Medford View #14 (Land Of Glooskap)
digital print in exhibition 19"x 42"
COME BACK FROM AWAY
Images & Words from an Exhibition
by marke slipp
Nova Scotia: 2003 — 2008
The photographs presented in this exhibition are essentially ‘found moments’—an opportunity arising and the moment then being captured. Perhaps it came from an outing seeking a particular image or feeling yet finding another, or a moment of happenstance stumbled upon. Some are a moment happily discovered on a journey to another part of this fair province and brought back to share with friends and family, or simply people who notice. They are Moments Realized. It is satisfying—even magical—to be engaged ‘in the moment’ like this.
My background is not academic but rather experiential, hence the lack of technical information accompanying the photographs (They were all taken on my digital cameras). I have spent close to 40 years pursuing the art and craft of motion pictures, engaged initially by the process of collaborating on what I saw as audio-visual sculptures, but all that evolved or was taken over by the story-telling aspect of the medium: the narrative.
Stories have been a part of our common history since primordial times when we sat around fires relating tales to each other (both tall and practical) but all of them shaped toward the audience to engage them—this is part of our oral tradition as human beings. I have noticed over time that the art comes more in the ‘telling’ than in the content (a joke is only as good as the person telling it, for example) and it is something I keep working at, that all storytellers are at work at, refining constantly. I like to pursue ‘story’ to get behind appearances, to delve into the heart of the matter. It is a never-ending journey, as with so many worthwhile pursuits in our lives.
I have worked in photography since I was a young kid. I worked in front of the camera briefly, as a youth, but found I preferred to be behind the scenes, involved in that process of shaping, refining, and polishing the various elements that make up the story. I get a lot of satisfaction helping other to realize their stories, but this time the stories are my own.
I am pleased that I have been able to present to you some of these stories I have collected through the last five years through still pictures. It is a record of moments—chance, found, pursued or captured—since I came back from away.
My background is not academic but rather experiential, hence the lack of technical information accompanying the photographs (They were all taken on my digital cameras). I have spent close to 40 years pursuing the art and craft of motion pictures, engaged initially by the process of collaborating on what I saw as audio-visual sculptures, but all that evolved or was taken over by the story-telling aspect of the medium: the narrative.
Stories have been a part of our common history since primordial times when we sat around fires relating tales to each other (both tall and practical) but all of them shaped toward the audience to engage them—this is part of our oral tradition as human beings. I have noticed over time that the art comes more in the ‘telling’ than in the content (a joke is only as good as the person telling it, for example) and it is something I keep working at, that all storytellers are at work at, refining constantly. I like to pursue ‘story’ to get behind appearances, to delve into the heart of the matter. It is a never-ending journey, as with so many worthwhile pursuits in our lives.
I have worked in photography since I was a young kid. I worked in front of the camera briefly, as a youth, but found I preferred to be behind the scenes, involved in that process of shaping, refining, and polishing the various elements that make up the story. I get a lot of satisfaction helping other to realize their stories, but this time the stories are my own.
I am pleased that I have been able to present to you some of these stories I have collected through the last five years through still pictures. It is a record of moments—chance, found, pursued or captured—since I came back from away.
—marke slipp
FUNDY COAST Series
Besides the people, the Fundy coast is one of the big attractions of coming back here—the incredible vistas, the aroma of the sea, the sound of surf tumbling through the stones on the beaches. The small ports and coves around the Bay are always a special treat too. Walking to Cape Split has been a joyous event for me each time out there. One weekend in the Seventies a group of us camped out on Isle Hâute, a favourite picnic spot of many back in the 1920s & 30s. I was born near a tributary leading into the Bay. To have been out on Fundy on a lobster boat recently was the realization of a long time dream of mine. And the reality was better than the wishing … much better.
Lobster fisher Mark Taylor entered my life last year in his quest to ensure the protection of the lobster stocks he’s harvested, and stewarded, all his life just as his ancestors did for generations before him. It has been quite a learning experience. We sat together at the Stakeholders Roundtable for the Strategic Environmental Assessment of the tidal power development. Although in its early stages, and said to be ‘green’ and sustainable, it is also hoped that the impact on the ecosystem of this development, with its underwater electrical generators, is minimal.
I have been coming to these shores all my life. I love it here. It refreshes my soul. It is a primal thing, as though there’s a part of me that recalls the first hesitant steps coming ashore those many eons ago.
Lobster fisher Mark Taylor entered my life last year in his quest to ensure the protection of the lobster stocks he’s harvested, and stewarded, all his life just as his ancestors did for generations before him. It has been quite a learning experience. We sat together at the Stakeholders Roundtable for the Strategic Environmental Assessment of the tidal power development. Although in its early stages, and said to be ‘green’ and sustainable, it is also hoped that the impact on the ecosystem of this development, with its underwater electrical generators, is minimal.
I have been coming to these shores all my life. I love it here. It refreshes my soul. It is a primal thing, as though there’s a part of me that recalls the first hesitant steps coming ashore those many eons ago.
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Blomidon Escarpment (Minas Passage)
digital print in exhibition 60" x 8"
1 October 2004From Cape Blomidon to Cape Split, along the Blomidon Escarpment, the distance is about 13 kilometres (9 miles). Mark Taylor refers to it as “the doorway to the nursery” for the lobster stock. I didn’t realize at the time I took the shot just how significant this particular area would become in my life. The rock formation offshore is Black Rock. It is in the heart of the tidal maelstrom known as the Minas Passage, connecting the vast waters of the Bay of Fundy with the shallower Minas Basin. It is in this passage that the tides become most powerful, squeezing 14 cubic kilometres of seawater through to flood into the Minas Basin, then out, and in, the rhythms of the tides shifting the occurrence twice daily, in a pulsating dance with the moon. It is also where there is intention to put instream tidal power electrical conversion devices, more commonly known as tidal power turbines.
