Personal

My parents have two sons. One is a son that no typical oriental parents would ever want. Being a photographer, large format digital print maker, and an entrepreneur he is, by definition, a professional artist without a steady income. He completed a four year business degree program in a school that in 2001 ranked below a school that doesn't even have a business program in the business school section of Maclean's Magazine's annual post secondary institution rankings. He felt it was a waste of almost a fifth of is life upon barely graduating in 2005. When many graduates can joke that all they are leaving with is this piece of paper worth about $20,000 and four years of intensive study, this son has actually managed to lose this piece of paper. They constantly worry about this son not eating properly because he is the only member of the family with clearly visible ribs and protruding hip bones. He alienates people with a ruthless and non-sympathetic attitude valuing only results and never rewarding for fruitless but noble efforts. The other son is who many Asian parents would not only be pleased to have as a son but would eagerly and proudly tell other Asian parents about. He completed his co-op chemical engineering degree from one of the most revered universities for this field, has maintained outstanding academic scores, participated in structured extra curricular activities, is a crowd-charmer, just returned from a research placement in Norway studying carbon recapture and will likely lead a respectable and stable career in something related to his degree. He makes friends easily and is well-liked. On top of all of this, this son works out and is in excellent physical condition.

My brother, the son that many Asian parents would dream of having, leaves for what could be over half a year on a dual sport motorcycle to South America. I know that my mother is very worried for my brother's safety because of all of the accidents she has seen on the news in North America and some truly horrific incidences involving single track motor vehicles back in Malaysia. But I told my mom not to worry; I have instructed my brother that in case of a serious and crippling accident, make sure he dies instead. And since I have refrained from motorcycling for the past few years due to heavy construction on many of the roadways that I normally use, she only stands to lose one son to a motorcycle accident. I guess the math makes sense but I hope that they both know that I am just kidding.

He checks in whenever there is internet access and a chance to Skype back home. It helps keep our mother's worries under control. You can follow his journey on his new blog. I'm sure it'd be cool if you wanted to contact him to say hello but if there is a message you'd prefer for me to pass to him or you'd like to be informed right away of the latest patch of pavement or piece of debris he collides just ask. His blog may have a posting delay since our mother has finally started checking it.

I took a few photos of him before he geared up and left with his friend Jan. At time of writing, Glendon is in Mexico and I believe Jan is returning to Canada to begin his medical residence. If you read this, Glendon, understand that most of the aforementioned is written in jest. It isn't just mom and dad that are proud of you; I am very proud of having you as a brother and I am envious that you are taking this trip. I don't worry for you but still hope that you return safely.

. . . I promise to have my studio fit for a shoot with three mainstream specification female models, makeup artist, hairstylist/stylist, art director, two assistants, and tag-along.

Well . . . more like top 900. If you're not familiar with the Folding@Home project you should check out their website. In short, the project co-ordinates the spare computing power of many computers interconnected by the Internet to act as one single, loosely-coupled distributed super computer to help scientists understand protein misfolding-related illnesses. The headline diseases are cancer and Alzheimer's of there are many other diseases the scientists using this system research. Less interestingly, there is little evidence to support the conspiracy theory that Folding@Home participants are helping Stanford University develop biological weapons. There are also some arguments against running Folding@Home if you care to read through them.

I hate Kodak T-max. Even the new stuff. It has nothing to do with the imaging characteristics of the film . . . just that the film holds a bad curl and seems to attract dust and get scratched much more easily than Ilford's films. There is one more roll of T-max 400 film that I need to process and I am giving away the rest of my Kodak black and white film. Anyhow, a few frames from the roll. Just fun shots to test my chrome/vulcanite body/MP finder Leica M7. The chrome colour is very important! And for the record, I didn't want to buy this camera but my Zeiss Ikon is in Japan for repair and has been gone for a month or two now. I couldn't wait any longer to get a manual focus rangefinder back and I couldn't find a good deal on a silver Zeiss Ikon so I picked up the first good deal I found (or maybe Ethan found) for a Leica M7. That said, a good deal on an M7 is about twice as expensive as a Zeiss Ikon and brand new M7's are around triple the prices of brand new Zeiss Ikons. I kind of get it but not really.

And right after typing all of that above I realize that I am posting photos from a roll of Ilford HP5+ pushed to ISO 1600 in Kodak XTOL stock solution. Hahah . . . I was looking for dust and scratches and couldn't find them. But my assertions about T-max still stand. Anyhow, lots more stuff to post over the next few days. Check back after the weekend!

