Category Archives: Newfoundland

Everybody’s talkin’…

18 Monday Feb 2013

Posted by in Culture, Newfoundland, Photo-documentary

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Well, not everybody but quite a few. I’d like to share a review from The Memphis Flyer of my book Arn? Narn. In the interest of full disclosure, it pretty much lets you know where I do my day job…(what, you think all authors drive Ferrari’s and sip Mojitos by the pool while channeling Norman Mailer? If only.) However, it is a good review and I think its author got it right. Hope you enjoy it. Certainly, if you’ve any thoughts or comments, I’d love to hear them.

Go Fish?by Leonard Gill

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Three trips to Newfoundland; 5,000 or so photographs: That’s what it’s taken for Memphian Bruce Meisterman to produce Arn? Narn. (Gosslee), his book of striking black-and-white photos of Newfoundland.

Five hundred years: That’s how long Newfoundlanders have been fishing for cod. In recent decades, though, the cod have largely disappeared from Newfoundland’s waters, and a way of life on this island off the coast of Canada is threatened with extinction. Is overfishing to blame? Trawling? Poaching? Climate change? And is this what’s in store for fishstocks globally? Hard to say for sure what’s to blame or what to predict. But no question about the words one often hears from one Newfoundland fisherman, as he heads out to sea, to a fisherman headed back in: “Arn?” (“Fish?”) “Narn.” (“No fish.”).

Meisterman — advertising director for MBQ: Inside Memphis Business, a sister publication of the Flyer — has had his share of local photography exhibits. (See his upcoming show at Askew Nixon Ferguson Architects, opening reception on December 14th.) And he’s doing a good job introducing Memphians to Newfoundland popular culture. (On Wednesday of this week, he joined Bruce Newman for a program of Newfoundland folk music on radio station WEVL.)

But the publication of Arn? Narn. is drawing the most attention, as it did recently at the Southern Festival of Books in Nashville, where interest in Meisterman’s work (and its warnings) was encouraging. So too the positive coverage of Meisterman’s book generally and particularly in a British magazine, which plans to make Arn? Narn. its book of the month in November.

Memphians have a chance to meet Meisterman when he discusses and signs copies of Arn? Narn. at the Booksellers at Laurelwood on Thursday. Doubtful, though, that Meisterman will be doing a book-store signing in Newfoundland. “Earlier this year, the last independent book store on Newfoundland closed,” Meisterman said. “Doesn’t mean I won’t be going up there for the book, though. I’ve made friends with many musicians. They’d love to host a signing.”

And at this point, Amazon is sold out until they get a new shipment. But you can still get them directly from the publisher at fjordsreview.com .

Lest you think…

04 Monday Feb 2013

Posted by in Fish, Newfoundland, Observations

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In 1992, the Canadian government shut down the fishing industry in Newfoundland for 10 years in hopes that the fish would come back. When they revisited it in 2002, they found the fish stocks were in worse shape than at the outset of the moratorium. It is now in place permanently. And apparently, outside of Canada, no one took notice of this catastrophe. For the rest of the world, it looked pretty much like an example of “It couldn’t happen here.” Yeah, right.

If we didn’t know this before, we now know better than that. Here is an article from the National Post illustrating that the Newfoundland disaster was not an isolated incident. This will happen across our planet with increasing frequency, yet there doesn’t seem to be anyone terribly concerned with it.

Aquaculture while an amazing achievement is not the answer. Our naturally reproducing fish are in grave danger of disappearing and still we harvest them irresponsibly. There are a few countries starting to act with an eye to the future, but until the rest of those countries contributing to this dilemma own up to their own hand in this, nothing will change except for the greater decrease of this natural resource.

Write letters. Make phone calls. Protest even. It is our “Today” and our children’s “Tomorrows.”

Twenty years later, New England fishery collapse mirrors Newfoundland disaster

Kelly McParland | Jan 31, 2013 11:36 AM ET

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Twenty years after Ottawa imposed a moratorium on Newfoundland’s cod fishery, northeastern U.S. states are looking at similar cuts as fishery officials argue for steep new limits in an effort to stave off disaster.

“The game is over” reported the Boston Business Journal, noting that one official called it “a day of reckoning.”

The New England Fishery Management Council voted Wednesday night to cut the catch limit on Gulf of Maine cod by 77 percent – although most members reportedly agreed the move was tantamount to shutting down direct fishing for cod, which has sustained New England’s inshore fishing industry for centuries.

The Georges Bank cod catch is to be cut by 66 percent.

The Gloucester Times reports the cuts are so severe, at least one council member argued for a complete shutdown of the cod fishery, altogether. ““I don’t see myself leaving the dock next year, I’m not sure we’re going fishing (anymore),” said Councilor Joe Orlando of Gloucester, according to the Times. Another Gloucester fisherman, Paul Vitale, said the “docks and the stores” will be quiet.

The New York Times report was similarly grim:

“We are headed, slowly, seeming inexorably, to oblivion,” said John Bullard, the regional administrator of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and a member of the council, as he explained his support for the catch limits. “I do not deny the costs that are going to be paid by fishermen, families, communities. They are real. They will hurt.”

The problem, he said, is not government inflexibility, as fishermen have suggested, but the lack of fish. “It’s midnight and getting darker when it comes to how many cod there are,” he said. “There isn’t enough cod for people to make a decent living.”

Fishermen were shocked by the decision, seeing it as the end of an industry that sustained their communities for centuries.

“Right now what we’ve got is a plan that guarantees the fishermen’s extinction,” one told the Times.

“I’m leaving here in a coffin,” said another.

The reaction mirrored the trauma that hit Canada’s east coast 20 years ago, when federal authorities declared a moratorium on cod, warning that years of overfishing had reduced stocks by up to 97%. Despite hopes that stocks might revive if left alone,  a decade later the federal fisheries minister announced the outright closure of the fishery in the Atlantic provinces and Quebec.

In New England, optimism is in short supply.