This landscape panoramic format is one I am becoming more and more enamoured by. Unfortunately it doesn't reproduce at any significant size within this blog. The 5 foot wide aspect of it is really quite stunning, especially for people from the Annapolis Valley or Fundy shore who have seen both Cape Blomidon & Cape Split separately but never as a part of the same singular landmass.
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Approaching Cape Split
digital print in exhibition 8"x10"
13 July 2007 9:25PM.
A few of the photos in this series were shot on the same day I was out on Mark Taylor’s fishing vessel, Tide Force. This one was gathered on our way home (along the escarpment that begins at Cape Blomidon) as we were approaching the western end of the peninsula where Cape Split juts out into the Bay. We were traveling at about 2 knots, or even less at times, as the flood tide was making its way through the Minas Passage, filling up the Minas Basin as it does twice every day.
And above us, the seagull softly glided towards the setting sun.
A few of the photos in this series were shot on the same day I was out on Mark Taylor’s fishing vessel, Tide Force. This one was gathered on our way home (along the escarpment that begins at Cape Blomidon) as we were approaching the western end of the peninsula where Cape Split juts out into the Bay. We were traveling at about 2 knots, or even less at times, as the flood tide was making its way through the Minas Passage, filling up the Minas Basin as it does twice every day.
And above us, the seagull softly glided towards the setting sun.
Cape Split Sunset
digital print in exhibition 11x14
13 July 2007, 9:30PM.
This image was taken towards the end of our voyage, having left Hall’s Harbour around 10 AM that day. The light was right and the tide had changed to incoming. The calm waters in the foreground belie the chopping, churning maelstrom taking place behind where we were when this moment happened (see Laughing Waters - variation #3). This was all taking place while we were enjoying some freshly trapped lobster, captured hours earlier, and devoured under the delight of a seaside view of the Split in sunset.
This image was taken towards the end of our voyage, having left Hall’s Harbour around 10 AM that day. The light was right and the tide had changed to incoming. The calm waters in the foreground belie the chopping, churning maelstrom taking place behind where we were when this moment happened (see Laughing Waters - variation #3). This was all taking place while we were enjoying some freshly trapped lobster, captured hours earlier, and devoured under the delight of a seaside view of the Split in sunset.
Note: Some people refer to the rock spires in the above photo as “The Sleeping Mouse”. Perhaps it is more evident in the ‘traditional’ view of Cape Split below (not included in the exhibition):
Cape Split 2007
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Horton Landingdigital print in exhibition 11x14
5 May 2008
This is the site where the Acadians were put onto ships and sent away from the only life they had known. To leave this beautiful land behind—to have it wrenched from their lives—must have been devastating.
The sorrow of this moment is washed over by the rhythms of the water and land, by the clouds above and the sun beyond. In the distance is a glimpse back to the highway where we re-enter the Valley when coming back from away. “I’ll take you home again, Kathleen” is what my Dad sang to Mom when they came back home in the summers. He was true to his word.
This is the site where the Acadians were put onto ships and sent away from the only life they had known. To leave this beautiful land behind—to have it wrenched from their lives—must have been devastating.
The sorrow of this moment is washed over by the rhythms of the water and land, by the clouds above and the sun beyond. In the distance is a glimpse back to the highway where we re-enter the Valley when coming back from away. “I’ll take you home again, Kathleen” is what my Dad sang to Mom when they came back home in the summers. He was true to his word.
January Field with Tree
digital print in exhibition 8x10
3 January 2007
The moment captured here gives me a strong feeling of the landscape under the watch of the Mi’kmaqi legend, Glooscap. Where else could it be? The soil, the light, the glint off the water, the soulfulness of the tree contrasting with both land & sea… it is very much of the area.
The moment captured here gives me a strong feeling of the landscape under the watch of the Mi’kmaqi legend, Glooscap. Where else could it be? The soil, the light, the glint off the water, the soulfulness of the tree contrasting with both land & sea… it is very much of the area.
Lobster Futures
digital print in exhibition 8x10
13 July 2007
These lobsters are the ‘ones that got away’; they are thrown back into the Bay to release their eggs at the appropriate time, populating the area with lobsters for the future. Female lobsters have thousands of them attached firmly to their underbelly. I watched the fishers throw back almost as many as they caught the day I was with them. They say it is even moreso earlier in the season. The Minas Passage between Cape Split and Parrsboro is thought of as “the doorway to the nursery” for the lobster fishers of the Bay of Fundy. Lobsters molt in the Minas Basin, and often mate there before returning to the cooler waters of the open Bay, and further to the Atlantic Ocean.
These lobsters are the ‘ones that got away’; they are thrown back into the Bay to release their eggs at the appropriate time, populating the area with lobsters for the future. Female lobsters have thousands of them attached firmly to their underbelly. I watched the fishers throw back almost as many as they caught the day I was with them. They say it is even moreso earlier in the season. The Minas Passage between Cape Split and Parrsboro is thought of as “the doorway to the nursery” for the lobster fishers of the Bay of Fundy. Lobsters molt in the Minas Basin, and often mate there before returning to the cooler waters of the open Bay, and further to the Atlantic Ocean.
Out ‘n A Boat (Blomidon View)
digital print in exhibition 8x10
3 July 2007
Cape Blomidon is a large geographical icon in Kings County; we sort of see it as ‘ours’. It looms larger in Parrsboro though; a more imposing landmark for them, being in closer proximity to it than those in Kings County.
