#78 – Little Bell – 16 September 2018
Another image of our IKEA-hack lanterns (see also # 40). These give endless pleasure when we sit on our porch on summer evenings. Technically, it’s a balcony as it is on the second floor. It presents like a porch because it is deep, which is right and useful, as we set up a table, surround it with chairs, and eat out there all summer long. Toronto has 1,000s of new condominium units with balconies so narrow you can hardly wedge a foldup chair between the wall and the rail. Why do they even bother?
#79 – Sky Skimming – 17 September 2018
Two people are paddling across your screen, drifting, floating, suspended. Paddle boarding has grown bigger and bigger down at the lake. We don’t own a board; many neighbours do. It does look relaxing on a day when the water is quiet and the air is hot. Ours is a dog-hood, and there are a few who have mastered sitting balanced atop a paddle board while their owners take them for a ride.
#80 – UNDER THE GARDNER – 18 September 2017
We came home one night from dinner out. Ruth walked up the stairs ahead of me, and suddenly froze near the top. There was a stranger lying on our living room floor, with his head nestled in Ollie the dog’s bed. A young man, out like a light. My first reaction was to call the police. But Ruth said no, he looks … lost. And sure enough, once we roused him (which took considerable work) he did babble on like a lost boy. Eventually he offered up an address two streets over, and I volunteered to guide him home.
#81 – Ribs – 19 September 2018
Half way over to the street address he had provided, we met another man, older, walking the other way. “Hey Dad!”, cried my young confused companion. “Where are you going?” asked the older man. “Home.” “Home is the other way, follow me,” barked the older man. Without ever acknowledging me, he turned my young houseguest around, and walked him back up my street the way we had come. I watched, and saw them turn in where Lynn, Ollie’s sometime dog-sitter and full-time favourite human, lives, three doors up from us. Very strange.
#82 – Cathedral – 20 September 2017
You might have several questions about this story. Q: how did he get into our place? A: we don’t lock our door. Q: how did he confuse his place with ours? A: We live in four-plexes built in the 1930s all on the same architectural plan. A 100 year old subdivision. Easy to get confused when you are out of it. Q: where was Ollie the [guard] dog? A: uselessly asleep in the back room. Q: who are the young man and his father? A: we asked Lynn. They had previously owned a place two streets over but the dad had just bought the apartment atop Lynn’s. The young man’s name is Justin. Q: What did Justin say when Ruth, a few days later, asked him if he remembered stumbling into our place? A: No, but thank you for looking after me. Q: What does any of this have to do with photography? A: Its all about what Ruth saw when she first looked down on Justin. She saw clearly what I did not.
#83 – Beam me up Scottie – 21 September 2017
I told you my mum was ailing. She died in September 2018, and I took a subsequent break from working on this web site. It’s been about four months. When my dad died, 18 years ago, I don’t think I mourned. Or if I did, I was not aware of it. So I was unprepared when my mother died, because I thought I would be completely in control. I had already been through this situation; I knew what would happen and how I would feel. Not so at all. Mourning came upon me in uncontrollable ways and unannounced waves.
#84 – spin – 22 September 2017
When mum died, my friend Margaret made a point of saying repeatedly, whenever she thought I needed to hear it again, that I was mourning and that I was traversing loss, well before I knew it or accepted it. Thanks for that Margaret – you helped me connect with and embrace what was going on. I still hear you saying it when I need it emphasized inside my head. Another thing Margaret said: now I am an orphan. Becoming an orphan is a difficult thing no matter what age one is when it happens. All alone, for better or for worse.
#85 – My Mum – 23 September 2017
My mum loved flowers. She loved gardening. She loved shaping her micro-environment, and she was particular and she was proud. The gradual and relentless loss of independence that accompanied her decline over several years was excruciating for her. The more she needed to rely on others the more angry she got (which did not make for fun times together!). She did not deserve any of it.
#86 – Portlands – 24 September 2018
In the end, my mum did take control of her life, once last time, and with determination. She asked for medical assistance in dying, which is a legal right in Canada as of a couple of years ago. She was a pioneer. Mum was not dying of cancer or some other diagnosed disease that gave her a prognostic lifespan measured in months. She was crumbling slowly and relentlessly of increasing frailty, constant pain, and profound hopelessness. A group of compassionate and cutting edge health care professionals helped her take back control. I am so proud of her for choosing this option (its not for everyone) and seeing it through (it takes courage).
#87 – Harris – 25 September 2017
I am grateful for having had this project running through the last year of my mum’s life.The discipline of getting out there every day and looking at the world helped me cope with the depressive burdens of mum’s illness and impending death. Also, I am very glad the image-a-day project ended when it did – I don’t think I could possibly have kept it going through mum’s final weeks, and the four months since her death. A blessing of timing. You can see a little reflected self portrait here: a picture of an orphan boy.
#88 – The Chamber – 26 September 2017
I swear this is not really what my bedroom looks like. But this one night, glancing in while walking by, this is what I saw in my mind, or at least something like it. So then the mission was: to create that vision. If it was really this scary, Ruth rightly would have run a long time ago.
#89 – The Kitchen Sink – 27 September 2018
My kitchen sink, on the other hand, often looks way more scary than this. Woke up on this day, stumbled around with my coffee, put the cup in the sink, and it starred back at me like this. It’s a little dark, but see that’s because caffeine has not yet kicked in. Second cup desired and required.
#90 – Lolling in the Bath – 28 September 2018
At St. Martins Country Inn, the location of the Patterson workshop, our room had a bathtub from which I looked up and saw this, all week long. Some people are shower people, some are bath people, and I suppose some go both ways. I like lounging.
#91 – Long Wait – 29 September 2018
The derelict bits of Toronto are rapidly disappearing. This was shot in the Portlands, which is ripe for development as it is the last tract of available land near the downtown core. Every time I make an image here I wonder how long before the thing I photographed is gone.
#92 – UNDER COVER – 30 September 2018
Toronto’s tree canopy is a thing of profound beauty. A friend of mine from Alberta stood with me on the observation deck of the CN tower and marveled at this roof over the city. Toronto is working hard to protect and renew the canopy. Challenges include age (natural life cycles of mature trees), pests (ash borer) invasive species (norway maple) climate change (drought) and home owners who prefer a clear view of the road in front of their place (we have strict bylaws against felling trees on private property). On our street, the city planted and lovingly watered several front-yard saplings this summer. Thank you, government.