“We are headed down the wrong course here, of exterminating the inshore fleet, for no good reason,” David Goethel, a New Hampshire fisherman and council member, told the Associated Press.

“I’m bankrupt. That’s it,” said 40-year-old Gloucester fishermen Paul Vitale, a father of three. “I’m all done. The boat’s going up for sale.”

National Post

Arn? Narn. nation.

24 Thursday Jan 2013

Posted by in Humor, Newfoundland

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If anyone ever wants to move to another country and apply for citizenship of said country, there are myriad hoops to jump through, not to mention the legal fees involved. I know as I’ve aimlessly looked into it. Over the past few years, as Arn? Narn. became less of an idea, dream, and project and more of the book it became, I’ve wanted to share what Newfoundland in my eyes is all about. The book and by extension this blog is my take on it.

As the book has now been out just over three months and to unanimously good-to-great reviews, I’ve been imploring (well, maybe begging even) my readers to contact Jon Stewart of The Daily Show so I can share Arn? Narn. with a larger audience.

2178706189_8ed438e2fb Yeah, this guy.

You are, in effect, the Arn? Narn. nation. And what better way to express that than wearing the colors of our beloved nation? Well, with an Arn? Narn. t-shirt! You’re probably asking yourself right now, “Gee, how do I get one of those rare, limited edition, not available in any store or on TV commercials, fine, cotton, apparel-quality t-shirts?”

Simple, even though it does smack a little bit of bribery. All you have to do is send Jon Stewart at The Daily Show a note telling him how much he needs to have this book and its humble (!) author (me) on his show. There are three reviews currently on Amazon under the book’s title. If you would copy and paste any one of them and send to: guestpitch@thedailyshow.com with a note suggesting, maybe even imploring, him to do this and copy me at bmeisterman@comcast.net, then you can win a t-shirt complete with the really cool Arn? Narn. logo. As I mentioned early, this really is a limited edition, so the first three who do this, win. Yeah, it’s that easy. And you’ll be a t-shirt-wearing member of Arn? Narn. Nation.

Basic CMYK The really cool Arn? Narn. logo.

If, no, rather when, Jon capitulates, and it’s clear which one was the deciding suggesting e-mail, then you’ll also win a signed copy of Arn? Narn. Yup, it’s that easy. You too will now be a member of Arn? Narn. nation. And you won’t even need a passport.

This is serious.

22 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by in Newfoundland, Photo-documentary

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The holidays, formerly at our throats, are now behind us. My trip to NYC  last week went well, but still no invitation from Jon Stewart of The Daily Show to appear on behalf of Arn? Narn. So, now it’s time to resume my effort to get exposure for my book. Invoking an old Newfoundland tradition, I could show up at the studio as a Mummer in an attempt to crash the show. Unlike most homes in Newfoundland, I am sure they have an adept security staff that would hinder any progress I might make in speaking with Jon. What a paranoid nation we’ve become! I’m harmless. Mostly. OK. Totally.

4198317552_a799b422e1 Newfoundland Mummers – sort of harmless.

But like an ardent Weight Watchers member, Stewart is avoiding me like an-all-you-can-eat buffet. Hey, Jon. I can assure you I’ve no poly-triglycerides, no peanuts (if you’re allergic and you may very well be), and no trans fats. I told you I was harmless, right? So why resist?

So, loyal readers, I ask you again, and it won’t be the last time, help me get the word out to Mr. Stewart. Share with him this link to the video for the book (copy and paste to your browser): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpFIb1s-sgw&list=HL1343692229&feature=mh_lolz . The e-mail address is: guestpitch@thedailyshow.com .

Dear Jon,

Take a look at this book. It’s really cool and I’d love to hear what this guy is all about.

Newfoundlanders and their connection to the sea December 3, 2012

Bruce Meisterman is a photographer and the beauty of this book is in the photography. The text is sparse. Each chapter starts with a minimal yet informative narrative on topic and then the often full page photographs tell the rest of the story. Meisterman tells the story of the end of cod fishing in Newfoundland, the moratorium put on the industry in 1996 and the effect that has had on the fishing industry and the people. He explains that fishing is not just an industry to Newfoundlanders but a way of life born into these island people, a cultural heritage that defines their history, art, music, dance and craft. He paints a grim picture that is mostly blamed on over-fishing, government mismanagement, and greed. But as anyone knows who has visited Newfoundland (I haven’t) or knows a “Newfie” (I’ve known several) they can tell you that Newfoundlanders are not a downhearted people. They are down-to-earth people with no pretensions, full of the joy of life with a sense of humour and love of the folk arts born into them. Meisterman also tries to convey this in his book and succeeds to a point.The choice of black and white photography both aids and hinders the author’s objectives. The desolate, stark countryside is powerfully represented in this medium, especially the winter scenes with the snow and ice along with the sandy shores of the lonely beaches and yet the beauty of the land is missing when we cannot see the green of the foliage and colours of wildflowers growing close to the ground on the rock. The death of the fishing industry is brought home with the b/w photos of clapboard homes, churches and graveyards and yet the life essence of the people is missing when we cannot see the bright colours used to paint houses, lighthouses, murals and folk art signs. Also the revelry of a kitchen party is missing when shown in black and white and yet the contrast between the joy of the people and the poverty of the economy is marked in this medium. An enchanting book with a sad tale told with optimism, but one that does not end on a sad note.”Even now, Newfoundland is moving into its new reality…The Newfoundland spirit is anything if not indomitable. A people who came to live at terms with the sea will find their way here as well.”

OK, Jon, I’m just down the street…

11 Friday Jan 2013

Posted by in Newfoundland, Photo-documentary

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It’s been said that timing is everything. That said, I can save you, Jon Stewart of The Daily Show, some money because I’ll be in NYC on Monday and Tuesday of next week. Put me on the show, dammit! You won’t have to pay for airfare or lodgings even. I promise to be entertaining. Really. I’ll bring a book and sign it for you and won’t even charge you for it! I’ll tell you all you never thought you needed to know about Newfoundland and the crisis that will be upon us before your children are grown. Yeah, it’s that important.