Perhaps our connection with Parrsboro will grow as our reliance on fossil fuels reduces and we possibly have more intercourse between the two counties, as we did when the Kipawo Ferry plied the waves of the Minas Basin. This photo was taken from the deck of the Tide Force, Mark Taylor’s lobster boat. It is a much bigger vessel than the dory his grandfather used to collect lobster. Back in those days they hauled the traps up by hand, arm over arm. Now they use hydraulic winches to do the hauling up. The work is still arduous, but not like it was back when.
Cape Blomidon is a large geographical icon in Kings County; we sort of see it as ‘ours’. It looms larger in Parrsboro though; a more imposing landmark for them, being in closer proximity to it than those in Kings County.
Perhaps our connection with Parrsboro will grow as our reliance on fossil fuels reduces and we possibly have more intercourse between the two counties, as we did when the Kipawo Ferry plied the waves of the Minas Basin. This photo was taken from the deck of the Tide Force, Mark Taylor’s lobster boat. It is a much bigger vessel than the dory his grandfather used to collect lobster. Back in those days they hauled the traps up by hand, arm over arm. Now they use hydraulic winches to do the hauling up. The work is still arduous, but not like it was back when.
Storm Tide
digital print in exhibition 8x10
30 July 2007
The second time I was out on Taylor’s boat was the last day before the end of lobster season. It had been a foggier venture than the previous outing. There were tidal developers and political guests aboard the vessel, out for a tour of the Bay, in the Minas Passage, where there will be the most impact from the proposed tidal development. They also wanted to get a better understanding of the issues that Mark Taylor has with this development; issues such as where the lobster migration route is, where the strongest currents are, where he puts his heavily weighted traps, and his potential loss of livelihood. The day wasn’t as prolific in the catch as it had been a couple weeks earlier— in lobster or in photographs. It was interesting to be out on the boat with the day’s guests though.
The second time I was out on Taylor’s boat was the last day before the end of lobster season. It had been a foggier venture than the previous outing. There were tidal developers and political guests aboard the vessel, out for a tour of the Bay, in the Minas Passage, where there will be the most impact from the proposed tidal development. They also wanted to get a better understanding of the issues that Mark Taylor has with this development; issues such as where the lobster migration route is, where the strongest currents are, where he puts his heavily weighted traps, and his potential loss of livelihood. The day wasn’t as prolific in the catch as it had been a couple weeks earlier— in lobster or in photographs. It was interesting to be out on the boat with the day’s guests though.
Reflected Glory
digital print in exhibition 8x10
June 2004
A so-called ‘found moment’ at Huntington Point; the sunset mimicking the driftwood’s shape as best it could is a delight for me in this photograph. However, when I took the shot I just liked the visual harmony, the way the elements came together. I didn’t realize all the reasons why in the moment, but have had fun reflecting on it since. Life goes like that, doesn’t it?
A so-called ‘found moment’ at Huntington Point; the sunset mimicking the driftwood’s shape as best it could is a delight for me in this photograph. However, when I took the shot I just liked the visual harmony, the way the elements came together. I didn’t realize all the reasons why in the moment, but have had fun reflecting on it since. Life goes like that, doesn’t it?
Split Different
digital print in exhibition 8x10
1 October 2004
This was taken the same day as the panoramic shot at the beginning, Blomidon Escarpment (Minas Passage). It is a view of Cape Split that isn’t seen very often, at least not by many people in Kings County. I did purchase a David Lacey painting of the Split from this viewpoint, many years ago, when home on vacation. I was happy to chance upon it on my own.
The lagoon in the foreground is an enchanting little place where I had overnighted earlier that year on a spontaneous venture into the area. This time, in 2004, my daughter Jessica & I toured the area. I had been back home a year at that point. And it looked like I might be around for a while longer.
This was taken the same day as the panoramic shot at the beginning, Blomidon Escarpment (Minas Passage). It is a view of Cape Split that isn’t seen very often, at least not by many people in Kings County. I did purchase a David Lacey painting of the Split from this viewpoint, many years ago, when home on vacation. I was happy to chance upon it on my own.
The lagoon in the foreground is an enchanting little place where I had overnighted earlier that year on a spontaneous venture into the area. This time, in 2004, my daughter Jessica & I toured the area. I had been back home a year at that point. And it looked like I might be around for a while longer.
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Fundy Shore
digital print in exhibition 11x14
17 June 2004
Whenever I look at this photo, taken west of Margaretsville somewhere, I think it could have been taken in Portugal or Greece. It’s the quality of the light, I think. And the ruggedness of the boat (will it really float?). Perhaps the weir, a rarely seen structure anymore, transports me back to days of more sustainable living. There was a time when fishers would walk out at low tide and simply pick the salmon, striped bass, herring or what-have-you right off the nets. This is a rare occurrence these days.
Isle Hâute (High Island), where I camped out in the early 1970s, is in the distant background. It once housed a lighthouse and the family that took care of it. There is romance and joy in this photograph; a truly Fundy moment for me.
Whenever I look at this photo, taken west of Margaretsville somewhere, I think it could have been taken in Portugal or Greece. It’s the quality of the light, I think. And the ruggedness of the boat (will it really float?). Perhaps the weir, a rarely seen structure anymore, transports me back to days of more sustainable living. There was a time when fishers would walk out at low tide and simply pick the salmon, striped bass, herring or what-have-you right off the nets. This is a rare occurrence these days.
Isle Hâute (High Island), where I camped out in the early 1970s, is in the distant background. It once housed a lighthouse and the family that took care of it. There is romance and joy in this photograph; a truly Fundy moment for me.
