1. 18 Feb


    Richard Fedoruk. You Can’t Get There From Here. 1999 Emily’s father makes meticulous black and white drawings in his living room in New Westminister. The screen shot above shows one of many made between 1997-2009, all in this resolute/frequency. This Christmas I went over to their house. He had quit drawing and decided to resume wood carving again. His first carving was a raven that Deb (his energic wife and poet) had commissioned. A Christmas gift for a friend. There is a treasure chest of blob sculptures and paintings in their basement. I am obsessed with the ancient, gnarly pear trees in their back yard. Because of fog, I slept over in December and was lucky to see the black bark covered in frost crystals at sunrise. A few years ago Emily gave me their last remaining copy of Casa Vogue. This one is from the late seventies. There is a great Memphis spread, and fantastical photos of marvelous villas and ranches, where money grows on trees. Before I could salvage the rest of the collection, Deb tossed the boxes - full - (weep!) into the recycling bin.

    Richard Fedoruk. You Can’t Get There From Here. 1999

    Emily’s father makes meticulous black and white drawings in his living room in New Westminister. The screen shot above shows one of many made between 1997-2009, all in this resolute/frequency.

    This Christmas I went over to their house. He had quit drawing and decided to resume wood carving again. His first carving was a raven that Deb (his energic wife and poet) had commissioned. A Christmas gift for a friend.

    There is a treasure chest of blob sculptures and paintings in their basement. I am obsessed with the ancient, gnarly pear trees in their back yard. Because of fog, I slept over in December and was lucky to see the black bark covered in frost crystals at sunrise.

    A few years ago Emily gave me their last remaining copy of Casa Vogue. This one is from the late seventies. There is a great Memphis spread, and fantastical photos of marvelous villas and ranches, where money grows on trees. Before I could salvage the rest of the collection, Deb tossed the boxes - full - (weep!) into the recycling bin.