Why do you resist? Look, I know you’re locked into your contract until the middle of 2015. I can wait. I’ve waited longer than that for some other things that I won’t get into on this post. (If you’re interested, we can talk about it while I’m in the Green Room.) But, really. Why wait? The subject is of global importance and you can help bring it to the attention of so many. Why, you could even consider it a public service! True, it’s not tax deductible but before long nothing will be anyway.

I’m calling on all my friends, both of them, to petition you to do this. Soon, you won’t be able to go anywhere without hearing about my photo-documentary book, Arn? Narn. You’ll wonder why you waited so long. Hell, I’m wondering why you’re waiting so long.

Trailer21 This is the book, Jon. You have a copy already!

So to all my loyal readers out there, send Jon e-mails, Tweets, Facebook ‘em, flowers, fruitcakes (You know, the ones left over from Christmas – no skip that, he’s Jewish), whatever. Let’s get him moving on this.

To reach him, you might try this e-mail address – guestpitch@thedailyshow. com . It couldn’t hurt.

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Game on…

08 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by in Fish, Newfoundland, Photo-documentary

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Now that the holidays are mercifully behind us, we can get back to our everyday routines no matter how mundane they may be. If you’re lucky, and I believe I am, mundane is not a word you usually use to describe your days. With that in mind, my effort to get exposure for Arn? Narn. is gearing up again.

Simply put, I need your help in getting Jon Stewart of The Daily Show to talk about Arn? Narn. on his show. If you would participate in this grass-roots effort, then you can help spread the word about what is happening to all the wild, edible fish in our world. I’ve posted below an e-mail that if you would copy, paste and send to Jon, then maybe we can get his attention. I’ve already sent him a press kit, a copy of the book, and have enlisted your help to do this. Let’s not stop now. Here’s the message and here’s where to send it to:  guestpitch@thedailyshow.com .

Thanks for your help.

Hi Jon,

Just wanted to drop you a line saying how much I love your show. I’ve recently read a photo-documentary book that I think you’d be interested in. It’s called Arn? Narn. by Bruce Meisterman. It’s topical and important. I thought I’d also include a review of the book. Hope you enjoy it.

Arn? Narn. by Bruce Meisterman

“’Arn? Narn.” It is said to be
the shortest conversation
in Newfoundland.’”
 
While reading this book and looking through the photos, I had to wonder whether the author lived in Newfoundland, or had extreme interest and visited in order to document his story.
 
Arn? Narn is a photography novel filled with black and white photographs taken in Newfoundland. The supporting text tells the story of the struggling culture. They thrived off of fishing for cod. Without an abundance of cod, now, they are trying to make end meet however they can. It also expresses the culture of the people. Through the photos of citizens you get a hint as to what the people are like that live there.
 
While there is text surrounding the pictures telling the story of the suffering culture in Newfoundland, I feel like the photos are telling the real story. You can feel great emotion just looking at the photos. More than you would feel with just text alone. That is the beauty of these types of book. They incorporate two different ways of telling a story to make you truly understand their meaning. Without the text, the pictures would have no place. You wouldn’t know what you were looking at. Without the pictures, the story would be emotionless.
 
This book is a beautiful representation of how these types of book are supposed to be laid out — Beautifully written text to accompany the truly emotion-filled photos of the struggles in Newfoundland.
 
Not knowing much about Newfoundland, I found this book informational and well as a pleasing to the eyes. I feel like a have knowledge of a new culture that I never knew about before.
 
Arn? Narn is a beautiful story told through words and breathtaking photography.

5/5 stars for me – Courtney Bauman

All things considered, I’d rather be in St. John’s.

19 Monday Nov 2012

Posted by in Culture, Newfoundland, Travel

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Nine years ago today, I was purchasing gear and planning for my first trip to Newfoundland. Little did I know how transforming a journey it would become. I would be leaving in just four months for this then new adventure. And that adventure has continued nine years later.

How was I to know what effect it would have on me? I certainly did not expect it to change me. How foolish was that? One does not invest so much time and effort, passion, and dreams without it having a profound effect. No, not at all.

      St. John’s, Newfoundland.

There isn’t day that goes by that I don’t think about Newfoundland and everything I experienced while working on Arn? Narn. Whether it’s the incredible land and sea, its people, the music, the photos I took which are permanently fixed in my memory, I can’t get it out of my mind.

So, what is the “cure” for that? Do I need an intervention? An attitude adjustment? I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m just saying this has taken up permanent residence in my head.

All along the process of bringing this book to market, I’ve thought about doing a book signing in Newfoundland. The more I think about it, the more I’d like to do it. I’ve certainly missed the all-important Christmas season to do that, but truthfully, that could have never happened. So now, I’ve got to figure how to get my sorry butt up there. It would be good to visit with my friends and just chill, both literally and figuratively, (it gets a bit cold in winter), in Newfoundland. Hey, it’s a tough job, but…

We interrupt this blog to bring you… Halloween.

01 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by in Culture, Humor, Local Art, Newfoundland

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Last night being All Hallow’s Eve, I couldn’t help but put something of a Newfoundland spin on it. At Christmas time in Newfoundland, in addition to all the normal festivities including the prerequisite kitchen parties, is the custom of Mummering. I’ve written about this previously, but I’ll recap. Complete strangers, oddly dressed, descend upon unsuspecting resident’s homes and demand food and drink, carouse, and usually stay until tired or their true identities are discovered and then they leave to repeat said mayhem in yet another home. It can get out of hand. Once the government even tried to outlaw it, but the Newfoundlanders were having none of that, thank you b’y.

This year, as we get ready to dole out the ritual baksheesh to the little and not-so-little ones, I got to thinking how cool it might be to dress as a mummer here in the US.

This is Alphonse.