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Laughing Waters - Variation #3
digital print in exhibition 16x8
13 July 2007
This vision was captured a few minutes after the photograph of Cape Split Sunset (above). The light was so warm and dramatic that evening—the sun setting late in the midsummer sky. The roil of the waters in the foreground are a part of the 14 cubic kilometers (14 billion tonnes) of salty brine that flood through the area each change of the tide, four times every day.
The swift currents (upwards of 15 knots) are what make the area attractive to tidal power developers. On the bottom of the Passage cobblestones the size of small watermelons are tossed blithely through the waters. In the winter, silt-laden icebergs scour anything in their way. Whether or not the equipment will be able to handle the turbid waters here is a question still to be determined. One developer has already decided that this environment is not suited to their machine. It is a challenging environment for anything to exist in. Somehow the fish and lobsters do just fine.
This vision was captured a few minutes after the photograph of Cape Split Sunset (above). The light was so warm and dramatic that evening—the sun setting late in the midsummer sky. The roil of the waters in the foreground are a part of the 14 cubic kilometers (14 billion tonnes) of salty brine that flood through the area each change of the tide, four times every day.
The swift currents (upwards of 15 knots) are what make the area attractive to tidal power developers. On the bottom of the Passage cobblestones the size of small watermelons are tossed blithely through the waters. In the winter, silt-laden icebergs scour anything in their way. Whether or not the equipment will be able to handle the turbid waters here is a question still to be determined. One developer has already decided that this environment is not suited to their machine. It is a challenging environment for anything to exist in. Somehow the fish and lobsters do just fine.
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Medford View #14 (Land of Glooskap)
digital print in exhibition 19x42
12 June 2008
A classic view of Blomidon from Medford, reminiscent of the view one gets from highway 101 when coming home from Halifax, or beyond. I was happy to get the tide and the clouds so cooperative. It was what I consider ‘the perfect day’. This is what I see in my mind’s eye when I’m away and think of home. The vista is staggering; much more than the sum of its parts. It is this landscape that gives me understanding as to why the Mi’kmaqi legend, Glooscap, made Blomidon his home. The eagle flying through the shot (evident in the larger print on display) was an extra bit of serendipity that provided an added element of enchantment to ‘the moment’.
A classic view of Blomidon from Medford, reminiscent of the view one gets from highway 101 when coming home from Halifax, or beyond. I was happy to get the tide and the clouds so cooperative. It was what I consider ‘the perfect day’. This is what I see in my mind’s eye when I’m away and think of home. The vista is staggering; much more than the sum of its parts. It is this landscape that gives me understanding as to why the Mi’kmaqi legend, Glooscap, made Blomidon his home. The eagle flying through the shot (evident in the larger print on display) was an extra bit of serendipity that provided an added element of enchantment to ‘the moment’.
This photograph came about due to a suggestion from my daughter. I had another photograph that I was quite pleased with, except the clouds had not been very cooperative. I decided to try to work on them in a photo-edit program but was getting somewhat frustrated by the lack of progress. Jessica suggested I just go and take another photograph of the location, since I was here and all, as was the landscape. Duh!
One morning, when the clouds looked right, I took off to the location and found an even better spot from which to capture this panorama. I took a number of variations and then recalled the great skies I could get with my film SLR when I adjusted the polaroid filter. I didn’t have one with me but did have my sunglasses’ clip-on, and so I employed it as my filter in this shot. When I finished taking it, I knew I had it. Funny the way that goes sometimes.
One morning, when the clouds looked right, I took off to the location and found an even better spot from which to capture this panorama. I took a number of variations and then recalled the great skies I could get with my film SLR when I adjusted the polaroid filter. I didn’t have one with me but did have my sunglasses’ clip-on, and so I employed it as my filter in this shot. When I finished taking it, I knew I had it. Funny the way that goes sometimes.
Make Me One With Everything
digital print in exhibition 8x10
17 June 2004
This image was taken late afternoon on a trip along the shoreline of the Bay of Fundy with Sandra, a cousin of mine. We were getting a bit peckish and decided to have a fire on the beach and roast some weenies. I was going to call the photo, Weenie On The Shore, but my gal-pal Kate suggested I call it as titled, the punch line to one of my favourite jokes. (“So the Zen monk goes up to the hot dog vendor and says, “Make me one with everything!”)
Campfires on the shore go back to my earliest memories. Sunsets, bonfires, marshmallows, and starry, starry nights. Lost moments found anew.
Some have noted how the shadow on the logs appears to be cast by the weenie. Perhaps that’s what appealed to me about it as well, subconsciously, but I knew I liked the humour inherent in it, and so included it in the show.
The Back Forty
This series of images is of the marshland out back of where I live in Centreville; the so-called ‘back forty’, which is just about how much land is ours out there. It’s called Big Dipper Farm; the place that my family has known as home in the Annapolis Valley since my parents decided to come back from away in 1970. My younger brothers, born in Toronto, grew up there.
I love the marsh and have constructed a makeshift boardwalk out into it (see photograph below, Marsh Walk) so as to better commune with the flora & fauna of the environment there. And it changes daily it seems, with fog or mist over the marsh, the ever-changing colours of the vegetation, the snow falls and the storms. And the trees and flowers are constantly changing as well; blossoming cherries, apples & chestnuts, and a list of wildflowers that I have not yet made. It is breathtaking, to be sure.
