A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

Brother Cadfael & Brother Edwin Reunited in My Memory
Wednesday, June 20, 2018



Rosa 'Brother Cadfael', June 20 2018

Much of what I do these days is to visit my past while awake. In my sleep that past is a strange one, sometimes scary, almost an alien one. When I wake up during the night I must tell myself that it is only a dream and that my present, my wake time present is just fine.

Of late my Rosemary has re-kindled her interest in roses. She spends hours in bed with her iPhone looking at rose websites.

There is a rose that is in bloom right now. It is an unusual English Rose called Rosa ‘Brother Cadfael’. It is unusual in that the blooms before they open they resemble a hybrid tea. They are unusually large.

Brother Cadfael succumbed in our old Kerrisdale garden as it could not cope with shade.



Rosemary was not eager to order the rose again thinking she might offend me. I took a scan print of the rose to my mentor in Austin, Brother Edwin Reggio, C.S.C. some years ago. Months later I visited him again. Behind him framed (he made the frame) was my print. On the bottom part of the frame he had inscribed a brass plaque with the name of the rose and that I had given it to him.

I told Rosemary that ordering the rose would not in the least offend me.
You see that at my age one of the ways of reliving my past is to be reminded by its tangible elements. The rose in bloom now reminds me of Brother Edwin and all of the novels (I read most of them) by Ellis Peters featuring her medieval sleuth.

What is most symmetrically proper is that the rose (sold by David Austin Roses) came via their North American distribution place which is Tyler, Texas. It arrived safe and sound in a box that was there, one morning, at our front door, two months ago.



Salmon & Susan Musgrave's Pheromones
Tuesday, June 19, 2018



Salmon

The English poet Ted Hughes, who came often to British Columbia to fish for steelhead, had a theory (wildly held, it turns out) that salmon are sexually attracted to female anglers. Because the biggest salmon are cock fish (old word for male Atlantic salmon – one I am so glad to have discovered!) they are naturally attracted to a woman’s pheromones, which transmit themselves to the water when she smears them on her bait or lure in the process of handling her fishing tackle. Old Ted told me he frequently went fishing in Ireland with a friend who tied his salmon flies using his girlfriend’s pubic hair.



I’ve yet to find a fisherman friend who has begged me to rub his flies in my knickers (that sounds complicated) in order to give him an edge, but I experimented once by wiping a lure through my hair (public not pubic) when Jim Fulton and I went to the place he called the Meat Hole on the Tiell River. He caught a whopping big Coho on his first cast; I don’t know if it was my pheromones, or the Meat Hole living up to its fecund reputation.

A Taste of Haida Gwai - Food Gathering and Feasting at the Edge of the World
Susan Musgrave - 2015 Whitecap Books





A Blast With Photographer Hans Sipma
Monday, June 18, 2018




Some years ago photographer Hans Sipma came with his wife to an open garden in our old digs in Kerrisdale. I believe that she may have driven because Sipma was in an Italian cyclist uniform and was holding a very red and very expensive bike. I asked him about the bike and he gave me a figure that was close to the price of a Chevrolet Malibu. He then said, “I could never afford a Ferrari so I bought this.”

I have admired Sipma from the very beginning when we arrived in Vancouver in 1975. He and Mike Paris had a basement studio (below where my eventual studio would one year be on the Farmer’s Building, now gone, on Granville and Robson. The pair took photographs for the catalogue of Eaton’s which was across the street. A few times our daughters modeled for it and Sipma and Paris took their pictures.

Through the years I have had long chats with Sipma about cars. He has a pragmatic approach to everything. He just makes sense in a balance almost unemotional way.

Sipma’s photograph at the Vancouver Planetarium (of the Pacific Space Centre) blasting off as a spacecraft was one of the first digitally manipulated images in Vancouver. Sipma has stayed ahead, always.



A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of cycling with Sipma and it is my hope that I can do this again.

He visited my digs and I took a picture with my Mamiya RB-67, Fujiroid b+w 3200 and a pinhole body cap. The picture is underexposed but I like it.

As for Sipma it is people like him that make me feel that not all is lost for our city while there is at least one pragmatic voice.



Stephen Reid - March 13, 1950 – June 12, 2018
Sunday, June 17, 2018





This blog promises to be very long. I had been thinking about it all last night.  I read the extensive and fine obituary in my NY Times of Stephen Reid. Today, Sunday, Fathers’s Day I called up Celia Duthie to tell her of my concerns re writing this. I told her that many years ago Fred Schiffer a noted photographer of this city and now gone was called by Business Week for a photograph of Sam Belzberg.  Schiffer knew that the pictures he had taken of the man were family portraits. He also knew that Belzberg had been involved in some questionable business dealings. So he told the magazine that since his photographs were taken privately and commissioned by Belzberg he was not going to send them anything.

