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more work on fluidity project coming soon...


"The best camera is the one that's with you" - iPhone Project 365

"The best camera is the one that's with you" a quote attributed to Chase Jarvis, an American photographer, director, artist and entrepeneur.  In the spirit of visual exploration and spontenaity, last fall I embarked on a 365 day project to post one photo a day on Instagram, taken and edited entirely on my iphone6s.  Here are a few of my recents from from the ongoing project.  Find more on Instagram @kvphotoart  



Brain Cancer Got Me Thinking - Art Exhibit, Oct 7-13, 2015

SO honoured to have one of my photographs (my first honest attempt at a self portrait!) selected for an upcoming Art Exhibit "Brain Cancer Got Me Thinking" at the Visual Space Gallery Oct 7-13, in collaboration with the BC Cancer Agency.

Check out the broad range of creative art submissions from various artists, in various mediums, in this slideshow. The first three images in the slideshow are from my photographic series called "The Girl at the Edge of the Garden".

Through diagnosis and treatment for my brain tumours (which rendered me monocular many years ago but were only formally diagnosed in 2012) I became intensely connected to nature around us: connecting emotionally with trees in the wind and finding solace and strength in the forest.  

I also connected with a stone figurine in our garden; exploring metaphorical feelings about my particular circumstances in silent reflection with…. the girl at the edge of the garden.  

Here are the images she's inspired me to make so far...

#1:  “Stone Repose” 


#2: “Clinging”  

#3: “Your Move” 


rage against the dying of the light

I was tossing this old flower arrangement out and instead paused, just for a look 


A walk in the woods

A peaceful walk with "the boys" on a sunny November day at Lighthouse Park this weekend.  

Except a tiny bit not peaceful for the chipmunk Chico spotted. (No chipmunks were harmed, whew). 



On the Georgia Straight Cover! 



A "murder" of crows

Did you know that a group of crows is called a "murder"? Which is what this eagle really looked like he wanted to do to the crows that were chasing him around this afternoon.  




Morning tea with a heron

I always thought herons just hung around the water's edge.  Turns out they spend a lot of time in high treetops too.  This one spent a leisurely morning sunning himself today, while we sipped our tea on the deck. 



The prettiest pear

Picked up this pear at the market today.  The leaf still attached made me start imagining the orchard it had arrived from, the tree it had grown on.  I have this weird habit of anthropomorphizing my food.  I often wonder if it's happy.  This pear looks happy to me.




I've always been drawn to water - lakes and oceans beckon and entrance me.  The "Fluidity" themed portrait series started a few years back while living in Ontario. Earlier efforts were in-studio with sheer fabrics and a fan, trying to evoke fluidity in a non-water environment.  This eventually moved along to experimenting in the backyard pool with an underwater housing. (A few of those previous images appear at the bottom of this blog post).

Currently starting to experiment with fluidity on the West Coast, moving outdoors into the inspiring coastal winds.  Next stop this summer, I'm thinking into the ocean we go...


Part of the original series:



Lonsdale Quay Walkabout

A few recents from a North Vancouver walkabout near the Lonsdale Quay.



A study of water drops

Yesterday evening included a meandering walk around the island, on the tails of a gentle spring shower. 




Single Yellow Tulip

Around dinnertime tonight I noticed a single yellow tulip had appeared in my front garden, as if out of nowhere.  Such are the mysteries of our first spring season in a new house (for us), with an enduring garden, that doesn't really care who lives here now. 



West Vancouver 1912-2012, a digital legacy book.

Lots of events planned to celebrate West Van's centennial this year, including a photo contest to create a digital legacy e-book.  I entered some images today (the deadline, naturally).  Voting will take place during May, check it out at:

An evening stroll at Ambleside Beach

 Splashes of red at Horseshoe Bay

Careful watch over an adventurer at Lighthouse Park

On the Cypress Falls Park trail

Young Thinker, Lighthouse Park at sunset.

Nature's construct; on the Cypress Falls Park trail.

