Judgement Day

I was listening to a CBC podcast the other night, and there were a couple of people talking about their feelings about various famous authors and musicians. The conversation was really about whether or not our judgements about the behaviour of artists should influence how we feel about their art, and if we should decide to like or not like their art because we don’t agree with the conduct, opinions or morality of the artist.

I listened with some interest because the commentators were both people who identify themselves as lgbtqia2s (https://www.mic.com/articles/28093/lgbtqia-a-beginner-s-guide-to-the-great-alphabet-soup-of-queer-identity) and one of them also identified theirself as a gay black non-binary person. My immediate reaction to their conversation was curiosity because although I don’t identify myself as a member of a minority, generally, I do still identify as a person who has lived my life on the outside of established social, cultural and religious communities in which I live.

My political opinions are progressive within the Canadian meaning of that word meaning that I tend to share and support the politics of liberal leaning parties, and instinctively tend to feel sympathetic and supportive of anyone who self identifies as an outsider, whether as result of ethnicity, race, gender, ethical, sexual and religious views, appearance, etcetera. Which generally means that I’m somewhat judgemental about other people who I perceive as judgemental against all those people I’ve previously mentioned. So I’m inclined to be pretty judgemental about myself, since I know perfectly well that my own behaviour over my life has failed at times to live up to my own ethical, moral and social standards.

So the questions being raised are important to me. Is it safe for me to listen to music I like or even love, if it has been created or performed by someone I judge to have behaved badly? Say, like Michael Jackson, who now appears to have been a pedophile. Should we erase all of our collective memories of his music and dance, and never moonwalk again? Should we ban any mentions about Sir John A. MacDonald, who, in addition to being a drunk, a racist about first nations peoples and their rights, an outright unapologetic sexist. The fact that our nation exists because this man, and other similarly flawed men founded it continues to be true, even if I don’t like it. History is made by flawed men and women. Music is sung by creepy assholes. Great classical art was drawn by perverts we wouldn’t allow in our living rooms.

Should we hide the Mona Lisa, because her painter was a narrow minded bigot who was probably gay but denied homesexuality over and over again to gain social acceptability, not to mention contracts that paid for his work and allowed him to survive in times we can barely imagine.

I found it fascinating that these two commentators came to the conclusion that excluding people from your life because they happen to have been flawed, made terrible mistakes in their relationships, or even committed heinous crimes, should not necessarily mean that you deny the value and beauty of their art as fruit of the poison tree. Doing so would deny human beings the ability to grow, to make amends and try to do and be better than their worst selves. Doing so could remove the incentive for people to change and reflect on their worst behaviours, and thereby learn something.

Should I forever hate my father because of what he inflicted on me as a child, even in the certainty that he committed himself to looking after my younger sister for most of his life after she became a quadriplegic in her early twenties. He did bad things when he was younger, but did amazing things that made her life possible when it had become impossible. So I try to hate the behaviour I judge offensive and admire his enormous contributions to my sister. So I will never forget either, but I judge him to have been a deeply flawed man who showed the capacity for love. I love my father, but see him clearly for all that he was in his life, not just those things that harmed others but also those things he did that contributed.

Which is how I think we should look at historical and living people alike. We should make every effort to be our better selves, no matter how damaged we are or have been in our pasts. We should be as transparent as we can be, without expecting it of others. Fight for equality, justice and freedom, but make allowance for human frailty, both for ourselves and for others.

On Blogging

Blogging is a rewarding way to express yourself to the world.
Blogging goes a long way to fulfilling my creative urges, and allows me to explore new ideas.

