Fare Thee Well!

My third and probably last PuSh Festival show was Fare Thee Well!, an unusual art piece I caught today after work. To see it I had to get to the Lookout at Harbour Centre and look into one of several telescopes facing roughly east. For about 15 minutes I listened to sad, haunting instrumental music while a distant scrolling marquee bade farewell to various people and ideas, or showed classical quotes about goodbyes.

It was very high-concept, and it worked for me. What helped was that the messages were not all sad. One said “Farewell VHS players”. I think another was about rotary phones. “Farewell CBC” was followed by “Farewell Jian Gomeshi”. Some were downright ambiguous: for example, how should I read “Farewell Trust in the Father”? A sad acknowledgement of the breakdown of family structures, or a happy end to patriarchal authority?

There were a small number of “Welcome” messages, and all of them were either sad or disturbing. Most memorable? “Welcome Harper”. Yeah.

All in all, a job well done! My only complaint was that the setup in the Lookout needed work. The telescopes were too low, and having to look through them without moving was damn uncomfortable. There should have been some way to move the chairs up or down a bit.

And since this was my first trip up the Lookout, I made sure to take lots of pictures. It was the perfect time of day, too: just light enough to see details of the buildings, but dark enough to give them some magic.

Walking Lions’ Gate Bridge

On Tuesday I did something I’d been thinking about for a while: walking over Lions’ Gate Bridge. I didn’t really plann it, I just got impatient waiting for the bus after work, then started walking along Marine Dr. The bus drove past as I was between stops, so I thought, fuck it. It was a nice evening, not too warm and not too cold, I had my camera with me and the light looked right for some good sunset shots. Why not?

On Tuesday I did something I’d been thinking about for a while: walking over Lions’ Gate Bridge. I didn’t really plann it, I just got impatient waiting for the bus after work, then started walking along Marine Dr. The bus drove past as I was between stops, so I thought, fuck it. It was a nice evening, not too warm and not too cold, I had my camera with me and the light looked right for some good sunset shots. Why not?

Lions' Gate Bridge

Traffic on Lions' Gate Bridge

Here are a few things you don’t notice when you’re driving over the bridge:

  • Those factories, or whatever the hell they are, just west of the bridge between Capilano Indian Reserve and the sea… they stink. It’s a weird smell I couldn’t quite identify. Kind of seafoodish, I guess. What are they making or processing there?
  • The bridge vibrates from the constant traffic. By itself not a big deal, but it was kicking up my fear of heights quite a bit.

North Vancouver

Funny thing, though: until I actually set foot on the bridge, I didn’t think acrophobia would be a problem. I get nary a twinge from Burrard or Granville Bridges, but Lions’ Gate is a whole other beast. I kept angling away from the outer railing, even though that’d put me in the way of bicycles (unless there was a really good shot). To turn around I shifted my feet around carefully, as though I were walking on thin ice. In fact I didn’t trust my balance unless I was steadily walking straight ahead, preferably with one hand touching something solid.

Lions' Gate Bridge, sun going down

Of course, even after I got back on terra firma my journey was far from over, because still had to cross Stanley Park, and then downtown. I was tired, starving and I needed to pee really badly, but it was totally worth it! Though next time, I’ll go on the east sidewalk, to get a better view of downtown…

The Harbour and Canada Place

Sunset, Kits, Sunset on Kits

Last week I did something I hadn’t done in a while: bring my camera to work and take pictures from the SeaBus. Now that the days are getting shorter I can get some fine sunset pics—when the weather’s cooperating, as it was that day.

Last week I did something I hadn’t done in a while: bring my camera to work and take pictures from the SeaBus. Now that the days are getting shorter I can get some fine sunset pics—when the weather’s cooperating, as it was that day.

Sunset and Clouds

Sunset

On Thanksgiving Sunday I went to see a play at the Jericho Arts Centre—lovely little place between Jericho and Locarno Beaches—and then a few of us went for dinner at a veggie restaurant in Kits, where I took one last shot of the sun going down on 4th Ave.

Belmont Ave

4th Avenue near MacDonald

Pride Picnic in the Park

Vancouver Pride Week kicked off Saturday with the Pride Picnic in the Park, a fun and casual all day event at Brockton Oval, near the eastern tip of Stanley Park. I was there with a small group from VGVA to set up a volleyball net for picnickers to enjoy. Last year we put it up way over at the south end of the park, and hardly anyone came over until the end of the afternoon. This time we were playing near the booths and beer garden, and you know that’s where the action is.