The spring chirping of the awakened Peepers is always a treat. The hummingbirds fight off yellow Vireos from what they consider their territory. The Wild Impatiens are abundant out in the marsh amongst the cattails and marsh grasses. Thousands upon thousands of Red Winged Blackbirds congregate in the marsh in the autumn before heading south. There are also eagles, hawks, crows, ducks, pheasants and owls, muskrat, deer, coyote, skunk and raccoon, not to mention the frogs and snakes and multitudes of other critters I haven’t seen that inhabit the area. It has been a blessing to be able to engage this marsh to the extent I have.
This image was taken late afternoon on a trip along the shoreline of the Bay of Fundy with Sandra, a cousin of mine. We were getting a bit peckish and decided to have a fire on the beach and roast some weenies. I was going to call the photo, Weenie On The Shore, but my gal-pal Kate suggested I call it as titled, the punch line to one of my favourite jokes. (“So the Zen monk goes up to the hot dog vendor and says, “Make me one with everything!”)
Campfires on the shore go back to my earliest memories. Sunsets, bonfires, marshmallows, and starry, starry nights. Lost moments found anew.
Some have noted how the shadow on the logs appears to be cast by the weenie. Perhaps that’s what appealed to me about it as well, subconsciously, but I knew I liked the humour inherent in it, and so included it in the show.
The Back Forty
This series of images is of the marshland out back of where I live in Centreville; the so-called ‘back forty’, which is just about how much land is ours out there. It’s called Big Dipper Farm; the place that my family has known as home in the Annapolis Valley since my parents decided to come back from away in 1970. My younger brothers, born in Toronto, grew up there.
I love the marsh and have constructed a makeshift boardwalk out into it (see photograph below, Marsh Walk) so as to better commune with the flora & fauna of the environment there. And it changes daily it seems, with fog or mist over the marsh, the ever-changing colours of the vegetation, the snow falls and the storms. And the trees and flowers are constantly changing as well; blossoming cherries, apples & chestnuts, and a list of wildflowers that I have not yet made. It is breathtaking, to be sure.
The spring chirping of the awakened Peepers is always a treat. The hummingbirds fight off yellow Vireos from what they consider their territory. The Wild Impatiens are abundant out in the marsh amongst the cattails and marsh grasses. Thousands upon thousands of Red Winged Blackbirds congregate in the marsh in the autumn before heading south. There are also eagles, hawks, crows, ducks, pheasants and owls, muskrat, deer, coyote, skunk and raccoon, not to mention the frogs and snakes and multitudes of other critters I haven’t seen that inhabit the area. It has been a blessing to be able to engage this marsh to the extent I have.
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First Snow
digital print in exhibition 8x20
December 2006
There’s poetry in this image for me. It speaks to the uniqueness, the enchantment even, of that day which brings us our first snowfall. The first snow always has an aspect of magic for me, a certain aura that comes only the one time in the season. When it sticks to the limbs and outlines the environment so clearly, it gives a graphic quality to the moment that is almost black & white. Sigh. Were life only this simple all the time.
For what it’s worth, I am not all that enamoured of the other snowfalls that happen through the winter, although there are days when the crispness of the air make our winters totally worthwhile. And I do have a particular fondness for the last snowfall of the year, but am always in anticipation of it, so never get to enjoy it at its actual moment. (Who knows when the last snowfall happens until afterwards, really?)
There’s poetry in this image for me. It speaks to the uniqueness, the enchantment even, of that day which brings us our first snowfall. The first snow always has an aspect of magic for me, a certain aura that comes only the one time in the season. When it sticks to the limbs and outlines the environment so clearly, it gives a graphic quality to the moment that is almost black & white. Sigh. Were life only this simple all the time.
For what it’s worth, I am not all that enamoured of the other snowfalls that happen through the winter, although there are days when the crispness of the air make our winters totally worthwhile. And I do have a particular fondness for the last snowfall of the year, but am always in anticipation of it, so never get to enjoy it at its actual moment. (Who knows when the last snowfall happens until afterwards, really?)
Back Forty-Spring 2006
digital print in exhibition 8x10
Back Forty-Summer 2006
digital print in exhibition 8x10
Back Forty-Fall 2007
digital print in exhibition 8x10
The changing light, leaves and sky keep this view fresh day after day after day. I’ve taken many, many shots of this view. Dozens, perhaps. I try to capture the essence of it, but it keeps evading me. Perhaps that’s a good thing. There’s a peace that pervades the land. And there are birds that pervade the peace. It works for me. Hope it does for you as well.
Eagle & Hawk Watch
digital print in exhibition 16x22
26 January 2008
When I woke up that chilly winter’s morn and looked out the window to check the day; what to my wondering eyes should appear but a Baldheaded eagle and his Red Tail hawk friend. My immediate thought, of course, was “Where’s my camera?!” There was indeed some clatter as I scrambled downstairs to retrieve it—turning it on, running back upstairs while zooming in to the max on the way back up. I walked slowly the last few steps to the window so as to not disturb them, braced the camera against the glass and clicked off a shot. I had a bit more zoom so went in for the next shot. That’s the image I selected to represent this special moment in my life.
A unique opportunity I was fortunate enough to capture, with all the subtleties in the colours of the winter marshland and an intricateness of composition to truly thrill me the first time I blew up the print. A found moment, a magic moment, a moment I had been trying to capture for some time, searching for eagles in the area around where I live. And they brought it to me.
When I woke up that chilly winter’s morn and looked out the window to check the day; what to my wondering eyes should appear but a Baldheaded eagle and his Red Tail hawk friend. My immediate thought, of course, was “Where’s my camera?!” There was indeed some clatter as I scrambled downstairs to retrieve it—turning it on, running back upstairs while zooming in to the max on the way back up. I walked slowly the last few steps to the window so as to not disturb them, braced the camera against the glass and clicked off a shot. I had a bit more zoom so went in for the next shot. That’s the image I selected to represent this special moment in my life.
