body of work

My summer of discontent

2009-07-27T14:46:00.000-07:00

Again, a quick fly-by here as I update the situation on the home and blog front: my house is now uninsurable because of the three sewage floods that have happened here in the past 4 years. Three floods that have been cause by the guy who lives above me. The guy who still gets to live in my Co-op, for some reason. The Board here is slow to act and rather inept. What this boils down to is that I don't know if I will have a home here as of September 3rd and I might possible have to give notice on August 1st. I've lived in this Co-op for almost 17 years and I have a less stable home than the jerk that has repeatedly flooded my home with shit. Not logical? Not fair? Just? Nope. And not very workable.

So yeah, I'm not going to be blogging for awhile.

An extended hiatus

2009-06-22T16:14:00.000-07:00

I didn't expect to be away from blogging (or making art) for this long. If anyone is still dropping by here, I'd like to say that I haven't given up on blogging, it's just that I don't have an office space yet. My pain level has been really high lately, and I need my physical computer set up to be just right in order to be able to write, or think, for that matter. I hope that I will have an office late next month. Though summertime often interferes with a blog's continuity, I'll attempt to get things up and running again soon.

Enjoy the summer sun and mind those ice cream vendors!

Musical interlude

2009-03-19T15:08:00.000-07:00

A bunch of friends pulled the toxic carpet out of the house last weekend. It was very exciting to turn off the air purifiers. We left the underlay down because it is stapled in a million places and didn't seem smelly. Well, we were wrong: the underlay has now had a chance to stretch its toxic little arms into the fresh air and we will now have to take that out as well. Still no office, still no blogging to speak of. The house project continues.

Here is a lovely video that lifted my spirits. I hope it does the same for you:

powerlinerflyers from wes johnson on Vimeo.

March update

2009-03-04T23:46:00.000-08:00

I'm still breathing moth-proofing and fighting to have my carpets removed. It's been almost three months now and no resolution yet. I still don't have an office and therefore still can't do any art for this site. I'm working on getting this resolved but everyone is passing the buck (and taking weeks to pass it along slowly). So much delay, so little happening. I freaking hate this.

Once I get back into my office, I'll have to relaunch this site and try to regain readers.

I haven't abandoned this blog...

Another post-flood update

2009-01-20T10:51:00.000-08:00

I haven't abandoned my blog, I just don't have an office I can be in for more than a few minutes: the new wool carpet is still toxic and I feel sick within moments of entering the room. Let this be a lesson for those of us who are sensitive to chemicals and those who want to avoid toxic VOC's: just because a product is made from a natural substance, it doesn't mean that you have a natural, non-toxic product by the time the manufacturing process is over. 100% pure wool carpet is often treated with a very strong moth-repellent and it's not a healthy carpet to have in your home. Who knew.

We originally picked Natures' Carpet ( a truly non-toxic carpet), but the dye lots didn't match, so the carpet person "upgraded" us to another line of carpets that were supposed to be non-toxic. Mind the upgrade, folks. Mind the distributor who tells you that even though you can't look this carpet up online that it is indeed non-toxic.

I want to get back to my art, blogging and reading blogs, but the carpet fumes are just too much. I'm trying to figure out if we can get another carpet or fix this problem somehow. Fans and open windows and air purifiers aren't enough. The carpet cleaning guy doesn't think that a steam cleaning will eliminate the problem. If anyone has any suggestions, please let me know. I want my office back!

Temporarily out of service

2008-12-24T14:01:00.000-08:00

Another quick note: I'm back in my home but it's chaos in here and the new carpet is very toxic (even though it's wool and not synthetic). I can't hang out in the office for long and have been unable to spend much time online. I guess this will probably be it till the New Year. See y'all in 2009. More art, less troubles, yeah?

I'm still here

2008-12-15T21:56:00.000-08:00

Just a quick note to say that I'm still living at the hotel but trying to get my house together before Christmas. I'm rather sore and super stressed, so I'm not in a posting mood. I look forward to making art and connecting online in the very near future. Please don't forget about me!

