Where am I?

I'm in Vietnam. I'll be here for 7 more weeks. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll grab a few photos (that I feel are) worth sharing. Stay tuned...

Jizzon
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

Johnny Nuclear and my XA-4...

I finally started getting around to developing more film. These are amongst my early attempts at using my Olympus XA-4 with its attachable flash late at night. I should smarten up already and start recording camera settings. Everything I shot with flash was overexposed, so I think that I shot with the flash set at its higher power setting. Must shoot some more late at night with the lower setting and see what happens.

Anyhow, I saved a few flash shots as best I could...


Johnny Nuclear

Strolling down to Bihn An for some Vietnamese...

Writing on the wall...

ALL THE NORTH END CHICKS AGREE THAT
--->
RICK ARTHUR
IS THE BEST LOOKING GUY IN THE 'PEG!
THE BOMBERS CHEERLEADERS
ARE THE BEST LOOKING CHEERLEADERS
GO BOMBERS...

- THE WASTED ROCK RANGER


WINNIPEG DRIVERS WOULDN'T KNOW A LIGHT IF IT BIT THEM IN THE ASS
SIGNED,
A PEDESTRIAN

WHAT IS MARY JANE WATSON'S SECRET IDENTITY?

SPIDERMAN?

SPIDERMAN? IS THAT PETER PARKER'S GIRLFRIEND? DOES SHE HAVE RED HAIR?

WHERE IS PETER PARKER?

PETER PARKER IS PROBABLY BANGIN' MARY JANE WATSON (HE LIKES REDHEADS)

GO STONES

Jeanne's...

My apologies for the lack of updates. I've been really busy with work and consumed by other pursuits as well.

So I paid Jack another visit in August. It sure took me long enough to have prints made of some of the photos I took on that spontaneous first encounter I had with my new friend. Jack was really excited to have me back. I was looking forward to catching up as well but I had no idea that such a great surprise was in store for me.

I arrived at his doorstep and knocked on the door. Jack appeared quickly, and hurriedly shuffled me into the kitchen and urged me to sit down and relax. We exchanged pleasantries and I took out the prints to show him but Jack told me that this must wait until after. And with that he turned around to the countertop behind him, picked up a cardboard box and set it down on the kitchen table. I recognized it immediately.

I hadn't seen one in years but it brought back fond memories. It was this past May that my grandfather passed on, and it was a staple of his, visited upon all the birthdays he celebrated with loved ones. A Jeanne's birthday cake. Usually square or rectangular, this one was instead a perfect circle. Familiar was the white icing with the pastel-coloured flowers decorated in the icing, and the chocolate flakes clinging to the outside face of the cake. My name was written in icing. I can't remember the last time someone did something so kind for me.

"I didn't know how old you are so I just put your name," Jack said. He then asked me how old I was and upon telling him, he got out candles and stuck them into the cake, making a pattern that read "33". I just smiled while he sang me happy birthday. I don't really celebrate my birthday these days, and that time wouldn't be arriving until January... But I was really touched and I think the disregard for celebrating someone's birthday on a set date made it more special. I'm starting to think of birthday celebrations in a new light. Why not make them completely random? I think I might give this a shot sometime.

I blew out the candles and Jack eagerly cut us two king-sized pieces. He instructed me on the importance of eating the cookie bottom of the cake before anything else. I tipped my piece over and wedged the cookie base from the cake. When I tried cutting it in half with my fork, a piece shot off the table and onto the kitchen floor. Jack smiled and shook his head at my misfortune and I had a chuckle. I told him how when my brother and I were kids, our grandfather would always buy us Jeanne's cakes and my brother and I would always fight for the corners because they had the most chocolate flakes on them. Jack nodded in understanding and appreciation of strategy in cake eating, especially when it involves sharing.

After eating a few slices and drinking a few cups of tea, it was time for Jack to look through the prints. I was a little nervous, wondering if he might have had an entirely different idea of how they needed to look but he laughed and seemed delighted to have copies.

After shooting the shit for a while longer, I asked Jack if I could wander around his house a bit more. He walked around with me and showed me random things laying around. I took interest in an old acoustic guitar poking out in the corner of a room and he brought it out for me. He asked me if I could play something but it was really warped and there were only a couple of rusty strings on it.

