Category Archives: Discovery

Thoughts on lessons maybe learned.

31 Thursday Jan 2013

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Arn? Narn. has been out now for nearly four months. It’s been a wonderful period with much to be thankful for. Sales have been good, reviews have been even better, the Newfoundlanders who have seen it seem to like it. It’s all good. I just wanted to take some space on this post to share a few random thoughts in no particular order about what I experienced and expected while doing it.

Red's Lounge 2 Alas, no longer – Red’s Lounge (unpublished from Arn? Narn.)

What we want will never be on our time table. It’ll happen when it happens. Nine years from conception to market would not have been my idea of a good time table. But, it did happen. There are always too many things out of my control.

Gratification can come from the most unexpected place or person and in a most surprising fashion. Always be open to new ideas and experiences.

No matter how good the work is, it can always be better. No matter how bad you think it might be, it is always much better than that. At some point, you will have to let go and launch it.

Do not ever lose sight of your goal. Others may not “get it”. That’s OK. Actually that’s fine. There’s a real satisfaction in proving otherwise.

Be single-minded in your determination to make it happen. Discouragement will happen, probably more than you would like. But be on the lookout for signs. Throughout the process there were several “bites” on the book only to have them back off at some point. I learned from those that the book did indeed have merit. All I needed was fortitude.

Your book is not perfect no matter how hard you worked on it. Your publisher/editor will have ideas that can improve it. Really.

Take immense satisfaction that you will have accomplished what only a small fraction of authors set out to do.

Share freely and openly what you’ve learned with other aspiring authors. Why not?

Be humble, gracious, and thankful.

Start work on your next book as soon as you can.

Write a blog as a journal of your journey. It is a great reference for you and others. It helps keep alive and move the project along until eventual publication. You can build some audience anticipation with it as well.

Keep researching your subject even after the book is done. You will be asked questions that you may not have thought of while writing the book. Stay current. See above photo of Red’s Lounge. I learned only two weeks ago it is no longer open. It was the only bar on the island of Ramea.

Realize that your creativity cannot be turned off or on at will. In those times where nothing seems to come easy, don’t despair. It’s only temporary. And when it does come back and it will, what are a few lost hours of sleep compared to what you’re doing and accomplishing?

And one last note: shortly after my book came out, an acquaintance greeted me with “Well, here’s the author!?” I replied, “Please. An author?” They asked “Are you happy with it?” I, wanting it to have been perfect and seeing faults that no one else could, responded, “No. I wish I could have done it better.” Their reply, “Then you really are an author!” I hate know-it-alls!

Has anyone here ever heard of this new thing called the internet?

18 Thursday Oct 2012

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Shhhh. Put the dog out, the children to bed, lock the doors – I want to talk with you about something really scary. OK? Everyone settled in? Good. Talk quietly ’cause I don’t want this to get out – it could change everything.

There’s this thing called the internet. Some say Al Gore invented it, but I doubt it. Whatever you may think of him, he’s no evil genius because that’s who designed this thing. It’s everywhere! It’s on your computer, your phone, your iPad, your TV even. I think the world actually lives within the internet. When did this all happen?

The father of the internet?

OK, that’s a bit over the top, right? But the ubiquity of it is amazing and the speed in which things get up and around is truly astonishing. Now we all know this of course, but when it applies to you or something you’ve done or involved with, it can be a little breathtaking.

This morning I checked my e-mail as I usually do before heading out and found a Google alert for my book, Arn? Narn. That’s a good thing. I’ve had alerts before and they were usually not of the surprising kind. This one was.

It was another review. But this one was on Amazon. And happily like the others already received, it was a very positive one. That’s four for four! It’s making me think that even with my manifold doubts and frustrations, I might have really known what I was doing all along with this book. Go figure that one out.

So my meteoric rise to fame had begun. Before long, I’ll probably start issuing impossible demands of those around me. Only red M&M’s, puh-leeze! No, that is not the best table in the house! Waiter, this wine is… yeah, yeah, yeah.

They ARE rather tasty.

Well, yeah, right. Just wait until a lesser review comes in. It’ll be back to drinking Yellow Tail and shopping at Target! Fame is such a fickle thing.

Inconceivable!

08 Monday Oct 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Movies

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Last week, I wrote about going digital with an online webinar. Yet I honestly had no idea of the speed in which things can occur on the net. Yes, I knew all about things going viral virtually overnight, but when it starts to happen to you, it’s a whole new ball game. This is how it feels.

Arn? Narn., my photo-documentary book on disappearing rural Newfoundland, has not gone viral. Nor do I expect it to. I also did not expect to see it mentioned online so quickly. After all, it was only released one week ago.

Because of the book’s release, and having a surplus of time on my hands like so many others before me, I Googled my name. No surprise that I found the usual links to it. What I did find surprised the hell out of me.

I learned that Barnes and Noble has it! So I salute Mr. Barnes and Ms. Noble, or is it the other way around?, on their impeccable good taste. The mighty Amazon has it as well! These were the first things I discovered. So, as I wrote in an earlier post, if you buy only one photography book about disappearing rural Newfoundland this year, please make sure it’s this one.

The next discovery really blew me away. Arn? Narn. has already been reviewed a few times. And they were more than positive. It’s like your child made the Honor Roll and you didn’t even know they were doing their homework! What makes this even more impressive (to me at least) is that the PR campaign has not yet even started! To quote the movie “The Princess Bride“, Inconceivable!

When all of that is coupled with the response from my radio interview a week earlier, inconceivable certainly applies. Amazing.

So, is this beginning of a new media darling? Hardly. It does point out that the old ways of marketing a book, or anything else for that matter, have changed. This too is not big news. Unless it’s happening to you. So, it’ll be interesting to see where this part of the journey goes. Stay tuned.

Will you go to the prom with me? Please. Please? Will you? Will you? Huh? Huh?

10 Monday Sep 2012

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Movies are filled with characters/nerds, who while they do eventually win out and get the girl, are frustrated by their lack of luck and the seemingly good fortune that befalls the good-lucking, letter-wearing, hardly-working-at-it-at-all, all purpose jock. Fairness does not enter into this discussion. Life is what it will be.

Persistence is their only weapon. And like the steady drip of water on a seemingly impenetrable surface, over time the small, nagging drops of water have their way. After time, the nerds do prevail. They do get to go to the prom. And sometimes they create things like Apple, so there is hope after all.

Persistence.

So it is with creating a book. Getting a date for the prom is akin, but on a much smaller playing field, to finding a publisher for your book. And even when that does happen, you’re not certain what kind of corsage to get or if you’ll even get a kiss goodnight. Ah, desperation!

So… you lucky guy, you’ve got a date for the prom (read this as publisher). There is so much preparation besides taking a shower and throwing on some Axe cologne. There is planning – dinner before or after?; get a limo or take the pickup truck; get a room (this is the 21st century after all, right?); and all that other stuff for which no one has prepared you.

That’s what it’s like. There is much editing to do of your seemingly “perfect” book. Then there’s the layout. Next comes proofing the galleys. More editing. Proofing again and looking at preview copies. With a photography book, the right paper has top be chosen along with a printer who understands what the images are supposed to look like. Proofing again, but now with image correction and printing adjustments. Oh, did I forget to mention this is all done on a predetermined budget?

Bringing a book to market is a daunting task. Bringing a photography book to market is even more so. Couple all of that with the PR aspect of promotion and such, and it might make one think, “Hmmm, that root canal is starting to look awfully good right about now.”

So that’s where I am now: standing at my date’s door, corsage in hand, breath mints swallowed, dowsed in cologne, waiting with expectation that she will indeed be there on the other side of the door when it opens. Ready with the corsage.

We don’t know what to expect but we’re optimistic. It’s not too unlike the line from Mel Brook’s movie, The Twelve Chairs: “Hope for the best, expect the worse.” Hmmm.