I hope everyone has a lovely holiday season with good food, good company and a healthy dose of ease and peace. Some hot chocolate, maybe. Stay warm out there...

Art happens

2008-11-12T19:52:00.000-08:00

There is a flower shop just a short walk down the street from the hotel. The lovely older gay florist helped me put together a striking mix of green kermits, light pink freesia and bold, green chrysanthemum. A late night photo, a bit of post-production and a pause in flood life for some art.

Now, back to picking flooring samples and calling contents people.

Black water, blue water

2008-10-28T16:04:00.001-07:00

I don't usually do diary-type entries, but I've been absent due to unusual circumstances and I think a newsy post is in order. On October 9th, my apartment flooded with sewage or "black water," as they poetically call it in the restoration biz. By evening, the apartment was dismantled and I was in a hotel. Carpets were torn out, flooring was stripped off and walls were about to be cut out. The photo above is what's left of my kitchen, with the floor partially torn out and a big dehumidifier buzzing away. What the photo doesn't show is that there is no longer a ceiling or that most of the walls and cupboards are marked with blue tape which means they will have to be removed and thrown away.

Just one photo hardly does it justice: you can't see my front yard, torn up by service vehicles; you can't see the pile of big, black garbage bags full of contaminated household items and, thankfully, you can't see the scene of the ghastly crime: the bathroom. But what you can see is my new front yard, my new view and my dog's new park:

From dark sludge and destruction, to blue water and boats. To borrow from The Talking Heads: I ask myself, "Well, how did I get here?" Two words: house insurance. For at least a month, I will be staying in a hotel that is a few feet away from Vancouver's beautiful seawall and that is surrounded by million dollar condos. Let's just say this isn't my usual neighbourhood (or tax bracket). But insurance covers living costs and here I am, with green parks, dog beaches and waterfront cafes.*

It's a challenge to live away from all the things I have in my home that make it a little easier to manage living with chronic pain, so hotel life isn't simple; however, I've had a lot of sunshine and great times playing ball with the dog at the local parks; I've had sunset rides on the small ferry that departs just a few metres from the hotel's front door and I have moments where I feel like I'm on holiday. I'm not sleeping well and am quite disorganized, but the view is swell. I have to count my blessings.

So, shit happens, and now I'm on a strange psuedo-vacation. I might not be up for posting or doing art, but I'm practicing the art of going with the flow.

*Blogger won't allow me to post with an accent on the "e." How provincial. Oops, I must go with the flow...

Visual shorthand

2008-10-05T13:55:00.000-07:00

These past few months, I've been in a thick, slow mental fog due to sleeplessness and high pain. I've wanted to blog about isolation in an active, big city; how to be a foodie even when you're chronically nauseated and can't eat much fat; my sister's journey with her cancer treatment; macro and aerial photography and the mathematics of repetitive forms; the push-pull of listening to my body while trying to engage in life; the oblique thought patterns of a pain-ridden Fibromyalgic brain and my art and life in general.

But it's all quite stuck inside. If I could let it all out, it might look something like the image above.

This is my brain and body on dexedrine

2008-09-06T16:59:00.000-07:00

It's really been a long time since I last posted. I hope I've manage to keep a few readers. This past month has gone by in a blur, what with lack of sleep, high levels of pain and thick mental fogginess. I've stumbled my way through August and into September.

Last night, I needed to rouse myself from my sleep-like life so I could get together with a friend from out of town. I wanted the energy to have a long conversation where I was an equal participant and I didn't want the evening to end early, so I decided to open up a capsule of dexedrine and take a few granules. I probably take prescription speed four times a year. and I don't even take a full dose. It gives me physical and mental energy and lifts my mood, but within hours, the orange pills wreak havoc with my system.