Vancouver Pride Week kicked off Saturday with the Pride Picnic in the Park, a fun and casual all day event at Brockton Oval, near the eastern tip of Stanley Park. I was there with a small group from VGVA to set up a volleyball net for picnickers to enjoy. Last year we put it up way over at the south end of the park, and hardly anyone came over until the end of the afternoon. This time we were playing near the booths and beer garden, and you know that’s where the action is.

Rainbow

The picnic’s a very casual, family-friendly event. There were lots of parents (queer and otherwise) with their kids and/or doggies, hanging out and enjoying the day. But there’s lots to do besides getting some sun (or staying out of the sun)! The kiddies (and kids-at-heart) can enjoy a number of fun queer games, such as the high heel toss:

High Heel Shoe Toss

(Unfortunately I snapped this picture a tiny bit too early, getting only the windup.)

Then came the sack race:

Sack Race

And the drag race. The challenge here is not to race in drag, but to put on your outfit piece by piece (bra, dress, scarf, purse, wig and hat), then race back to the starting line. No cheating by wearing your dress around your shoulders like a cape!

Drag Race: Start

Drag Race

Drag Race Winner!

Then the tug of war. The picture here is (I think) of the second round, with gay men against lesbians. One of the guys said they were going to, quote “beat some pussy.” Joke’s on him, because the lesbians won.

Tug of War

Lastly, melon eating is a good way to cap off a scorching hot day.

Melon Eating

We took down the nets around 5:00; the picnic was winding down by then, almost all the remaining people were sitting in the (cool, shady) beer garden. I got home, showered and changed, and got ready for some fireworks…

Red Umbrella

I took this shot after grass volleyball last Wednesday:

I took this shot after grass volleyball last Wednesday:

Red Umbrella

I got the composition right, with no need to crop, but the umbrella that originally caught my eye was overwhelmed by the busy highrise all around it, already coloured goldish by the setting sun. So I did something I’d never done before: actual post-processing. Nothing too elaborate, I just oversaturated the umbrella and blue sky, then desaturated the rest of the building. (Update 28.07.2008: And then a bit of perspective correction)

Still, this was a big step for me. I’d always felt post-processing was a kind of cheat—maybe because I never really learned how to do it? But the fact is, cameras doesn’t see in the same way people do. And I realize it’s worth the time to learn more tricks of the trade, to create photos that look like what my eye sees.

(This post was inspired by Seriocomic, an amazing photoblog I discovered recently.)

Ode To A Juvenile Bald Eagle I Saw Perched By The SeaBus Terminal Friday Morning

O little Bald Eagle
(Well, not that little, you might have been three feet long)
I saw you from the escalator as I exited the train
Just sitting there, huddled against the rain
Quietly looking around
At everything and nothing

Juvenile Bald Eagle
O little Bald Eagle
(Well, not that little, you might have been three feet long)
I saw you from the escalator as I exited the train
Just sitting there, huddled against the rain
Quietly looking around
At everything and nothing
Juvenile Bald Eagle
I wasn’t even sure what species you were at first
Since your plumage was dark brown with
A few white spots around the head and back
But the only big raptors around here are Bald Eagles
And seagulls for instance take a year or more to grow their adult colours
So it was a pretty safe bet
Later I googled “juvenile bald eagle” and there you were
Juvenile Bald Eagle
Your beak so sharp, your eyes so bright
Elegant lethal beauty
Grace and power I can only dream of
Even if I could have gotten closer I wouldn’t have dared
Afraid you’d fly away
(And, just a little bit, afraid you’d attack me)
Juvenile Bald Eagle
No one else looked at you
A vision for my eyes only
A special gift

I was glad
I paid attention

Fog, Fish and Old-Time Photos

This has been a pretty interesting weekend. On Leap Friday I almost went skiing. A couple of friends and I had planned it in advance, but the weather turned out to be too warm. It was raining in the city, and even on top of Seymour it wasn’t much more than heavy, wet snow. But that was nothing compared to the killer fog. Seriously, the drive up (and back down) was harrowing; without those little reflector thingies in the middle of the road, I’m sure we would have either crashed or plunged to our deaths a dozen times.