We got to talking about music. I noticed that there are a lot of metal magazines from the 80's and 90's at Jack's place. I asked him what he liked listening to. "Punk," Jack replied.

"What bands?" I had to ask.

"Oh, you know, all of them. Jim Morrison."

"I love the Doors."

"Yeah, Iggy Pop, Mick Jagger, Tiny Tim... all the big ones."

Tiny Tim! That threw me off but... was the icing on the cake.

"You're not going to eat this, are you?"

I turned around and saw Jack holding a piece of cookie shrapnel.

"No, you go for it Jack."

"Yeah, I'm rough."

Punk rock.





























Cameras used: Epson R-D1s, Leica M6 w/ Neopan 1600, Olympus XA-4 w/ HP5+ pushed to 1600

From the top of my head to the tip of my toes... Pt II

I've been working so much that I haven't had time to scan and edit the colour scans... until now. Time flies, even when there's no room to have any fun in one's life. Just as I was wrapping up work on these, Jack called. He's excited to see prints. As soon as I get paid on Friday, I'm going to have some made up. It'll be tea and cookies at his place next week.

Bear with me; this is the first time I've scanned colour negatives. I've barely even shot any colour film since I decided to pursue a deeper understanding of film photography about 12 months ago... nevermind develop an eye and technique for colour schemes. I think I did a better job with the bathroom shots than I did with those shot in the livingroom. Maybe the window light produced a better/easier result. Yeah, the skin tones and green in the livingroom are off. Need to figure out how to make them right.

From the top of my head to the tips of my toes... Pt I

I was walking down through the Exchange District the other day, with camera in hand. I had intentions on grabbing a bite to eat at the Fring Festival in Old Market Square. I think it was on Albert that I heard someone call out for a cigarette. I looked into the shade and told the man sitting there on a bench that unfortunately, I wasn't a smoker. But he noticed what I was. "A photographer!" he said. "Come on over, I have something to show you," and he slapped an unoccupied stretch of bench to his right.

On his left were a couple of gym bags. He unzipped and reached into one. "A photographer... I have some photos to show you. They were taken in '94. Take a look," and out came a Ziplock bag. He unzipped that too.

He pulled out a stack of photos and started rifling through them. I had a look. 4x6" colour prints. There was a man standing in them. There was a blank backdrop behind him. Below him were a set of barbells. The fellow in the photograph was wearing a brightly coloured thong, with matching strips of fabric wrapped around his head, wrists and ankles. This subject was an elderly man. He had wispy gray hair, had toenails like semi-translucent strips of bark, had a few shots of his backside, had the name of Jack, and was sitting right beside me.

"Wow, these are great." What else could I say.

Jack enthusiastically continued on, telling me that there were another set of shots from '97 which were lost when he got mugged, that he wanted to become a professional wrestler but wasn't sure if he could take the falls, that he was thinking of becoming a stripper because he heard they made $1000 a day. I decided right then and there that Jack was great. I had just been invited into someone else's world. A few blocks away, the Fringe Festival was going on and here I was, realizing how it's one thing to play the surreal and another to enter the surreal. I was finally feeling like something was going right in current path; that I wasn't the only one who was trapped in their own world, who had ambitions and excitement over things that others could never relate to, never mind celebrate.

We got to talking. I snapped a few shots. Nothing remarkable. We continued on for a while longer. He suddenly demanded that I tell him how old he looked. To be honest, he looked like a 70-year-old man. But he had a lot of spirit in him and that had to be taken into account. "Well, I bet you're a lot older than this, Jack," I said, "but I'd have to say that you look like you're around 50 or so." Jack slapped his thigh and laughed. Then he said, "We should go back to your studio and you can take photos of me."

I realized that while I thought Jack was pretty amazing, I wasn't exactly sure of... well, what he might ultimately be getting at, seeing as he was a complete stranger, and an odd one at that. Not necessarily a bad thing. I apologized for not having a studio or much space back at my house to conduct a photo shoot. Jack excitedly proposed that we go back to his place then. "Sure!" We sprung up off that bench and started walking northwest down Notre Dame.

