Loretta Todd - Eden Robinson

These days I try to find reasons to leave the house so that somehow the solitary life of living without my Rosemary gives me the slight distraction of a purpose at hand. Today I went to pick up some frames (many featuring Rosemary) at Magnum Frames on Kent Avenue. Returning home I was listening to Tom Power’s Q on CBC Radio 1. He was interviewing Native Canadian filmmaker Loretta Todd who has just released her latest film called Monkey Beach which is based on Eden Robinson’s first (2000) novel by that name. It seems it has taken Todd 8 years to finish this film that is dear to her heart.

As I listened to her I remembered that back in 1999 I photographed four Native Canadian filmmakers and one of them was Loretta Todd. In those days journalism existed ever so nicely and that included covering the arts. I had been assigned by the Georgia Straight.

I also remembered that in 2000 I had taken photographs of Eden Robinson for the Globe and Mail.

Fishing out the two 6x7 cm transparencies of Todd and Robinson have distracted me. Combining them and writing the above short blog have made me smile (a tad).

And Mr. Tom Power, thank you.

It has been well over a month since my Rosemary died (December 9) and I have not been doing anything except staring at the ceiling in my bedroom (formerly our) with Niño and Niña sharing my lap. This, is all happening as I turn to the right and look at the empty space where my Rosemary once occupied and now it is empty. Her presence somehow is there.

I makes me think of a philosophic thought:

Because she was, she is.

I have been unable to cross the deck into my oficina to write a blog. Today I decided I had to start if only in some small way.

When I married Rosemary we decided that we were going to have only daughters. Thankfully this happened and these days of living alone in my (our) formerly cozy Kitsilano home my (our) daughters call every day and sometimes even manage to visit.

A few days ago my friend Paul Leisz came over to fix a computer problem and Curtis Daily called (he lives in Portland and plays a baroque string bass. Recently he has switched to the piano) somehow managed to get on the subject of Tina Turner’s legs. I said nothing.

Today I ventured into this oficina and pulled out two files neatly identified by my eldest daughter’s (Alexandra) fine printing. It was Ale who first started my files which now occupy a large part of my office.

Not too long ago at a local photography school a rude English student whose last name was a lovely Strand, asked me,”Alex do you have any photographs of people who are still alive and who appear in magazines that still exist?”

As far as I know these two are still in this world while I am planning my quick exit.