Photography, after about 197 years, has left its mark in us in many ways. Its initial perceived precision and sharpness gave us Impressionism. Polarized skies did the same for hype realistic painting.

And now, more than ever the explosion of digital photography has cornered us into that vertical or horizontal rectangle. While some phones and digital cameras have panoramic mode I am not sure if the stitching of segments give us that so human perception that we call peripheral vision.

I believe that swivel lens panoramic film cameras (the film inside is wrapped around a round holder at the shutter opening) give us an inkling at what we see when we look ahead while being aware of our peripherals or sides.

The photograph here I took at our bus stop near our hotel in Florence. I used a Widelux, a Japanese swivel lens panoramic.  

Niño & Niña

At age 76 I know we must travel before travel insurance for the both of us become onerous. Yesterday (I am writing this February 19), a few hours before we were to leave for the airport, Rosemary decided to purchase insurance. I had to answer all kinds of questions on what seems to have been an infinity of possible diseases. In the end I am insured. I told the woman on the phone that since we were traveling to Italy the premium should have been double because of bureaucracy. But she had no sense of humour and I left it at that.

I put Niño and Niña in their cage and took them with all their blankets, food and food dishes to the Feline Hilton. There I was told I had to have the cats vaccinated for this and that. I had no choice but to give my assent.

Niño in particular looked at me with big mournful eyes a sort of, “Why are you doing this?”

I have stated before that somehow a cat in its essential catness reinforces our own personal humanity. Niño and Niña make compel me to feel more human, more caring and more forgiving.

As I drove back I felt myself hoping that the days in Italy were almost over and I could turn the car and pick them up. They say that cats, lacking clocks, have no idea of the passage of time. I am not too sure. Will they think of us while we are gone? Who knows?

But we will have them in our thoughts every day of our trip. Chances are that our next trip will not be one that comes soon.

 

Niño - Photograph Rosemary Waterhouse-Hayward

When we moved to our lovely Kerrisdale corner home with a large garden we spent a little fortune in buying the best plants money could buy. We went to Maple Ridge and other places to find beautiful antiques. Our house made it in Better Homes and Gardens and in several Canadian gardening magazines.

But we never worried too much about the upstairs until the plumbing began to fail. Suddenly we had leaky bathrooms and no money in the bank for repairs. It was embarrassing because we could never invite anybody (friends or relatives) to stay with us.

We finally sold over the objection of my Rosemary and bought a neat, clean duplex in Kitsilano which our younger granddaughter Lauren says is cozy.

The heating is electric and I cough much less. We have floor heating in the tiled floors of the kitchen and the bathrooms. Everything works including a toilet much too complicated for me to figure out. We still use toilet paper.

And then two months ago we had a slow leak in the kitchen. We found a plumber who did not tear up the whole kitchen to find the leak.

A long story short is that our insurance is pretty well changing more than half the kitchen.

Two days before we packed for our trip to Venice they removed the cabinets and counters. Luckily we have a stove and microwave. But there is no kitchen sink so I have been washing dishes in the downstairs guest bathroom. Our pots and pans and dishes are all on the dining room table.

It is chaos.

And since they are not going to do the dry wall and other repairs we will return to chaos.

The travails of traveling in the 21^st century are an unsavory challenge. We need the cubes and the wires to charge Rosemary’s iPhone7, my Galaxy S5 and for my dedicated only camera iPhone3G. I need to pack a charger for my two Fuji X cameras. Because one of my swivel lens panoramics, a Horizont will be loaded with Kodak B+W Infrared Film I need to take a changing bag.

Because I plan to photograph my cello playing friend Claudio Ronco I am taking a light that adjusts from 110 to 220. But I cannot forget the plug in cord and the Italian outlet adaptor. And without a flash cord and an adaptor to connect it to onë of my Fujis I need the adaptor. My Minolta Flash Meter is coming too as well as a small soft box and collapsible light stand.

Not knowing how dishonest someone might be amidst the throngs of Venice I am bringing a “faltriquera” which is worn underneath my pant waist. I will put a few Euros there.

Rosemary needs all sorts of cream and makeup. She insists on bringing two Eyewitness Books, one is on Venice the other is on Florence. In my shoulder camera bag (it does not look like one) I am packing Dickens’s book on his travels in Italy as well as Ruskin’s the Stones of Venice. Rosemary will slip into her shoulder bag Vidal in Venice.

The cage for Niño and Niño is ready. I will take them in the morning. We feel guilty and would like to suddenly be back from our trip.

It might snow on Tuesday. We have already booked our cab to the airport just in case they will be hard to come by in the morning.

We are trying to empty the fridge. The combination of food we have been having in the last few days defies any standard of culinary compatibility.

As I ready myself to sleep (Rosemary is getting up at five to call Blue Cross travel insurance on her iPhone) I know I will be restless. My Niño will get on top of me on the bed and look at me with mournful eyes. I know what he is thinking.

“Why are you abandoning us?

And yes, three batteries for the Fujis as well as spare storage cards. And the film.

When Rosemary and I arrive in Venice on the 20th I will have the ghosts (images) of the many books I have read about Venice. Some have been novels others non-fiction. But there will be a ghost that will be with me all the time. It is a 19^th century photograph by a mostly forgotten Venetian photographer called Girolamo Clemente. From what I can gather he died at age 35 in 1875. I am haunted by this lovely image of a woman he called Buenaventura. Who was she? I will never know. But perhaps I can find someone to pose for me in homage to this woman.