My Polaroid work of late has been entirely in colour, using the latest iteration of Polaroid SX-70 colour film. However, for some time I have coveted the opportunity to play with Polaroid’s Black and White SX-70 film. After all, I was a black and white film photographer for twenty-plus years leading up to my introduction to digital photography—and colour— at the turn of this century.Continue reading
I call it my Assiniboine Park Loop, a good 10-kilometre walk from my Wolseley neighbourhood home, down the river trails lining the south bank of Assiniboine River, through Assiniboine Park, its English and Leo Mol Sculpture Gardens and then back home on the north side of the river, following the quiet residential streets of St. James. Along that return loop, I pass by Bourkevale Community Centre with its leash-free dog park on the river side and outdoor ice rink on the other.
This is that rink, a sleek surface of manicured ice waiting for a game of hockey. Its sole occupant on this sunny afternoon is a lone, broken chair that somehow escaped from its home in the community centre hall and ended up here, in this improbable winter scene.
How many times have I walked this same loop over the seasons and years, seeing the same things every time? Yet there always seems to be a red chair waiting to be discovered, the gift of a good walk.
Welcome to a year in the life of our greyhound/lurcher Styxx, compressed into twelve daily posts leading up to Christmas.
Styxx takes a walk along the Assiniboine River after a fresh fall of snow on March 5, 2018.
The second in a series of jaunts in the key of white. This week, I recount a December 27, 2017 walk along Mosquito Creek in North Vancouver.
I have misgivings about attempting a walk this morning. With a mug of hot coffee in hand, I watch the snow fall just outside the expansive windows of my sister’s North Vancouver home. A curtain of white flakes all but obscures the dense stand of conifers lying not more than 10 metres away. It looks beautiful, to be sure. The opportunity for a good walk. Yet my planned course down the familiar paths skirting Mosquito Creek worries me. Just three days ago, I climbed that very route. It was cold and the path was icy. Today, that fresh snow would cloak a slick, glassy surface. Slipping and falling holds little appeal.
But the scene outside is too enchanting to ignore. I will take my chances. Continue reading