I took this window reflection yesterday in Halifax with my recently purchased Canon D5 Mark II. It is an older camera (from 2009) but is in good condition. Using an unfamiliar camera (and lens) really changes how we see things and how we photograph them.
For the past few years I have been mostly using my phone to take photos. I have gotten used to framing scenes using the screen, held out at arms length. Looking through a viewfinder, and using a 50mm lens, gave me such a sense of joy and freedom. And it seemed that different details caught my eye. There is so much to be learned about perception.
Baking Mixes brings to mind recipes. The recipe for this photo comes via Lee Friedlander. That is: organize a large amount of information in a dynamic composition. Friedlander is a master of this approach. For documentary photography, it seems the more information, the better. It tells us a lot about the culture and society of a specific time and place. I shall keep on photographing the social landscape with a few different recipes, and hopefully learn some new ones before I’m done.
I’ve always been interested in what I think of as “surrealism in everyday life.” (My “Wish You Were Here” series has dealt with this in the past.) Two years ago, I visited Belgium for the first time. My family stayed in Walonia, the francophone southern region, in Liège. We also visited Brussels and took in the wonderful Magritte Museum.
My impression of the country was that Rene Magritte’s surrealist perspective was somehow typical of Belgium. I only spent a week there, but everyday, and literally everywhere, I saw details that screamed surrealism. As Magritte said, “Everyday objects shriek aloud.” There was so much photographic potential for juxtaposition; ambiguity, fantasy, and humour.
Rosetti Rivera writes in Belgium Express: “Belgian surrealism does not only show itself in bold and garish ways. More often than not, it hides within the subtleties of everyday life. If you don’t look hard enough, you may easily overlook those quiet expressions of delightful absurdity that could add a ton of humor and spice to your day.” She recommends paying attention to the architectural mismash, lamp posts, sidewalks, and windows.
I’m hoping to go back to Belgium and explore more of this fascinating and culturally rich country, and “be on the lookout for what has never been.”
Here are my top ten photos of 2021. I didn’t stray far from home this past year, so most of the photos have a more rural feel. I looked for the usual suspects–good light, juxtapositions, unusual scenes. Most were taken with my iphone, and some with my DSLR. I often revisit locations throughout the year as the light and season can really affect the mood of the photo. Cheers! And all the best for 2022!
I thought I’d post some pages from my recently released photobook Toronto Hi-Fi, and explain my editing process. Putting together a photobook of forty year old material is a challenging procedure–from scanning the negatives to choosing the photos, to sequencing them in logical fashion. It’s a task that I enjoy and hopefully improve upon with each project.
I’m always pondering what to include and what to leave out. With this book, I wanted to use photos that were not in my previous four Toronto books, ones that were strong on their own, without any context or adhering to a specific theme. There were several hundred images to choose from and I had to narrow it down to about ninety. (Print-on-demand books are expensive already, and any more would make it just too pricey.) I tried not to let subjectivity get in the way–just my strongest black and white shots.
The title eluded me. My wife suggested “Hat and Jacket” as I had lots of photos with elderly men wearing hats, which was still a thing in the 1980s. I ended up doing one spread of “men with hats,” but seized on the idea of my love of music being a theme. The Toronto Hi-Fi photo (taken before I even moved to Toronto) seemed appropriate as the cornerstone. I often walk around with songs in my head and thought of the phrase “a camera full of film and a head full of songs.” The book now had a basic form; choosing the images got easier.
I’m happy with the results and get the usual rush of nostalgia when I think about my early days in Toronto. I said this in the afterword: “This book is dedicated to the people who have helped me along the way. To the lovers of music, and those who roam the world with a camera. To those who love Toronto, and those who bathe in the warm glow of nostalgia. And to the folks who follow me on social media and take an interest in my photos. I appreciate your giving new life to this work that was barely seen in the 1980s.”
Toronto Hi-Fi Photographs by Avard Woolaver Hardcover, 42 pages; 89 b&w photos 20 x 25 cm / 8 x 10 in.