Jack told me all about his neighborhood. About how the guy on that side of the street was an asshole because he sold his pork chops for $4 and how the guy on this side of the street wasn't because he sold his for $3. I pointed out a rusted sign that stood tall over a vacant lot, its neon lights smashed; now just broken glass tubes hanging at odd angles. Jack told me that it belonged to a drug store that had long since been torn down. It made me realize just how much this city has lost over the years, and how fortunate I had been to run into Jack, to share this passing moment between us apart from the rest of the world. Fleeting just like the ghost of that sign.

It wouldn't last. I got to thinking. Maybe I wouldn't last. I told Jack that I needed to pop into Photo Central to pick up a few extra rolls of film. We were passing right by. Jack said he'd wait on the bench out front. I picked up a few rolls and quickly sent my brother a text message.

GOING TO XX XXXXXX ST TO TAKE PHOTOS OF ELDERLY WEIGHTLIFTER. HOPEFULLY HE ISN'T AN AXE MURDERER. SAYS HIS NAME IS JACK XXXXXXX. IF I DON'T TEXT YOU FOR A LONG TIME I PROBABLY RAN INTO TROUBLE.

I figured the worst thing that could happen was him deciding to masturbate in front of me. Well, I'd just photograph it, right? I liked Jack though; it's just that I had only known him for a few minutes and I have to assume that anything bizarre is perverse and dangerous, right? My brother responded.

OKAY. HOW DID YOU MEET HIM?

I rejoined Jack outside. We got to talking about traveling as we closed the remaining distance on his house. I had plans to visit Indochina in the Fall. Jack had been as far as Kenora once. Back in '67 when he had a falling out with the old man and ran away from home.

We arrived. Stepped inside. Jack insisted on closing all the drapes, then turned on a few lamps. I tested out my light meter and Jack proceeded to strip right in front of me. He was ready to go; Jack was wearing a bright red thong underneath his track pants.

We had a great time and I just stood there and let Jack pose himself. He was very particular about what he wanted. "From the top of my head to the tips of my toes? You got that?" he'd say after every click. And even when there was no click. He wanted full length shots and nothing else. I soon gave up on explaining why I'd like to try trying something different. I shot his upper body.

"You got it?"

"Yes, I got it Jack."

"From the top of my head to the--"

"Absolutely."

I stepped in really close and shot just his face.

"From the--"

"I got it all, Jack. You're doing great."

And so on.

Jack was also into kung fu. He tried on his favorite accessory; a "black panther" patch (not kung fu but tae-kwan-do) and then at some point he started changing into different thongs and jock straps. Right in front of me. I saw everything. And it was then that I realized... I was in a stranger's home with an even stranger elderly man (who was pretty awesome, at least so far)... and I realized that this man was carrying around gym bags, stuffed full with hundreds of thongs and jock straps.

I got to thinking. About how weird and amazing this was. And then I thought about Jack. Yeah, he perhaps wasn't all there but neither am I, really. And he seemed to be having the time of his life; he kept saying how lucky we were to have run into each other. I felt the same way and told him so. His place was a mess and when he asked for me to pass over the pink thong that was sitting on top of a pile, it didn't seem clean at all... but I pinched what I somehow perceived to be a "safe spot" and handed it to him, and he seemed to be doing alright for himself. He wasn't Conan but he was moving around alright. There were dirty jars on the ground everywhere and no stains on the ceiling but they didn't smell of urine. He had clean dishes on the dish rack. He brewed me some tea that we sipped on as we reflected on the photo shoot. I can't help be fascinated with the prospect of our individual fates. Where do you end up, where did you come from, how do you get there, what happened to you, what could you have done, what were you powerless to stop, what is your legacy, where did your dreams go, which dreams did you hang onto too long, when is it too late, when does it all become a big joke to this world, when does it drive you into seclusion, or when does it one day suddenly leave you surrounded by the unknown.

And when is it alright to just share a moment and a few laughs. We'll stay in touch, Jack. You take care of yourself, and you keep on working out and eating your pork chops.

I have a few colour shots that will be posted in Part II...

Muscles...

Rain or Shine...

Shot my first roll of colour film the other day. I'll have to shoot more.

Sarbniia watch your back...

One rainy day I went for a walk with Johnny Nuclear through North Point Douglas.