L’il ol’ stealth me.

30 Thursday Aug 2012

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For lo’ these many years, I’ve been able to get by under the radar. That is truly one of the joys of being a photographer. I get to witness and by that, vicariously (I guess), experience a whole host of things without being the subject of them. That is the wonderful and safe anonymity of being behind the camera instead of in front of it. That’s all about to change. What was I thinking?

This is what I thought I was like.

Gone will be the security of my camera. Every photographer knows they’re invincible with the camera in front of them. Done well, invisible too. We are not to be the subject, that’s not our job. But here I find myself ready to go “public” and not in the stock offering sort of way. That would depress the market so it might never recover. No, I am going to have to go out into that cold and unfriendly world in the harsh, unforgiving light of the day and make nice. I fear a Sally Fields kind of response, “You like me, you really like me!” Ugh.

“They like me…”

So no more faceless person in the crowd. I’m outing myself. “Hi, I’m Bruce and I’m a photographer. I haven’t taken a picture in four days. Please, hold your applause.” I don’t know how to do this. I never even gave this stuff any thought when I was up in Newfoundland shooting Arn? Narn. Nothing prepares you for the event of your first book getting published.

So, I’m reading a lot and getting into this much later than I would have liked – ahh, the joys of ignorance. I now have to give up what passed for anonymity and become somewhat public. Is that like a little pregnant?

So over the next few posts, I’ll be writing about the conundrum of nominal “fame” and how one who is uniquely unqualified for it, deals with it. Bring candy, popcorn, and tissues. The candy and popcorn are for you, the tissues, well…..

And now with more brighteners!

23 Thursday Aug 2012

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Every day, every thing we do as humans is a transaction of some kind. Oftentimes, it involves convincing another to come around to your way of thinking; or to do something they might not have considered previously; or buy something you’re selling. Yes, that’s right, we are all involved in sales in one fashion or another. Sort of like dating but without the good night kiss.

The car salesman has a deal for you you won’t believe. Oh, yeah, right. Politicians: vote for me and all your problems will go away. Clergy: listen to me and your problems won’t be so bad. On and on. Everyone wants to sell you something. Everything is a product. And everything is for sale.

Mm-hmmm. (carterbankandtrust.com)

And now, I am too. I’ve got to look at my book and me by extension as a product that needs to come to market. Will I be able to make your problems go away? Unlikely. Will I be able to make your problems less difficult? Highly unlikely. Can I make your teeth brighter? No. But can I tell you about a problem that’s likely to affect the world in which we live? Yes. But I’m going to have to first convince those people who will loan me their soapbox to do so.

All of this is a way of saying I’m getting a first-hand education on the wonderful world of PR. Superficially, PR is very similar to advertising yet very different. However, with PR, it’s up to someone else as to whether or not they find your story compelling enough to give it time and/or space. So it better be good.

Consequently, I now see myself and Arn? Narn. as product. How do I want to be packaged? How do I need to marketed? Now with More Brighteners! From the people I’ve spoken to, it seems like I’ll have to position myself as an expert on this subject. What that means is I’ll have to bring myself up-to-date on what’s going on in Newfoundland (done), do more research on related issues and their implications (yet to do), and learn how to be an effective media presence (easier said than done).

The easiest way to do this is to engage a PR agent. Again, easier said than done. Each one of them has a field of expertise that serves them and their clients well. The task here, if I choose to go that route, is to find one who understands the book industry. This alone will make the job that much easier with much less wasted time and effort. As the publication date is a mere 6 weeks away, this decision has to be determined in a day or two.

Finding the right agent is like blind dating. You meet with them, see if there is any chemistry or connection, and possibly go from there. If it’s not right, then at least you had a cup of coffee. And once you make that decision, it’s probably not a good thing to change horses in mid-stream if you find yourself mismatched. So, you need to be judicious with your choice. After all, you will no longer be a private citizen… you’ll now be soap and with more brighteners!

Not a self-portrait. (flickr.com)

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Are you sure Shakespeare started this way?

16 Thursday Aug 2012

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Back in the old Bard’s day, getting published was probably not the issue it is today. He probably didn’t even have the competition that new authors do today as well. And it certainly didn’t hurt that he was pretty good with words.

The Bard himself (twitter.com)

Old Will may have sent out book queries and copies of his manuscript before he struck paydirt. OK, me too. He probably had to do any number of edits and changes before the book was ready for the finality of the printers ink. Me too. He wrote plays and sonnets. Me, not really, just Arn? Narn.

But I would be willing to bet, I could be wrong here, that he did not have to make a media kit and a video book trailer. Of course not, they didn’t even have electricity in his day. Hell, they didn’t have anything that remotely resembled media unless you count the Town Crier and who knows if he was fair and balanced too.

Getting a book published today is a multi-level affair. Getting a publisher interested in your book is the first albeit most important part of the process. but it doesn’t end there. Unless you’re John Grisham, it’s not likely a publisher will put a lot behind marketing your book, especially if you’re a first time author. All of that good stuff falls to you.

Where to start? Even if you’re going to use a PR agency, it helps to build a media hit list. If your book is of a specialized nature, the agency will appreciate this identification. Who are the media people you want to reach? Once you reach them, then what? With all the competition out there for people’s attention, you’ve got to tell a compelling story. And while your book may be the Great American Novel, no one is expecting it. It’s up to you (or me in this case) to beat this drum and as many others you can get your drumsticks on.

So even at this point, I’ve not yet decided which direction to go in – agency or not – there is still work I have to and can do. This is getting more and more interesting and exciting and I can’t wait to see where it’s going to go. Stay tuned.

Be sure to check out the video book trailer for Arn? Narn. on YouTube. Just type in the book title in the search bar.

Dammit Jim, I’m a photographer, not a film maker!

13 Monday Aug 2012

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The days of placing some ads in newspapers to herald the arrival of your book are mostly in the past. Of course that would be part of your marketing campaign today, but only a small part. The internet has changed all that. This blog is proof of that. This should be the very first thing you do in marketing your book. And start early to help build buzz.

But other blogs are also targets for a marketing plan. If you can get them talking about your book, then you’re widening your audience immeasurably and that’s a very good thing.

G-Rated. (spinstheworld.com)

A relatively new wrinkle is the video book trailer. Essentially, this is like the coming attractions part of going to the movies. But without the popcorn and sticky floors. But these are not just born out of thin air. A shooting script has to be written, graphics have to be developed, content must be chosen, voice-over talent and music needs to be selected, and the whole thing should be thematically related to the actual book. Oh, and get a YouTube account for this will be the first place it goes up on. While there are some wonderful programs out there where you can put together a trailer on your own, using a studio will give you a much better end-product. This is the direction I took.

So while yes, I am a photographer, I know next to nothing about video production. It’s sort of like Dr. Coy on the old Star Trek Show. “Dammit Jim, I’m a photographer…” I’m not a film-maker. I did know that I needed a script, graphics, theme, and voice talent. Happily, I also knew some first rate studio people and that was a great help. So into the studio to create my mini-version of a Jerry Bruckheimer film – not really, there were no explosions and no Shia LeBoeuf either. But it was a revelation.

Dammit, Jim…(empireonline.com)

Not surprisingly, there is a profound difference between motion and still photography in emotional content. Marry the two and it’s a whole other ballgame. Ken Burns displayed that tremendously in his ground-breaking The Civil War documentary. And that’s what we did with Arn? Narn. With voice-over, editing, music, graphics et al, Arn? Narn. shows another side of itself entirely, not ground-breaking, but very well done if I do say so myself. If you’re interested, it’s now up on YouTube. Just type in my name in the search bar, Bruce Meisterman, and then click on the Arn? Narn. image on the left. Hope you enjoy it.

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I’m late, I’m late (as are all of us), for a very important date.