Writing is a challenge for almost everyone, especially writing a blog that has its foundation in a discussion about something as amorphous as life, health and relationships. I’m often torn between wanting to share the most intimate thoughts with strangers, because to whom else can you admit these things: illness, weakness, debilitation, anxiety, pain, diabetes, social variance and relationship failures.

https://www.elegantthemes.com/blog/tips-tricks/how-to-improve-your-blog-writing-skills

Even during my undergraduate years at UBC more than forty years ago I was an active writer. I worked with the student newspaper as a photographer and writer, as well as the editor of the social pages in my last couple of years with The UBYSSEY. This inevitably led me to courses in journalism and creative writing, and ultimately led me to an early career in the newspaper business, as a writer and photographer, the publisher of a small local newspaper, and a syndicated column carried in a tiny distribution across the Province of BC and into Washington State.

There is a whole industry that helps you make money writing a blog. This isn’t why people do it, generally, but it drives a certain level of discipline and encourages a person to become consistent and voluble.

I also wrote poetry and short fiction, not much of it ever published, and never for any money. So that type of writing was purely a hobby, and it eventually led to me realising that it was likely going to stay a hobby rather than become a profession. What happened to my writing was the discover that all the money was in the business side rather than the creative side of the business. As a publisher I became far more interested in keeping the business alive than in writing stories or columns for consumption by my readers. Essentially I became a copy writer rather than a journalist, and eventually a sales person rather than a creative writer.

The same thing happened to my photography. There’s a lot more money on the advertising side of the street, and my creative photography evolved to shooting art and fetish photography mostly as a hobby, since I could never quite figure out how to charge enough for my work to make a go of it financially.

In one of my photography web sites, which concentrates on nude and fetish photography I have had in excess of 60 Million views of my images, none of which actually paid me except in ego rewards, and the thanks of some of my models who have used my site to help launch their modelling careers. My landscape and nature photographer web sites have a much smaller following, but curiously nature and other non erotic photography has grabbed more and more of my interest in the past few years. My nature photography has around 10 million viewers, and keeps me quite interested in continuing with my hobby.

I have also been an active blogger for many years, although until recently I primarily blogged about business subjects, on mortgage finance and real estate development, as both a broker and a real estate developer until recently. After retiring from these businesses I started to write a regular blog based on my health and fitness challenges, after struggling with diabetes, arthritis and various inflammatory diseases for at least the last ten years. After focussing my blog on health issues, the number of followers has increased every month, and I now have several thousand regular readers and followers.

I will admit that blogging has become a bit of an obsession, nearly replacing photography as my most active artistic expression. But I still don’t really do it for money, although my readership is growing steadily and I may soon acquire a sufficient number to make it worthwhile financially.

Writing matters to me, no matter how small my audience, and with a greater number of readers my sense is that it matters to other people too. If you like to express yourself, it can be highly rewarding. In addition to my photography, drawing, music and graphic design, writing gives meaning and shape to my life today, and I hope, for many years to come.

Dance of the Happy Feet

Reprise from ten years ago – Welcome to my world of Art and life.

In my role as a Penguin I won an award for Best Peformance

There was new beginning in my creative life in 2010 when I went to Nanaimo to take pictures of Bodysage 2010 and the Canadian Bodypainting Championships.  I went as a photographer but ended up on stage for the finals at the Victoria Fringe Festival and Championships.  Even more amazing, I won a prize for the best performance by a model.

Who knew I had it in me?  Not me, that’s for sure, although I admit to having been on a stage a few times before in my 57 years of living. (I’m almost 67 now)

When I was just a young lad, in my early teen years, I modelled bathing suits for Jantzen Swimwear one summer.  My aunt Physlis was a clothing designer with the company and she took me with her and introduced me to the stage.

It was first my modeling job, and, I must admit, my last until the Bodypainting championships.

I was happy just to be a photographer at the festival and show.  There were a good number of beautiful models and skilled painters working together to create amazing designs.  It was great to earn the respect and affection of the crew and a delight to shoot under the circumstances.

I got a lot of great shots, which I shared with the artists and models after it was over.  Still, the biggest surprise was being asked to be painted on the Friday night before the big show.

Of course it was initially just a great joke.  After all, everybody else was either a painter or a model, and I’d been taking thousands of shots of people nearly naked in all sorts of compromising positions.