We had a good night out with lots of animated talk and a lovely Thai dinner. I felt a bit wired, but focused and clear. I was able to walk in the cool night air at the harbour. By 9:00, my teeth and neck were starting to ache. I was home by 10:30 and by that time my chest had tightened up and my energy turned to a buzzing irritant in my brain and body. I took a sleeping pill at midnight and it was powerless against the rising electricity coursing through me. I didn't sleep at all last night. I tired to relax my mind, but it was spinning with hundreds of stray thoughts and ideas. My muscles felt like their were going to peal away from my joints. Such a long night.

Today, I am wrung out and in immense pain. I'm dehydrated, my eyes burn, my head aches, my neck feels like it's strung with steel cables, I can barely think. I'd give anything to be unconscious right now. But I'm not throwing away that bottle of pills. That might seem hard to fathom. A simple evening out, at what cost? This is the thing with chronic pain: you push hard sometimes to get something small, but important, and something you miss, and you pay for it dearly. I'll admit: it's an odd way to live. I don't think I've quite wrapped my brain around it.

[The historical illustration I used in this piece is from The Book of Life: The Spiritual and Physical Constitution of Man (1912) by Dr. Alesha Sivartha]

Long time, no post

2008-08-07T12:41:00.000-07:00

I guess my sick leave has extended longer that I expected it to. My abdominal pain has really flared up since the viral/bacterial infection and my sleep has been really whacked, so I've been in a greater fog than usual. High pain plus a slow brain makes me a dull blogger.

Ever feel like you've having the stuffing pulled out of you?

On sick leave

2008-07-11T22:28:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged in a while because I took a trip out East and now have a nasty virus/bacteria combo. I have a New Brunswick cold virus that was strengthened by a New York bug. How Global of me! They grow them strong on the East Coast: they've hung on for days and days now despite a strong antibiotic and lots of herbal assistants. Can I just say how lucky I am that I purchased travel insurance? I saw a doc in the U.S. and it cost me $215 just to walk in the door and $200 for medication. Anyway, my head aches, I'm super tired and foggy headed; so while I deal with this one, two punch, I won't be posting.

Bone scans and blue skies

2008-06-12T17:02:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday, my sister had her first appointment with her oncologist. It was a two hour appointment and took place in the early morning. By 8:00 PM, my brother and I both had stomachs that were in knots after a long day of waiting and worrying. Why hadn't she called us? How bad is it? It turns out that she and her husband went to lunch with the oncologist (who is a friend of a friend), picked up their son from school and then went to a baseball game. That's life with cancer, I guess. Except the lunch with the oncologist part, I'm sure that's a bit unusual. Anyway, she quite forgot about us and was just doing her life.

To the news then: we can breath what I think of as a half sigh of relief because the tests show that the cancer hasn't spread to her bones or liver. Only a half sigh because her cancer is invasive and she will have to have 4 1/2 months of intravenous and oral chemotherapy plus radiation, so it's going to be a hard road for her, but we are relieved that it isn't worse.

My hope for a clear bone scan came true. My greater wish for my sister's body to be free of cancer hovers on the horizon. I dream of blue skies and that Irving Berlin song is in my head all the time. Maybe her life will never be exactly "normal" again. But things will get easier, surely. What next, big sky?

A moment

2008-06-06T21:43:00.001-07:00

I haven't felt the urge to take photos in quite a few months. I've felt heavy in my body, slow in my head and not exactly brimming with creativity. The last photos I posted here were taken last year. I've thought many times lately that I ought to get out there and take pictures and that pressure really didn't work in my favor. I just ended up feeling shitty that I wasn't doing anything creative. "Should's" are really throttling and don't work so well with the reality of chronic illness. So, I had a moment today where I just wanted to stop and take pictures, and for that I'm grateful. There was no pressure, no judgment, nothing but deliberation and a bit of wonder.