09 Thursday Aug 2012

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As Arn? Narn. gets closer to its publication date, things are starting to speed up. So much so that it sometime feels like I’m Alice falling through the Looking Glass. There is a laundry list of things to do that keeps getting longer despite completing those very things on it. Wait, I think I just saw a rabbit clamber down a hole! It’s getting that crazy, but in a good way.

(dudelol.com)

Nothing has prepared me for the work that needs to be done prior to publication. Being a photographer has provided me with great exposure (no pun intended) to the advertising arena as well as working in it. That part’s a snap. PR on the other hand…well, it IS on the other hand. And these two hands don’t necessarily work in concert as anyone who has heard me attempt to play the piano will attest.

No, PR is not something with which I’ve had a lot of experience. Lest you think it’s no more than some flack spinning an improbable story about Lindsay Lohan, it’s way more than that. PR is responsible for all those guests on the talk show circuit hawking their latest CD/book/movie/show to us. And now I’m about to throw in with them.

Oh, boy. (wrhrscholars.org)

There will be no stories of me canoodling with the latest starlet of the moment (at least I don’t think so.) Nor will there be paparazzi following my every move. What hopefully will happen is an increased awareness of Arn? Narn. and the story it tells. This is an instance where commerce meets reality and sometimes, unfortunately, that’s the only way a story gets to be told. And while this is certainly not my story, I am the one telling it. Arn? Narn. is, besides a photo-documentary book, a cautionary tale that has global implications beyond its subject, Newfoundland. What has happened in Newfoundland will be occurring with increasing frequency all over the planet.

To date, I’ve lined up a couple of radio interviews, a book-signing, and will be a featured author at the Southern Festival of Books in Nashville in early October. Hopefully that is just the start.

But as the headline of this post states, “I’m late…” It’s a play on words. I’m late to this and getting later as the publication date is coming up rapidly is one meaning. The other is: it’s later than we think about our planet as well. There is still time to do something positive and long-lasting. Politics be damned, we just have to do it.

Menage a Wha?

06 Monday Aug 2012

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(Warning: content addresses adult themes – not really – and no bad photos.)

It’s not like that all. We are still together and in love with each other, still! But for the previous three years, I’d been carrying on an affair, right out in the open, thank you very much, and I was still happily married.

For those out there with some prurient interest in where this is going, check out another blog. It’s not like that at all. I’d fallen in love with Newfoundland the moment I stepped off the plane to start the photography on what was to become Arn? Narn. I carried on this affair in front of my long-suffering wife, subjecting her to stories of wonderful people, incredible land, beautiful seas, marvelous skies, great music, etc. and still she didn’t kick me to the curb. No doubt there were times she probably wanted to, but discretion and propriety saved the day, for me at least.

What’s not to love? (citypictures.net)

This was not your typical sleazy affair. There was no other woman. There was just this land to which I felt strongly attracted. If Newfoundland had been a person, yes, damn straight, I would have moved right in. I still feel that way. Yet, I loved (and still do) my wife. I won’t leave her, but I just might take her with me! Yeah, it’s that cool and my wife is down with that.

So, now as I drive Carla around the province, meeting and talking with locals, even dancing, kicking back to a new, slower tempo, she’s getting it. The land and sea are beginning to speak to her and she is responding. It’s now beginning to make sense. Earlier in this blog, I wrote about Gerard saying Newfoundland was “The Land of Low Anxiety.” It seeps into you. You know in your bones, your soul, it’s right. And now, so does Carla.

Low anxiety indeed! (citypictures.org)

We fantasize about moving up there. We even casually look at real estate. Financially, it’s in our reach, but if it were to happen, it wouldn’t be in the near future, no, no, not the short term. It’s a dream at this point.

She has met my “mistress” and realized it is not a competition. It is meant for us both to share. And we’re just starting.

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In which I get it right.

02 Thursday Aug 2012

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As I wrote earlier, when we were sitting in the airport, my lovely bride happened upon a postcard for a perfectly wonderful B&B. And as I wrote, I through my infinite wisdom had booked us for three nights in this wonderful place. Am I good or what?

We are now on our way to this wonderful Newfoundland version of Brigadoon, but without bagpipes. Since we are departing from the southern tip of the Avalon Peninsula and driving up to Port Rexton near Trinity, about 260 miles. Not a bad drive, 4-5 hours with stops especially if we can find a Tim Horton’s.

Typical Newfoundland bog. (eoearth.org.)

Newfoundland has been settled almost exclusively on the coast line. It is a very big coast. As we drive from Burin north, we travel mostly inland. Lots of bogs, ponds, no moose sightings, and lots of rocks and birch trees. Since everything revolved around fishing, there is hardly anything resembling a town. This is not to say no one lives out there. We pass small enclaves of homes along the way. Just what they do for employment is something we haven’t been able to determine. Still, I wouldn’t mind living there either.

As we head towards that days destination, we start to see more small towns. They are different from the outports since they are still a ways inland from the water. But it lets us know we’re almost there. And then we crest a hill and a sign for our destination appears. Hot damn! This is where I really start to look like I know what I’m doing on this trip. Fisher’s Loft is even better in real life than the beautiful image on their postcard. The views are spectacular and it’s getting on towards dinner.

We check in to our room (it’s a suite!) with an incredible vista of the bay with some small islands in it. In the distant is a fog partially covering a small mountain/hill(?) – beautiful whatever its nomenclature. We clean up and go downstairs to enjoy a drink on the front porch of the main building. At the bar is a picture of Kevin Spacey and the entire crew of the film The Shipping News. They stayed there. Oh, yes, this is getting better by the minute.

Fisher’s Loft (been-seen.com)

We finish our drinks and head into the dining room. OK, this is getting ridiculous. The dining room is decorated beautifully with hand-made furniture from a local craftsman. His furniture also occupies our room. Wait, it gets even better.

The menus arrive and this is foodie heaven. And locavore heaven. They grow all their own produce. And wine heaven. Oh hell, it’s just heaven! And this is just dinner! We almost can’t wait for breakfast. The food is marvelous.

Breakfast doesn’t disappoint – along with regular fare, there are fresh pastries from the oven and partridgeberry jam. I wrote about partridgeberry jam in an earlier post, but it bears repeating. This jam is incredible.

I don’t want to leave. I wonder if they need a groundskeeper!

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A baby takes nine months; a book – maybe nine years!

01 Wednesday Aug 2012

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All the good stuff that goes into conceiving a child is great. It’s the fodder of legends, songs, stories, movies, and art. And it only takes nine months. Then the hard work begins, years of being a parent which never really end even when they’re grown and move out. Nine months to the start and years to the conclusion.

Ah, but a book? If you’re writing about a topical event, it’s amazing how quickly such a tome can be brought to market. Breathtakingly fast. It was that way even before all the technological advances we enjoy today occurred. Now it seems like they spring up as fast as mushrooms after a summer rain.

However, if it’s a novel, an art book, educational, whatever, the gestation period can be agonizingly long. And that’s just to finish it. Someone has to publish it. If not you, who then?

The idea for my book Arn? Narn. was conceived in 2003. I spent a year researching Newfoundland, the type of clothes I would need when up there (in winter!), a camera bag that would hold all my equipment and still fit in the overhead bin of a plane, flights and car rentals, creating an itinerary around this very large island (thank God for the help of soon-to-be Newfoundland friends), and blah, blah, blah, so much more.

Newfoundland. (heritage.nf.ca)

Finally a year later, I was ready to go up there and start photographing. It was an incredible two weeks. Traveling alone as a stranger in a strange but wonderful land was transformative. The work I did while there would keep me busy for many months.

As so often happens, what I photographed was what I wanted but sadly not what I needed. There was a story here that had to be told and this wasn’t it. So unhappily biting the bullet (oh, poor, poor, pitiful me), I went back up again one year later.

For three weeks this time, I again traveled alone throughout the province and did find the story that I knew had to be there. Now it all made sense. I could happily go home with the material I needed to do this properly.