A unique opportunity I was fortunate enough to capture, with all the subtleties in the colours of the winter marshland and an intricateness of composition to truly thrill me the first time I blew up the print. A found moment, a magic moment, a moment I had been trying to capture for some time, searching for eagles in the area around where I live. And they brought it to me.
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Marsh Walk
digital print in exhibition 8x10
8 June 2007
The walk through the trails in the Back Forty leads down through a poplar grove, then out across a meadow and then through an alder grove before eventually getting to the boardwalk that allows one to walk into the marsh. A morning walk in the mist before it burns off in the morning sun is a particularly rewarding moment in the day.
The walk through the trails in the Back Forty leads down through a poplar grove, then out across a meadow and then through an alder grove before eventually getting to the boardwalk that allows one to walk into the marsh. A morning walk in the mist before it burns off in the morning sun is a particularly rewarding moment in the day.
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Spider Laundry
digital print in exhibition 8x10
27 November 2006
A morning walk into the marsh had me chance upon a phenomenon I wasn’t privy to before in my life. Spiders had hung their silk out through the alder grove on the way to the marsh. It was everywhere, draped from one bush to another, from grasses and shrubs, trees and bushes. It was like they were washing it out before the winter came. I had never seen anything like it. Amy McKay mentions it in her very successful and entertaining book, The Birth House. It is why the titled birth house was built on what was called Spider Hill. I went back into the marsh the next day and there was no evidence—zero— that there had been this carnival of silk drapings all throughout the area.
A morning walk into the marsh had me chance upon a phenomenon I wasn’t privy to before in my life. Spiders had hung their silk out through the alder grove on the way to the marsh. It was everywhere, draped from one bush to another, from grasses and shrubs, trees and bushes. It was like they were washing it out before the winter came. I had never seen anything like it. Amy McKay mentions it in her very successful and entertaining book, The Birth House. It is why the titled birth house was built on what was called Spider Hill. I went back into the marsh the next day and there was no evidence—zero— that there had been this carnival of silk drapings all throughout the area.
SPIRIT DANCER Triptych
digital print in exhibition 35x14
This triptych came together by happenstance in the arranging of some test prints as I was preparing for the exhibit. I was looking at them with my daughter Jessica and my gal Kate and we all agreed that there was an indefinable emotional connection between them. No need to explain, it just was right. I wanted to present the feeling in the exhibit, as I feel strongly that it speaks to the spirit of the area. I was going to frame them all individually and hang them together but decided to present them as seen above. I like the way it works.
Spirit Dancer
digital print in exhibition 10x13
15 September 2006
This image was taken for the 2006 Deep Roots Music Festival that takes place every fall in Wolfville, nearby where I live. The Spirit Dancer is actually talented puppeteer Monika Wildemann rehearsing her act during the Friday afternoon sound check at Acadia’s Convocation Hall. I knew there wasn’t enough light for a sharp picture, and a flash would take away the magic, so I just shot what I could, holding the camera as steady as possible, knowing there was the possibility of a ‘streaked’ shot. I got what I was looking for, completely. A chanced-upon & magical moment.
This image was taken for the 2006 Deep Roots Music Festival that takes place every fall in Wolfville, nearby where I live. The Spirit Dancer is actually talented puppeteer Monika Wildemann rehearsing her act during the Friday afternoon sound check at Acadia’s Convocation Hall. I knew there wasn’t enough light for a sharp picture, and a flash would take away the magic, so I just shot what I could, holding the camera as steady as possible, knowing there was the possibility of a ‘streaked’ shot. I got what I was looking for, completely. A chanced-upon & magical moment.
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Lily Pond (Frog Heaven)
digital print in exhibition 8x10
5 July 2007
A rainy summer’s morning in Kings County. The lilies were blossoming, the light was mysterious and I had the opportunity to stop and shoot the flowers. Life in all its abundance seems to be speaking in this found moment. The willows are so elegant in their lushness.
A rainy summer’s morning in Kings County. The lilies were blossoming, the light was mysterious and I had the opportunity to stop and shoot the flowers. Life in all its abundance seems to be speaking in this found moment. The willows are so elegant in their lushness.
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Spider Web
digital print in exhibition 8x10
7 October 2006
More marsh walk phenomenon. (Did I mention that I really like it back there?) This particular morning there were a number of spider webs presenting themselves to me. The conditions of dew, spiders and light were enough to activate my camera (although, I admit, it doesn’t take a lot to do that!). There’s an element of survival here, perhaps the end of something, but organic, natural, essential. Part of the spirit connection to the other images.
More marsh walk phenomenon. (Did I mention that I really like it back there?) This particular morning there were a number of spider webs presenting themselves to me. The conditions of dew, spiders and light were enough to activate my camera (although, I admit, it doesn’t take a lot to do that!). There’s an element of survival here, perhaps the end of something, but organic, natural, essential. Part of the spirit connection to the other images.
Other Lovely Things I like About Here:
Blomidon Blossoms
digital print in exhibition 16x20
6 June 2004
A classic, oft-sought image of Cape Blomidon at Apple Blossom time. This is taken from my elder friend Phyllis Best’s orchard in the Wellington Dike area, on an evening walk, looking for an opportunity to reflect the moment in a single image. My first summer back from away and I forgot just how lovely it can be here in May and June; the blossoms of so many plants erupting everywhere you turn. From the incredible Chestnut blossoms to the graceful Wisteria draped over an entranceway; from Phlox, Lupins and Daphne to Buttercups, Lilacs and Magnolias, there is a riot of colour all over the Annapolis Valley, and scents of perfume from them wafting through the evening air. A little bit of heaven drifting past our senses.
