peripheral vision

One of the first people I met through the local homeschool group was Wendy McDonnell, who hosts Family Matters, a weekly radio show on the local university station. Given that we’ve been on homeschool hours, I haven’t always woken up on time to listen to the whole show, which starts at 8 am on Sundays. The last few weeks I’ve almost grumbled that I woke up too late to even hear any of it, but I quickly shushed the grumbles since it meant I got to sleep in – still a luxury with my youngest.

But a change is coming in our lives. My husband and I are trading places starting on Tuesday. He lost his job, along with about 25 percent of his colleagues, a few weeks ago. With only four weeks’ severance, the pressure was on us to figure something out sooner than later. When I was searching around for freelance opportunities, I came upon a recent posting for my old job. I took a few days to think about it, and the more I thought about our options, the sweeter this one seemed. I know the job, I know a good chunk of the people, and it’s only a 20-minute walk or 5-minute bike ride from my house. With my husband staying home, I no longer have to fit drop-offs and pick-ups into my schedule. I’ll be able to enjoy the walk or bike ride in solitude. We won’t need the second car, which was always more expensive than predicted and about which I’ve always been ambivalent. My working will take the pressure of my husband’s job search, so he can find the right role and circumstances for him. It could even move some of my dreams forward.

So I’ve been practicing waking up earlier, and yesterday morning I was up early enough to hear all of Wendy’s show. And what serendipity! She interviewed Alex Baisley, a local person I’d never heard of before, who helps people connect with and work towards their dreams.

I have two big concerns about going back to work (one of them is not relevant here and is totally irrational anyways). The second concern is that I will need to stop pursuing my passions outside of work. Photography has largely taken a back seat in recent months, but I still want to finish my derby project and start another one. And I want to keep learning about sustainable food production and growing my own food and cooking nourishing meals. I had pretty much come to the conclusion just last night that maybe I need to choose between food and photography, and how much does that suck?

Anyways, yesterday morning’s show with Alex Baisley. It turns out it was actually a rerun from 2010 but that doesn’t lessen the serendipitous feeling for me. (I’m paraphrasing based on my memory, so I apologize for any inaccuracies or misrepresentations.) Baisley said that people often see dreams as a luxury (I know I do! And it makes me feel guilty about pursuing them) but he doesn’t see it that way. He says dreams are our way of growing and of being and doing more than we might have thought possible. He points to trees. It seems that the point of their existence is to grow as much as they can with the resources available to them before they die. Why would people be any different?

He talked about how he often has people write a list of 50 big dreams. And how they start out thinking that would be impossible but they manage it just fine. And then he has them pick just one and do five-minute actions to move towards it. It could just be Internet research (one of my own favourite obsessive tendencies). It could be a conversation with someone. It doesn’t have to be big at all. But he said that as you get further in your research and conversations, the dream seems more and more possible. As well, you may discover that four or five other dreams get taken care of in the process of chasing the first one. He pointed out that your dreams aren’t in conflict with one another because they all come from the same heart (yours), and maybe you just can’t see how they’re connected yet.

He also said that it’s important to talk about your dreams with other people. You can be self-deprecating and talk about what a crazy idea it is so you don’t sound obnoxious, and good things may come from the conversations. If you want to run a half-marathon, for example, you could find yourself talking to an experienced marathoner who gives you hot tips for training regimes or specific races. Some people may try to downgrade your dreams but you need the big dreams to get you off the couch. Running a 5k might be more doable than a half-marathon but it’s not exciting enough to get you training. And you’ll likely do a 5k on the way to the half-marathon anyways. It’s important to do things that you find at least a little bit exciting and a little bit scary.

The show gave me hope that I can find a way forward without giving up my other dreams and passions. In fact, I can imagine a future in which my husband and I say that his losing his job was the best thing to happen to us. I’ve learned so much about myself in the last two years, and I’m looking forward to applying that learning to my work life.

Do yourself a favour. Settle in with a cup of tea of glass of wine and listen to the whole podcast. I was rapt.

And if you’re local, don’t forget about my upcoming photography workshop. It’s one of my dreams to teach at least one workshop (preferably more), and the thought both thrills and terrifies me. I’d love to have enough people sign up to actually run it.