So for the next two years, I worked in the darkroom producing the prints that would eventually become this book. I would spend more hours doing that than I had spent in five weeks in Newfoundland. I also had to write the narrative explaining what one would be seeing when they held in their hands Arn? Narn. That was to be one of the hardest parts of this whole project.

So, now four years after the idea was born, it was more or less completed. I went back up a third time, but with my wife with me. Check out some of the previous posts for that visit. I did photograph (hell, my wife took more pictures than me!), but I had all I needed for the book, so nothing was added from that trip. What I did need though was an agent or a publisher.

Finding that would take four more years. In that time, much was learned about this process so that the next book should not take quite as long. Now, just weeks away from publication, Arn? Narn.will be nine years in the making. That’s 63 in dog years!

Throughout those years, it has been a period of hope, expectations, disappointments, learning, hard work beyond the actual production of the book, and joy. This book, this baby of mine, will come into the world on October 1, 2012. Please join me in welcoming it.

We drive around, eat some fish, listen to music, talk to Newfoundlanders, and go to a dance.

30 Monday Jul 2012

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With bellies full and hearts settled, we set out to explore. We have a map but plan on using it only if we get lost. If you know where you are in relation to the sea, you should be alright. That was our plan and we stuck to it.

We visited some antique shops in Burin and were able to get a small but nice sense of their history. Like all of Newfoundland, it was informed by fishing. And the articles in the shop reflected that: old prints of boats and fish, compasses and sextants, posters and signs from another era, hosted by a typically wonderful and friendly Newfoundlander.

Across the street was a small museum, the Burin Heritage Museum which of course we had to see. In it were displays of indigenous wildlife, a photo gallery of the 1929 tidal wave that created an incredible amount of damage, architectural records, local ceramics, histories including those of Burin’s involvement in WWII, clothes, and folk art. It was amazing how much that rather small house held.

Burin Heritage Museum                  (townof burin.com)

After that it was time for lunch. Options were limited but a restaurant was right across the street so off we went. Burin is small, it seems as if everything is right across the street. We chowed down and headed out once more.

While walking around, we found this beautiful wooden bay walk that took us almost around the entire bay. We watched while a local fisherman/artist painted a mural on the side of a meeting hall. He invited us into the hall to see more of his work. They were wall size murals and quite good in a folk art fashion, but sadly too big to take home though. He told us he had to finish it quickly as there was a dance there that evening. Everyone has a great time and we should come. Yes, they ARE that friendly to strangers. We didn’t want to commit, but told him we would try. We would. We did.

Burin bay walk. (panaramio.com)

Newfoundland dances are like no other I’ve been to. They are truly egalitarian: all ages, all occupations, no pretense. They are there for one reason – to have fun. And do they ever. Anyone can get up and sing, anyone can join the band, and everyone dances with everyone. It is a remarkable experience.

If you’re not dancing, singing, or playing an instrument, you’re at a table discussing your entire life story with complete strangers, except they’re really not strangers any longer. That is Newfoundland. You’re a stranger for no more than a few minutes.

Many of the people there are older. If you get to sit with them, prepare to share your medical history with them. That noted, it may say something about the Canadian health system that so many of them are elderly and still kicking up their heels. Or they’re just happy to be living in Newfoundland. And that last statement is fact. They do love Newfoundland.

Over the course of my trips up there, I have heard the same refrain repeated time and time again. “I moved away, but had to come back. This is home.” Or some such variation. What makes this all the more significant and poignant, is Newfoundlanders want to come back even if there is no fishing any longer. It is home, their home and they love it. How many of us can say that about where we live? And how many of us dance there?

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Watching the fog roll around and drinking wine.

26 Thursday Jul 2012

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After the initial concussion of our cottage by the bay, Carla and I are acting like we live there. We could do this – downsize and do it here. We don’t need all: the clothes, furniture, tchotchkes, appliances, whatever that we have. This is life simplified. This is life without pretense, life without malls, life without Walmart. This is good.

We go to the general store up the road for all the immediate essentials we need. We get to know the shopkeeper by name. That’s easy – this is Newfoundland after all. How many times have I said that? But it’s true. We chat daily and she shares with us her nephew is in a band (all teenagers) and we ought to buy their new CD. We do. It’s really good! No, it’s very good. The group is called Eventide and they’ve recorded a number of traditional Newfoundland folk songs. We play it a lot. Even the record store in St. John’s carries it. How cool is that?

Eventide CD (freds.nf.net)

Newfoundland doesn’t have some of the hangups the US does. Admittedly, there are some states which are more liberal than others, but I’m not talking politically. I’m talking about what are reasonable expectations. If you want to buy hard liquor along with wine and beer, go to the government store for the best selection. If you just want to buy some beer or some wine, hell, then just go to the general store and get some. What’s the big deal?

It was no big deal. It was late in the afternoon, we had done about as much traveling as we wanted to, so off to the general store and pick up a bottle or two of wine. If you’re a practicing locavore, try the Canadian Jackson Trigg wine, it’s surprisingly good and affordable. So we did. Or if you’re into beer, Quidi Vidi brewery out of St. John ‘s makes some mighty fine brews. Yes, I can attest to imbibing both of those.

Oh, yeah, good stuff. (signalblog.ca)

With our larder thus and properly stocked, we went home. It was just as well. It was getting on to dusk and a fog was rolling in. Time to get out on the porch, crack open a bottle of wine, sit back, listen to the waves, watch the fog make everything look mysterious and romantic at the same time and very much alive.

Yes, life is good.

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It brought her to tears…the fourth note.

09 Monday Jul 2012

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Art is arguably a singular endeavor. The writer and painter, poet and dancer, composer and photographer, sculptor and weaver, almost always do it in solitary. There are, no doubt, studies of this peculiar trait inherent in the creative class. It goes beyond right brain, left brain. It is a need which manifests itself in the doing, the creating of our work by ourselves. This does unfortunately create times when we are removed from the everyday. We then reside in our own sphere of thought, often ignorant of the times and people around us. Admittedly, this is not very fair to them.

Georgia O’Keefe – singularly. (peggyoberlininteriors.com)

We may have a vision of where we would like to go. We will also need to be open to wherever that may take us. However, it takes us there alone. And while we see what is happening, those around us are often confused and skeptical, almost unsupportive. They do not, cannot, at that time, see what it is we see. That too is unfortunate. Sharing the bits and pieces already completed doesn’t really shed much light either.

Only when it is done, can it hopefully make sense to those not directly involved. In the creating, the parts individually do not add up to any recognizable sum. Consider Beethoven’s Fifth as a prime example of this. The first four notes are instantly identifiable. If he had stopped at three notes, it would not be very recognizable. It had to be complete. And so it is with our art. It has to be complete for it to make sense.

All four notes. (tuckerellis.com)

So as I printed and printed the photographs for “Arn? Narn.”, except for me, they made very little sense to others. Where was that fourth note? Was there a fourth note?

Fast forward a year or two later to an evening after my wife had returned from a powerfully emotional yet fulfilling trip. We sat down to catch up on each others work and activities during her absence. I was in the darkroom almost all of the time she was away. She had gone down to help in New Orleans after Katrina and came back moved, vulnerable, and a little raw. She shared with me her experiences, her thoughts, and what that tragedy looked like to her. How could she have returned any other way? We talked for quite some time about that.

She then wanted to know what I had been up to in that time. I told her I’d been in the darkroom almost exclusively and had finished the printing of the photographs for “Arn? Narn.”, would she like to see them? Yes.

I brought out the box of the 200+ photographs and gave them to her with the explanation they were as yet unedited and not in any proper sequence and then waited in silence. She looked at each one thoughtfully, pausing on some longer than others, making soft sounds of understanding. Her response was all I could have hoped for…they brought her to tears. I had found the fourth note.