This is a fairly typical mummer “outfit” and is not the kind of costume one gets in a store. No, this requires creativity or color blindness at the very least. These figurines are from a collection created by two Newfoundland women, Pam and Cara. They produce one new limited edition mummer every year and are usually quite funny. Yet, they are accurate and indicative of what one might have knocking on their door come Christmas time.

Nish from Merasheem.

Now, can you imagine someone showing up at your house on Halloween in this? You might be inclined to call the police or at least use some pepper spray. But generally speaking in Newfoundland, it’s usually just harmless fun. However, I would not suggest walking into a convenient store dressed like this. They do have surveillance cameras after all.

And of course in the spirit(s) of the holiday, a toast must be made. Have another one, Fannie?

Fannie from Fogo.

The other possible downside in dressing this way for Halloween is that you might get picked up for vagrancy. After all, I don’t think we’re in Newfoundland anymore, Toto.

The envelope please…

11 Thursday Oct 2012

Posted by in Newfoundland, Observations, Publishers

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Not ever having worked in films or in Hollywood (I’ve been there once though), I’m not familiar firsthand on either winning awards (I haven’t) or getting reviews (I have). So, I have no statuette to put on my mantle or pawn when I run up against it financially. That’s a lifestyle that is too foreign to me and I hope it remains that way. But, I now have some reviews of my photo-documentary book on disappearing rural Newfoundland, Arn? Narn.

Arctic pack ice will lock-in coves for weeks from Arn? Narn.

As I’ve written before, like any other creative endeavor, when you turn it over to someone else, their creativity and interpretation will affect it, hopefully for the best. But one never knows until it’s sometimes too late. As I’ve also written previously, my publisher did a wonderful job showing respect and understanding for the work in producing the layout. No problem with that at all.

However, once it’s out there, all bets are off. What I saw when photographing and writing it, what the publisher saw when they decided to get behind it, may not be the same things readers and reviewers see. It’s like going to Vegas but without the neon lights. It’s a gamble.

So, in the past week, Arn? Narn. has been reviewed a number of times. When I hear of a review or if it is sent to me, I hold my breath as long as I can before passing out and then before reading it. After all, this is me, my work, my exposed soul for all to see.

The sound, if you were sitting next to me, would be one or two or three long exhalations followed by whoops of joy, some fist pumps, and a few tears though that last one can happen on either occasion. Obviously from what I’ve just written, the reviews were positive. Really positive.

When one is so close to something for so long, any objectivity is long gone. Hell, any sense of its worth has been obscured by the trials and tribulations that occurred in bringing it to life. So, when an uninvolved, unbiased person gives it a great review, there is a period of disbelief that happens. But then you realize, there is nothing in it for them to do so and the reality starts to sink in that, indeed you have created something meaningful. Wow.

Of course, not all reviews will be this good. They can’t be. And I probably won’t like them either. But for now, it’s off to a great start.

Soon to be a major motion picture.

20 Thursday Sep 2012

Posted by in Fish, Movies, Newfoundland, Sea

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Throughout the process of getting Arn? Narn. ready to come to market, I joked about it becoming a film. Even casual acquaintances asked if it would be made into one. My joking reply was that I would have to have approval over who portrayed me. Brad Pitt is too young. Donald Sutherland too old. Maybe in a casting stroke of genius, it would be Tilda Swinton. After all, she did play a man in the Virgina Woolf movie, Orlando.

Tilda as Orlando.

But that is besides the point. Were this to happen, it would be a documentary and I would definitely not be in it. It is not about me. It would be about Newfoundland, government mismanagement, and greed and no fish. The larger story is global in scope. But for now, just a pipe dream.

Maybe not. Unbelievably, I have been approached by a film producer interested in doing a film based on Arn? Narn. At this point, I’m not getting too excited about it. Actually, I’m not excited at all over this. After the long gestation period for the book, I know the odds are stacked against this happening. I also don’t know what the producers cred is, so we’ll just wait and see. But it would be cool.

I can see it now. The opening scene, has fishing boats crashing against monstrously unforgiving waves, sort of like on the TV show Deadliest Catch. A Morgan Freeman, God-like voice (hey, he did play God in a couple of movies, he’s qualified!) intones, “Any fish? No fish.” Do a Ken Burns dissolve into present day Newfoundland and the disappearing outports. Oh yeah, I’m thinking Oscar!

Yeah, something like this.

Such is the stuff of which dreams are made. Arn? Narn. was a dream. It came true. But then again, so was one full year of Dallas a dream until Bobby Ewing stepped out of the shower. Stranger things have happened. I’m wondering whose clothing should I wear on the red carpet?

L’il ol’ stealth me.

30 Thursday Aug 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Newfoundland, Photography

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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…..

It’s your turn.

20 Monday Aug 2012

Posted by in Culture, Newfoundland, Observations, Photography, Sea

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For a year now, arnnarn.com has been publishing my experiences in Newfoundland and about producing the book Arn? Narn. There is still more to come as we get closer to publication date – six weeks away – and I’ll still be writing about what happens afterwards! But as I have in the past, I’d like to shake things up and do something a little different for a bit.

Have you ever been to Newfoundland? Have you ever published a book? Have you done both? I would love to learn of your experiences. Many of you have commented on these posts and I would love to share them with this blog’s readers. Any dialogue we can create that explains, enlightens, illustrates in more detail the unique quality of Newfoundland is welcome.

Pictures regarding your experiences are welcome as long as they don’t violate any standards of good taste whatever those may be in this day of cable, internet, and such. Inclusions will be totally random and subjective.

Gros Morne, Newfoundland.

Ocean photography is also welcome and does not necessarily have to pertain to the above mentioned requirements. Since Arn? Narn.is about a culture that supported itself by the sea and its bounty and can no longer, the photos should be related to that. This is a global problem that is only going to get worse. Perhaps we all can help.

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

09 Thursday Aug 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Newfoundland

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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

Posted by in Discovery, Geography, Newfoundland, Photography, Travel

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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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Once more into the breach dear friends, once more!