[click to enlarge]

My sister has breast cancer

2008-06-02T15:13:00.000-07:00

I might as well just come out and say it right off the bat. It's not like she or the family was eased into the idea: she found a lump, had an ultrasound and had a mastectomy in a matter of weeks. Days after the surgery, her oncologist told her that she has Stage 3 invasive cancer. This was one week ago. She has to have blood tests and CT scans and an MRI and a bone scan to see if the cancer has spread to her brain, liver, bones. Her world has turned upside down and I stand here full of love and anger and fear, wondering how I can help her face this.

Tomorrow, I'm taking my sister to have a bone scan. Over 25 years ago, she was there with me when I had a bone scan. I was living in the east Kootenays, with my parents, and flew alone to Vancouver (where my sister was living) to see a pain specialist and have the scan. At the time, they had no idea what was causing my pain and had run out of tests they could do at the local hospital. I was 17 and my sister was 24, and she helped me face this uncertainty. They weren't looking for cancer, but I was scared and unsure and she was there for me. I told my sister that I would like to be able to return the favour and accompany her. This is one small thing I can do.

Twenty five years ago, my glowing bones showed nothing: the scan was normal. Tomorrow, after the radioactive tracer sinks into my sister's bones, I pray that her scan will echo mine. In this nothingness, I hope we will find common ground.

I had a very hard time creating an image that captured my hope and longing as well as my feelings of fierce protectiveness of my sister. This bone scan is one small part of her journey, but in this I offer up my support to her, my hope for her, my love for her. I will stand beside her and do whatever I can to help her through. There is so much more that she will face: chemotherapy, radiation and the suffering they bring. This image is my talisman.

[click to enlarge image]

Visual interlude

2008-05-20T20:51:00.001-07:00

Here I am, looking closely again; there's always so much to see. This is an encounter with a landscape of ragged scars.

Do you know what it is? It's thick, green bamboo.

Fibromyalgia Awareness Day

2008-05-12T15:27:00.000-07:00

May 12th is International Fibromyalgia Awareness Day. I have chronic pain for many reasons, but my first and oldest source of discomfort is Fibromyalgia. FM and I have been together now for 28 years. Not a lot was known about FM when I was diagnosed back in 1983, and the disease (that affects up to 5% of the population) continues to this day to elude effective treatment; research is still underfunded and many doctors are still in the dark when it comes to diagnosing this life-altering condition. People often suffer for years before even getting a diagnosis. More awareness is definitely needed.

Here is a brief description of Fibromyalgia from the BC Fibromyalgia Society:

Major complaints associated with FM are widespread pain, fatigue and non-restorative sleep. People with FM may have mild, moderate, or severe symptoms and these symptoms may fluctuate through all degrees of severity or stay constant.

Basically, you're in pain all over and feel like you have the flu all the time. Some people have milder symptoms and are able to work and be fairly active, while others have a tough time managing day-to-day tasks.

If you have Fibromyalgia or know someone who does, there are a lot of great resources on the net: you'll find support groups through Yahoo; information for getting a diagnosis; resources for managing pain; blogs covering the latest research; personal blogs by people who have FM and much more. When you're surfing, mind the claims for cure-alls and quick fixes: there aren't any.

Most people with FM experience cognitive difficulties often known as "Fibrofog." I have that big time today and writing this post is a real challenge, let me tell you. In fact, being at the computer today is a quite the challenge because I didn't sleep much last night and my pain is worse because of that. But I wanted to do a post today and do my bit to raise awareness.

I'll leave you with a video by Rachael, a 34 year old woman living with Fibromyalgia. She has another video contrasting her motorcycle riding and rock climbing days before FM and her slow life after. I can really relate to that one. This video describes the complex collection of symptoms that is Fibromyalgia:

When it's good to be BADD

2008-05-01T21:29:00.000-07:00

It's Blogging Against Disablism Day. A whole slew of bloggers have written passionately about issues such as language, access, ablism and culture and media. I didn't get it together to write anything this year because I'm kind of swamped. But please go to Diary of a Goldfish's blog where you'll find a collection of categories and links to bloggers joining in an amazing community event. You've got some remarkable reading ahead of you...