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Musings on the road(s) taken and not taken.

29 Tuesday May 2012

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  HOW DID I GET HERE? (the halfofit.blogspot.com)

Up until this point, the arnnarn.com blog, has been a pretty straight path from beginning to where it is today. But, in reality like any other journey, it has not been a straight track. As such, this entry will be a little off the familiar and beaten path.

Like many others including David Byrne (above), this is not where I thought I would be. Had different roads been chosen, who knows what the outcome might have been. I think it’s fairly safe to say I would not have been photographing and writing about Newfoundland had I traveled one of those other roads. I think.

When I look back on the roads I did take and where they took me, I’m amazed how everything came together to bring me to this point. Leaving New Jersey for Vermont. Hmm. Not exactly a straight line to Newfoundland but definitely in the right geographic direction. However, Newfoundland was not anywhere in my conscious thought much less my sub-conscious mind. So that was just a move on my personal chess board to something at sometime which would eventually, hopefully pass for maturity.

Vermont (could’ve gone to Oregon while there, but that’s another story for a night over drinks. I’ll buy the first round.) to upstate New York. Big change in every way possible. New York to mid-Atlantic states (could’ve gone to California; well actually I did but didn’t like it much). Just weird. Then back to New England because of a major life passage – thank you Gail Sheehy!. Then to the South. So, roads taken and not taken.

But Newfoundland? Really? At that point, the only frame of reference I had was the book “The Shipping News” by Annie Proulx. Wonderful book, but igniting any interest? Nah. The movie of the same book put a face on it and I did like what I saw. But I’m a sucker for snow covered mountains, plains, anything. So, nope on that as well.

It was the major life change that opened the possibility of really doing something significant, at least for me. And that was to start something, take a leap of faith in one’s self, get off my butt, pick up the cameras, and shoot something! That was my beautiful wife in my beautiful home telling me to start something…etc.!

And I did. And it’s almost ready. Approximately four months from now, “Arn? Narn.” will be published and you’ll see why and what I got off my butt to do. But this, like everything else we do, is still on the road to where it’ll eventually wind up. Until then, I going to try and stay off my butt. Do the same.

I suck at math.

24 Thursday May 2012

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Frustrations taken out on an innocent calculator. Do not try this at home!

Math was never a strong suit of mine. Hell, why should it be? I’m right-brained and proud of it! Let someone else with a pocket protector do that work – Hey, I’m busy creating here! And truthfully and thankfully, there are people who can and do do that work well. If not, this book might never have happened. Never ask or trust a creative-type to do a business plan. You’ll be rewarded with a mildly bemused blank stare and a “Sure? Uhhh, you want fries with that?”

If it were up to us (creative-types), money, materials, time, balancing checkbooks, travel, all that stuff that requires some sort of record keeping would be unnecessary. Our tax returns of course might be of the same imaginative and fictional quality that landed Al Capone in jail, Jack Abramoff in jail and now on TV (Hmmm, maybe crime DOES pay!), and a whole host of others who regularly deal in financial fiction writing (Goldman Sachs, Lehman Bros., JP Chase Morgan, – you get the idea).

All of that stated, I did keep some numbers just out of some sort of OCD notion that once published, it might be fun to know what built this Cabbage Patch doll idea of mine. In a Donald Trumpian world, that translates to nothing spells success like excess.

For instance, in photographing “Arn? Narn.”,  I drove over 7,500 miles across Newfoundland. That’s equal to going back and forth across the US approximately 2.5 times. The good news is that I didn’t see a Newfoundland version of the Cadillac Ranch Art installation in Amarillo. There must be a god!

The Cadillac Ranch. This is not Newfoundland!

I shot nearly 200 roles of film. And I remember every single shot! Well, maybe not every one.

I used over 2,500 sheets of photographic printing paper to get to the final images used in the book. I can’t even begin to tell you how many hours that took. I told you I suck at math and record-keeping!

 I, like George Washington the illustrious Father of Our Country, slept around. I stayed in at least a dozen different places (and paid the bill every time) though no one left signs commemorating my short residences.

I sampled every beer (7-12 depending on what you count as true Newfoundland brew. Brewfoundland?) made in Newfoundland. Yum! I sampled vodka made in Newfoundland from icebergs. Not so yum. I’m a wuss. So what?

I ate countless packages of chocolate covered crackers along the way. An army does travel on its stomach and mine was now a bit larger for those travels. No, I didn’t measure it as part of my record keeping.

And as far as playing Newfoundland (diddly) music incessantly? Yes, guilty as charged and I lost count of the number of Newfoundland music CDs purchased.

Boring anyone who came near me to tears by recounting the wonders of Newfoundland. Yeah, very guilty. Again, a countless number.

Driving my wife crazy about how crazy I was and am about Newfoundland I was? This spans years! So, why don’t you just lock me up and throw away the key? Better yet, solitary confinement: that way no one else will have to listen to me prattling on about Newfoundland pr playing its music continuously. Or just ship me off up there and we’ll both be happy! Well, I apologize. Profusely. (Just not very sincerely.) It’s not my fault you didn’t come with me!

So, after all of this – do the numbers add up? Damned if I know. I’m looking for my next score on chocolate covered crackers. Hey buddy? Wanna help a brother out?

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Revisiting Granny.

14 Monday May 2012

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I find myself thinking of a now-friend, but initially just an Newfoundland craftsman I met on my first trip up there. He is older now, 91, and isn’t turning bowls and such any longer. In an e-mail I’ve received from him recently, he states that his “Dr. advised (him) to leave off or I may find myself being spun on the lathe. Good advice I guess.” Yes, very! Bren is still with us as well as his work. We are grateful for both.

Bren was one of the first people who befriended me in Newfoundland. While this is certainly not unusual up there, friends are made easily, we have remained in touch since my travels. I think about him often, especially as I see his craft work, really art work, around our house. It never ceases to bring a smile to my face.

I wrote about Bren back in late November, 2012 and felt since my most recent correspondence with him, it was appropriate to update that posting with some additions.

Granny’s well turnings.

The sign said “Granny’s Well Turnings and Handcrafted Gifts.” So that was two more things I thought I needed to do: find out what a well turning was and meet Granny. Neither was what I thought and neither disappointed.

It was good to get out of the car and stretch my legs. Walking up to the house I was greeted by an elderly and dignified man, Bren, in work clothes. We exchanged greetings and introductions. He said I was the first one of the year. Anywhere else, I would have thought this to be the opening line in a bad horror movie in its undertones. Here it meant I was the first tourist of the year. Not surprising as it was still winter and most visitors wisely wait until the weather is a bit more clement.

He invited me into his house. Bren said he would have to get his wares out of the closet where they’d been stored in the off-season. We walked through his workshop where on the floor, all over in heaps and piles, were unfinished bowls and spindles and trinket boxes curing and drying before he could finish them. They came from burls he’d taken off trees. He said it was several years worth of work to do. (I did say he was elderly, didn’t I?)

Bren was and is your typical Newfoundlander – practical, unpretentious to a fault, funny, and most welcoming. And his work was beautiful. We talked some more; he wanted to know what I was doing up in Newfoundland and if I liked what I had seen. Oh, yes, I said. I loved it. I told him I was photographing rural Newfoundland and where I was off to next. He asked me to come visit with him again if I would be back that way when I returned to St. John’s, a couple of hours away. I told him I would try and get down to see him again. I would.

I did see Bren again that trip prior to departing. He asked me about my flight information and when I was leaving. I told him and asked why. He said I should have a proper send-off. So I find myself at the airport ticket line for a 7:30 AM departure. It’s probably around 6:15 when I hear my name being called. I turn around and it’s Bren! Proper send-off indeed. What makes this all the more remarkable is that Bren lives at least two hours from the airport. At least! Proper sendoff? You better believe it!

Little did I know at the time, but it would be the first of several return trips to visit with him. Oh, by the way, there was no Granny, just Bren. And a lot of beautiful well turnings.