23 Monday Jul 2012

Posted by in History, Newfoundland, Travel

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We make our plans to head once more into the… yeah, right. (celluloidheroesreviews.com)

Rested, fed, and eager to get going, we head out of St. John’s to the Burin Peninsula. This is the only place we go that I haven’t been to, so it will be a new adventure for me as well. This will take the better part of the day as it’s on the southern most tip of the larger Avalon Peninsula, right off of the Grand Banks.

The Grand Banks in happier days had some of the best cod fishing in Newfoundland. So, when we arrive, we see many of the same scenes I witnessed in my earlier trips. But it was new to Carla and my photos while accurate, could not prepare anyone for the stark reality of the moratorium’s effect. Fishing like everywhere else in the province was non-existent. It was the same story told over again.

Marystown (on the Burin), a formerly active shipbuilding community, had not had any new contracts for quite some time and was suffering because of that as well. There was some hope of a couple of government contracts, but they had yet to be decided upon. If they were to happen, it would be a godsend for that community.

Still, with all the hardship these people have endured, the Newfoundland spirit of generosity, friendliness, and hospitality was always there, ready without any need of encouragement. It really is who they are.

So we arrived to our, I think, beautiful, little cottage right on the bay. I could have moved in and stayed forever right then. I could have. Unfortunately, Carla was not as impressed as I was. It was to be a rather quiet night.

This is it. Oh, yeah, I could stay here. (trails.com)

Before I write any more, let me recap our trip thus far: we arrive very late or very early depending on your POV and get a foul-mouthed but entertaining, cab driver to take us hastily to our first night’s stay; our B&B has locked us out of our room and we can’t reach the owners; there aren’t any rooms at any inns that night in St. John’s; we dozed in the lobby of a hotel; and now this, all in two days. Not exactly the auspicious beginning I had hoped for. I’m wondering how soon can I book us a flight out of there. This is not good. All the points I had scored at the airport were now gone like wasted political capital. Re-election didn’t look so good right now.

But to paraphrase a Cat Stevens song, “Morning had broken”, and so did her mood. It was in fact quite different. She was starting to really like our little house on the water. We had stopped at a market for provisions on our way in so I set about to making some coffee, sitting out on the front porch, looking at the fog over the water, and thinking, yes, I could very easily stay here. Oh, if only. Maybe one day.

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Exclusive, first time ever, not seen on any cable networks, other blogs, or even tweeted about yet… imaginary interview. Part 1.

14 Thursday Jun 2012

Posted by in Fish, Newfoundland, Writing

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Interviewer: Hello and welcome to this exclusive interview with the author and photographer of the book “Arn? Narn.”, Bruce Meisterman. Thanks for coming here today Mr. Meisterman.

(ossipeevalley.org)

Bruce: Thank you. I’m very happy to be here with you and please, call me Bruce.

I: OK then,… uh – Bruce. How did you come up with the idea for “Arn? Narn.”? What was your inspiration? Who influenced you the most? Did you really go to Newfoundland? Where is Newfoundland?

B: Whoa, one question at a time. My mind can’t handle that many concepts all at once. Inspiration is a funny thing, sort of like Groucho Marx. He might have said one thing and on paper it would look like something else, but when it came out it was altogether different once again. And that’s how this book came about.

B: My first idea was really to explore the concept of isolation in a western culture. What’s it feel like to be in contact with the entire world but cut off geographically. Sort of like Delaware.

I: But you said this was about Newfoundland. Where does Delaware come into it?

B: Not actually; just figuratively. Initially, I thought I wanted to go to Nova Scotia. Shows you how much I know. Way too many tourists. Seriously, only after a week of thinking about this, I realized, and god only knows how I came to this, that I needed to go to Newfoundland. Really, that’s how it happened. I knew nothing of Newfoundland at the time, but upon doing my research, it became clear that was the right decision. What I needed to find at that time was a destination not a stop on one’s way elsewhere.

I: That is interesting, but that’s not what the book is about. What changed it?

B: That’s a great question. After my first trip, I saw that the photographs were pretty good but didn’t hold together as a story. So, unfortunately, I had to go back to that really wonderful place. These are the sacrifices an artist has to make! Right? It’s tough, but, hey!

I: So you did go back. What did you find?

B: I found the story – which I then realized I already had known, but not photographed with that in mind. Once I had gotten to that point, it became really easy now that I knew where I had to go.

I: You said the book was originally about isolation. But it turned out to be about the disappearance of the fish. Isn’t that so?

B: Oh, yes. Imagine a country dependent on mining or oil. And then suddenly the coal or oil is gone. What do the people do? That is exactly what has happened in Newfoundland, but in this case it’s the cod that have disappeared. That is almost always the outcome in an extraction society.

I: The fish have disappeared. Do they know what happened? They just didn’t swim off somewhere else. did they?

B: No, it wasn’t anything like that. It was something much more serious with an impact that is only starting to be felt around the world.

I: Can you describe for us what that is?

End of Interview – Part 1. To be continued on arnnarn.com shortly.

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Partridgeberry jam: Nectar of the Gods.

04 Monday Jun 2012

Posted by in Food, Newfoundland

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I’m not getting out much anymore. Sounds almost like a song. No, that’s “Don’t get around much anymore.” Good try. Johnny, show Bruce what he’s won.

No, I’m not getting out. There is a lot of work to do on this book. While I’m deeply involved in now creating the bones for “Arn? Narn.”, I find myself mightily homesick for Newfoundland. As I’ve written before, it has been a singularly transformative experience. To requote my wife from an earlier blog entry: “Where you’re born is not necessarily where you’re from.” Ergo – homesick.

I’m everyday looking at images from a land I’ve grown to love immensely. And it is so far away my heart feels as if it will break. I do miss it that much. (Little man on my shoulder – “Oh, grow the hell up!”)

OK, sniff-sniff, I will.

While I’m printing the photographs for the book, I am still keeping up with news from Newfoundland on the internet. I want to keep it as current as possible and include anything that might impact the story.