Subtill and knottie inquisitions

2008-04-07T20:31:00.001-07:00

[click to enlarge]

I haven't posted in a long while because I've been plagued with nausea and massive headaches. It's been hard to write or to get excited about taking photos. I did come across something the other day that broke through the veil of pain-filled disinterest and wanted to share it with you. Click on the image for my selection from Sir Francis Bacon's essay "Of Regiment of Health," written in 1597.

Lots of people have turned to much more recent self-help books like "Full Catastrophe Living" or "The Anatomy of Hope" to help them cope with chronic pain or illness, but I've found something that, though it was written over 400 years ago, speaks to this modern person who needs things to be simplified a bit.

Some key maxims for me:

"...any thing that thou shall judge hurtful, to discontinue it, by little and little."

"...avoid envie, anxious fears; anger fretting inwards; subtill and knottie inquisitions..."

"To be free-minded and cheerfully disposed, at hours of meat, and of sleep, and of exercise, is one of the best precepts of long lasting."

And finally, the sentence that has the most meaning (and poses the greatest challenge) to me during this time of much physical duress and few answers:

"Despise no new accident in your body, but ask opinion of it..."

I'm sure most of you will find something that speaks to you in Sir Francis' take on health. I thinke thou might finde a varietie of splendide contemplations in the texte, and therefore may you use it.

[I did the typesetting for this image. If you would like a higher resolution image that would make a printable copy, just email me: chronicholiday (AT) gmail.com]

One pill makes you...

2008-03-12T16:24:00.000-07:00

I had an appointment with my gastroenterologist this week and it sounds like I've had all the tests he can think of and there isn't anything left to do but try to medicate the symptoms I have. I'm not a big fan of medication, nor am I fond of targeting symptoms without knowing the cause; however, more than a year of nausea has me pretty much at the end of my rope and ready for a break. Too bad I'm so frightened of taking the medicine the doc has prescribed. I'm a typical person with Fibromyalgia and have very strong reactions to drugs and tend to get most of the side-effects even at a really low dose. The drug he wants me to take has pretty much the worst list of side-effects I have ever seen. If you see me shuffling down the street, with puffing cheeks, staring eyes and my tongue moving in a worm-like way, by all means, ask me how the nausea is going.

[click to enlarge]

The art of decay

2008-02-27T15:44:00.001-08:00

A friend recently sent me a link to an urban exploration web site that has the most amazing photos of abandoned factories, hospitals, castles and asylums. Forbidden Places is an urban exploration data base filled with hundreds of photos. Had I the stamina, I would join those who take risks in order to sneak into rotting buildings. I find abandoned sites so compelling in their stillness and slow decay. With this Urbex web site and others like it, we can go along on the exciting and often dangerous trips into these beautiful, crumbling worlds.

Here are a few photos of a forbidden site in Kitimat, B.C. where I got close to some amazing, corroding logging machinery. Sometimes, I luck out and an off-limits site can be found close to the road and only a short walk away.

February: working with it

2008-02-15T15:45:00.000-08:00

Finally, a new post. These past few weeks have slipped by in a haze of stomach pain, nausea and fatigue. I still don't know the cause of my abdominal pain, nor is anything helping it. I do hope that somebody can crack the code. Complicated, aren't we?

I haven't posted recently because I haven't really felt very creative this past month. It's hard to push through chronic illness to get to fresh images and ideas. Winter's gloom can add to empty palette syndrome. I know I'm not alone in feeling the February blues as winter lingers on. Here in Vancouver, we've had cooler weather than usual and this month isn't yet bringing us the early flowers we've come to expect (and brag about). Not only does an early Spring do a body good, but knowing that most of the rest of Canada is still slogging through snow gives one a certain mental boost. I've seen a few Snowdrops and some green shoots coming up, so I figure we've made it though the worst, but it's still a bit cold for my liking. Last year, during Victoria's Flower Count, people managed to count over 3 billion blossoms between February 25 and March 1. Warm up already!

