a light at the end of the tunnel

Yet again, I can't wait for the semester to be over. Even the death of someone close to me doesn't wear me down this much.

Monday: I'd been feeling rather down and alone, even though I knew I wasn't (though ultimately I didn't know how to describe it--except through Albinoni's Adagio in G Minor), since Friday or so, and I wanted to talk about it with Joan, as I suspected that my feelings had to do with what I've been going through this year. However, this was one of those times when I wanted to be as thorough as possible and not miss anything, so I decided to write. I don't know if I could call it a letter or an essay--maybe a cross between the two. I wrote the first draft longhand in my notebook (some things demand to be written longhand rather than typed), but toward the end of the evening I decided to type it up so that it would be easier to read and cleaner (still a roughish draft, though: I wanted it to be as honest as possible). It was one of those times where I was figuring things out as I went along, and that was obvious in my writing.

That evening, I happened to have a look at Dal's counselling staff list. Joan's second from the top. Because their layout's a bit wonky and the text goes through the photos, here's the link to her portrait.

Tuesday: The start of Joan's and my meeting was delayed because someone had left their stuff in the room where Joan meets with students. Once we finally got started, I gave her the letter, which she read. We spent the rest of the meeting discussing the things that I'd brought up in said letter. As Joan will only be meeting students at NSCAD for two more weeks(!), we scheduled not only this coming week's meeting, but the one after that. She won't be coming to NSCAD during the final week (which is likely to be a zoo here), but I'm welcome to make an appointment to see her at Dal, about half an hour's walk from the Granville Campus.

As usual, I spent the rest of the day studying.

Wednesday: I'm hoping that that's the last big storm of the year. NSCAD was closed (as was just about everything else except for SuperStore, but I still fought my way to school. On my way I had to stop and throw all my weight into bracing myself against the gusts and I saw people skiing down Barrington (the main street) and other folks digging out a car. When I finally made it in, I burst out laughing and recounted my adventure to Kevin, the security guard (no snow days for security). Apparently I wasn't the only one who was nuts enough to make it in that day. However, I was the only one in Photo. In the evening, I read the live blog (on Twitter) of the first debate for the Toronto election and started the final readings for Contemporary Indigenous Arts.

Thursday: I finished the readings, meaning that I'm done reading for college/university. The end is nigh. As I put it in a Facebook status update, "five-and-a-half highlighters, three courses, one semester--done."

Friday: I calibrated my computer--but I decided to redo it because while I had the brightness set to my normal level, it was much higher than the computers at school. While it's impossible to do as thorough a calibration job on a laptop as it is on a desktop (the lighting situation that the computer's in affects the calibration, and mine goes everywhere, from my room--natural light during the day, one sixty-watt light at night--to the sunroom--natural light during the day and a bunch of lights at night), I can notice an improvement. And it looks much better than my old computer did after I calibrated it (I was never happy with the job that ColorMunki did--I used Spyder4PRO this time around. Based on the results that I got, I think I might go with Spyder when I get my own calibration equipment. Spyder's around $300 cheaper, too (better results? Cheaper? I'm in!).

I also started studying for the 20th Century Art final. Better mark, here I come! And on top of all that, I worked on my independent project.

Saturday: Photo was surprisingly busy that day. In this case, "busy" meant that there were two other people there besides me: Katie (a friend and former classmate) and Adrian (which surprised me: I'm not used to seeing teachers in on the weekend, at either NBCCD or NSCAD). Usually the Photo Dept. has a population of one (me) on Saturdays, though Alex has been talking in a rather concerned tone about how empty the place has been: usually the department is hopping at this point in the semester and people are booking the printers left, right and centre. Come on, folks! Get in here and use the stuff!

I spent the day studying for the 20th Century Art exam, listening to the opera--and wishing I could be out in the sunny, +10˚C/50˚F weather (the joys of exam season: just when it's starting to get nice out, we students have to hole up with finals prep).

Next week's performance is my #1 favourite opera, La Bohème. **sniffle, sniffle, sob** The fourth act never fails to reduce me to a sobbing, heartbroken wreck. The performance will be simulcast, but due to all the studying I have to do, I'll have to forego that performance and make do with listening to it on the radio.



As mentioned about a month ago, that day was the tenth anniversary of the day I discussed with Lynn the possibility of quitting lessons. I can't believe it's been ten years: that day is still very fresh in my mind. I remember how upset and conflicted I was, how my voice shook the whole time, pacing as I spoke, Lynn holding me and telling me that it was okay: I could cry... As I thought about that day and commemorated the anniversary, I was amazed at how strong my memories are ten years later--March 29th, 2003 was just one day out of my twenty-five years of life. But it was--and still is--an important one.

