28 January 2013

Here are some images from a recent group show here in Guelph. It featured work from five of us MFA students at the University of Guelph: Jen Aitken, Denise Higginson, Amy Lockhart, Matt Schust, and me. (Matt's paintings are missing because they needed to make a hasty exit on the day the photos were taken)

Denise Higginson's painting. 

Jen Aitkin's sculpture.

Amy Lockhart's arm and hand sculpture.

Spring chair.

18 January 2013

9 January 2013

Part of a Trip

Lost in NOLA while trying to find the Rock 'n Bowl (pictures to follow of course).

Famous NOLA cemeteries. 

On the banks of the gross gross gross Mississippi.

Grave graves. 

Oh god, I did this again. What's wrong with me?!

Went flying in Davis, or above Davis, or however it might be labelled. 

From a tiny airplane from this tiny airport behind UC Davis. 

Refueling the wings of Orange Julius after our trip to Nuttree.

Boom! Being the flashiest always draws attention. 

Light-houses and moos in Big Sur. Went back the next day. The lighthouse was inaccessible and the cows were surly and skittish. Still makes for a photograph though. 

Creepin' peephole from one side.

Creepin' peephole view. Peep peep on a tree. 

Tim and I stopped along highway 1 to view a view, and he pointed out into the waves and insisted he saw something moving. We were hoping for otters. We ended up with porpoises or dolphins?

Watched these buggers surf and play for ages. 

A photographer on a glorious beach. I go crazy on beaches, I take off my shoes and run in circles and run out into the waves and never mind if I get soaked to the waist (which I did) and behave - maybe a little too much - like a small, overly excitable dog. 

A photographer out at night workin', photographing those oil rigs out there. To be more accurate to the moment, a grumpy photographer. 

Oh you know, just the milky way, way up there making me feel all tiny. 

Bees that were going all crazy for this bush right outside the car door. I refused to get out and ended up crawling over the centre console just to avoid a bunch of honeybees. I am as brave as a lumberjack.

Salt flats from a dried up lake (Lake Kohen to be more precise). 

There is no life, no wind, no movement of any kind, and absolutely positively no sound other than the crunching and crispy crunch of  the salt under your feet. Your ears ring from the silence searching to hear something. BUT it does mean you can hold a conversation at normal voice volume from either sides of the lake. Tin cans and strings be damned. 

Miles and miles and miles of this. 

Death Valley finally. This is the only water to be found in the whole place, all year round. In search of the elusive pupfish. 

There is a tiny sign way up there on the rocks marking sea-level and making me feel very small and a little like holding my breath on the salty sea floor.