Allons-y!

Cat/house-sitter arranged? Check. All the blades in the checked baggage? Not yet (can't be too careful). Cool little flat on the Plateau rented? Oui. Physically and mentally ready for a week of serious food and beer consumption (amongst other pastimes)? Fuck, yeah!

Here're a few shots from previous trips to my spiritual (and eventually physical) home.

The Crank

"I want all my fucking tips back for the last two years, you fucking prick; and I'm never coming back to this fucking place ever," said Shaughan Williams, long-term patron of the lamentably-defunct John Shippey's Brewing Company, upon being told that lighting a cigarette in the bar was the last of many straws that marvelously drunken February night. Fortunately, "ever" meant for a couple of days, and I could continue photographing one of my favourite subjects, and the inspiration of my style.

Diners

I like diners: they're quick, cheap-ish, and usually have interesting photo ops. The Ardmore has a generally spectacular chocolate shake, the eponymous (and magnificently unhealthful) Melt, and excellent fries; Johnny's (with a much more homemade feel overall) has a great club, chickenburger, fish and chips, soups, and fucking great pie (apple, banana- and coconut-cream). And the crew at Johnny's mind my folks pretty closely when they're there.

Yesterday, we went to the Ardmore for brunch. I had steak-and-eggs to go with the my shake, and while they weren't like the pommes frîtes (which, in combination with the blueberry pancakes and a cappuccino and smoothie went a good way toward to solving the odd bout of alcohol poisoning) I used to get at Sebastien's, they were food-ish; and I got this shot.

The Folks

My dad grew up poor, and worked from an early age to take care of his family. He then (through endless hard work) became a successful businessman, and took care of his own family. Now he's old, sick, and still taking care of my mother (who has Alzheimer's disease), because that's the way he does things.

The Future of Rock?

Maybe. Right now she's more inclined to be the future of law: but ten is young to make serious career choices.

Charitable Idiots

I don't know what it it about the not-for profits (why does the term always change? Are people dumb enough to think that "non-profit" means they run at a loss no matter what? Is "charity" bad, like "handicapped", now?) in this town, but I find them fucking hard to do work for. And I mean, they don't usually seem to want me to shoot for them (for free): I can't count the number of times I've been simply ignored when I make the offer. A couple of examples: the IWK Foundation, who thought I'd be perfect to do a long-term project on sick children at the IWK, but rejected me because I insisted that I would have to maintain copyright to my work, and reserved the right to exhibit it. Not sell or license, just show to people. The nice lady told me she didn't think I was entirely altruistic; no fucking shit, I do enjoy my art and like to be able to show it around.

Now-and-then, though, I get to some cool stuff, like a two-day visit to the Salvation Army camp near New Glasgow. All the kids there were having a hard time of it for one reason or another, and seemed to have a huge time getting away from the city. But it didn't all end well: after I turned in the proofs, the Army PR droid (an incredibly loud, incredibly earnest recovering-fun-haver named Ron Zima) asked for high-res copies of everything on DVD. I told him that I would provide retouched files on a job-by-job basis when they were needed: and I never heard from him again. Waste of time, but good shots.

Kate

I've been hassling my friend Kate (a social worker who works for the laudable Leave Out Violence NS youth organisation) to let me do her portrait for quite a while: she's a striking and entertaining subject.