This has been a pretty interesting weekend. On Leap Friday I almost went skiing. A couple of friends and I had planned it in advance, but the weather turned out to be too warm. It was raining in the city, and even on top of Seymour it wasn’t much more than heavy, wet snow. But that was nothing compared to the killer fog. Seriously, the drive up (and back down) was harrowing; without those little reflector thingies in the middle of the road, I’m sure we would have either crashed or plunged to our deaths a dozen times. And yes, it was very pretty, but there ain’t no way you can ski in that.

So we just went back to hang out at their place and watch anime.

Saturday was my first Taiji class in over a month. What with one thing and another, either the class was canceled or I couldn’t make it. It felt good to practice again and (bonus!) work on the staff form.

Sunday? Five hours of volleyball. And a special challenge as I got to play Setter for the first time in… well, ever. I wasn’t very good at it, sad to say, as I kept drifting back to the Middle position. But after a few games I got a little better; and I also got newfound respect for that position. I knew it was the hardest to play, but damn.

Monday, I had off. And I had a choice to make: should I sleep in, then veg around all day? It was tempting, especially since I’d recently bought the Little Britain DVD set. But no, I was going to enrich my mind. So I took the train as usual, and spent the rest of the morning at the Aquarium. I hadn’t been in ages, and it was great to get reacquainted with the froggies and the fishies and the anemones and the alligator and the sea otters (OMG SO CUTE!!!) and the belugas and the dolphins.

First you were like, whoa! And then we were like, WHOA!

Anemones

Clothed Crab

Panamanian Golden Frog

Sea Otters

Finale

The bad weather put the kibosh to my plan to walk along the seawall, so I came back downtown and visited the Art Gallery. Did you know, the place isn’t just for political rallies? That they use it to actually display art? It’s true! Seriously, though, this first ever visit to the gallery was wonderful. I especially enjoyed TruthBeauty, an exhibition on the Pictorialist movement. I think what captivated me was the Pictorialists’ exploration of this brand-new medium, experimenting with mood and composition—just as I am myself doing, though part of me feels like a rank amateur compared to these past masters.

No, don’t mind me. This is just something that’s been percolating for a while; I’m looking for… inspiration, I guess, different directions, in my photography, but I don’t know where to look. Maybe the Pictorialists will give me a clue. In the meantime, I’ll just keep my eyes open and my camera ready.

Flown The Coop

They’re definitely on their own now. Since late last week, none of the juveniles have touched down on the roof for more than a few minutes, and haven’t even been fed by their parents. At least as far as I could see. Even the runt I worried about so much is flying like a pro, its flight strong, its gliding smooth as silk. It’s such a joy to watch them go after seeing them grow up. Funny to think just a couple of months ago they were still downy little chicks with useless wings and ravenous stomachs.

They’re definitely on their own now. Since late last week, none of the juveniles have touched down on the roof for more than a few minutes, and haven’t even been fed by their parents. At least as far as I could see. Even the runt I worried about so much is flying like a pro, its flight strong, its gliding smooth as silk. It’s such a joy to watch them go after seeing them grow up. Funny to think just a couple of months ago they were still downy little chicks with useless wings and ravenous stomachs. In a few weeks I won’t even be able to tell them from the adults: today I noticed the tips of their wings are already turning grey.

How far will they wander, though? Their ‘hood currently ranges over several city blocks, but how much will it change in their lifetime? I’m not clear on what “territory” might mean to a seagull when they’re not actually nesting. I guess it’s probably just a hunting/feeding range, overlapping with that of other seagulls, expanding or contracting depending on how much competition they face. But on the whole (I’m totally guessing here), probably not moving too much from generation to generation. Which means these gulls’ ancestors might have been around this area since before Europeans came along. Even before First Nations people–though I’m thinking not long before, what with Ice Ages and all.

Circle of Life, people. Circle of Life.

Up, Up And Away

Holy cow, it’s flying!

And not just little Kitty Hawk laps around the roof, but soaring beautifully, higher even than my floor. It’s still got a lot to learn–it’s flapping too much, using up too much energy, and when it does try to glide its wings are all twitchy and hesitant; also, the landings need work–but damn that’s impressive. Just a week ago it was confined to the rooftop, and now… the sky’s the limit.

Holy cow, it’s flying!