That night, I had another run-in with the person who's been making my life hell this year, and this time was really bad. I'll be really glad to be out of that situation once I'm done school.

Sunday: More studying for 20th Century Art. I recalibrated my computer, as I wasn't happy with the first result: when compared with the desktop monitors in Photo, my screen was too bright and the colours wren't quite right. The second time around my screen still looks a bit warmer than the Photo computers, but I'm a lot happier. I just need to remember to not adjust the brightness (doing so completely screws up the calibration).

I also told Lynn about the latest episode and she emailed back a little over half an hour later--and made me cry because some of what she wrote was so beautiful and because I'm indescribably grateful to her and worn down from this year and the last day, making my emotions really intense. Half of me is tempted to say more than that, but the other half says that no, these emails are so personal that they should stay between her and me (okay, and maybe Joan)--though I will say two things: 1. her email gave me hope and 2. I think that what I feel and what was said could be summed up by one of the most beautiful pieces of music that I've ever heard: Arvo Pärt's Spiegel Im Spiegel, which is a piece that bypasses everything else and goes straight to the soul. Enjoy.

that time when a blog post revolves around an awesome friend

I spent the break on the couch in the sunroom, working on the gallery review for Topics in Modern Canadian Art, reading the Nutcracker conductor's score (I'm up to the part where Clara dances with the nutcracker in the party scene), working on The Book and enjoying Tom's new CD player. On Thursday night I found out that Lynn had passed her final exam in her surgical tech program with the highest grade in her class--in the words of the email that I sent to her the next day, "I erupted with shrieks and cheers--and threw myself back into my dancing with a vengeance." The Met broadcast a performance of R. Strauss' (the Thus Spake Zarathustra guy) Der Rosenkavalier yesterday and I recognized some of the tunes thanks to the Met Opera Brass' second album, Waltzes, Songs and Festive Scenes--track one is a Waltz Suite from that opera and track ten is the Final Trio. Thanks, MOB! Although this is the second time that I have heard that opera, the MOB was still a few months away from releasing Waltzes when I heard it for the first time. Thanks to them, I was humming along with the familiar pieces. I also celebrated the fact that Lynn has been playing the violin for fifty years (wow). I don't know when the anniversary is beyond the year (sometime last year or this year), so I decided a few months ago that I would celebrate during Reading Week. I also photographed Mom for my independent project.

On Saturday, I burned my journal from when I was twelve. This is the one and only time that I plan to commit such an act--there were some things in that journal that I want to keep secret forever and I have been wanting to burn it for a year or two. I'm more or less fine with other people reading the other journals and diaries that I wrote--the one that I burned was the only one that, when I think about it, makes me think, "really?? I wrote that?! I thought that?!" While I plan to live to be somewhere between a hundred and a hundred and five, I admit that I think about that journal in the context of what will be found after my life is over. What will I be comfortable with people reading? Not that journal!

March twenty-ninth will mark the tenth anniversary of the day that I told Lynn that I'd been thinking about quitting violin lessons. She'd been away for a couple weeks and although I'd talked about it with Mom, I needed to discuss it with Lynn--both because she was my violin teacher and because I just knew that talking with her about what was going around in my head would make me feel better (sometimes, talking with a specific person is all it takes).

That day, almost as soon as we were in her music room I said that that there was something I wanted to tell her. I can't remember if I'd tuned my violin by that point or not (tuning was always one of the first things that we did), though I remember that I'd taken it out of its case, put the shoulder rest on and tightened the horsehair on my bow.

When was thinking about the conversation in the weeks leading up to it, I thought that it would just be a fifteen-minute thing--NOPE! We spent about forty-five minutes (my lessons were an hour each by that point) discussing what I was going through (half of me wanted to quit, half of me didn't, which made for a big mess in my head and I was very conflicted and upset as a result), and Lynn was very supportive and kind and held me when I needed to cry. This is one of those times when I wonder how the heck I ended up with such an awesome violin teacher (this local guy who my mom approached when I was begging for violin lessons when I was six or seven wasn't taking on any new students at the time but knew someone who was--Lynn. Just think if that guy had had an open spot...).