Until the weather improves, it's blue-grey out there and cold. Instead of fighting it, I'm working with it. This then is inspired by the dark and the muck and the chill that is February.

Can I have fries with that shake?

2008-01-16T17:22:00.001-08:00

[click to enlarge]

Tomorrow morning, I get to drink a nice, thick Barium shake for breakfast. Nothing like heavy metal to start the day! I've been having really bad stomach pains for the past year and the docs can't seem to figure out why. I started this blog six months ago with my gastroscopy experience. This will be the fifth test I've had in the search for the cause of my pain and nausea.

Barium, a heavy metal, is radioopaque, and when x-rayed, allows doctors to see soft tissues that normally wouldn't show up clearly. A barium shake is very thick and chalky and not so tasty despite the addition of a chocolate-like (or sometimes orange-like) substance. Maybe the flavoring is the reason they call it a "shake." Yum. At least you don't have to drink as much barium as you did years ago. I remember having to drink two large "shakes" before an intestinal x-ray a number of years back. "Drinking" might not be the best word as it was so thick I could barely suck it through the straw. My throat actually got sore from the effort. Anyway, now the size of the shakes is more like a medium instead of a large. So that's kinda good. The newest addition to the test is a capful of dry gas pellets that you have to swallow and then they explode in your stomach and expand it. Poprocks are for wimps. Coke and Mentos have nothing on the wild antics that happen in the radiology department!

So, bottoms up and I hope it pays off. Have you ever had a test where you really hope they find something to explain the pain but you also hope that they don't find anything (anything bad, that is)? I'm really sick of not being able to eat and being in so much pain, so I do want something to show up. Something easy to treat, please. With a side of fries.

Variations on a theme

2008-01-07T16:04:00.001-08:00

These are the rusted gears of an old, hulking farm machine. Revisited. I could see these in lightboxes. Maybe it's time to get things off the computer and onto the walls.

New Year's Greetings

2007-12-31T16:04:00.001-08:00

If you start your 2008 feeling like this, you are not alone; if you feel like this every day, you are not alone, either.

I would like to thank all those who have visited my blogs and the many bloggers who have given me so much this past year. I'd like to wish everyone a year filled with creativity and connection.

How are you?

2007-12-06T20:31:00.000-08:00

On Monday I saw an extremely thorough neurology and sports medicine specialist. Over the course of the hour and a half appointment he poked, squeezed, stretched and stressed every joint and nearly every muscle in my body. Does this hurt? How about this? And if I do it again? I have quite the collection of injuries and sore spots and he mapped every one of them.

I could hardly move by Monday evening; by Tuesday morning, my pain was beyond words. If you can't say it, point to it:

With thanks to Nero, my Doberman, who loved his toys in a fierce way.

Fall under foot

2007-11-19T16:39:00.001-08:00

I haven't been very mobile lately due to fatigue and stomach pain. I'm craving long, brisk walks in the woods. I want to wander in the local parks under the colourful leaves of fall, but I remain very close to home. In my front yard, there are leaves from Maples and Alder. By looking closely and focusing on the world of shape and colour in each leaf, I try to expand what is nearby. But still, I yearn for large vistas, movement and open spaces.

Tedious leaves, splendid leaves. What are they? When I first noticed the detail in the leaves, I was thrilled. I could have taken scores of photos. But in the two weeks since taking these photos, I have been more aware of the beauty beyond me than the beauty at hand.

This post has been waiting while I try to figure out what these photos mean to me and whether or not I have a bad attitude: at least I am able to get out of my house and have a camera and should be ever thankful for that, right? Or if this is just a time where grief outweighs gratefulness? For people with disabilities, there is a lot of emphasis on being happy with what you have, celebrating what you can do; and a counter-statement that suggests that grieving is weak and unhelpful. While I understand the value in maximizing each moment and pursue instants of wonder with great gusto, I also feel the deep ache of longing for more, much more.