I should note that I went back to this location this year (2008) to try and recapture this image in a larger digital format. I looked around the orchard, knowing where I had taken the above shot but couldn’t find the right combination of light, blossoms and… well, magic. The chance moment I came upon was found previously but was not to be repeated, as is so often the case with photography. When you see something that moves you, that has the light just right and the moment speaking to you, fire off the shot and capture it while you can.
A classic, oft-sought image of Cape Blomidon at Apple Blossom time. This is taken from my elder friend Phyllis Best’s orchard in the Wellington Dike area, on an evening walk, looking for an opportunity to reflect the moment in a single image. My first summer back from away and I forgot just how lovely it can be here in May and June; the blossoms of so many plants erupting everywhere you turn. From the incredible Chestnut blossoms to the graceful Wisteria draped over an entranceway; from Phlox, Lupins and Daphne to Buttercups, Lilacs and Magnolias, there is a riot of colour all over the Annapolis Valley, and scents of perfume from them wafting through the evening air. A little bit of heaven drifting past our senses.
I should note that I went back to this location this year (2008) to try and recapture this image in a larger digital format. I looked around the orchard, knowing where I had taken the above shot but couldn’t find the right combination of light, blossoms and… well, magic. The chance moment I came upon was found previously but was not to be repeated, as is so often the case with photography. When you see something that moves you, that has the light just right and the moment speaking to you, fire off the shot and capture it while you can.
Huntington Point Cottage #49
digital print in exhibition 16x20
8 June 2008
One day Charlie Macdonald’s grandnephew, Fred Macdonald, alerted me to the apple blossoms on the trees behind the so-called Point Cottage. I went up the next night but the light wasn’t right. The next day I went back in the afternoon with a step ladder to get high enough to get a good shot of the trees in blossom behind the cottage. Perhaps not the found moment I speak of in so many of these photographs, but one that compelled me to go back that evening and take some more, with the cottage bathed in the warm light of the evening sun. They are also quite lovely.
These cottages have always been a part of my life. My parents honeymooned in one of them. My Mom remained friends with Charlie’s wife, Mabel, to the end of her days. Family bonfires or weenie roasts are still commonly held here. My brother Scott proposed to his wife Sharon watching the sun go down beyond the far shore. It has legacy in our families, in our lives. Special moments.
Thank you, Charlie & Mabel!*
*(Note: The Come Back From Away exhibit was initially installed in the Legge Gallery of the Charles Macdonald Concrete House Museum. Proceeds from all of the images involving the Macdonald buildings are given to the Society that manages the museum, plus the Blue Cottage (next to the above cottage). Charlie & Mabel Macdonald built 5 cottages on the shore of Huntington Point in the 1930s. Charlie owned a concrete factory and when times were lean and jobs few & far between, he would take his workers up to the Bay and have them build these cottages, one a year for 5 years. For more information on this intriguing artist, Centreville’s Uncommon Common Man, please go to: http://www.concretehouse.ca/)
One day Charlie Macdonald’s grandnephew, Fred Macdonald, alerted me to the apple blossoms on the trees behind the so-called Point Cottage. I went up the next night but the light wasn’t right. The next day I went back in the afternoon with a step ladder to get high enough to get a good shot of the trees in blossom behind the cottage. Perhaps not the found moment I speak of in so many of these photographs, but one that compelled me to go back that evening and take some more, with the cottage bathed in the warm light of the evening sun. They are also quite lovely.
These cottages have always been a part of my life. My parents honeymooned in one of them. My Mom remained friends with Charlie’s wife, Mabel, to the end of her days. Family bonfires or weenie roasts are still commonly held here. My brother Scott proposed to his wife Sharon watching the sun go down beyond the far shore. It has legacy in our families, in our lives. Special moments.
Thank you, Charlie & Mabel!*
*(Note: The Come Back From Away exhibit was initially installed in the Legge Gallery of the Charles Macdonald Concrete House Museum. Proceeds from all of the images involving the Macdonald buildings are given to the Society that manages the museum, plus the Blue Cottage (next to the above cottage). Charlie & Mabel Macdonald built 5 cottages on the shore of Huntington Point in the 1930s. Charlie owned a concrete factory and when times were lean and jobs few & far between, he would take his workers up to the Bay and have them build these cottages, one a year for 5 years. For more information on this intriguing artist, Centreville’s Uncommon Common Man, please go to: http://www.concretehouse.ca/)
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Wisteria At the Concrete House
digital print in exhibition 8x10
5 June 2006
Charlie and Mabel Macdonald left quite a legacy to the town of Centreville. Roscoe Fillmore, their neighbour to the north of this building, also left his mark. The Wisteria at the front of this yard is just one of the treasures left behind. Fillmore also developed a strain of Rhododendron that proliferates all over the County these days. As well, he wrote 5 books on gardening, the initial one being The Green Thumb, Canada’s first indigenous gardening book. He was the chief gardener at Grand Pre during the 1940s and 1950s.
The Centreville Socialists, as they’ve come to be known; were a group of local residents who thought there could be a better way of living, a more community oriented way of organizing our lives, our communities; of running our government. They were really more communalists than Communists. Apparently the RCMP of the time weren’t so sure about that and had them under frequent surveillance! (There’s more information about these folks on the web site noted above.)
