Saturday, September 19, 2026

Evely Lau - 1989

 

19 September 2026

In 1989 I was called by a publicist called Nancy Flight asking me I would photograph a brand new 18-year-old poet called Evelyn Lau. The book was called Runaway: Diary of a Street Kid. I accepted. Flight asked me how I would photograph her. I told her I was going to do it on her bed. Flight was shocked. I told her, “She is still a teenager and she probably has a funny bedspread”. She did, it featured red balloons.

Today I went to room 

C225 at the Vancouver campus of University of British Columbia for the launching and the reading from her new book Parade of Storms. The book features poems related to what all people talk about these days- the weather.

Halfway through the talk Lau asked us to try to write a poem. A few of us did.

I decided to take the advice of:

 Baltasar Gracián (1601–1658) was a Spanish Jesuit priest, Baroque philosopher, and writer known as a master of conceptismo, a literary style characterized by witty, terse, and subtle expressions.

Here is my poem:

Evelyn

Eevelyn

Runaway returned

Balloons on the bed

A beginning

Deserved

 

Bottom left - Hosta 'Sun Power' right Hosta 'Whirlwind" and narrow on top Hosta 'Praying Hands' 19 September 2026

 

Every fall when I want to mate one of my autumn scans I usually end up with Emily Dickinson’s poem.

Autumn - Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,

The nuts are getting brown;

The berry's cheek is plumper,

The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,

The field a scarlet gown.

Lest I should be old-fashioned,

I'll put a trinket on.

As fall makes summer succumb, I invariably think of my Rosemary on her knees cutting back the spent flowers from the garden. That I have to do it on my own, adds to my fall melancholy. There is that next year and that spring with the promise of my roses coming into bloom. Suffice now to scan these fall hosta flowers which to my eyes are lovely and cannot be ignored.

Today Saturday after listening to Evelyn Lau (will write a blog after this one) and riding my bicycle it would seem that there is order to world. I will make myself a large mug of strong tea and feed Niña her treats at 8pm. I will then open The Heart Does Break – Canadian Writers on Grief and Mourning compiled by George Bowering and Jean Baird.  Not all that cheery.

Friday, September 18, 2026

Below - Hosta 'Antioch' & Hosta 'Strip Tease' 18 September 2026

 

Sometimes I think that nature is not all that sophisticated. When tourists go to Mexico many photograph the neat piles of fruits or vegetables in markets and often mention how symmetrical they are.

I tend to believe that in humans asymmetry is an indication of sophistication. Why must the headlights in cars have to be exactly one both sides?

Thanks to my Rosemary’s interest in gardening she approved of my sudden love for hostas around 1987. I became a member of the American Hosta Society soon after. In conventions judges eliminated hostas with asymmetrical leaves in any competition. Somewhat that all changed in 1991 when Hosta ‘Strip Tease’ was introduced. This hosta featured two tiny white lines around the middle that were never the same. To me this was the first asymmetrical hosta.

Today as I was walking around the garden I noticed my very large Hosta ‘Antioch’(also named Moerheim). It is an old faithful hosta that I have had since the late 1980s and is the one in the pot outside my garden gate door.

I could not resist scanning one very unsymmetrical one with one of Strip Tease.

Some years ago I wrote an essay for asymmetry in a very good photographic web page called Zone Zero. Here it is.

Zone Zero

On the other hand these leaves today of  Rosa 'Emily Carr' display fine asymmetry.

Thursday, September 17, 2026

Rosa 'A Shropshire Lad' 17 September 2026

 

XI A Shropshire Lad – A. E.Houseman

 Yonder see the morning blink:

  The sun is up, and up must I,

To wash and dress and eat and drink

And look at things and talk and think

  And work, and God knows why.

 

Oh often have I washed and dressed

  And what's to show for all my pain?

Let me lie abed and rest:

Ten thousand times I've done my best

  And all's to do again.

 

I did not start to read and appreciate poetry until some years ago I first heard Vancouver poet Gerry Gilbert. Before that I disliked poetry as in school we were given extra grade points if we memorized one. I must have had a learning disability that went beyond my dyslexia.

Now I have fun finding poems to match my photographs or scans. I have written here before how  my friend,Vancouver poet Jamie Reid (he often boasted he was a member of the Canadian Communist Party), inspired me to read Houseman’s Shropshire Lad. I am constantly reminded of him as one of my best roses is the English Rose Rosa ‘A Shropshire Lad’. When my other roses have given up the ghost this one keeps blooming. Is what you see here yet another “boring” scan of the rose?

Houseman’s poem above pretty well describes my life as an 84-year-old man who misses his Rosemary and finds some comfort in my female cat Niña. I don’t have to do anything on any given day except feed her and feed myself. My existential angst on knowing I am waiting to die is best explained in that line – And all’s that to do again.

Wednesday, September 16, 2026

Dance and my two left feet

One of the changes in photography is the insistence by new and younger photographers to define methods with initials. About a week ago I discovered ICM. It means intended camera movement. Usually this includes not only moving your camera but also using a slow shutter.

This sort of thing was difficult with film as you had no idea of what you would get until your film was processed. Digital photography has opened a whole new and exciting world. I have used this method with dance be it ballet or modern dance.

But I want to brag that I also use it in my little studio and did so with fabulous results when I photographed Kira, two years ago. She is a Russian babushka who has two grandchildren.

I used a method in which I placed her on my gray wall and lit her with a flash in a softbox. On the opposite wall I have a large Ikea mirror. I crouched down and photographed what I saw in the mirror. A similar situation was to put her on that opposite wall and then see myself in the mirror plus her out of it.

