Prelude to the A-Frame and Day One the Divine Entrance.

 
 

May 28, 2023 11:59pm

Three blue sky days at the Ameliasburgh museum, setting up wet-collodion base camp, behind the stone Honey House, table and darkbox right and left of the honey bee landing strip and hive tunnel, fortunately this hive was no longer in use. Trepidation, a year and half of waiting, preparation, coordination the wetplate angst thick and full, fingers itching to get that first plate off and in the bath, so that angst needs replaced by clear mind and focus? Who knows? The nature of out-of-doors wetplate [as I have written many times before] is a game of dice even on the best of days, the chemistry warms at different rates and as an example the spring pollen can add its own decisions to the surface of the plate, hopefully not to aggressively and as the practioner, my way through to the end result is the subtle adjustments of exposure, manipulations of light and the development, plus and minus calculations that – the fates willing, bring me to the goal of a usable, dare I say, perfect image.

Alright now with the preamble out of the way, the residency photographic project currently called Silvered Tongued, started three days before I landed at the Purdy A-Frame, good thing too, I was able to get as much indecision and bad plates out of the way. But to our continued good fortune the illustrious Jean connected us with resident Ameliasburgh artists to share their home and splendid gracious hospitality, Shelia and Manuel – Vielen dank! Thank you for the nerdy geological discussions on glaciation and soil maps, the black double long espressos and the No Milk foamy cappuccinos. The project and good conversation are indistinguishable, I think to myself. The stories of family types these relationship squares/boxes of our lives and how time wears the sharp pointed corners off the edges, well, off some of the edges.  About historical lineages seven generations deep and how even those come to an end.  Fantastical stories of spectacular game show winnings, which the precise answers, came in the clarity of a dream the night before. Devouring legumes, chickpea flower and early garden shoots, Baco Noir and, ancestors forgive me  - Chardonnay, delicious despite my prejudice. All this wonderful humanity was bookended and peppered between with fondling of limestone Ordovician and Cretaceous jewels, picked and collected with intention and serendipity, hundreds of pebbles, stepped on by most. We could have just stayed, the stories and good company seemed endless.

Back to the Wetplateing, in Ameliasburgh Museum, sometimes affectionately referred to as Janice Land for she is the Curator and interpreter of the Village collections there. Janice opened the doors to the collections for us and gave us free reign, albeit with caution and museum handling credentials.  I had a year ago scouted certain objects that I could potentially find as muse or inspiration to the project and many of those became the directed focus and singular minded intention, the church spire the ‘Wilderness Gothic’ steeple from Al’s poem the obvious one. Others not so obvious, old honey tins stamped with producers names all residing in Wooler Ontario – the town being Al’s birthplace. Many people came by to chat or otherwise linger and have their portrait made sharing a story in exchange, it is really happening I thought - the project has begun. The cloudless blue Ameliasburgh sky made for hard contrast and quick exposures, with occasional corrections and chemical adjustments. The third days cleanup went slow, nakkered [exhausted], but knowing our home for the next month was literally just across the lake - as the heron flies.


Walking up to the A-Frame allows you to step back approximately 30 or 50 years, much of the trees and simplicity remain, although the surrounding palatial estates and meticulous green lawns have replaced the former cottages and  ALL the space between - the Charm and power of the place – this place – their place – the place of so many words and years of dedication, still fill the air.  I am snapped from my sentimentality as carrying of things and general moving in need my full attention, Heather points and gives me some necessary direction. After all the what-nots have mostly been placed, the ceremonial beer, “all beautiful yellow flowers” has been poured and drank, we survey the shoreline still intact and full of willows, cedars and spruce. Sadly the giant ash trees have been devoured by the insatiable ash borer and stand as skeletal shadows. We raise our glasses, Heather and I to the past, the giant setting orb, this present, the Purdy’s, the Glorious A-Frame and this beautiful residency.