Charlie and Mabel Macdonald left quite a legacy to the town of Centreville. Roscoe Fillmore, their neighbour to the north of this building, also left his mark. The Wisteria at the front of this yard is just one of the treasures left behind. Fillmore also developed a strain of Rhododendron that proliferates all over the County these days. As well, he wrote 5 books on gardening, the initial one being The Green Thumb, Canada’s first indigenous gardening book. He was the chief gardener at Grand Pre during the 1940s and 1950s.
The Centreville Socialists, as they’ve come to be known; were a group of local residents who thought there could be a better way of living, a more community oriented way of organizing our lives, our communities; of running our government. They were really more communalists than Communists. Apparently the RCMP of the time weren’t so sure about that and had them under frequent surveillance! (There’s more information about these folks on the web site noted above.)
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Faerie Mushrooms
digital print in exhibition 8x10
3 October 2007
A trip to the shore with a friend from away, Gracie, took us to the Point Cottage, where there was an eruption of mushrooms happening. The ‘shrooms added to the feeling of the faeries perhaps living there. Many have called them The Faerie Cottages due to the architecture used in their construction. Nowadays people have referred to them as Hobbit Houses. The name may change but the charm remains.
The cottages built up at Huntington Point remain a large part of the legacy Charlie & Mabel left to us. Unfortunately, the first of the units built, The Teapot Cottage, was bulldozed onto the beach in the 1980s. I guess, “one man’s treasure is another man’s trash” applies here. Pity.
A trip to the shore with a friend from away, Gracie, took us to the Point Cottage, where there was an eruption of mushrooms happening. The ‘shrooms added to the feeling of the faeries perhaps living there. Many have called them The Faerie Cottages due to the architecture used in their construction. Nowadays people have referred to them as Hobbit Houses. The name may change but the charm remains.
The cottages built up at Huntington Point remain a large part of the legacy Charlie & Mabel left to us. Unfortunately, the first of the units built, The Teapot Cottage, was bulldozed onto the beach in the 1980s. I guess, “one man’s treasure is another man’s trash” applies here. Pity.
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Jessica — Sheffield Mills (The barn at Jason & Julia’s ranch)
digital print in exhibition 8x10
My daughter, Jessica, has been coming to the Valley since she was 10 months old and loves the area as much as I do. She, like I did as a child before her, “came home” when she traveled here from Edmonton for summers, Christmases, a wedding, birthday or other special family time.
Now she comes down from Montreal to visit me when school’s out. She says wherever I am is home for her. Perhaps, but I also know she is connected to the area just as I am. Uncles, Aunts, cousins, Grandma K and on & on… she has roots here. Family.
Perhaps, as the saying goes, “we can never go home again”, but that is trumped by the “home is where the heart is”. So all you sailors & roamers: Come Back From Away!
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Wonders Never Cease
digital print in exhibition 8x10
5 July 2007
There are not many defining moments in life larger than death. Birth, I suppose, as we do celebrate it annually for one and another. But we are never as conscious of it as we are death—of those we love, and of our own. We love to speak of birth, even rebirth, but no so much of death. Is it just another transition? Do we find greater meaning in life due to the presence of our ultimate demise? Would we find as much value in life were we immortal?
This image was found in an old graveyard on Saxon Street. It is charming in its simplicity, in its age; in the esteemed people that found their last resting place there.
Entrance to this space is not a ‘found moment’, but rather a moment that eventually finds us all.
May we all, eventually, and after enjoying much of this sacred space we transit, find our own peace… and finally, rest.
There are not many defining moments in life larger than death. Birth, I suppose, as we do celebrate it annually for one and another. But we are never as conscious of it as we are death—of those we love, and of our own. We love to speak of birth, even rebirth, but no so much of death. Is it just another transition? Do we find greater meaning in life due to the presence of our ultimate demise? Would we find as much value in life were we immortal?
This image was found in an old graveyard on Saxon Street. It is charming in its simplicity, in its age; in the esteemed people that found their last resting place there.
Entrance to this space is not a ‘found moment’, but rather a moment that eventually finds us all.
May we all, eventually, and after enjoying much of this sacred space we transit, find our own peace… and finally, rest.
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Postscript
Although they have been significantly reduced in size & resolution for placement on this site, I hope they still put across some of the same feeling that you might have experienced if you were at the show in person. Having them printed in large format photographs and put on the wall is an eye-opening experience for me. For others too, apparently
One quote, from local artist and activist, Skip Hambling, said:
"After a lifetime of countless calendars and coffee table books claiming to reveal the beauty of Nova Scotia, I thought I'd seen just about every photographic take there was. Your work is like a breath of bracing fresh air off our Bay of Fundy. It awakens us to another Nova Scotia—the real one.”
Others spoke positively about the narrative approach I took with the blurbs that accompanied the photos, and further adapted for this document. A number of people have told me how much they enjoyed knowing something about the photographs beyond the technical information that accompanies artwork normally. I concur; although the technical information does have relevance to many craftspeople, technicians & artists, for the general viewing public there is a thirst for the stories that accompany the images.
Pat Farrell, artist & carpenter, noted:
“I enjoyed reading the text that accompanied the images. I could hear your voice in them; they were written the way you speak. It made the experience that much more personal for me.”
I hope you have shared this experience, perhaps found a moment to be engaged by the images, perhaps tickled by one or another, or had a sense of wanting to come here, from away, and enjoy the sights, sounds and aromas of the area on a personal basis.
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As far as the technical aspects of the show, a Canon A70, 3-megapixel camera collected all photographs taken between 2003 and 2007. All photos taken after late December 2007 were shot on a Canon SX100, 8-megapixel camera. The show had all the images printed on a satin paper using a digital inkjet printer and mounted on black foam core.
As with many things in life, it’s not the equipment you have, but rather how you use it that matters most.
cheers,
marke slipp
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