Fotoeins Fotografie

location bifurcation, place vs. home

Posts by HL fotoeins

Memorial for the Kamloops Residential School, Robson Square, Vancouver, BC, Canada, fotoeins.com

Vancouver: Memorial for the Kamloops Residential School

In late-May 2021, the Tk’emlúps te Secwépemc First Nation announced the discovery of 215 children buried in a mass grave at a former residential school near Kamloops, British Columbia; ground-penetrating radar was used to locate the remains.

During a period of 160 years, the Government of Canada in concert with churches constructed residential schools in a state-sponsored process of “aggressive assimilation” to make children of Indigenous people “less aboriginal and more white” with instruction in English and Christianity in order to erase the children’s traditions and cultural ties.

More than 150-thousand children were sent to some 130 residential schools across Canada between 1830s and the 1990s. Forcibly removed from their homes and parents, children of Indigenous peoples were forced into the schools where they faced neglect and physical and sexual abuse. Physical records indicate a total of over 4000 children deaths; the actual number is very likely much higher. Many children were not buried properly, parents were not notified about what happened to their children: many children who were forced into residential schools never returned home. For years, survivors have told their stories about what happened inside those schools: there is every expectation more mass graves and more children will be found.

The systematic removal of indigenous children from their families disrupted, divided, and destroyed living generations of indigenous families, robbing people of their respective culture and language and the wealth of lived experiences shared between generations. According to the terms and definitions laid out in the 1948 United Nations’ Convention, Canada committed genocide against their Indigenous Peoples. The destructive effects of white colonialism upon Indigenous Peoples in the country is not only historical but continues today with inequity, intransigence, obstruction and obfuscation, and injustice.

A makeshift memorial was quickly created at the steps of the Vancouver Art Gallery at Robson Square. It’s worth noting the Art Gallery is presently housed in the former provincial court house which opened in 1911 and would have served as a “legal” instrument of white- and settler-colonialism. That this National Historic Site is the location of an improvised tribute to the loss of life and dignity caused by state-sponsored acts of genocide is an enormous juxtaposition.

June is National Indigenous History Month in Canada.


Memorial for the Kamloops Residential School, Robson Square, Vancouver, BC, Canada, fotoeins.com Memorial for the Kamloops Residential School, Robson Square, Vancouver, BC, Canada, fotoeins.com
Memorial for the Kamloops Residential School, Robson Square, Vancouver, BC, Canada, fotoeins.com

“Are we human?”

Memorial for the Kamloops Residential School, Robson Square, Vancouver, BC, Canada, fotoeins.com
Memorial for the Kamloops Residential School, Robson Square, Vancouver, BC, Canada, fotoeins.com

“Bring our children home.”

Memorial for the Kamloops Residential School, Robson Square, Vancouver, BC, Canada, fotoeins.com

As a resident of Vancouver, I’m a guest on unceded traditional territory and land of the Coast Salish First Nations: Sḵwx̱wĂş7mesh (Squamish), StĂł:lĹŤ and SÉ™l̓ílwÉ™taĘ”/Selilwitulh (Tsleil-Waututh), and xĘ·məθkĘ·É™y̓əm (Musqueam). I made all images above on 1 June 2021 with a Fujifilm X70 fixed-lens prime. This post appears on Fotoeins Fotografie at fotoeins DOT com as https://wp.me/p1BIdT-l2C.

YVR, Vancouver International Airport, Vancouver, Richmond, BC, Canada, fotoeins.com

Taking flight

Above/featured: Departures information in English, French, and Chinese: YVR Vancouver airport – 1 Jul 2014 (6D1).

Once upon a time when I lived and worked on distant continents, I flew on many international transcontinental overnight flights to the accumulation of over 1 million miles in the air. A worldwide pandemic has forced not only air travel to a crawl, but also a rethinking about what long-haul travel in the context of climate change might look like in the future. For the time being, I consider here what it once meant to “take flight” with various images of planes as some time spent as occasional planespotter and images within airports as previous frequent-flyer.


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Spring light over Seattle and the Salish Sea

Above/featured: “Aurora and Mercer” – 4 Mar 2020 (X70).

A favourite place is Seattle, an American city in Washington state, only 2 to 3 hours by car from Vancouver, Canada. For two metropolitan regions close by proximity, their respective evolutions have created very different cities over time. I present below 12 places around Seattle in spring. In this part of the world, there’s every chance for overcast skies and showers, but I assure you of one thing: the light is very good when the sun is out. And when there’s abundant light, I’m all about the superposition of light, shadow, construction, and person.


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herakut, Museum of Urban and Contemporary Art, MUCA, Munich, Muenchen, Bayern, Bavaria, Germany, Deutschland, fotoeins.com

Herakut: big wall art around Germany

Above/featured: “At times the only thing alive about me were those demons.” MUCA Munich – 31 May 2018 (X70).

One of my favourite artists is Herakut, a German duo whose street murals have appeared in Europe and around the world since 2004. Hera (Jasmin Siddiqui) and Akut (Falk Lehmann) use walls and big spaces for their big art with a signature look that includes expressive faces and big eyes, lots of photo-like details, and sharp typography. Their work explores issues such as physical and emotional isolation, maternal relationships, gender and racial equality, and all the things we think and feel lurking inside. But I think their compositions also include long notes and pauses which allow and incorporate vivid fantasy and playful whimsy.

Examples shown below include Wittenberg 2016, Heidelberg 2017, Berlin 2017, Munich 2018, Berlin 2021, Frankfurt am Main 2024.

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This is the place where I died again

The mind’s eye slowly emerges, hanging over my shoulder for hours after the official declaration at 850pm.

With the nurses’ gentle request, I comply without a word, and I sign the paperwork.

I walk back into the hospital room where she lies. The only sounds are from her neighbour, another patient in another bed, their laboured breathing as sign of life.

I gaze out the window to the nighttime lights of the city. From a great height, I cannot see individuals, but I see them in motion on the streets, and alive in the lights of their houses.

At her bedside, I hold her hand, cool to the touch. I place my other hand on her forehead: there’s a little warmth as I smooth her skin with my thumb. Her eyes are closed, but there’s no breath or acknowledgement. When I close my eyes, the dream doesn’t go away, and ashes begin to fall. I lean down next to her ear, and whisper quiet words at the close.

I palm her cheek one final time, as I’ve done over the last days and weeks.

At the doorway, I turn around and look at her still body one last time. I will not see my mother again until the funeral.

I thank the nurses, and make my way out of the Palliative Care Unit. To the elevators. To the lobby. Out into the cold night. Inside the car, my hands are locked frozen onto the wheel, and I begin to shake with tremors. I let the jolt and shock pass through, and with the recall of past experience, I glide over giant waves of grief.

For the first time, I enter the family house without either parent. It’s surreal and unsettling.

From 1976, this house has been a busy noisy compact home for us; I remember us as kids racing to the top of the stairs to claim our very own bedroom.

A family of us: once at 4, now at 2.

Alone now, the walls echo with sounds from the floors, wood frame, and the pipes. I ascend the stairs in the dark, navigating the upper curve from memory. I shuffle to the parents’ bedroom. With a flick of the switch, the unmade bed is in the same final state, when the paramedics moved her into the waiting ambulance earlier that day.

In less than 12 hours from house to hospital, she slipped away, peacefully and quietly into the aether.

With my parents’ passing, I fulfilled my promise to them. There’d been new beginnings, layered with new understanding and sprinkles of forgiveness along the way. I was granted an extra-time bonus in years: a son to his parents, and a parent for his Mom and Dad.

And it is here, I died twice, in the city of Vancouver.

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