As I talked, my voice shaking the whole time, I paced back and forth between Lynn and the piano (a baby grand, if I'm not mistaken--I found out that there are more than two sizes of grand pianos a couple nights ago). By the time we moved onto cramming a lesson into the remaining fifteen minutes, I felt much calmer about the whole situation. Thanks, Lynn. (Though it was basically the eye of the storm, as I spent much of the next afternoon sobbing.)

That was the first of three (so far) difficult times that Lynn has seen me through--the other two were the death of my granny in '06 and my current struggles. Let's face it: she's awesome. I think everyone should have at least one friend like that: someone who they can be completely themselves around and to whom they can go with everything. I have a few other friends like that, but Lynn's the one who stands out every time.

The best part: not only is this a gush-about-Lynn-to-other-people situation (not uncommon)--but as she's a reader of this blog, she gets to read it (hi!).

Even with my boycott of the Sochi Olympics, some news has still filtered in--especially Team Canada's double hockey win (both the women and the men took home the gold). During this year's Games, I've really appreciated CBC's coverage: while they do have the broadcasting rights in Canada, they have also talked about the negative side of the Games, including Russia's treatment of the LGBT community (which is why I won't be taking in a performance at the Mariinsky or Bolshoi anytime soon: even if I left my pride pin at home, I still wouldn't feel safe in Russia) and the environmental impact of this year's Olympics (it's awful).

Today's bus was another direct-to-Halifax bus (though it stopped in Moncton to pick up more passengers), and was possibly the nicest bus that I've encountered. The only thing it was missing was a wifi connection (it had plugs, though, which meant that I could work on The Book). While en route, I finished the gallery review--all I have to do is proofread it, print it off and hand it in on Thursday. As a result of the bus being direct, I arrived in Halifax about two hours earlier than expected. This evening I'm going to go through the readings for tomorrow's Contemporary Indigenous Arts class, edit the photos from the shoot with Mom and do whatever other prep I have to do for the rest of the week.

While we're on the topic of a certain awesome violinist, I might have stumbled across the program for her M.Mus. recital. I'm hunting down the various pieces on YouTube, and the first one is way too awesome to not share.

life, death and art

The countdown to the final day is in full swing.

Monday: I spent much of the day decompressing from the trip to Elsipogtog. Turns out, Laura and I had gone at the right time, as the protesters had another confrontation with SWN and the RCMP. This one wasn't as major as the one that grabbed headlines in October, thankfully.

I also had another meltdown related to what I've been going through this semester. I could feel it bubbling just under the surface after I read the thing that triggered said meltdown that morning. I waited until late that afternoon before talking with Jake and Alex about it--and crying. And Chris (another tech) now knows some of what I've been going through this semester. This time of year is busy for everyone, techs included, so I'm really thankful that they managed to find time to comfort me.

Tuesday: I had another appointment with Joan--my last for this semester. And I discussed the events of the previous day with her (it was one of those times where, yes, I had an appointment the next day--but I needed to talk with someone right then).

That day Mom told me that she wanted some of my photos from Elsipogtog for the Christmas newsletter. She also wondered why some people are pro-fracking, which I happily researched (see here and here).

Wednesday: Crit Day. I did really well and I'm proud of what I've accomplished this semester. To paraphrase Neil Gaiman: going through a hell that keeps recurring? Make good art. I'm going to deviate from talking about the crit to share this passage from that address with you guys because it's so awesome: "Fourthly, I hope you'll make mistakes. If you're making mistakes, it means you're out there doing something. And the mistakes in themselves can be useful. I once misspelled Caroline, in a letter, transposing the A and the O, and I thought, 'Coraline looks like a real name...'

"And remember that whatever discipline you are in, whether you are a musician or a photographer[!!!], a fine artist or a cartoonist, a writer, a dancer, a designer, whatever you do you have one thing that's unique. You have the ability to make art.

"And for me, and for so many of the people I have known, that's been a lifesaver. The ultimate lifesaver. It gets you through good times and it gets you through the other ones.

"Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do.

"Make good art.

"I'm serious. Husband runs off with a politician? Make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by mutated boa constrictor? Make good art. IRS on your trail? Make good art. Cat exploded? Make good art. Somebody on the Internet thinks what you do is stupid or evil or it's all been done before? Make good art. Probably things will work out somehow, and eventually time will take the sting away, but that doesn't matter. Do what only you do best. Make good art.

"Make it on the good days too."



And now, back to the blog post.

While my crit went well, I had to rewrite part of the contextualizing statement. I was okay with that, though I'd planned to be done with the thing: once I'd gotten the final draft down to seven hundred and fifty words and was happy with it, I planned to never touch it again. Turns out, I had to dig it back out after all. I spent the afternoon rewriting the statement during the open studio.