One of my favourite parts of being a photographer is being on another photographer's set.

My studio is located in the characteristic northern end of the Edmonton Gallery Walk. Between my studio and my apartment is an expansive parking lot. When I'm crossing this parking lot to go to my studio in the morning or when I'm returning late at night I often encounter some of the working poor of our city as they sort through the bins for anything of value. Most just look for recyclable containers with deposits. Some look for resalable goods. I came across Peter, Shaun, and a third companion, Colleen who refused to be photographed. Peter and Shaun have known each other for a few years and Peter's been living on the street for the past seven years. He was a construction worker, mostly doing cement work. However, he lost his job when arthritis rendered him unable to do his job. His employer told him to apply for government disability insurance but in his mind he equated this to welfare and he would prefer to live on the street than to collect a hand out from our government. I chatted with Peter and Shaun for about a half hour while preparing for an engagement shoot. Despite their humble living arrangements they seemed content with their station in life. Most of the police in the area seem to know Peter and don't hassle him when they find him. Strangely, Shaun and Peter may be more content with what they are doing than I am with what I do at times and between parking, speeding, business regulation, and tax filing concerns, they likely have fewer run ins with government officials than I do.

Dong and I shot a wedding over the weekend. The act of shooting a wedding isn't particularly out of the ordinary for us but the nature of this wedding was. I may have more details posted about this wedding later but as a result of this wedding I now have three new rolls of HP5+ shot at ISO 3200 that I am afraid to process. I am not afraid that they are out of focus or improproperly exposed; I just don't feel ready to look at these photos. We shoot numerous weddings a year even though we don't advertise ourselves as wedding photographers and while all weddings are special and, speaking for myself, I still feel that I develop some sort of emotional connection with our couples and their friends and family. However, through this wedding I experienced something else. I think that I saw love and emotion that I have never seen before.

Dylan and Whitney just left with the Epson 9800. The printer served me almost flawlessly for almost two years and when I saw it for what could be the last time in Dylan's van, I wasn't expecting it but I did feel a bit sad to see the printer go. I know that it'll be cared for as well as Dylan and Whitney know how to and I hope that it will serve them as well as it has served me. I am looking forward to seeing some breathtaking prints that they may be making with this little printer.

Over the past few months I have shot a fair bit of large format film on a variety of cameras. Over the past several months I have also shot an innumerable number of rolls of 35mm film through the Zeiss Ikon and Leanna's father's Nikon F-301. During these past few months I have created some of my favourite images of my career as a photographer and I wanted to share the experience with as many other photographers as I can. However, I am finding that after having gotten used to the reassuring instant-confirmation capabilities and conveniences of digital capture, many photographers shy away from an opportunity to shoot film even though they know that it could have a profound impact on their work and, in the case of working pros, for their businesses. I am starting to think that my purpose is not merely to educate and to share but to help dispell other photographers' fear of certain pieces of equipment and workflow. One day I will be shooting formats even larger than 4x5 and one day I would like to try to make my own wet plate photographs but because that I have successfully shot 4x5 film as part of some of my commercial workflows in a world that expects digital capture and because I am not afraid to purchase and carry whatever equipment it takes to achieve a certain look, I feel that I can now say that I now live without fear of any medium or any piece of equipment related to photographic imaging.

1. Instead of complaining that my mail carrier pools our mail and brings it to the mailbox every two or three days as opposed to daily and that she'd rather put "you're not in" notices on my door without ringing the doorbell for parcels even though there are clearly people home because it means that she doesn't need to pack the boxes into her van, I should be grateful that she comes at all.
2. Instead of fighting the parking ticket that a parking patrol officer claimed to have been issued at 3:10pm when I found it on my windshield at 2:58pm according to a radio-synchronized watch for parking in a peak hour (3pm to 6pm) parking zone, I should be grateful that my tax dollars are going to these upstanding members of society to help keep me honest and to open my eyes to imaginative new ways of telling time.
3. My uh . . . trusted male makeup artist/hairstylist photographs better with my girlfriend than I do. (Cheers, Nikolas
4. I should be grateful that there are people to borrow more photographic equipment from me than what most photographers will ever own in their entire lifetime. This way, if my studio gets broken into, I can call up these people and get my gear back. Come to think of it, it's time to collect. And who has my fog machine?
5. Thanks for the Vistek Edmonton employees who took my "4600word essay", forwarded it to their sympathizers/friends and twisted my words in the face of others in an attempt to mislead them into believing that I am trying to get a whole store of workers fired. Your actions have put me in my place and I am now a much humbler, quieter, and happier customer of your store. Of course, inquisitive photographers will be interested in what this 4600 word e-mail contained along with some related correspondences with current and former employees of Vistek. You can CONTACT ME and get a SNEAK PEEK before I publish all of these words right here!
6. I'm surrounded by incompetent people. Photographers, printers, computer hardware people, graphic artists, web developers, and sales people. Not that all of these people do lousy work all of the time. Rather, most of these people will fail you whenever you give them something important to do. But I should be thankful for these people as well; competition is an efficient motivator for progress therefore I have lots of motivation if I ever decide to partake in a race to the bottom.