I’m going to be teaching a photography workshop at Trina Koster’s studio next month: Photographing Strangers. It’s limited to 10 participants, so sign up early. From the blurb:

Much of documentary photography is centred around engaging with people we don’t know and earning their trust. In this workshop you will begin to explore the process of doing just that. This workshop is primarily a shooting workshop, starting with discussion and inspiration on Friday night to get you going, shooting Saturday morning, and feedback in the afternoon on the photographs you made. Shooting will take place at a surprise location or event full of strangers to encounter and photograph.

You love looking at great photographs of people but for whatever reason you’re struggling to make them yourself. Maybe you’ve been photographing your friends and family and you want to expand but don’t know how to meet people or approach them. Maybe you’ve been photographing landscapes and you want to try photographing people but the whole idea is terrifying. Whatever your situation, this workshop will bump you up against the edges of your comfort zone and hopefully help you move beyond it. To get the most of this workshop, be prepared to get a little bit uncomfortable.

I hope to see you there!

For months now I have been thinking about how much this year sucked. I was always careful to clarify that it could have been much worse, it’s not like it was tragic or anything, but it has been very, very difficult. We had all kinds of illness last winter with pertussis (aka Whooping Cough), which we only figured out in hindsight. My baby had feeding problems galore, partly due to multiple food intolerances (gluten, dairy, soy, corn and tomatoes that we know of), which are still problematic today, and partly due to the severe nutritional deficiencies we discovered in August/September (a vicious circle). The challenges continued through the fall with the baby still losing his appetite for days or weeks, and a couple of very stressful nursing strikes, and I felt really, really overwhelmed this fall, trying to get all the different supplements into him and tempting him to eat food. We’ve also had to change our diet drastically, going from mostly vegetarian fare heavy with wheat, tomatoes, corn and cheese, to largely meat and vegetable-type meals with gluten-free, home-baked snacks. It was so difficult, many nights I wished I could just not eat anything, because I just couldn’t figure out what to make.

Anyways, just now I asked my husband how we wanted to celebrate New Year’s Eve. We won’t be getting a babysitter and leaving the house or anything, but I felt like we needed to consciously say goodbye to 2012 (the phrase, “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out,” kept going through my mind) and articulate some hopes and dreams for 2013. And then we started talking about the things that didn’t suck. So here are the reasons 2012 didn’t suck as much I thought it did:

1. My husband got a new job that he really likes!
2. I was part of an amazing exhibition at a public gallery, for which a catalogue with a critical essay was produced!
3. I got a grant to pay for most of my exhibition costs!
4. My oldest started homeschooling! Although he was doing fine in school, my husband and I got really excited about the possibilities that homeschooling could offer him.
5. We grew food in a community garden — and harvested 50 pounds of potatoes, 25 pounds of carrots, 12 pounds of chard, 6 pounds of beets and unweighed basil, cilantro, lettuce and cayenne peppers. Not bad for a first effort!
6. Despite his ongoing eating and nutrition issues, my youngest has been developing like mad, well ahead on pretty much all the milestones, and he’s showing signs of a wicked sense of humour. He certainly keeps us on our toes and it often feels relentless and exhausting, but he is also a big joy.
7. We’re transforming our whole diet and way of cooking.
8. We’ve transformed our grocery shopping and are buying a lot more local food and grass-fed meats.
9. I tried many new skills. I experimented with canning and sewing and am looking forward to doing more next year.
10. I quit my job to begin a new, more home-based life.

As my husband and I thought of the good things about 2012, we realized that it’s really been a year of transformation on almost every front. No wonder it felt so hard!

I’ve been pretty overwhelmed lately, in large part due to the continuing health challenges of my youngest. We discovered he has severe anemia due to both iron and B12 deficiencies, and have begun a regimen of heavy doses of various supplements and renewed efforts to tempt the poor kid to eat. Today we had good news that after a month of supplementation his hemoglobin is in the normal range, which is encouraging. It will take a long time for all his body systems to recover, but this is definitely a good step.

Back in June, I photographed a few derby girls that I didn’t post here from some reason. And I had another shoot last weekend. Here are the results.