Complicated leaves. That's what they are.

Osteoporosis: a public service announcement

2007-11-06T23:24:00.001-08:00

I initially created this image for a Halloween invite, but with all of the skeletons hanging around this past week or so, I've haven't been able to stop thinking about bones. I have Oste oporosis and have probably had thinning bones since my late twenties. I don't have a pre-existing degenerative bone condition; however, what I do have is a body full of pain and the resulting whacked out adrenal system that contributes to poor bone formation. It's easy to think about the health of our skin or eyes --parts of our bodies that are visible-- or our digestive system --parts that hurt when they are not working well -- but it's harder to pay attention to our deep and silent bones. If they could only talk. Before they fracture, that is.

The reason I see this post as a public service announcement is because I don't want others to go through what I did: I had a very difficult time getting a doctor to give me a bone density test because they didn't see me as being at risk; I lost years of prevention due to lack of information and I almost got stuck without a treatment plan because my regular doctor didn't believe that Osteoporosis and Osteopinia (where your bone mineral density is lower than peak density) can be reversed. I want to get the word out to folks who have chronic illnesses, chronic pain or other risk factors, that it might be a good idea to look deep down to the bone when it comes to thinking about your overall health. I really would have benefited from some preventive information early on in my life with chronic pain. I don't think I would have Osteoporosis today if someone had said that because I have pain I have a greater chance of poor bone formation and a higher risk of bone loss.

Osteoporosis experts have generated lists of who is at risk and I've never seen them include those who have chronic illness or pain. But my Endocrinologist tells me that chronic pain and illness can limit our body's ability to retain and form bone. There are places to read about the chemistry involved here, but suffice to say that chronic pain and illness put a lot of stress on your body and thinning bones can result. A bone density test is quick, painless and very low in radiation. It will tell you if you have good bone mass density or if you're at risk for Osteoporosis. If you do have Osteopinia or Osteoporosis, I would suggest seeing an Endocrinologist and not just sticking with a family doctor. Endocronologists look at your overall endocrine system and will be able to give you many options for building up your bones. If you attend to your bone health before you're 50 (when doctors start recommending bone density tests to all men and women), you'll have a better chance of making real progress in building up your bones and avoiding painful fractures. If you're over 50, you can still protect your bones.

Osteoporosis is known as "the silent crippler." Lots of people don't know they have thin bones till they fall and break something big and painful like their hip or pelvis. Hello! It's your bones speaking. Personally, I'd rather hear the whisper of a bone density test.

November is Osteoporosis awareness month in Canada.

The grave's a fine and private place.

2007-10-23T22:27:00.000-07:00

This is one of my favourite photo series: tombstones from a late 18th Century graveyard in Fredericton, New Brunswick.

Small details from a large train yard

2007-10-12T19:00:00.001-07:00

Every day, I watch the trains roll through the nearby city yard. Most of the cars are tagged with graffiti. It's stunning work, really, some of it covering most of the car. When I first headed out on this shoot, I thought I would photograph slices of graffiti; but once on-site, I realized that the work didn't really translate close-up. Besides, the artists who painted these pieces should be allowed to have their work stand as is and not be subsumed into the raw material of someone else's art. As I stood observing the cars my vision shifted from the bright aerosol murals to a pallet of rust and cracking paint that no one usually sees. It felt exhilarating to discover these hidden abstracts.

I highly recommend sneaking into off-limits areas and getting close to large hulking machines in order to get a few shots: just be sure to listen for on-coming trains and yard managers–that's thrilling, too.

The aesthetic of rust

2007-09-21T19:38:00.001-07:00

The aesthetic of rust is one of my antidotes to the plastic overabundance and digitally manufactured perfection of modern life. Rust is organic; it is fragile and transient. Its smudges of corrosion and colour are imperfect and subtle. Careful scrutiny reveals the beauty of corrosion and degradation.