The Queen’s Laundry Inspector and High Seas Confessional…

30 Monday Apr 2012

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My time photographing on Ramea has come to an end and I’m boarding the ferry Gallipoli back to the mainland of Newfoundland. It’ll be a couple of hours on the boat, disembark in Burgeo, then across the whole island once again to St. John’s. Gonna have to stop and get some chocolate covered crackers to sustain me on the trip back.

There’s not much to do on the ferry except sit and sleep, sit and watch the scenery and/or people, sit and eat, or sit and confess to the minister sitting next to me. This is the very same minister I met in church on Sunday on Ramea! She recognizes me immediately. Busted!

High seas confessional booth; doubles as a life raft… not really.

In all fairness, she’s a very nice person and from my point of view not a bad minister either. But, I was really hoping to be gently rocked to sleep by the boat’s motions, not get engaged in some ecumenical discussion of Goethe, Schleiermacher or the manichean view of right and wrong, darkness and light. (Just showing off here.) Thankfully, that is not what we talked about.

Instead, we talked about the plight of rural Newfoundland and the questionable future of communities such as Ramea. It confronts the same fishless future as all of the other outports with the added element of being an island dependent on sustenance and other commodities from the mainland. It is not a hopeful outlook. I agreed and told her that was what “Arn? Narn.” was to be about. She seemed to like the idea that this story would be told outside of Canada.

The Rev told me of some very small outports barely hanging on by their fingernails. How small? Try 8-10 people. Way too small for the government to provide services so eventually the fate awaiting them is of choice: the first is to resettle elsewhere; the other – die. Quite a template for survival and very depressing.

By and by, she told me I had created quite a stir on the island. It seems that within hours of my arrival, people were all abuzz of some guy wandering around taking pictures of laundry lines and things. (“Yes, ma’am, I’m from the Queen’s Laundry Quality Inspector’s office and your whites are quite nice really, but your colors…”).

The Queen’s Laundry Quality inspector.

It is after all a very small island. Everyone wanted to know who I was and what was I doing there. I’m sure that after my initial visit to Red’s Lounge, most fears were put aside by Gerard. Probably not yet by Jimmy.

So, when I showed up in church, they certainly wanted to know who I was and why I was there and what I was doing and where I was from and how I found out about Ramea. You know, the basic Journalism 101 questions: who, what, where, why, when, and how stuff. Now, when my new minister friend would report back to them at their next service, she could answer all their questions and confirm that she had dispatched me back to from where I’d come. Good minister!

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My own private Earth Day.

25 Wednesday Apr 2012

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Sometimes when you’re not looking or listening, the universe sneaks up and smacks you up alongside the head with a cosmic two by four. And then the realization occurs that you could have had a V8. Well no, not really a drink, but something that had been right in front of you all this time and you hadn’t even realized it.

Looks pretty much the same as it did 42 years ago.

One of these has just happened to me. As I prepare for the publication of “Arn? Narn.”, the news is filled with this being the 42nd anniversary of Earth Day. That holds a special significance to me. As a ridiculously young man, my first assignment for the newspaper I had just started working for, was to cover the very first Earth Day. At that time, no one thought that it would amount to much – just a bunch of liberal, pot smoking hippies protesting about something, again.

Little did I know or realize until just a day or so ago, how that was to affect my work from then on. Directly, the photography book “Arn? Narn.” is a result of that first assignment. That first assignment is also responsible for the next book I’m currently working on. See a theme here?

Something else of significance is that what people were sitting up and taking notice of on that first Earth Day is, to a large degree, what “Arn? Narn.” reports on. Twenty-years ago when the story I cover in “Arn? Narn.” first occurs, it was largely over-looked outside of Newfoundland, Canada. It has become a global cautionary tale which only recently has begun to get worldwide visibility.

Little is more important that preserving our world so our children, their children and so on, will have a home. I am not taking a political stand here. That’s too easy a subject with too many moving parts for me to comprehend. At the end of the day, I am nothing more than a photo-journalist hopefully reporting and recording life’s events honestly; my personal agenda (if indeed I even have one) would not be worthy of publication.

Jim S., a reader of this blog reminded me of something I recently wrote: “Be open to all the possibilities travel will afford you.” For this entry, I amend that: “Be open to all the possibilities life will afford you.” You never know where they’ll take you, but it will be worth the journey. Thank you Mother Earth and Jim.

A thundering herd of…one?

23 Monday Apr 2012

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As I would have done it. (chinamike)

My one-man invasion of Ramea is complete. I had taken the island by storm (yeah, right!) and it is mine…on film at least. There were no hostages taken except my heart to these wonderful people.

As I did do it. Sort of, but with a smile.

I’ve learned a lot on this little island. Who knew you could buy burial caskets at the supermarket? And they’ll store them for you until the ground thaws. Come springtime though, you’re on your own.

A song sung with enthusiasm (or very loudly) is just as good as a song sung well. Just sing it with conviction. An instrument helps too.

In the late hours of a kitchen party, you’ll be amazed that so much incredible and undiscovered talent can be found in one small room. And they get even more talented as the night wears on.

Buying drinks for strangers works as well in Newfoundland as anywhere else. Just don’t be stingy. And if you don’t understand what they’re saying, buy ‘em another drink. Before long, they won’t understand what you’re saying either.

I learned that one should never turn down a moose burger. It’s bad form. It’s not as good as caribou, but it won’t harm you. On the other hand, all your vegan friends will probably never talk to you again.

One should also never refuse a drink if offered. That’s very bad form. You will not be invited back and nor should you. There’s a reason why we’re told not to drink alone.

In Newfoundland, one should make every effort to talk with strangers. You’ll learn so much, you’ll probably make a new friend, and at the very least, they will invite you in for tea. Really.

Be open to all the possibilities that travel will afford you. You won’t regret it. Of course, if someone tells you not to go to a particular neighborhood, that’s probably a good idea. Let me amend something I just said, be open to most of the possibilities.

So the “invasion” is over. Tomorrow I leave…with a lot of wonderful memories and stories, a few new friends, and some great (I hope) photographs for “Arn? Narn.”.

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Ah, spirit… after church and now at Red’s.

12 Thursday Apr 2012

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Filled with the spirit from the Sunday morning church service, I now wander, in search of lunch and additional spirit, over to Red’s to see if indeed they’re open. Indeed they are.

In the previous post I mentioned someone was eyeing me while I sat having a beer at Red’s, not necessarily with bad intent, but certainly suspiciously. He was mumbling something I couldn’t hear. If not a Jethro Tull fan, maybe he was a Monty Python fan, thought I was a witch, and consequently should be burned. Could be, right?

He turns around and mumbles something to someone who turns out to be Gerard, my new best friend on Ramea. Gerard laughs and comes over to me to tell me what’s going on. He says Jimmy, the starer, is concerned about me: I’m not from there; why am I there?; what do I want? Gerard assured him I was OK, (it helps to have friends in high places!) and that he should come over and Gerard would introduce us to each other. Gerard, the quintessential Newfoundlander, was just being nice and paving the way for open communications between foreign countries.

He signals Jimmy to come over and meet the tall, handsome stranger. (That was another stranger, not me.) Gerard does the introductions while Jimmy eyes me up one side and down the other. If you notice, Jimmy does a lot of eyeing. So, “Jimmy, this is Bruce. He’s OK, he’s a friend, don’t worry. Bruce, meet Jimmy.” So it went. I said hello, Jimmy mumbled something, Gerard left to talk with some others. Jimmy mumbled some more.

Wanting to put Jimmy at ease, I did what any self-respecting traveler should do in this instance, I offered to buy him a drink. Along with the drink, it would buy me a little credibility as well. Jimmy nodded and mumbled something again. Jimmy eyes and mumbles a lot.

