mukluks

One of my favorite things about Canada is our First Nations contingent. We're so lucky to have a relatively large population of people whose cultures are (were?) ingrained with living off the land and respectin' it. Lots of amazing knowledge and wisdom. And clothing!

Canada, do not take for granted the Mukluk!

I'm not talking about Ugly Boots, I'm talking about the real thing - hide boots, maybe with a little beading on the toes and maybe covered in fur, or with fur trim.

Put some wool liners in those suckers and you're good to go in the coldest weather. Your feet stay as warm as they would in any boot. If you're only walking on cold, dry snow, the leather bottoms will take a few winters to wear down - and you can sew on new leather if you start to get holes.

They're extremely light, as well. Feels like you're walking naked. You can see how awesome it would be to be totally naked except for a fur suit on, like the people of the far north.

My only pair is a heavy-duty caribou-fur boot, and the fur sheds like crazy. Not cool for inside. So I ordered a pair of short ones today from a lady in Saskatchewan. Give her the size and she'll sew you up a pair. If you have a house with cold floors, or are too lazy to keep the wood stove stoked, these are a life saver for wearing around the house.

My other excuse: I've noticed that I get pretty chilled after swimming, so I need something to cover my feet to warm back up. They're always cold afterwards.

PS. I snuck up on a posse of four seals today. I was hiding in the rocks, warmed by the sun. They were floating about thirty feet away laying on their backs, absorbing the sun. Thirty feet! That's pretty close.

this is heaven

From living up north in cabins, I figured that the best place for a wood stove was in a cold-climate log cabin in the forest, with snow on the ground and northern lights undulating slowly across the sky. I now believe that a wood-stove heated cabin is just as good by the Pacific Ocean. Smellin' that wood smoke mix with salt and seaweed while walking on the beach, watching the sky darken, listening to Oystercatchers (small birds) chatter on the shore, is real nice. Real nice.

Nice enough to come up with the title for my next film, "This is Heaven." The title works perfectly for the theme. Above is the cover book I'm using for the first ideas and sketches. My sister works at a publishing house and they get these sample books called "Dummies" that book printers use as samples. The publishers get overloaded with Dummies, so she passes them off to me. Free sketchbooks! Usually glossy paper, though, which makes it a challenge. No pencils, no watercolour.

When I told my sister that I had ideas for a new film, her boyfriend said "Not already! I thought you said you were going to paint?" I think my family stresses about my career, somewhat. Long hours on long projects with a bit of payoff every 2-3 years.

I'll still paint, but I ain't gonna stop making films, people!

designs

Working myself up into painting, one sketchbook-page at a time.

Swimming in the ocean again every day. It's cold. The weak link is my balls. I've always thought I could just get used to it, but I didn't consider the nether regions of my person. I don't think it's in man's nature to toughen up his scrotum.

"Yeah, hit me one more time down there... yeah, I'm getting used to it. One more time!"

It just doesn't happen.

I've been reading about whales, and a lot of scientists free-dive to get close to them... apparently whales don't like all the bubbles that come out of SCUBA, so free-diving is the way to go. So I feel a bit better about the idea of using a wetsuit, because it would let me go deep and practice holding my breath. Apparently the Orca (Killer Whales) were around again last weekend, which is exciting and scary.

Granted, I've been swimming naked lately, so maybe a pair of shorts would do wonders.

burning fuck poem

coffee and pencil - looking over a roof at the trees.

It's hard to say no to an old man who wants you to garden for him. I have a lot of art to do, but I can't turn away from old Tom, who makes us halibut-salad sandwiches and tea for lunch, and never critiques how I work. Most of all, I think the garden help is the only real company he gets most of the time. It keeps him active and thinking, and caring about something. If he didn't have his garden, I don't know what he'd do. All he talks about is his plants and the weather.

I guess it's a matter of keeping a balance. I'd be over at his place 5-6 hours a day if I didn't draw the line.

I can't believe how much easier it is to work on projects that take a few days, rather than a few years. I'm having a good old time designing a CD cover right now.

My film is basically finished except for adding some subtle melody under the existing soundtrack. But my composer / sound designer is booked until late December, so the film is on hold until then. Not a biggie, I'll be keeping busy with plenty of projects anyways. I may even start on my next film...

cleaning up

After three weeks of doing business out of a backpack, I'm home and dying to get back into a creative routine. Things are backing up: I have a two-page list of people I need to email. The old man's garden needs a lot of work before the rains hit too hard. My tolerance to swimming in the cold ocean is deteriorating. My belly is growing, and my arms are getting weaker.

I'm dying to paint and I need to get into a good routine so I can start doing that every night.

On top of that, I have 4-5 other creative "gigs" going on at once. Lots of fun, but overwhelming when I'm not organized enough to dig in.

That's about it. I have a solid evening of emailing to do. It's a coffee-beer-water-drinking night.

new book

First page of my new carry-along sketchbook. Just because I'm putting up an image every post doesn't mean it has to be a nice-lookin' image.

I need to get the final edit of my film done today, but I also have three hours of heavy garden work to do, which includes taking sand and seaweed from the beach.

Then its another six days living out of a backpack - this time mostly in Vancouver. Early ferry ride tomorrow, then seeing a film I worked on at Vancouver Film Fest, three days of sound editing on my film, and a meeting for the dance show I'm working on. Then a two-day Thanksgiving with my family, then straight to a screening of my last film, Boar Attack.

I haven't shaved since I went up to the farm two weeks ago. I better do it today or I'm going to have a nasty beard by the time that Boar Attack screening rolls around.

warm up the hearth

View from a buddy's place, where I spent the last two nights partying with some random good people. Blessed be the ocean. Blessed be the random good people.

I did a tonne of sketches in the last few days, but last night in front of this campfire I had a fit of inspiration and finished off my sketchbook, duct-taped feathers onto it, wrapped it in a potato chip bag, and sealed it up to send to a friend in the Yukon.

We've been sending hand-made, creatively-bound comic books to each other for years. The title of the publications are "Perfect Detonator" (the same name as my film). The publication must say the date, and have a price. Usually it's some exorbitant amount, but this time the listed price is:

NOT FOR SALE

WILL TRADE FOR:
HUNTING RIFLE or
BOAT AND MOTOR or
RELIABLE TRUCK.

So the sketches will remain between myself and my buddy. Unless you want to make a trade.