Mom had told me that she and Tom were going to work on the annual Christmas newsletter the next day, so I chose photos from the Elsipogtog trip, edited them and wrote a couple hundred words on the experience. I sent everything that night.

Thursday: I worked on the statement and some other things that needed to get done, including getting some Christmas presents. Early that evening, I found out that Nelson Mandela had died and I emailed Mom with the news. She hadn't yet found out. As I was writing this on Saturday night, I was listening to CBC Music's Essential Classics channel and as I was writing about what happened on Thursday, the folks at CBC had Barber's Adagio on. I wanted to include something in this post to honour Mandela, and the Adagio is perfect. Thanks, CBC!



And this, from another wonderful human:



Friday: I didn't get a whole lot done, which I wasn't thrilled about. Though I managed to finish the contextualizing statement. That evening I went to an end-of-semester/birthday/some-classmates-are-done-this-semester-and-are-moving-away party. I was there during the first half of said party, while it was still fairly small and intimate. We played music on the host's (Greg, one of my classmates) turntable and iPad Mini and iPods from a couple of his friends. This was the first record that he put on. Also, I tried blueberry wine for the first time. I liked it and would happily have it again, but I was expecting more of a blueberry taste.

That day, SWN finally backed down. I wish I could go to Elsipogtog again just to give everyone involved with the protest a high five. However, the fight isn't over: SWN will be back. Some sources are saying in '15, others say they don't know when the company will try again.

Saturday: Saturday was the Met's first radio broadcast of the season: Verdi's Rigoletto, which was wonderful as always. I've missed the Met (and their wonderful orchestra, complete with a horn section that could give the BSO's violin section a run for its money when it comes to knocking peoples' socks off), so it was great to hear them again. Here's Questa o quella from act one (the Met's current production is set in Vegas in 1960):



I spent the day getting a bunch of things done.

Sunday: I worked on several things not related to school, including my packing list and a surprise for the techs, as I want to thank them for supporting me through this semester's bumps and scrapes.

Today marks ten years since my worst violin lesson ever. I hadn't practiced all week, and Lynn knew right away. It took her three tries to get me to tell the truth--the first time I don't think I really gave an answer, the second time I probably said something along the lines of "maybe...?," the third I admitted to what I'd done. I'll never forget her telling me that the lesson was a waste of money (hers don't come cheap, but they're so worth it as she's a really good teacher). And I'll never forget the times that I wanted to find a small corner in her house, curl up into a ball and sob--and the times that I came close to tears on the way home. Simply put, I was miserable. For the last few years, I've been suspicious that that lesson was an early sign of what would culminate in me quitting lessons in April 2004. I can't believe it's been ten years.

The next time I write, I'll be enjoying a much-needed and -deserved break at home. And a week after that is Nutcracker weekend for the BSO. Here's a version of the entire ballet that was performed as a concert (you read that right--no dancers were involved in this performance). My god! We're only two weeks away from Nutcracker weekend!!! **squeals**

hello F'ton, my old friend

I'll admit it: it feels so good to be back in Fredericton and the photo studio. My god--I'm a senior! I'm in my final year of art school (or at least, this art school). And I feel like I've been thrown into the semester. Whammo.

This weekend I've been brainstorming ideas for my first independent project (because I don't have class on Fridays, yesterday felt like the weekend had already started for me, and I was mixed up as to which day it was all day, even though my computer said up in the right-hand corner that it was Friday). After I post this I'm going to start writing the proposal for the project.

I can already feel myself slipping into old, familiar habits: same route to school, same computer in Photoshop class, same chair in the photo studio classroom, same way of labelling school assignments that are handed in via the college server ("assignment name - Annapurna.file type").

The college's expansion into the Soldiers' Barracks still isn't finished--they've been working on it since my FVA year. That's three years! Even worse, we Photogs aren't going to get our new lighting studio (Peter's not happy about that, and neither am I). Here's proof of how bad the situation is in the current studio:

There's a white backdrop about a foot or two to the right perpendicular to where the black one ends. The stand with the paint tray on it is used for photographing small things, like jewellery.

See the pipes? And the location of the rolled-up backdrops? And the beams? In an ideal situation, you'd have to look wayyyyyy up in order to see that junk (minus pipes, which shouldn't be visible at all if the building is to meet code)--like this or this. I'm no neat-freak, but yuck! Also, the whole studio is way too small for us, in terms of width and length.

