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Showing posts with label saskatchewan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label saskatchewan. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Happy Accident

Trans-Canada Highway, outside Parkbeg, Saskatchewan
August 2011
Shooting with my Polaroid Super Colorpack, I had left the focus ring set at 5 feet from the previous photograph I took, a portrait.  I retook the shot, but actually prefer the heavily-diffused look (called "soft focus" nowadays, a euphemism for "out of focus").

I can't pull a Pee Wee on ya, and say "I meant to do that."  I didn't, but so what?  The results are just the same.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Garish: The Cutting Room Floor

Provincial Highway 8, between Moosomin and 
Rocanville, Saskatchewan, June 2009

"The first cut is the deepest.  Baby, I know."  

This image is one of my dearest favorites, but it didn't even make it beyond the first round of edits.  That's how it goes sometimes.  The beautiful halo of powder blue, turning to a deep-blue sky framing this red farmhouse I found in Saskatchewan off the Trans-Canada Highway was too reminiscent of an image that did get included, of an even more brilliant crimson farm storage tank -- coincidentally, just up the road, near Esterhazy.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Garish: The Cutting Room Floor

Provincial Highway 22, near Gerald, Saskatchewan 
June 2009

Form meets function meets form. Nature and agricultural architecture meet on this slope in rural Saskatchewan.  I enjoy photographing in Canada.  When walking onto property owned by total strangers up North, I have yet to meet paranoid landowners, asking the ubiquitous annoying question, "What are you doing?"

Which is very nice, because while I usually have some sarcastic comeback while in the United States ("You see this thing here I'm holding?  It's called a camera.  See, what you do is you point it at the subject you want to photograph.  A hole in the camera opens, and an image of the subject is captured on film."  Part of my shtick is pronouncing the key words very slowly, as though I were speaking to (in the words of Rahm Emanuel) "f***ing retards."  How I've lucked out by not being brutalized by local and state cops (particularly in Texas) is a testament to either the Due Process clause of the U.S. Constitution, or just plain dumb luck (I suspect the latter).

However, in foreign countries, I am always on my best behavior.  I've only had one incident remotely approaching a run-in with police in Canada (Mexico is another story), and good manners have always pulled me out of a potentially awkward situation.  

On the breezy June day I took this photograph, a gracious Russian immigrant farmer greeted me graciously, and she and her husband gave me a tour of the family farm -- from the back seat of their four wheeler!