On February 1986 I took some photographs for a Vancouver Magazine cover article that involved literary parents and their children. One of them was Susan Musgrave and her daughter Charlotte.

Susan Musgrave & Charlotte - April 1986

In 1985 I had gone to Musgrave readings and I was astounded by her presence in red. I believe it must be her favourite colour. She stood on one side of her lectern in a tight red dress and wearing exquisite red pumps. She read her poetry (it was erotic to begin with) but her presentation, diction and that little smile made it more so.

And so I rang the bell at her house in Sidney. A woman wearing a tight red sweater opened the door and I was let in. I had this idea that I wanted to photograph her and daughter in her back garden showing the water and the rocky terrain. She took me to her kitchen, it was nice and warm. It was winter and cold outside. We discussed on the taking of the portrait.
  
The Laughter in the Kitchen


Susan Musgrave

From:   Things that Keep and Do Not Change. McClelland & Stewart, 1999



All day my daughter and her best friend

have been playing marriage, destroying

the house to make it the way they need it

to be. They've shoved the loveseat

across the bedroom door to form a barricade,

overturned the armchairs to give themselves

temporary shelters. They've even rolled

the carpet back, "so the carpet won't get

beer spilled on it," my daughter, pretending

to be Dad, explains, when I complain:

the house doesn't feel like my own anymore

but still I have to live in it. "We can

build a new house when I make lots of good

money," my daughter says, butting out

the Popeye candy cigarette she won

from the neighbour boy for showing him

her vagina through a slit in the split

cedar fence. I wept, told her next time,



baby, hold out for a whole pack,

trying to be brave, the way only a mother

could. "We can't build anything if you

keep drinking drugs," the tiny wife bursts

as my daughter keels into the woodstove

and pretends to catch fire, the laughter

in the kitchen filling the house

where we tried to live. What has become



of my young life, the man who once pressed

a fistful of crocuses between my breasts

and made love to me on the kitchen floor

while beyond, on the river,

a loudspeaker-toting paddleboat carried

honeymooners to the mouth. Later we took

the same cruise, pretending to be newlyweds

ourselves, holding hands on the tipping deck

with others who took photographs to prove

they had truly been there, they had

loved each other - once. The laughter



in the kitchen reminds me: grief

is a burden, something to be shaken

like the foxgloves in our garden, stooping

under the weight of their seeds. I've learned

the lessons of pain, now wait for the same

light that makes my daughter's face so

luminous and wise as she says to her small friend,

"Now you be Dad. You've got no body so you can't

get away. I'll be the mother this time."

painted and tightly closed.



I was too worried about my photograph to take note of our conversation. I watched her and saw that she was ravishingly beautiful in her red sweater. I heard myself saying, “Susan I want to photograph you outside.” Because it was in the middle of winter I heard her saying (in my imagination), “This means I will have to put on a coat.” This is exactly what she told me and gave me the option of taking pictures inside first.  I was a professional (in 1986 what did I know?) so I insisted I would only photograph her outside. This I did. Of course I have regretted my absurd professionalism since.

A few months later Vancouver Magazine editor Malcolm (Mac) Parry said, “Alex you are going to photograph a wedding.” I immediately talked back, “I don’t do weddings.” He countered, “If you don’t do this one I will no longer give you more work.”


Vancouver Sun, June 17 1999


And so I photographed Susan Musgrave’s wedding in the maximum security prison in Agassiz to inmate and ex bank robber Stephen Reid.

Not only did I shoot the wedding but I also photographed Musgrave in her makeup and wardrobe preparations in a house that was not too far from the prison.


The reason for the colour is that was a new film called Ilford XP-1. It was a b+w colour negative film with reddish cast

Entering the prison was something about silence followed by short noises. I was searched and so was my camera bag. Every time I wanted to go from one room to another I had to nod at a guard. A metal gate would open and then close in a loud thunk behind me. There was another man recording the proceedings. This was the legendary CBC cameraman John Seale who was 68. He was doing everything, carrying his lights, sound boom and camera. He was working for the Fifth Estate.