The climatic moments ended, the necessity of sleep upon us. Wordless we brush our teeth under red painted boards reclaimed by Al from some other building – I walk down the hall and to the Purdy’s bedroom I peruse night reading from the bookshelf lining the entire forward wall at the end of the bed. A fetishistic collection of vintage pelican blues, interspersed with penguin orange stand out, I move right to the very end and find what I am believing is a book neglected somewhat, relegated to general or ‘collected’ section of the bookshelf, within the table of contents, singular poems circled in red – Al’s favorite Canadian poems? Or just ones that deserved the merit of the red ball point annotations – the exception[Als] I read two before I flounder and nod repeatedly, lights out. More on this later perhaps…

 

 

The Making of Hezekiah Procter - Collaboration with Li'l Andy

A man walks into the oldest bar in Canada - The New Westminster Hotel in Dawson City, Yukon - affectionately called The Pit. The band deep into their first set, a tall handsome fella, white cowboy hat tipped back croons a silky ballad amidst the common din of glasses tinkling and rowdy bar chit-chat, walking past the bar’s portrait gallery and bawdy paintings of royalty and RCMP officer, In flagrante delicti, past the stage I politely nod to the cowboy crooner.

That is how this collaboration started, honestly.

At the break I approached the stage and stuck out my hand and said something like, “ your music was perfectly suited for this exact place, by the way - have we met before, you look very familiar?”

*Side note: This is NOT the cheesy beginning to a steamy gay romance novel - although it may sound that way, sometimes life is just uncommonly common and yet, strange and weirdly beautiful at the same time, filled with strange coincidences - this was one of those days.

Back to our story, so after the hi, I’m Andy, I’m Paul schtick, we wind through lists of names that deliver us to the money, the source of our connection. We land on the link -a mutual friend that had mentioned each other in separate conversations, the talented Brian Sanderson [Esmerine, Sheesham & Lotus &Son…] And suddenly I was “THAT GUY THAT DOES TINTYPES” and as we spiral through the degrees of separation weirdness, it is discovered that I actually live, not far from where Andy grew up - emails are exchanged, my girlfriend and I, listen to most of the last set and then spill out into the midnight sun of Dawson.

Sometime later several project planning emails and a few Tintype experiments later, we begin to figure it out. Andy emails me several images of the musicians from the time period he is fictionalizing in and one image in particular sticks with me. It was a studio photo circa 1928 of Ernest V. “Pops” Stoneman And The Blue Ridge Corn Shuckers. The part of the image I loved the most was how the backdrop was undersized for the size of the group in-front and how you could see beyond “the fiction” to the reality of the studio/room they were in. This was not uncommon for the day, but most often the “overshot” would be cropped out in the final image.

THIS was what I HAD to do. I called Andy.

Ernest V. Stoneman And The Blue Ridge Corn Shuckers

Taken in Galax, Virginia, in 1928. From left to right: Iver Edwards, George Stoneman, Eck Dunford, Ernest Stoneman, Hattie Stoneman, and Balen Frost.

I began by nerding over how in the Stoneman image it is a duality of fictions, not intentionally, but none the less, and I was amused by the idea of creating a painting - an outdoor “studio backdrop” and placing it outside and purposely seeing and photographing beyond it, and that being the place where our re-re-re-creation will take place - making it, as the kids say…Meta. Andy loved the idea and the album cover idea was born.

Now I was painting a backdrop AND making the wetplate images, which was totally fine, I always wanted to try painting a backdrop, now I have a project and a concept and most importantly a deadline. Andy’s novella of the Story of Hezekiah Procter became the inspiration and I began sketching. Not to give to much away - (cause you gotta buy the album now, right?!) But, in the novel there is a strike and some drama and a factory burns to the ground. The symbol of a burning building is loaded with metaphor, I LOVE metaphor - so it became the prime visual element and the perfect focal point to the image. During my research phase, I sent a random email to Stephen Berkman, the master of the 19th century sideburn AND of the modern wetplate backdrop. He so very graciously offered his time and we had a two hour conversation about, layout, composition and most importantly colour. Even though wetplate is essentially a colour blind emulsion - he had some interesting insights that I tested to be true. More on that some other time.

Materials were bought, canvas was sewn, 14 feet x 10 feet, a bunch of old lumber was pressed into service and I raised the sheet after priming, like a giant banner to my naivety in the whole process. Whatever…apply scaling & painting skills and get to it - one week till first day of shooting…hope there is no weather - Paul says somewhat optimistically out-loud - don’t tempt the fates…sometimes I never learn.

I won’t make the story any longer - you can just watch the time-lapse play by play, and see one week in ten minutes - spoiler alert, there was weather.

It is important to state that the character of Hezekiah Procter and his accompanying historical fiction is the genius of Li’l Andy, I merely gave Hezekiah Procter a place to be famous in. The music, the story, postcards - the whole Box Set can be purchased at the link below - all wetplate or backdrop questions…send me an email.

Peace.