I see ads for restaurants, coffee shops, B&B’s, whale watches, etc. Some of these I’ve been to and remember them fondly. Other ads are just that, ads. Ads for car dealers; ads for hospital supplies (always good to know where you can get a splint in a hurry); and ads for other sundry items that I’ll never need. Whoa! What’s this?

It’s an ad for all things Newfoundland. And in that ad, partridgeberry jam. Now, if you’ve never had partridgeberry jam, write your will out now, pick out your box, and get your affairs in order. There’s no need to go on living. It’s that good.

This is it. The real stuff!

In other parts of the world, the partridgeberry in known as the lingonberry. I don’t know – that sounds like something you might call someone who’s a little drunk or just not with it. With slurred speech: “That guy’s a lingonberry!” Now, partridgeberry – not so – there’s a nobility to that.

“I’ll have the scones with the partridgeberry jam on it, James.” That sounds proper, doesn’t it? Now, replace it with lingonberry and you might as well be living in a trailer. “Puh-leeze pass the lingonberry jelly, Paw!” No, it has to be partridgeberry. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Woo-hoo! I called this store and they will ship it to the US. Of course who knows what customs would do when they got their hands on it. I can see it now – you’re driving through the gate at the US/Canada border and the Canadian guard is slathering my partridgeberry jam all over his Tim Horton donut while asking you for your papers! Homeland security my foot!

I order 4 jars of this edible soul salve and wait until it passes through the gauntlet of regulation and illicit tasting by border guards. It arrives. The top of each jar is covered with a cute, red piece of fabric. How precious! Tear that $%$!* off and give me the jam, damn it!

Once opened, once tasted, calm and contentment are restored. All that from just a little jar of partridgeberry jam. Yeah. it’s really that good. Yes, b’y.

Happy, happy, joy, joy!

17 Thursday May 2012

Posted by in Newfoundland, Observations

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Happy, happy, joy, joy!

It’s just a little bit of silliness from the old “Ren and Stimpy” cartoon show. You can learn a lot about a person based on what movies and TV they watch. An astute reader of this blog will no doubt know which music turns me on; which movies I like to quote; and which TV shows I admit to viewing. The key word here is admit. (I’m not saying’ anyting else ’til I talk wid my law-yer!)

But one of the real personal joys, in addition to working and producing the book “Arn? Narn.” and writing this blog, are the notes and comments received from other bloggers. The blogosphere, as dreadful a term as has been coined in a long time, is filled with people sharing, but not limited to, ideas, thoughts, art, music, problems, actually the whole scope of humankind can be found there.

What is truly amazing is that anyone can find you in the first place. And they do find you, from all over the world. The people who design these programs and write the algorithms, (the Algomystics!?) are crazy smart. I salute them for their genius and intellect that allows postally-challenged me to reach out and talk with someone new.

This blog, arnnarn.com, has readers from all over the world. I did not expect that when I started recounting my adventures in Newfoundland. Oh yeah, friends and family sure, (but curiously not! Guys, are you reading this?) but complete strangers? And the input and encouragement has been very gratifying.

The take-away from this entry is that people all over are interested in what others are doing and are willing to spend the time to find it and read it. Amazing. There is also a hell of lot of useless stuff out there too, this blog excepted of course!

In all the previous entries in this blog and the ones yet to come, I hope there has been and will be some curiosity raised, enough to click on some of the links to learn more. For really the first time in our history, we have the opportunity to hear from what one once described as “the great unwashed” or what we know as just us without the filter of a media company, a government official, or a candidate.

Looking back, I wished that the blogosphere (there’s that word again!) were around when I started the “Arn? Narn.” book. As a source of information, not all of it accurate of course, (much of it really), it can lead you to strange and wondrous places as well as some you wished you had never seen. Yet, it becomes more and more valuable each day. Just be open to what you may find. And if you don’t like it, you can always clickback on it. Just not on this blog, OK?

Revisiting Granny.

14 Monday May 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Newfoundland, Photography

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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.

Losing my religion… not exactly.

09 Monday Apr 2012

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

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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.

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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Number 9, number 9…

30 Friday Mar 2012

Posted by in Newfoundland

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No, it’s not the Beatles’ song “Number 9.” It’s a goal.

Over the past few months, I’ve been blogging about Newfoundland, its charms, quirkiness, and its overall wonderfulness… all in advance of my book “Arn? Narn.” As followers of this blog already know, the upcoming book “Arn? Narn.” (due out this fall) is a black & white photo-documentary of disappearing rural Newfoundland.

In this effort to help promote the book “Arn? Narn.”, I’m seeking to get a significant amount of followers to the blog. Currently, I’m only  away from my new target. Become that th follower and I’ll send you a free, signed copy of my upcoming book, “Arn? Narn.”, of which this blog is all about. If you are responsible for someone else becoming #, then both of you will receive the book, plus you will receive an original print from it as well. Upon reaching that magical number, I’ll announce the winner on this blog. Just go fill in your e-mail address on the “Follow” section and hit the follow button. (No one will contact you unless of course you are #.) It’s that easy. No counting, I’ll do all the heavy lifting.

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Is that an asterisk or are you just happy to see me?

26 Monday Mar 2012

Posted by in Newfoundland

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Over the past few months, I’ve been blogging about Newfoundland, its charms, quirkiness, and its overall wonderfulness… all in advance of my book “Arn? Narn.”* As followers of this blog already know, the upcoming book “Arn? Narn.”** (due out this fall) is a black & white photo-documentary of disappearing rural Newfoundland. And it, with a little bit of shameless self-promotion, I think is quite handsome. Thankfully, so does the publisher.

What is this all about?