Lady GoreJess with Markus Thunder, Epic Phil and Dave I Know

Boss Applesauce with Kris

Hot Cross Guns

I also don’t think I mentioned here that I updated my web gallery with a wider collection of Yes these bones shall live.

I quit my day job today. I’m officially still on unpaid leave, but I’ve given my notice that I won’t be returning. I really struggled with my letter of resignation. My first inclination was not to say anything about my reasons for leaving. But then it was only one or two sentences long and sounded rather terse. And my google of sample letters showed that the polite thing is to explain why. That was hard, especially knowing that the letter wasn’t only to my manager (who already knew my reasons) but to my file, where someone who’s never met me might look on it in the future. There were words right there, ripe for the picking, words we’ve all heard: “I’m going to focus on my family.” But I don’t like those words. For one thing, it sounds like when I’m working I’m not focused on my family, and that’s just incorrect. And for another, it sounds self-sacrificing, like I’m doing this only for the benefit of my family. Which is not true. If I continued working, my family would be fine of course.

I’m quitting for me. Here’s where it gets really hard to articulate, because the only words I can think of around what I want to do smack of laziness and privilege. I want to hang out with my kids during the few years they aren’t embarrassed by me (and time is short on this with my oldest). I want to make, grow, and eat good food. I want to make and think about good photographs (and if I ever grow my brain cells back maybe write about them too). I want to walk most places we need to go (this one will take a while for many reasons). I want to be able to give small gifts to people that I make myself (this one will also take a while since I have few skills in this area right now). If my kids are grumpy and having a low-energy day or the weather sucks, I want to spend a day veging out with them. If the day is sunny and beautiful and warm, I want to spend a good chunk of it outside with them. I want my kids to have real summer holidays and to enjoy unstructured time. This is all purely selfish, isn’t it?

I have done paid work since I was 14. Even earlier actually, as my dad paid me to muck out horse stalls from about the age of 11 or so. I’ve grown up with a very strong work ethic. I’ve shovelled shit for all kinds of people, I’ve even taken it when one of those people lectured me about my shit-shovelling technique in front of a client, I’ve packed brake pads, I’ve packed plastics rolls, I’ve sold futons and cameras, I’ve stuffed envelopes for days on end until my fingers were shredded. And I’ve done professional work like writing Minister’s letters, and leading a plain language campaign for a public sector organization. It’s taken me a very long time to feel kind of ok about no longer earning money.

Our society is so messed up. The only way we know how to value anything now is by attaching a dollar figure. And domestic work and raising children don’t contribute to the GDP. If you’re not using your time to make money, you’re just wasting it and mooching off others. The home has become a place where nothing happens. I’ve noticed that when people ask what we did on a weekend, and we passed an enjoyable weekend hanging out at home, it doesn’t make for a very interesting report. I find myself feeling weird and lazy, and yet we made and ate good food and hung out together. What’s wrong with that? Once upon a time, the home was the centre of work for both men and women. Don’t worry, I’m not going to start hunting and making my own leather jackets. I’m just becoming increasingly aware of these assumptions and biases.

I have worried that it’s not the best economic time to try this. I may not have an easy time getting a job again if I need to. But I keep thinking about that dream I had when I was pregnant with my youngest and how that shack looked like  shelter but would actually become more dangerous than the open space when the tornado hit. So I’m standing here in the open space now, hoping the storm won’t hit me.

* * *

This morning my youngest said his clearest word yet: Go. He says it very carefully and slowly so it sounds like a song, a whistle almost: Kohhh. Sometimes he misses the first consonant and says Doh. Sometimes he makes two syllables: Dagoh. But his meaning is clear; he accompanies the song with pointing out the big living room window to the backyard.

It seems fitting he said it first on the same day I sent in my resignation. Here we go.

Is there a word for actively making gratitude? Giving thanks seems too weak. I mean chasing down the thing you’re grateful for in your mind and staring down the idea of living without it and feeling so relieved you don’t have to actually live that way you can feel it all through your body.