Double ferries at Horseshoe Bay


A Colourful Tribute to a Wonderful Man

Following my father's passing, in the midst of all the turmoil of settling here in Vancouver, a very dear friend of mine gave me a beautiful gift.  The gift of a tree to remember my father by.  It was a tree for me to choose from a nursery out here, since she's all the way on the other side of the country.  I was so consumed with the move and everything that I didn't have a chance to think about getting the tree until this spring.  I studied trees very hard for a few weekends recently at the nursery, looking at exotic Japanese Maples, at "local" species such as an Arbutus, at Weeping Willows (poetic), even at Monkey Trees that only seem to grow out here in temperate climates.  I couldn't find the right one that would symbolize what my father was about.  And then as I was leaving the nursery one day, I saw a large Camellia bush.  It's blooms were magnificently red and fragrant.  It would grow to 8 feet and larger around if I let it.  It would bloom for several months each spring and would be happy in a temperate climate, in filtered sunshine.  It was the one.  It was the "tree" that said everything that my father was about.  He loved flowers and color (especially on all the women in his life).  It's a "Supreme Camellia". It is enduring and grand and strong, like he was.  We found the perfect place for it at our new home on Eagle Island, amongst the pine trees, nestled slightly off the walkway, at the top of the path, just where you turn to go into the house.   I can see it from the kitchen window, a blast of color and warmth, in both morning and evening's light.  Thank you Karen.


Spring Interloper


Earth Day

Stay grounded. 


On Street Photography

There's something intoxicating about walking down a city street, any street, camera in hand.   The overwhelming mix of energy and colliding moments in the lives of unique individuals completely entrances me.  Sometimes the chaos is gentle and ironic, and at other times it's turbulent even.  Either way, I'm hooked on the micro-drama in unplanned street photography.   

Just as often as street photographs ask questions, they somehow provide answers too about the random chaos that gives a city its pulse.  Here are a few moments that stuck with me in New York, Paris, Toronto and Vancouver.




Called to the bar

I spent the morning Friday with a room full of lawyers (by choice!), some newly called to the bar and some transferring in from other provinces to beautiful BC.  Even the presiding judge couldn't resist congratulating the transferees on their decision to relocate here.  All called today were given the rest of the day off, by order of the court.  Congratulations to each of you!

With the sun gently filtering in, the Great Hall at the Law Courts in Vancouver was just bursting with pride and accomplishment.  Hard earned and well-deserved.  A special congratulations to my dear husband, now called to the BC Bar after a career first established in Ontario.  This ceremony was another item to make our cross-Canada move complete, and another item on his personal bucket list to check off!

The first one here is my favorite photo of the day - the official "Benchers", a delightful assembly of lawerly characters presiding over the ceremony of admission for the new lawyers. 





By way of explanation....

By way of explanation, my photographic hiatus of the last few months coincided with one of the most difficult things any of us experience....the loss of a loved one.   At times I found solace behind my camera, and at times, it just amplified the grief.  Looking back, I think the power of the lens actually scared me a little.  It mystified me and also gave me new perspectives on the relationship between emotion, experience and art. 

Several months later, and following a move across the country, I am only now picking up my camera again with renewed strength and spirit.  It's a beautiful spring day and I once again feel like making pictures.  But I am allowing myself the time to slowly and carefully rebuild my relationship with my camera.  I wasn't sure what I was waiting for before returning to photography and now it actually feels as though I'm starting all over again.  I'm embarking on a different photographic journey, recognizing that the life experiences of the last few months will forever shape my art.  I'm intrigued to see what happens next.  Bare with me as I move through these steps and let fresh ideas and new projects take shape.  

For now, I'm sharing a few of the images of my father's final journey, returning to the place where he began.  It's a glimpse of his journey back to our special little corner of the world, in a village, by a lake, in Finland.  His passing was a life process, not unlike being born, filled with family and sharing and an overriding feeling that despite the solemnity, everything that was happening was natural and somehow cosmically guided. 

Each step of his passing overwhelmed each member of our family, on both sides of the ocean, in our own ways.  For me, it was a strange meld of profound emotion and seeing.  At times, color and design was all I could process. Horizons wouldn't stay straight, reflections lunged at me through my camera.   While that grief is apparent in the images, I hope you can see not just our collective sadness, but also a sense of the influence of the pure, generous spirit and love of our homeland that my father readily shared with us during his time on this planet.

A tribute to you, "Isi" (dad).  Here are a few of the details and moments I noticed when you left us.