Tuesday, September 15, 2026

Rosa 'A Shropshire Lad' - 15 September 2026

 

A few years ago Australian journalist Jonathan Swan asked President Trump to comment on the many Americans who had died of covid. His answer was, “It is what it is.”

I have a Korean friend. Djun Kim, who is a digital genius and with his wife they are professional ballroom dancers. I told him Swan’s story and his answer was, “Alex that is a thought stopper.”

Every day I am confronted by thought stoppers particularly when I tell friends how sad I am because I miss my wife Rosemary who died on December 9, 2020. They mostly say, “I am sorry.”  Some advise me to, “Find distractions,” or “Go see a councellor.” Some even suggest, “You should meet some women.”

My youngest daughter, who is going through a messy separation after a 30-year marriage, gets lots of thought stoppers like, “Go dancing to meet some men.” Driving my 56 year-old daughter last night she told me,“Papi I am not interested in other men or having a relationship.”

Luckily tonight I am going to my monthly Vancouver Rose Society where I will have all kind of sweet goodies to eat and decent coffee or tea. I will talk about innocuous stuff like telling some of the folks that my best rose right now is Rosa ‘A Shropshire Lad’.

When I am asked how I am my answer is my usual, “I am terrible because I am Argentine. But I could be worse if I were a Venezuelan or a Colombian.”

While may seem funny is it a funny thought stopper? I don’t want to answer about my isolation and loneliness in which my only comfort is my female cat Niña.

 

 

Monday, September 14, 2026

Evelyn Lau - 1989

 Evelyn Lau in bed

In a recent past I have written at least twice about the demise of the portrait. My gradual skill in becoming a good portrait photographer became my bacon for many years. With the help of my Rosemary’s financial acumen I can now live in my Kits home at age 84 without having to worry about money.

1999

That does not mean I am retired. When possible I take film and digital photographs of people that pose for me. I have no interest in anonymously taking street photographs.

My past portraits, in tear sheets, all kinds of portfolios, in frames, in matts in many drawers are also to be found in my negative and photo files. Because I am excited about going for Evelyn Lau’s release and talk of her new  book I have been thinking lots about her. Few in this city with little memory for its past, know that she was a Vancouver Poet Laureate.

Today I went looking in her files so I could find a 6x7cm slide I took of her in 1999 in Stanley Park. In those days one of my trademarks was to photograph people outside with softbox containing a powerful battery powered flash called a Norman 200B. I have two that work nicely even though I bought one of them in 1977. The camera that I used a Mamiya RB could synchronize with flash in such a way that I could darken the background. This technique is called synchro sunlight.

I did find the slide and scanned it. But there was an additional surprise. I found an 8x10 print that I made blue that has deteriorated in the many years in the file. I like the deterioration.

While I often put photographs from my past in my blogs I do like  to put some that I  may have taken in the same day or days before.

One cannot rest in one’s laurels. I hope to be able to take her portrait on 19 September.

 

Sunday, September 13, 2026

 

One day a few weeks later [after John Gregory Dunn’s death]I gathered up more bags and took them to John’s office, where he had kept his clothes. I was not yet prepared to address the suits and shirts and jackets but I thought I could handle what remained of the shoes, a start.

I stopped at the door of the room.

I could not give away the rest of his shoes.

I stood there for a moment, then realized why: he would need shoes if he was to return.

The recognition of this thought by no means eradicated the thought.

I have still not tried to  determine (say, by giving away the shoes) if the thought has lost its power.

The Year of Magical Thinking – Joan Didion

My Rosemary had bunions and always had difficulty in finding shoes that fit her. From the very beginning once we were married I always accompanied her to buy shoes. Often she bought the ones I suggested. After many years I really enjoyed the buying of her shoes. The shoe in this scan is one we bought at a Buenos Aires shoe store on Florida and Avenida de Mayo. They were her favourites when she didn’t have to dress up.

After Rosemary died on 9 December 2020 I found some comfort in Didion’s book. She started writing the book the morning after he husband died at their home dinner table of a heart attack.  I so liked this book that I read many more Didion books. Thanks to Didion I learned that while I would never get over Rosemary’s death, writing about her, was one way of overcoming a deep melancholy because it inspired me associate the many memories of having lived with her so many years. To this day, I have written 7042 blogs and many of them include her.

While unlike Didion I don’t think Rosemary will return to wear her shoes, I cannot just throw them into the garbage. The shoes have her presence and like Didion when I look at my closet in front of my bed I know her shoes are neatly arrayed behind the door.

Helianthus annuus - 13 September 2026

 At my age of a 84 when I see a pretty blonde in her mid-20s I experience no desire. I see the woman as if I were seeing my Rosemary for the first time in Mexico City in 1967.

In that last few days having a lot of time to think I believe that my life and anybody else’s is one of stages and cycles.

Stages happen once and are gradual, be they quick or slow. A cycle repeats itself with our without a lot of frequency.

When I cut what was left of the sunflower brought by my Lillooet daughter Alexandra in early summer I figured that stages and cycles become patterns.

The scan here shows a sunflower almost from its beginning to its final flowering. It is a stage.

That I scan my plants most of the year is a repeated pattern with stages and cycles.

I could go on. But I feel a great melancholy knowing that my stage of meeting my Rosemary, marrying her, living with her for 52 years and watching her die is stage in my life that will never be repeated.

Her cycle from life to death is one I can repeat for myself.