This afternoon you were sleeping in our bed. Your brother and dad had gone off swimming, and I was resisting joining you, even though I needed a nap. The house was just so peaceful, it was tempting to stay up and do something all by myself. In quiet. But then you stirred and I panicked that you might have a short nap and I would miss my opportunity to sleep entirely. So I lay down beside you and just watched you breathe. The bruise on your forehead was faded to yellow. And I thought about that time last week when I thought you were dead while I dialled 9-1-1. You went so still, and while I thought you were dead, I also couldn’t believe it. You were just alive, a minute ago; you couldn’t possibly be dead. But that’s how it is with life and death, isn’t it? One minute it’s there and the next it’s gone. I didn’t want to look; I figured let the paramedics tell me when they arrived.

So today, I watched you breathe, in and out in and out. Totally fine. And I am grateful. More than grateful.

So last Friday, the opening of Revealing Spaces, was pretty great. The Baby Who Hates The Car didn’t scream as much as usual in the two-hour car ride to my parents’ place. But when we arrived, I realized I’d forgotten the outfit I was planning to wear. That sucked. The few other clothes I’d brought were decidedly weekend at the farm clothes, not suitable for an opening of my work. My mom and I went out to the little second-hand shop in the teensy tiny village two miles from my parents’ in the hopes that might have a better shirt for me to wear. But as luck would have it, not only did I find a shirt, I found a whole outfit, including a cute vintagey mint blazer and snazzy shoes, all of which fit me perfectly. All for about $30. And it was WAY snazzier than what I was planning to wear. How crazy is that?

Here are a few photos:

Here I am speaking, with Curator Sonya Jones in the background. Apparently I was very hard to hear. Ah well.

Anyways, I don’t think I made an ass of myself at the opening, my work looked great, if I do say so myself, and the whole show overall was pretty great. The Durham Region Roller Derby League had a table there, which I thought was pretty great since I hadn’t actually had any contact with them yet myself. It felt legitimizing somehow. The highlight of the evening for me was when Kiss My Ashlinn’s daughter introduced herself to me. I was honoured she came out. Kiss My Ashlinn died in April of this year, just a few months after I photographed her. Today, the RMG blog posted some of my reflections on her.

I’d like to speak at the opening of Revealing Spaces this Friday. But I’m drawing a complete blank as to what to talk about specifically (obviously, I’ll talk about Yes these bones shall live, but exactly what angle?). I could talk for hours (and have done) about the project, what it means to me, why I’m doing it, what I’m learning from it and from the women I meet through it, how I do it, etc., etc. At the opening for Hard Knocks last year, it was easy: the curator used a question and answer format, so I only had to answer the questions.

So it occurred to me, maybe I could ask the audience for questions. But that’s always risky, because nobody cares enough to ask. So then I thought, why not ask here? I don’t know if anyone is still reading, but if you are, would you mind sharing with me what makes you curious about my roller derby project? Any burning questions about the series? Anything at all?

This summer my work will be in two shows. Tonight is the opening for Insights, a juried exhibition at the Wellington County Museum, from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. When I dropped off my two pieces a week or so ago, there was a ton of work, and it was all good so I have high expectations for the show. I’m looking forward to tonight’s opening, and would love to see some familiar faces if you’re up for it.

But my big excitement is a show at the Robert McLaughlin Gallery in Oshawa, ON. Called Revealing Spaces, the show features the work of three Durham Region artists (I grew up in the region and still visit my parents there regularly.)

I have nine pieces in it, all from Yes These Bones Shall Live. The show has been in the works for a long time so I can’t wait to see it and meet the other artists. I hope to post the curator’s essay here or a link to it when it’s available. (It was SUCH an ego trip reading someone’s thoughtful analysis of my work.) The opening is on Friday, July 6. I know it’s a trek for most people I know, but I thought I’d mention it anyways in case you’re in the area.

We often go for a stroll after dinner if there’s time. We almost always go the same way and it’s just matter of how far we go before we turn around. But tonight my oldest asked, “Where should we go tonight, Mom?” And it suddenly struck me that we could go see Harris and Eva’s beauty bush. There are other beauty bushes in the neighbourhood, but Harris and Eva’s is spectacular. Indeed, when he saw it even my curmudgeonly husband (curmudgeonly as far as plants go that is) was kind of blown away. It’s as big as a tree and pretty much dwarfs the house.

I actually took this photo two years ago. When I checked the date stamp just now I realized it was exactly two years ago to the day.