A picture of health?

2007-09-06T20:52:00.001-07:00

Is this what a cure looks like? I'm seeing a TCM doctor in hopes of healing what my allopathic doctors cannot. I've had most of the tests and all of the prodding and the medications. My gastrointestinal docs have nothing to offer by way of diagnosis or salve. I need to try something to relieve the pain, so I'm cooking up pot after pot of Chinese herbs.

Every four or five days, I get a new batch of herbs. The doc lays them out on big pieces of paper before putting them in brown lunch bags. I recognize ginseng, but nothing else. I ask him about this bark or berry or that black fungus. It's all very mysterious.

After a month of taking these herbs, I feel much worse than before I started. I'm told to persevere. As I pour water over these collections, I wonder if this is the elixir I need.

A camera/a brush

2007-08-27T16:37:00.001-07:00

Macro photography allows me to capture striking abstracts. I approach photography in a painterly way and am not really interested in representation. I like to think that I'm able to show people things they might not otherwise see in the world around them. This approach takes time and stillness.

[If anyone knows how to get dark greens to show up well on the web, please let me know. There is a lot of detail in the dark areas of these photos and I can't seem to get it to show online. Help!]

Drawing blood

2007-08-20T11:57:00.000-07:00

They started to draw my blood and number my insides when I was 15. I have 27 years of needles and machines at my back. I've seen my bones and arteries and guts. I've reviewed the numbers. I'm not only this medical body, but it is a big part of me.

The nurse misses her mark when she tries to get the IV needle in; fluid goes into my arm and it burns and burns. She has a warm touch and a sweet Jamaican accent but bad aim. It helps when they are friendly; though I think I would chose accuracy over charm on this one. The second nurse slides the needle in quickly and smoothly despite my nervously retreating veins.

Once the IV fluid is flowing well, they take me to the CT machine and lay me out. I have been in this room many times. A brand new machine means I will be out of here faster, but it also means that they have to “push” the dye through my system so that it floods quickly into the vascularized organs. Heralded by a strange metallic taste, the dye runs into me with an odd heat and pressure. The equipment spins around me taking its 3D pictures. Arms back over my head, I wonder if my body will reveal any of its secrets or if the cause of the abdominal pain will remain in obscurity.

They let me rest awhile and then take the IV out. I watch the small, bloody plastic tube as it is pulled from the vein. I wrestle with my aversion to admitting inorganic medical instruments into my body. The clash of the gastroscopy camera versus my flesh was greater than this small intrusion, but still, I am not comfortable with it. Not after so many years of this.

Self portrait in red and blue

What the garden gave me

2007-08-13T12:26:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, I go for a CT scan of my abdomen. They'll light me up with a dye fed through an IV and see if anything shows up. After 27 years of medical tests, I find that I am more leery of these procedures than I was a few years back. I guess I have medical fatigue. I am trying not to focus on having yet another test, what they might find, or how tired I am of feeling sick. I confess: I'm not being super successful at that; however, I did take the time to focus on my collection of macro photos of my garden and that lightened my mood a bit. Again, beauty lingers near by in the form of a cornflower.

At the sea

2007-08-06T17:26:00.000-07:00

My legs are tired and don't carry me very far anymore. I took these photos when I visited the seaside with some friends. While they walked the length of the beach, I looked at sea and sky and what was near to me: overturned metal rowboats. I still long to walk and explore, but I am thankful for my ability to see beauty close at hand. Small things can dazzle and surprise.

Blow to the stomach

2007-07-25T20:26:00.001-07:00

This was a strange encounter in the medical ring. A bit of Valium, a shot of anesthetic in the back of my throat, a round plastic bit between my teeth and then down the hatch it went: a camera on the end of a long black hose.

Round 3 of tests to determine why I have so much abdominal pain left me a bit bruised.