And not just little Kitty Hawk laps around the roof, but soaring beautifully, higher even than my floor. It’s still got a lot to learn–it’s flapping too much, using up too much energy, and when it does try to glide its wings are all twitchy and hesitant; also, the landings need work–but damn that’s impressive. Just a week ago it was confined to the rooftop, and now… the sky’s the limit.

Its siblings aren’t doing so well, though. One is a pretty fair flyer, able to fly for short stretches but not getting much lift. That’s okay, it just needs a little bit more time. It’s the last one, the runt, that has me really worried. I was at an off-site training session all day yesterday, but my coworker (who’s almost as interested in these critters as I am) told me it got stuck on a lower, adjoining roof since yesterday, and couldn’t get back up. It’s only about a yard up, but that’s more than the little guy can manage. And this morning, it looked in bad shape; its wing feathers looked all scraggly, its balance was bad, it just didn’t seem to have a lot of energy. Had it even been eating and drinking? Were the parents feeding it?

Turns out, yes they are. So it won’t starve just yet. But I’m wondering how long the adults will keep feeding their chicks. Another co-worker opined that now the juveniles would follow the parents on the hunt, to learn the tricks of the trade. Chicks #1 and 2 should be okay. But #3 is far behind its sibs, and may not be able to take care of itself once the parents decide to cut them off.

I wish them all luck, because they’ll need it. They’ve had it pretty easy so far, but now they’ll have to compete with a whole generation of hungry juveniles. It’s a gull-eat-gull world.

That’s Natural Selection For You

I was off for the first week of July. When I came back on the 9th, I found the nest on the cathedral tower had ben abandoned. My theory—shared by my neighbour, who’d also been keeping an eye on the birdies—was that the metal surface on which the nest was built just got too hot, and the chicks cooked. (Yeah, it’s not always survival of the fittest. Sometimes it comes down to dumb luck.)

Hey, I haven’t blogged about seagulls in a while, have I?

I was off for the first week of July. When I came back on the 9th, I found the nest on the cathedral tower had ben abandoned. My theory—shared by my neighbour, who’d also been keeping an eye on the birdies—was that the metal surface on which the nest was built just got too hot, and the chicks cooked. (Yeah, it’s not always survival of the fittest. Sometimes it comes down to dumb luck.) A gull came by every now and then for a week or so… was it a parent? Do they remember their babies, and grieve? Come to think of it, I’m glad I wasn’t there to see it.

The family at 650 Richards is doing great, though. Huey, Louie and Dewey (or should that be Athos, Porthos and Aramis? Gaspar, Melchior and Balthazar?) have a whole roof to explore, with a good mix of sun and shade provided by the chimney and the surrounding buildings. For example, at this time of year our own building’s shadow falls on that roof between 10AM and a little past noon. For most of the afternoon, though, there’s no shade but the chimney, and that’s where they spend their time. Which just supports the “cooking on a hot metal surface” theory. It looks like seagull chicks are a lot more sensitive to heat than cold and rain: they’ll generally avoid direct sunlight, but wet weather doesn’t seem to bother them much.

I’ve had the pleasure of seeing the adults feeding them. This one time a couple weeks ago, the mommy/daddy just spit up a glistening chunk of half-digested fish half the size of the baby’s head, which the little darling just scarfed right down. Yummy! I noted that the other two didn’t pester the adult for food that time. And later, I noticed one of them was quite a bit smaller than the others. Being polite doesn’t pay in a gull’s world! The runt kept its baby colours (light brown with darker brown spots) for longer too, while its siblings grew a nicer light grey and white coat (now followed by plain medium brown feathers on their wings). Though as of now their heads are still spotted brown.

The chicks are big now, as big as crows. In the early days, there’d always be one parent standing guard nearby while another hunted, but now the chicks are mostly left alone. That’s okay, I’m sure they can take care of themselves now, and the parents must be working full time to feed their hungry maws. And holy shit, their wings have gotten huge in the last few days! They almost have adult proportions. Still can’t fly, though: the best they can do is a flapping run. I guess their muscles are still too weak, or their flight feathers still haven’t grown in.

But ah, my babies are growing up. Soon, I expect the parents will come by less and less and they’ll start fishing for themselves. And will they remember their nursery? Maybe one of them will build another nest on the same spot next year, and complete the circle of life. Or they’ll get eaten by a bald eagle. That’s another circle.

And I hope they stay away from the bell towers. Those places are deathtraps.