Jimmy sits down, eyes his beer (there he goes again), eyes me, and mumbles something about Gerard. I pick up on that and answer that yes, Gerard is a fine man, loves his mother and the Queen, has never kicked an animal, some such thing because I’m not sure what I would say would even be comprehended. I could hardly understand one tenth of the words Jimmy was saying. This was not going to be easy. Jimmy understood me quite well and downed the drink quickly. I think he wanted another… all in the spirit of foreign diplomacy, I’m sure.

Gerard has obviously been watching this clumsy, bi-lingual (?) pas de deux in which Jimmy and I are involved. In any dance, there is the one who leads and the other who follows. In this case, neither happened as neither was possible. Gerard, our new dance master, came over to help interpret. It became clear that Jimmy and I went to different dance schools and the steps were completely foreign to us both.

This went on for a while until Jimmy was satisfied I was not going to lead an invasion of the island of Ramea. Thusly pacified, he wandered off to mumble something and stare at someone else.

Gerard was laughing and grinning through much of this. It was getting on to suppertime and he asked if I had plans for the evening. I told him nothing that couldn’t be moved – oh, like I have a lot to do here among strangers. He invited me to join him later in an age old Newfoundland tradition – a kitchen party. I had read about these so I had an inkling of what went on, but only an inkling! I was to discover that these people would be strangers no more.

Losing my religion… not exactly.

09 Monday Apr 2012

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It’s Sunday morning. I had my coffee, it’s just grey outside, too early for Red’s (do they open on Sunday?), too early for most things after a kitchen party.

So I’m wandering around on a rather quiet morning and notice a small but steady stream of people walking towards something. To where? I’ll follow in my stealth photographer’s mode, trying not to let my cameras hit against each other too loudly and give my surveillance away. Why look, they must be god-fearing folks as they’re all going to church. Some turn around and see me. So much for being unobtrusive.

“How will you know them?” Courtesy Anglican Mainstream

So, hi-ho, hi-ho, I guess it’s off to church I go. A little church never hurt anyone, right? I follow them in and sit in the back as appropriate for a camera-toting reprobate such as myself. I did say it was grey outside. It was even greyer inside. This was looking like one of the older chapters of the Canadian AARP. It appears the younger Rameans have other things to do on Sunday morning. Like recovering from kitchen parties maybe?

It was a large, beautiful, old church, the kind one might find in fishing villages anywhere. But because of the lack of fishing and the loss of population, it was operating on a much smaller budget. In the winter, when I was there, they would close the main floor with the sanctuary in order to save money on heat. Consequently, they worshiped on a ground level meeting room. It was pretty standard Anglican fare. Nothing terribly unfamiliar, but none of the awe-inspiring trappings usually associated with a lot of churches. Come to think of it, it reminded me of many of the churches I’d seen in New England – plain, austere, and somewhat spartan.

The church members, being Newfoundlanders (obviously!), were all friendly but somewhat reserved. Q: Who comes to church with cameras on them? A: I do. That’s not exactly what people expect to find when they go their house of worship. (God is watching and he sent me to get proof!)

I stayed around a bit after the service and spoke with some members as well of the minister. She was a very busy woman. On alternating Sundays, she preached at the Catholic Church elsewhere on the island. I hope she never got her liturgy confused – might upset some of the folk, you know.

Like other times while in Newfoundland you would meet the same person again, I would run into her again, but elsewhere. It is a small world, but Ramea makes it even smaller.

Part 2: Kicking back at Red’s Lounge…

03 Tuesday Apr 2012

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The afternoon was spent walking around the island taking pictures of local signage, laundry lines, wind turbines, boats (mostly in dry dock as there was no fishing here either), and coves. If it moved I photographed it. If it stood still, I photographed it. Yup, there I was again, taking pictures of nothing! But really good pictures of nothing if I say so myself. It moved, it stood still, it was a wind turbine, I photographed it.

Sidebar -There’s a woman who paints all the house numbers and signs and mailboxes on the island; a limited growth opportunity indeed, yet the local art scene is definitely defined by her! And it was sort of like being in her island-wide showroom. She was that prolific. Certainly she had her themes down: boats, flags, fish, propellers, anchors, etc.

So the light was now fading and I wasn’t far behind it. I was in need of sustenance and it was too early to go back to the B&B for a formal dinner. Since I now knew the island like the back of my hand, it was back to Red’s. I was going to check out if they had any beer left. Photographing clotheslines creates a mighty thirst.

Lucky for me they had some left. I was welcomed back by Gerard and the locals (sounds like a perfect bar band!) whom I’d met earlier and introduced to some new (to me) citizens. Someone had gone hunting and brought back some fresh moose meat. They had the aforethought to grind it up, make mooseburgers, and serve them to customers. And that’s how I came to have my first (and probably last) mooseburger. It was OK if you don’t mind eating the inspiration for a cartoon, but personally, I liked caribou better. (Please don’t tell my fiends at PETA!)

As I mentioned earlier, I stood out. I was not from there and one citizen had taken note of that and his concern was quite obvious. I couldn’t hear what he was saying to the others, but the not-so-furtive and mildly hostile glances could not be overlooked. Hmmmm – what to do? It would clear soon enough.

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Holding my breath.

02 Monday Apr 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Newfoundland, Photography

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When I started this photography book project, it (not unlike Newfoundland in the stamp above) seems like a millennium ago. The possibility of publication seemed like such a distant dream. Over time, each one of the goals had been met leading to last summer’s signing of my first book contract. My publisher, Gosslee, has now given me a publication date and it’s going to be here before I know it. Come September 1, 2012, “Arn? Narn.” will be published. It’s unbelievable.

And yet, unbelievably, there is still work to do. How will the world find out about it’s inherent wonderfulness, much less its’ existence? Where and how will it be available? What kind of promotional activity can I give it? Who will play me in the movie version? That last one’s a joke, really.

Though the publication is now imminent, there is still much to write about in this blog. If you’ve been following it, you know I’m still in Newfoundland on the island of Ramea, ensconced at Red’s Lounge. Much, much more to write about. I think I may only be halfway there on this accounting. My intention is to continue well after publication. There will be more stories to share: a new one on Tuesday as a matter of fact. I invite you all to join me as this journey continues.

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Kicking back at Red’s Lounge, meeting the locals, being told where to go (in the nicest way possible, this is Newfoundland after all), and having my first beer in Ramea. Part 1.

27 Tuesday Mar 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Humor, Observations, Travel

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When traveling, one of the best ways to get the feel, the flavor, and the social climate of a new locale is to visit the local watering hole. And on Ramea. the best one is Red’s Lounge. Red’s being the best bar/lounge is not only my opinion, it’s also the opinion of all the locals and they should know. It wins hands down and the reason is quite simple – it’s the only bar on Ramea. And though it’s the only pub on the island, it’s not open everyday or all hours. The owner works at an oil company and that job comes first. Priorities – we all have them but I wish his matched mine better.

As in my trip to Fogo Island a week earlier, I needed to get to know the “powers-that-be” in Ramea. Since whoever wore the mantle of he/she-that-counts-as-the-big-cheese-or-poobah-of-the-island was not to be found, I did the next best thing. I went to Red’s. it was lunchtime after all and the light wouldn’t be good until 2:00 PM. Ahhh, the life of the photographer!

Certainly in an outport/island such as Ramea, a stranger stands out even if they’re not in a bar. As in the TV show “Cheers”, everyone knows your name and it wasn’t long before almost everyone knew mine. Hell, you walk into any place with cameras dangling all over you and people look up and take notice.

Before long, maybe at least two or three minutes(!), I was being “interrogated” by the locals. Actually, befriended is a much, much better description but not as humorous. The first of my “interrogators”, sorry,that’s friends, was Gerard. Gerard, born and raised on Ramea, was thrilled to have someone new to talk with. As in any bar anywhere, it’s the same people and the same stories, over and over again. I was going to be entertainment or least a source of new stories. Hey, their stories were new to me! That should count for something.