I wander into a library for the first time in three years. I am kind of lost and I mosy about aimlessly for a few minutes. A librarian smiles at me and offers assistance which I respectfully decline. I settle into a muddy footprint-marked chair beside a middle-age homeless man sitting quietlly with two backpacks and I eavesdrop upon a group of adolescents grouped in a nearby cluster of chairs who are quizzing each other on various academic topics. One young woman, accompanied by her friend, exits briefly for a cigarette.

I've sat for five minutes. The homeless man stumbles back into his chair as he attempts to get up. He smiles at me coyly and this time he succeeds in freeing himself. At least three dozen people have passed by. Men in suits, fathers and daughters, more homeless people and numerous juvenile delinquents mill about without any obvious objective. A few people walk by briskly, purposefully gabbing on their cell phontes.

What am I doing here? I found my way to this library with plans to spend some time writing content for the relaunch of my printing website, PrintHuge.com which my neighbors and friends, 350 Designs, have been working on for the last little while. However, I find myself observing these alien surroundings and reminiscing of the years I spent in libraries from middle school through sentence to a post-secondary institution. In a sense little has changed - in junior high I spent a lot of time in the library reading materials unrelated to my coursework. In high school, I was often found by our librarian covertly eating my lunch in a library corner. And in university, most of my peers remembered following a stream of drool to my comatose body as I napped in a chair in the middle of the Winspear Library.

entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem

entities should not be multiplied beyond necessity

the simplest explanation is usually the best

roda poi velcki cu so'eroi ke ganai saprai gi xagrai

all somethings which-are explanations mostly-are (if superlatively-simple then superlatively-good)

Most days I get junk mail and magazine subscriptions. Other days I get dental appoint reminders and bills. Today I get happy mail and sad mail.

Happy sixth-year anniversary, Leanna. Sorry that I couldn't be with you today.

January 16th through 30th of 2007 was supposed to be a retreat from the daily rigors of being a fashion/glamour photographer . . . you know, things like shooting beautiful, barely-clothed women and other similar annoyances that would plague any heterosexual guy. While I did have some shoots and administrative stuff booked, this entry, along with the few that follow this entry, will discuss subject matter that varies greatly from what I normally write about and what I normally shoot.

My father's mother passed away the end of last year. Apparently my father saw a psychic reader that told him that his late mother was "doing okay" and to take his time bringing her ashes back to Malaysia. She also suggested that I accompany my father thus the family mandate for me to leave work in Edmonton for two weeks.

We depart Edmonton on January 16th and arrive about midnight, the start of January 18th in Penang via Kuala Lumpur and, before that, Narita/Tokyo, Japan. Upon our arrival, we visited my grandmother's (and father's) old home in Penang which, when it was their primary home, was a well-known boarding house. #27 Goddib Road is now Carlsberg Beer's distribution office for the region though the building is now owned by my uncle in Toronto. At 7am we would make a trip to Sangai Patani, crossing Penang Bridge which connects the island of Penang to mainland Malaysia to visit my grandmother's birth place. It was my granmother's final wish to visit the place where she was born and grew up. We carried her ashes to her old home.

As the story goes, my grandmother and her siblings found a black pearl on the banks of this river. The pearl would change hues with the tides. A trader had once offered 60,000 ringgits over fifty years ago for this pearl and my grandmother's father refused the offer. At this point, the story diverges and develops two different versions. The first version is that while on his death bed, my grandmother's father realized the risk to harmony between his children and took the pearl and swallowed it. The second version is that the siblings gave their father the pearl and requested that he put it in his mouth as such pearls are believed by the locals to have some sorts of healing powers. Shortly after giving their father the pearl, their father was believed to have accidentally swallowed it and it is also believed that traces of the pearl may be in his burial urn.