So, here’s the deal. In this effort to help promote the book “Arn? Narn.”***, I’m seeking to get a significant amount of followers to the blog. Currently, I’m 11 away from my new target. Become that 11th follower and I’ll send you a free, signed copy of my upcoming book, “Arn? Narn.”****, of which this blog is all about. If you are responsible for someone else becoming #11, then both of you will receive the book, plus you will receive an original print from it as well. Upon reaching that magical number, I’ll announce the winner on this blog. That’s it. Nothing to buy. Just go fill in your e-mail address, (no coupons necessary, no one will contact you with unbelievable offers of real estate, time shares, aid for underprivileged children in Beverly Hills,  – we will leave you alone, unless of course you are #11), hit the follow button. That’s all there is to it to get a free copy of the upcoming book “Arn? Narn.”*****

* – You may be wondering what all the asterisks are for – just an official count of times “Arn? Narn.” was written. Ooops, that’s now ******! Gotta stop that!

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!

“Arn? Narn.” Do you feel lucky?

03 Saturday Mar 2012

Posted by in Newfoundland

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This is a different post than usual. I’m seeking to get more followers to this blog. Currently, I’m only 21 away from my target number.

An old Newfoundland flag.

As followers of my blog already know, the upcoming book “Arn? Narn.” (due out this fall) is a black & white photo-documentary of disappearing rural Newfoundland. And with a little bit of shameless self-promotion, I think is quite handsome. Thankfully, so does the publisher.

So, here’s the deal. Become that 21st follower and I’ll send you a free, signed copy of my upcoming book, “Arn? Narn.”, of which this blog is all about. If you are responsible for someone else becoming #21, then both of you will receive the book, plus you will receive an original print from it as well. Upon reaching that magical number, I’ll announce the winner on this blog. That’s it. Nothing to buy. No entry blanks. No hoops to jump through. One size really does fit all.

So you have to ask yourself one question, “Do I feel lucky?” Thanks, Clint.

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‘Scuse me, while I kiss the sky.

01 Thursday Mar 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Geography, Newfoundland, Photography, Sea, Weather

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It’s probably a good bet Jimi Hendrix was not singing about the skies in Newfoundland and more’s the pity.

Nowhere have I seen a more dramatic skyscape than up on The Rock. Now you may be thinking, “It’s a sky. So what? Big deal!” Well, yeah, it is a big deal. It will show you textures, shapes, and tonalities like you’ve never seen and then in a moment vanish only to replaced by something completely different (and not in the Monty Python sense either).

Why is this sky different from all other skies you ask? In one sense, it’s very similar to Big Sky country in Montana. It’s high, it’s enormous, it appears to cover and touch everything you see, it goes on forever, and oftentimes it resembles a time lapse film. The Newfoundland sky is like a living motion picture – something is always going on and like a really good one, you won’t know the ending.

If it’s a sunny day, then the sea takes on an unbelievably rich and dark blue color. All the colors of the island jump out in blazing relief. And even on such a day, there can be fog which will give you a teasing glimpse of something beautiful only to obscure it moments later.

On a cloudy day then, of which there are many, the show really begins. Cloudy days in Newfoundland are not to be confused with a cloudy or overcast day anywhere else. After all, this is Newfoundland. Missing are the drab, plain-jane grey skies in the lower 48. Instead you’ll be witness to high drama. For the person who believes everything is black and white, they should be prepared for disappointment. These skies display some serious greys and a hell of a lot of variations. From light and medium greys to end-of-the-world dark greys. it’s all there. What makes it even that much more spectacular are the many textures. It’s not a flat sky by any stretch of the imagination; no, it’s a roiling, scudding, blustering, opinionated sky with its own intent.

Picture this: you’re out on the coast – the sea is a wind-whipped, nearly black surface complete with whitecaps; nearer than the horizon are brilliant white icebergs sitting in stark contrast to the dark, colorless sea and to the rich, cloud-laden thunder grey sky.This is the stuff of wonderful black & white photography and I’m really there.

So, go ahead and kiss this sky! I have.

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Newf-a-licious!

23 Thursday Feb 2012

Posted by in Culture, Food, Newfoundland, Observations

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Newf-a-licious – it sounds like it could be a TV show on Bravo, E!, or Oxygen. Happily, it’s not that at all. Instead, it’s a word just coined to describe native Newfoundland cuisine. Oh, all the expected dishes are available and there are some very fine restaurants pushing the envelope for the foodies out there. But it’s the ones that really define Newfoundland gastronomical culture I want to share.

It’s a rare person who doesn’t know what cod, a favorite of mine, is. Fish and chips is a ubiquitous dish in many places around the world. But it’s an even rarer (non-Newfoundlander) person who knows what cod cheeks are. I’ve already written about scruncheons, but how about seal flipper pie? Or brewis? Figgy duff?

Cod cheeks are pretty self-explanatory if not easily attainable in the lower 48. It’s the fleshy part of the head considered to be a delicacy when cooked. Great late at night with some local brew.

Brewis – why, that’s no more than than hard tack (a bread) soaked in water and then boiled with salt cod and/or fat pork. This could very well be on the American Heart Association’s list of foods to eat in moderation and it’s very popular. It’s often the main course.

Or seal flipper pie. Of course you would want it fresh, so you’d go down to the docks in St. John’s and buy fresh seal flippers from the trucks, right off the boats. For many, it’s considered a delicacy. It wasn’t my favorite.

And then there’s figgy duff, a dessert, which really is quite nice. It’s a boiled pudding with raisins and saturated with molasses and was in the past thought of as a luxury.

Lest you think everything is made from lesser ingredients, there is caribou and moose. Caribou sausage is really good. The moose burger to my tastes needed a lot of extras like cheese, onions, etc; but not bad.

But wait, one must wash this down with a beverage, right? And besides all the usual alcoholic suspects including Screech, there’s local beer from the Quidi Vidi Brewing Co. right in St. John’s. I’m happy to say, I’ve sampled most of them and quaffed even more of certain ones and enjoyed them all.

Beer is not the only beverage made in St. John’s. Vodka made from iceberg water is very popular. Dan Ackroyd, he of Saturday Night Live, Blues Brothers, and Ghostbuster fame has made a vodka distilled from very pure iceberg water. It comes in a crystal skull (don’t ask why) and is sold thoughout the US.