  So, over a beer or two, maybe three of the locally brewed Quidi Vidi variety, Gerard filled me on all the poop. Who was who in the bar, what people did, local color, etc. For me, he was a font of information – some of it was useful immediately, some not until later that day, but I was not to know that at the time. However, Red’s was to become my base of local operations for the time I would be there. In the meantime, I would need to get outside to photograph while the light was getting better. It turned out that they had a hell of lot more beer left than I did light.

Enter the Wanderer with apologies to Bruce Lee…

22 Thursday Mar 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Geography, Humor, Observations, Photography

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Sounds sort of like a bad Bruce Lee film, doesn’t it? But, there are no flying fists, no crouching tigers, no leaping lizards, none of that stuff…just good old Newfoundland and its’ people.

I’m now ensconced on the small island of Ramea and have started to walk around the island, it IS small, and photograph. One of the first things I noticed on the ferry on my way in, is a collapsed fish processing plant, a fishery. It collapsed physically, but it is as good as any symbol of what has happened to the fishing industry. I could not have asked for a better opportunity to illustrate what has happened here. But Ramea is so much more than that, though its’ fate remains so tied to it.

Rendering of a fishery.

As  I mentioned earlier, one passes through a beautiful archipelago on the way in. It was so unexpected as to create a disconnect. “Hello, that number you’re calling is no longer in service.” That’s how I felt. In my modest research over the years, I believed that one found archipelagos in Japan, Indonesia, Scotland even. But Newfoundland, really? Oh, yeah. Yes, Toto, this isn’t Kansas anymore.

Ramea itself is a small, quaint even, little island if not for the oil tank graveyard I was currently photographing. I’ll tell you right now though, there are no photographs of those in this part of this journey. While I tip-toed around the tanks, respectfully trying not to wake them, I came up on a local who in true Newfoundland tradition was more than happy to talk with me. He gave me a little current history of the island and some recommendations: there was an ocean walk to take – check; don’t miss the wind turbine farm – check; Red’s Lounge – check and double check (can’t miss that!); the Anglican Church – check, but on Sunday of course; supermarket – check; and other places that were meaningless to me at the time.

I was into my wandering big time now. As I’ve written earlier, there I was taking pictures of nothing and really loving it.

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Look boss, the plane, the plane! No, Tattoo, that’s a boat!

14 Wednesday Mar 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Geography, Photography, Travel

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Burgeo, on the southern coast. (From Sailblogs.)

Made it to Burgeo after a gruesomely long drive. The good news is that where I was off to next to photograph was a very small island, Ramea, on which I would be walking almost everywhere. The bad new is that when I got back to Newfoundland proper, I had an even longer trip back to St. John’s, but that’s for another post.

I found my B&B and checked in. Martine, my host was very friendly, showed me to my room, and offered some suggestions as to where I might find dinner. There were two options – both named after their proprietors- Joy’s Place and Sharon’s Diner. Sharon was off somewhere and was closed so it was to Joy’s Place which was closer anyway. Joy wasn’t in either (were Joy and Sharon running errands together?) so I couldn’t send my compliments to the chef, so I left a nice tip instead.

I returned to my B&B and had some wine with Martine. my host. We talked about Burgeo and what had brought me there. She told me that Burgeo was very old, about  500 years, but it was only incorporated in 1950 and was basically a fishing village until 1992 when the moratorium was put into place. Then it too went through all the difficulties the rest of the province did. It’s a sweet place with a couple of restaurants, a school, all the things one would expect to find pretty much anywhere, except they don’t have the view that Burgeo does. Take that world!

(From Wikipedia)

So, right now, it’s the perfect place to catch my breath before getting on another boat on my way to Ramea. Remind me why I’m doing this.

(Courtesy Newfoundland & Labrador)

Oh yeah, this’ll be fun.

No, no, no… please, I insist, after you.

06 Tuesday Mar 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Observations, Travel

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It is a stereotype that Canadians are among the friendliest and politest people on the planet. But, as a stereotype, that tends to put everything into a one-size-fits-all category. The truth of the matter is that Canadians ARE some of the friendliest and politest people around, bar none. Funny, too. Great music also. I could go on.

It’s almost as if it’s a law that they dare not break or even bend. One will see and experience this on a day-to-day basis just in visiting stores and offices even government ones! But, it is also manifested in a way different from any other I’ve experienced. Now, this becomes a chicken or an egg issue. (No, not the political football being tossed around currently.) Which came first?

What I’m referring to is the highway system – specifically the TCH or Trans-Canada Highway. In Newfoundland, (I can’t speak to other provinces on this issue as not having visited in many years), the THC crosses the entire island and driving it is at a comfortable 110 kph or about 65 miles per hour. People do speed on it and risk being pulled over by the RCMP – but they will be accosted politely.

In the course of photographing for this book, I’d spend many hours and many more miles on the TCH. It is largely a two lane highway, one way; each way – unless there is room for a passing lane. And that is just what it is – a passing lane. Used for passing and passing only unlike here in the US where the passing lane is considered a through lane. Drivers actually use it to pass and then they almost immediately move over. They do not hog the lane. They do not speed up to prevent you from passing them. Hell, if you want to pass them at higher speed (and risk hitting a moose), why go ahead, after you, please, we insist. They’re serious about this politeness, even on the highways. It’s…refreshing.

So, we can count friendly, musically-inclined, funny, AND polite driving as typical Canadian traits. And if Canadians are some the friendliest, etc., then Newfoundlanders take it even further. There is something to be learned from this.

Canary in the global coal mine.

05 Monday Mar 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Fish, Food, History, Newfoundland

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Currently indigenous to Newfoundland are moose, caribou, salmon, and some remaining cod. There are no naturally residing canaries on the island. However, in this case, the island itself was the canary.

Why is Newfoundland important? In much the same way the canary in a coal mine is important. That bird is an early warning of impending trouble. Ignore it at your own peril. In 1992, that is what happened in Newfoundland. Heard, seen, and ignored – just the opposite of the military phrase HUA(!) – Heard, Understood and Acknowledged. They (the government) heard the canary, saw it laying there, and essentially said, “Don’t pay that any attention” until it was too late. It was mismanagement writ large.

So, what was this canary? It was the disappearance of cod stocks. Stocks that had been fished for over 500 years and sustained Newfoundland throughout that time. Then in 1992, the government realized that the cod stocks had plummeted to perilously low levels and imposed a 10 year moratorium on cod fishing. Historically, they knew if left alone for 5-6 years, the stocks should return to previous levels. They didn’t. In actuality, they were in worse shape than before.

In those first 10 years, because there was no fishing, 20% of Newfoundland’s population left the island. It was an out-migration the likes of which had never been seen. And the lack of fishing created much hardship throughout the province. Newfoundlanders continue leaving the island in search of work returning occasionally for vacation. The Newfoundland musical group Ennis addresses this beautifully in their song, “Fortunate Ones.”

Now 20 years later, the moratorium is still in place. But then in 2006, 14 years after the original moratorium was put in place, Professor Boris Worm of Dalhousie University in Nova Scotia published a paper that received world-wide notice. In this paper he predicted that by the middle of this century, the entire global stock of wild fish will be in total collapse. This is certainly the result of over-fishing; there is also growing evidence that ocean acidification may be contributing to this as well. Either way one looks at it, both of those causes are man-made.

The “canary” was laying there, gasping for breath and people essentially just walked on by. It has taken too long to realize what this means.

In the short term, forget about your seafood dinner, that isn’t going to happen unless you’ll be willing to take out a mortgage on it. Any fish we’ll have will come from farmed stocks and their purity is suspect.

In the long term, your guess is as good as anyone’s. No one knows what will happen to the seas themselves because of this shock to its eco-system.

So much for Red Lobster!