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Posts tagged ‘Salish Sea’

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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Great Hall, Museum of Anthropology, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC, Canada, First Nations, fotoeins.com

🇨🇦 National Indigenous Peoples Day (21 June) & Indigenous Artists

Above/featured: Great Hall, Museum of Anthropology, Vancouver – 5 May 2017 (6D1).

In Canada, National Aboriginal Day is held on or near the same day as northern summer solstice to celebrate language, culture, and tradition on the longest day of the year. In 1996, then Governor-General of Canada, Roméo LeBlanc, proclaimed June 21 as National Aboriginal Day. In 2017, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau announced the change to National Indigenous Peoples Day to include First Nations, Inuit, and Métis indigenous peoples.

To highlight some wonderfully engaging work by contemporary indigenous artists, I provide examples of art seen and exhibited in both Vancouver and Seattle.

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Morning fog, autumn fog, Seattle P-I globe, West Thomas St Overpass, Myrtle Edwards Park, Seattle, WA, USA, fotoeins.com

Seattle: the Sound and the Silence

“Fog”, definition: “a thick cloud of tiny water droplets suspended in the atmosphere at or near the earth’s surface that obscures or restricts visibility (to a greater extent than mist; strictly, reducing visibility to below 1 kilometre).”

Fog isn’t atypical for autumn or winter in the city of Seattle or in the Puget Sound region. While less effective than snow, the damping by fog on light and sound can still provide a modest visual and auditory sensation of silence. That is, until headlights and foghorns pierce the temporary cloak and illusion.

740am, West Thomas Street Overpass (20171211).

751am, West Thomas Street Overpass (20171211).

830am northwest, into Sound fog (20171211).

840am southeast, as the sun burns through (20171211).

I made the photos above on 6 January 2015 on board the WSDOT Ferry MV Kaleetan from Bremerton to Seattle, and on 11 December 2017 near Myrtle Edwards Park. This post appears on Fotoeins Fotopress at fotoeins.com as https://wp.me/p1BIdT-aYc.

Sunset over the Salish Sea (English Bay), from St. Paul's Hospital, Vancouver, BC, Canada - 8 Aug 2014, fotoeins.com

His final sunset over the Salish Sea

Every day felt like a bonus, a sweet taste of daily magic.

Over the time he spent in the hospital, Dad charmed the staff by chatting with them in broken English; it was a way for him to express some measure of control. As expected with decreasing hemoglobin levels, his body continued the downward slide. His mind and spirit departed at the beginning of the third week; he had become unresponsive. Over the next five days, his body remained, the breathing steady, though shallow and sometimes laboured. He was calm, at peace, and thanks to the meds, without pain.

From the top of St. Paul’s Hospital in Vancouver, Canada, I photographed this post-sunset scene on 8 August 2014, with fading light peeking up and over the cirrus, high over the Salish Sea (English Bay) and the downtown peninsula. I’m sure he sensed the daily change in light, even though he could no longer see by the end.

Hours later the following morning, Dad breathed his last and slipped away for good. He marked his 82nd birthday six weeks earlier.

The long road for him has ended; another chapter and another journey begins.

Warmest thanks to the staff at St. Paul’s Hospital, and particularly, the men and women who work enthusiastically and gracefully in the hospital’s Palliative Care Unit. This post appears on Fotoeins Fotopress at fotoeins.com as http://wp.me/p1BIdT-5vy.

Vancouver: the forgotten’s fireworks from St. Paul’s

2 August 2014.

I’m in one of the city’s hospitals, visiting my father who’s in very bad shape.

I’ve helped feed him dinner of roast pork, peas, and gravy, a direct sensory reminder of his past as ‘line cook’ in a downtown diner nearby. He eats with great enthusiasm, the most I’ve seen him eat in weeks. Dinner’s done, and he’s worn out. I suggest we go “around the corner” with him in a wheelchair to watch the evening’s fireworks, but he gently declines. A twinge reflects the growing reality of him never seeing fireworks again, but the feeling is moderated by resolved acceptance and mild resignation.

I go out into the corridor where people have already gathered by the windows next to the elevators. From the heights of the hospital, there are spectacular views of the downtown peninsula, towards Burrard Inlet, English Bay, and the waters of the Salish Sea. What sacred spirits have come and gone, then and the now.

Waiting patiently to catch a brief glimpse of fireworks are other hospital patients, their family, and various hospital staff taking breaks in their work schedule. It’s a four-day holiday weekend here in the province of British Columbia, and early August weather is summertime hot under the dome of clear blue skies.

Judging by the look in some people’s eyes, I empathize with feelings which must remain unspoken: “I’d rather be outside, laughing and having a good time, surrounded by family and friends.”

I thought about making a few photographs of the fireworks through the large windows, but something pulls me back, and I decide not to image the fireworks directly.

My thinking about this situation quickly clarifies. What I’ll do is record people watching the fireworks through the windows of the hospital’s upper floors.

They are not forgotten. It’s my promise to capture with a camera’s all-seeing eye an elemental and universal desire for something beyond the ephemeral and temporal, something that approaches a kind of eternity.

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