast, but don't quote me on that.
People here in Brazil think these shoes are so strange and too colorful...And i don´t care, i love it!
What is it with me and older authoritative men? I can hardly explain, because I don't exactly know myself, except that I've been like this since I was a girl. Is it a blessing or a curse? A strength or a weakness? Safe or 'dangerous'? All of those things and none of those things, I suppose. All I can say with any surety is that the experiences I have had with more senior men is that they are attentive, caring, deliciously inventive, hypnotically assertive, and bloody good at what they do...
Light setup:
- Canon 430ez trough white umbrella at model face camera right
- nikon sb-600 camera left
This is MacDonald Drive Junior High, which I attended for Grades 7 to 9, from September 1997 to June 2000. Yes, that gives away my age, but that's okay, because everyone has an age, and everyone gets old. Even you!
Like my pictures of PWC, looking at this picture beings back memories of where I was in life, and what I was doing.
When I started at MacDonald Drive, the relentless teasing I endured as the class bully victim during Grades 5 and 6 dropped off quite a bit. It could be because I physically outgrew most of my bullies, or it could be because they got more mature. Probably a combination. In junior high, I made some new friendships, especially with kids who came from other schools (in Newfoundland, elementary schools finish at Grade 6, and several elementary schools fed into bigger junior high schools). Most of my friends were social outcasts of sorts, who lived in lower-income neighborhoods, and I was still known as the rich kid. So that made for an issue with my parents. I've been working with drug addicts, alcoholics, and homeless people for almost five years now, so I guess the need to keep company with other rich people never stuck with me.
For the record, I wasn't rich, but Newfoundland was not a wealthy province when I was growing up, and so a doctor's family could be considered well-off.
In Grade 9, one of my classmates said to me "You live in like, Buckingham Palace, but you dress like a dirtbag". I find that funny now, because it was kind of true. I didn't have a clue about "how not to look like a clueless 13-year-old dork" at the time. I wore sweatpants to school until probably Grade 7. I would still wear tube socks pulled all the way up in gym class. In the last several years, I've made a lot more effort to make my clothes look decent together, because I was made fun of for my clothes during a formative period of my life.
While in Grade 7 at MacDonald Drive, I developed an eating disorder of sorts, not based on fear of weight gain, but on fear of choking. I ended up losing a bunch of weight, which I'm certain has affected my adult height to an extent. It was a very stressful experience for several years until I got fed up with it when I was 17 and quickly forced myself to eat almost normally again. But I can't change the past.
Actually, my OCD tendencies in late teenagehood also came to an abrupt almost end when I got fed up with their control over my life. So that's really two examples of being able to take control after being fed up with bullshit for long enough.
Aaaaanyway...
MacDonald Drive is also where I was when Pokémon hit, the first time. I played Pokémon Blue all summer around 1998, and of course during the school year. A friend and I once tried to independently count all 150 Pokémon in class, to see who could count more. The details are fading now because it was so long ago, but yeah...good times.
This was also a time of great blossoming in my pubertal years, and yeah I said it, because if you're reading this, you experienced the same thing. I first started "noticing" my female classmates in Grade 6, and by junior high I was in full "noticing them all the time" mode, with their short-shorts in summer, and anyway, some details are better left unsaid.
I remember going up those stairs on the left. The main staff entrance was behind the spruce tree; to the right, just inside the door, was the main office. The bus entrance, where I usually went in, was around the right; you can see it in the previous picture with the field in the foreground.
One or two of the windows on the second floor above the entrance was my Grade 7 homeroom; room 222 with Mr. Hewlett. The second-floor corner classroom on the right, above that shrub, was my Grade 7 English classroom, with Mrs. Clarke, who used to refer to her "hot little hands" when compelling us to hand in our homework.
The classroom behind it at the far corner, I believe, is where I had my Grade 9 Math class with Mrs. Drover. Or maybe it was Grade 8. One of those two classes was in another room at the back of the building.
The classrooms below on the ground floor are where I had my science classes with Mme. Brunet, all three years. Of all the teachers who are still there after all these years, she's still teaching, as well as Mr. Connolly, who was my Grade 8 homeroom teacher, and Mrs. Drover.
Anyway, that's enough for now!
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IMG_1020181ps
What is it with me and older authoritative men? I can hardly explain, because I don't exactly know myself, except that I've been like this since I was a girl. Is it a blessing or a curse? A strength or a weakness? Safe or 'dangerous'? All of those things and none of those things, I suppose. All I can say with any surety is that the experiences I have had with more senior men is that they are attentive, caring, deliciously inventive, hypnotically assertive, and bloody good at what they do...
heartbeat series, 2005
wood box, paint, photo prints, resin
private collection
*the polaroids read: "i can't stop because i'm addicted to you."
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