Currently, the only students allowed in the Barracks are Graphics majors/teachers, because they have some classes over there.

Time to rehash the week. Here we go.

Sunday: Packpackpackpack pack--and then after that, more packing, including loading stuff into Mom's Highlander. By the end, I was worn out.

Monday: After a mostly-sleepless night, I was up bright and early to do last-minute packing and drive to Freddytown. I snoozed on the way up, and after getting my keys for the year (mailbox, room, house and food-locker) I unpacked everything, and somehow made all my food fit into my cupboard, spot in the fridge, bin in the freezer and food locker. Whew!

Tuesday: I spent part of the afternoon running a couple of errands downtown. I paid my tuition (though I didn't get my access card until a day or two later, and it has yet to be set up so that I can access the lighting studio), visited with Karen (who's no longer my teacher) and did some minor shopping.

Karen said that she's having her Communication for Visual Artists students set up blogs right from the start this year (we were a few weeks in before we had to start our blogs last year), and the blog is a more central part of the class now.

I also got a new student ID photo, as did everyone else. And this time, I'm happy. My previous student ID photo was taken after orientation in my FVA year, which was a very long day, and I was tired and my exhaustion shows in the photo: I want to smile, but although I'm kinda smiling, I'm too tired to put much effort into it.

Wednesday: First day of classes. That morning, I had Photoshop and in the afternoon I had a lighting class. I'm proud to say that I haven't lost much (if any) of my confidence in the lighting studio. I'm still not a full convert (as I said to Lynn, Molly and Gene at the PBSO concert in June, I'm a thrill-seeker when it comes to photography--in the studio, you're in complete control, and although it's fun, after a while I start to find it too predictable), but I know my way around. And except for the fact that on-camera timers don't exactly work when you're doing self-portraits and you're several feet away from the camera when the photo is finally taken (the camera focuses right away), I'm much happier with the results from this shoot than with anything that I shot last year. Thankfully, Photoshop Camera RAW does a pretty good sharpening job.

I've decided that this semester, I'm going to try to have as much fun as possible with my lighting assignments, and figure out how to use the lighting studio creatively.

Thursday: Advanced Digital Projects is listed as a six-hour course, but we were done with the in-class part in an hour. However, that wasn't the end of the fun: each of us had a one-on-one meeting with Peter. Mine was at 1:50, and let's just say that if I'm going to make it as a photographer, I'm going to have to confront my issues with commercial-type photography. I was thinking about it that evening, and if I were to sum up my relationship with commercial photography in a Facebook relationship status, I'd check the "it's complicated" box. In fact, if there were an "it's really complicated" box, I'd check that instead. I'm much more into artsy-type photography, and I need creativity like I need air.

That's the best I can do at trying to describe how I feel about commercial photography, because right now it's difficult to describe what's going through my head even to myself. It's more a (really strong and insanely complex) feeling than something that I can put into a cohesive sentence. Even I don't fully understand it, and right now I'm really confused about the whole thing.

So I'm hoping that I can at least start to work on confronting those issues this year because, let's face it, I'm going to need all the help I can get my hands on.

Friday: I didn't have class, so yesterday I started coming up with ideas for my first independent study project (I also did some grocery shopping and went to the Beaverbrook Art Gallery to see a show before it comes down this weekend). So far, I have four, and I'm going to have to talk with Peter about how to go about ideas two and four. Here they are as they appear in the Word document.

I'm starting with the film one because I want to make sure I do it, and I've been thinking about it since I fell in love with film photography last year, and because I want and need to learn more about film.

And if you don't know who Lois Greenfield is, you should check out her photography, which is incredibly beautiful.

Tomorrow is the tenth anniversary of 9/11/01, but I won't say much more than that, since the mainstream media is covering it to death right now. However, I will post a poem that I wrote around that time, and that hasn't seen the light of day since at least 2002.

I hope that one day the US will find the courage to move on from that time, which has influenced their foreign and domestic policy ever since. It's like the US put 9/11 on the "repeat one" setting and never took it off. It's time they did.

September 11, 2001

Flags lower in mourning,
as a vale of sadness descends on a city,
as many lives lie shattered;
death is everywhere.

As a nation pulls itself together,
and searches for the answer to death and evil,
people reach out, expressing
sadness,
anger,
fear,
and disbelief.

As Reality wraps Herself around me
I sink deeper and deeper
into the slippery tunnel of sadness;
my music and dance the only way out.

As I realize that it affected the world,
I, too, reach out
to special friends,
to anyone who shares my view,
and to America: my heart is with you.