There’s more but that’s the idea. At the end of the day, it’s all Newf-a-licious. Just don’t forget the beer or vodka.

How did I get here?

17 Friday Feb 2012

Posted by in Discovery, History, Humor, Newfoundland, Photography

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Sometime during this, my second trip to Newfoundland, I mused upon the events that led me there. Having previously written about how this whole idea came about, this is not to be a rehashing of that. I’ll probably indulge myself to do so though at some future time begging one’s patience. It’s also not how I physically got here – wrote about that as well in length. No, this is about a seminal event that did ultimately lead to this point in time.

A long time ago, (in a part of the country far, far away), I was sharing drinks with some college friends up in Boston. We were talking about careers and what we wanted to do with our lives. You know, the typical 3:00 AM college discussion. I was also trying to impress a young woman, Darla D., with what I thought was cool. I was an art major which is really, when you think of it, pretty cool, if not a non-starter on the economic scale. I wanted to paint. The underlying problem with that was I wasn’t very good. Being young and full of myself, I wasn’t about to admit it. What to do?

I blurted out, “I’m thinking of getting into photography.” Whoa! Where did that come from? Yes, I was trying to impress Darla D. and that did do it, but I had never thought of photography before. I would look at my fellow students with their cameras going around taking pictures of nothing and think, “Glad I’m not them, what dorks.” Truth is that as a teenage art major (Hmmm, that might be a good idea for a B-movie), we were all dorks already, but the photographers didn’t seem to care and were cool with that.

The more I thought about it, the more attractive the idea became. I have to believe my painting professor was relieved about the decision. So, I took some classes, worked with a photographer to learn more, and then courageously set out to wow the world. Uh huh, yeah, right. It wasn’t at all different from any other artistic discipline or business for that matter. Ya gotta pay yer dues.

So many years later, with any number of missteps and mistakes behind me and yet to come, I found myself in Newfoundland photographing this book. The big difference is that I’m that dork now, taking pictures of “nothing.”

Bruce meets Bruce.

10 Friday Feb 2012

Posted by in Discovery, History, Newfoundland, Observations, Sea

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The Town Manager

Newfoundland is the kind of place that one can walk into the Town Manager’s office and ask to see him/her…and get an audience. And that’s just what I did based on the suggestion of my photographer friend Randy. Since I was going to be hanging around the town and the island of Fogo, I was told it would be a good idea to let the constabulary know what I was up to.

So, into the town hall I went and asked if I might meet the manager. “Why, yes. of course. One minute, he’ll be very happy to meet you. Let me tell him you’re here. Where did you say you were from?” No red tape, no bureaucracy, and no surly DMV types, just a warm, welcome. Wow.

I am then introduced to Bruce Pomeroy, the Fogo Town Manager. No pretense, frills, or trappings of office – just a Newfoundlander doing his job and part of that job was to deal with people like me. I expected a brief but friendly hi, hello, how are you. What I received was far beyond that. I got a tour of the office, a brief history of the town and island, a copy of that history and an island map, and a commemorative pin. Yet, we were not done, not by a long shot. I was then to be given a walking tour of the town by Bruce.

I was introduced to several people on our tour including the owner of a fishing fleet of which I will write soon. On this walk, by one of the coves on the island, I looked out and saw an amazing panorama. The sky was this rich and varied grey; the sea was a fluid and darker grey; and separating them was this brilliant white line. It glowed. I asked Bruce what was that. He replied that it was part of the arctic ice pack that breaks off every year and travels down to Newfoundland. Based on where it was, he thought that if the winds were right, it would surround the island by the next afternoon. That would be enough time for the few fisherman to get their boats safely to where they would not become ice-locked. Once there, the pack ice had to melt before any boats would break free.

By 2:30 that afternoon, the pack ice was already coming in and fast. The winds were so much stronger than originally thought. And with the winds came a large drop in temperature as they crossed over the ice. I was to spend the next four hours watching and photographing several fisherman attempting to get their boats free. It was incredible to see. There will be a series of photos in the book depicting this. It is a hard life.

I’m a real nowhere man…

27 Friday Jan 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Geography, Newfoundland, Observations, Photography, Sea

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Let me say it right up front – I like being “nowhere.” No, not just sitting around doing nothing, but being somewhere that doesn’t look or feel like anything else and has no particular name. In other words, nowhere.

In Newfoundland, there is plenty of nowhere and that’s a really good thing. There is so much good stuff there that if it were named or claimed, it wouldn’t be nowhere. That said, what does it mean?

Simply stated, there is so much land between formal towns and/or outports that is not settled or built upon, that is virtually untouched and untrod. It is glorious in it’s natural state. No malls, no convenient stores, nothing. As I said, glorious. And glorious in its isolation.

And where I’m going on this second trip to Newfoundland, I’ll be traveling through a lot of nowhere before I get somewhere and I couldn’t be happier. As a photographer, it’s very rare that we get to visit land unsullied by power lines, billboards, and visitor centers. This is land one doesn’t so much visit as experience. Nothing can prepare you for it. It is not postcard pretty in the traditional sense. Rather, it has a raw, vital beauty. Not the beauty say of a New England fall, but the unyielding beauty of a land defying commerce and compromise.

In the west, there are mountains, lakes, fjords, and caribou. Everywhere, there are bogs, moose, streams, and birches. And everything, every thing is informed by the sea. Oh, the sea. It is the lifeblood of the island even though its bounty has long been gone. It is in the DNA of the people and the culture. It is that that has helped me to decide where to go.

In a song by the Newfoundland group Great Big Sea, they sing: “There is no place quite like this place…”. They got that right.

Newfoundland is an island, about the same size as the state of Tennessee. But where I’ll be going to photograph this time are two islands off the coasts of Newfoundland – Fogo Island and Ramea: two very different islands sharing a similar story but ultimately with dissimilar outcomes: almost nowhere on the map, but home for a few hopeful and determined people.