We both recorded Reid behind bars in the Armani suit that Musgrave had purchased for him. After the religious ceremony a cake was cut. After that I overheard the warden ask Reverend Arnie, “Did you put away the knife?” Looking again at my slides I see that I was wrong  and he had yet to put his suit when I photographed him behind the bars.




Parry liked my photographs. But until last night when I went to my files I spotted a letter from Stephen Reid. It seems he liked my photos.

Of and on for some years after different newspapers including the Globe and Mail would request my photos. It seems that Parry was right about me shooting the wedding. Looking back there was only one other wedding ever photographed. This was D.O.A.’s Joey Shithead’s. I could not refuse. The man had come to my Burnaby house a few years before to ask me,”How would you like to have a photograph I Andy Warhol’s Interview?” And he was as good as his word and indeed I had full page bleed picture in Interview of D.O.A.

I found that the Globe and Mail has used my pictures again for  the obituary. And they have not offered to pay me. At one time they were beyond reproach. It is simply the slide of journalism and I am not going to bother to complain.

But as the century wore off I felt guilty about making money from a misfortune considering that Reid had reverted to his former profession of robbing banks.

But in March of 1999 I received a request for the wedding pictures from the New York publication Men’s Journal. I immediately sent the pictures because I was told that they were to illustrate an article by Susan Musgrave.


Now after having talked to Celia Duthie (she is a good friend of Musgrave’s) I am writing this blog. Duthie told me, “Why not write the blog and insert your pictures? They were young then and looked their best. Do it.”

Until I went to a reading of Gerry Gilbert in the early 80s and then with listening to Susan Musgrave my adventure into appreciating poetry began.





With Perry the best man.

Reverend Arnie


















     

Previous Posts
Brother Cadfael & Brother Edwin Reunited in My Mem...

Salmon & Susan Musgrave's Pheromones

A Blast With Photographer Hans Sipma

Stephen Reid - March 13, 1950 – June 12, 2018

Remembering My Father

Cordelia Pentland - In Pirouette to blanch a Troup...

A Desert Fox in My Garden

Ah Little Rose – how easy For such as thee to die...

The Little Prince & The Arts Umbrella Dance Compan...

Lynn Sheppard, Zack Preece & Cordelia Pentland - 3...



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5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17

3/12/17 - 3/19/17

3/19/17 - 3/26/17

3/26/17 - 4/2/17

4/2/17 - 4/9/17

4/9/17 - 4/16/17

4/16/17 - 4/23/17

4/23/17 - 4/30/17

4/30/17 - 5/7/17

5/7/17 - 5/14/17

5/14/17 - 5/21/17

5/21/17 - 5/28/17

5/28/17 - 6/4/17

6/4/17 - 6/11/17

6/11/17 - 6/18/17

6/18/17 - 6/25/17

6/25/17 - 7/2/17

7/2/17 - 7/9/17

7/9/17 - 7/16/17

7/16/17 - 7/23/17

7/23/17 - 7/30/17

7/30/17 - 8/6/17

8/6/17 - 8/13/17

8/13/17 - 8/20/17

8/20/17 - 8/27/17

8/27/17 - 9/3/17

9/3/17 - 9/10/17

9/10/17 - 9/17/17

9/17/17 - 9/24/17

9/24/17 - 10/1/17

10/1/17 - 10/8/17

10/8/17 - 10/15/17

10/15/17 - 10/22/17

10/22/17 - 10/29/17

10/29/17 - 11/5/17

11/5/17 - 11/12/17

11/12/17 - 11/19/17

11/19/17 - 11/26/17

11/26/17 - 12/3/17

12/3/17 - 12/10/17

12/10/17 - 12/17/17

12/17/17 - 12/24/17

12/24/17 - 12/31/17

12/31/17 - 1/7/18

1/7/18 - 1/14/18

1/14/18 - 1/21/18

1/21/18 - 1/28/18

1/28/18 - 2/4/18

2/4/18 - 2/11/18

2/11/18 - 2/18/18

2/18/18 - 2/25/18

2/25/18 - 3/4/18

3/4/18 - 3/11/18

3/11/18 - 3/18/18

3/18/18 - 3/25/18

3/25/18 - 4/1/18

4/1/18 - 4/8/18

4/8/18 - 4/15/18

4/15/18 - 4/22/18

4/22/18 - 4/29/18

4/29/18 - 5/6/18

5/6/18 - 5/13/18

5/13/18 - 5/20/18

5/20/18 - 5/27/18

5/27/18 - 6/3/18

6/3/18 - 6/10/18

6/10/18 - 6/17/18

6/17/18 - 6/24/18