Of course I said yes.  I can take a joke as well as… as well I can, and I thought that it would be hillarious to be painted as a penguin for the party on Friday night.  Who knew that it would be so popular with the models and artists that they insisted that I go into the show on Saturday Night at the Fringe Festival.

Well, the rest is history.  And the dance of the Penquins has never been danced quite so awkwardly, or by such a comical character.

That performance and the photos I took that week launched me anew in the world of fashion photography, model portfolios, and just plain fun with new friends and a new generation.

Life is interesting when you start down a road you didn’t even dream existed.

Nude Photography – Sex and Art and Love and Lust

This is a reblog of an earlier posting from 2011. A lot has changed in eight or nine years, including my experience of a sense of broken trust with my wife of somn years.

The truth is that I was fooling myself, in believing that my wife was okay with my photo shoots with nude models. The only thing she was okay with was not talking about it, or expressing her feelings on the subject. This is now over, and she is quite vocal about her point of view, which is negative in general, and frustrated in particular.

She honestly believes that she never agreed to the terms of our marriage as I understood them, almost forty years ago. The whole idea of “open marriage” or a “poly” relationship is fundamentally offensive to her sense of what is necessary for a marriage to work, ultimately. Today, while we continue to cohabitate, she no longer considers our marriage valid, and considers herself to be unmarried, or perhaps, never really married at all.

In some ways things are actually better between us, in that she is now open to express her honestly held beliefs and her emotions. Now we’re both somewhat bitter about the whole thing, and yet still are trying to find a way to function as a couple.

Life is funny. Despite everything we love each other. Can’t always stand each other, but still have deep affection and respect. We just don’t agree on marital fidelity and a lot of other things. At the heart of it, I’m the one incapable of cleaving to one and only one woman. She’s convinced that it is a function of my inability to really trust anyone completely. She might be right. But just saying it doesn’t change it for me, and it doesn’t resolve it for her.

So. Limbo.

Out Here in Paradise

A close friend of mine, a photographer in Vancouver, with well-developed skills and a wonderful eye, is struggling with a major conflict between his intimate relationship with a long-term woman partner and his even longer term artistic exploration of the female form through nude photography.

I think it’s important to define both – what I mean by an intimate relationship with his partner, and what I mean by nude photography.  They may both seem pretty self-evident, but trust me when I tell you that neither is as simple as it seems.

My friend is struggling because his wife of about a year is absolutely mortified that her husband wants to take pictures of naked women, and spend time in intimate situations with naked women who are not her.  This is despite the fact that her husband, before marriage, was one of the best known local boudoir photographers in…

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Madonna and Child Project Book

Gallery

This gallery contains 2 photos.

http://madonnaandchildproject.chipin.com/the-madonna-and-child-project-book Vancouver Island painter Kate Hanson, who painted the series Madonna and Child, which was displayed in a number of successful gallery exhibitions on Vancouver Island over the past two years, is undertaking the publication of her works in a … Continue reading

Nude Photography – Sex and Art and Love and Lust

Gallery

This gallery contains 1 photo.

A close friend of mine, a photographer in Vancouver, with well-developed skills and a wonderful eye, is struggling with a major conflict between his intimate relationship with a long-term woman partner and his even longer term artistic exploration of the … Continue reading

A letter from mother on my birthday

3511 Mahon Ave. North Vancouver,B.C.

June 25,1984. Dear Bruce,

Mom

Ready to try again

So you are thirty-one years old today. It hardly seems possible because the events of the day you were born are still as vivid in my mind as if  the whole thing had happened just a year or so ago.

Your dad was out of town, on the road, and his father and stepmother  had agreed to come and get your two sisters and look after them when it was  time for me to go to the hospital. However, their understanding of when they  should come obviously did not square with mine. I phoned them at about eight  o’clock in the morning to tell them that I was having labor pains and would  like them to come for the girls. They said they would come as soon as Art got  home from work … after five o’clock.

Naturally this caused me some concern because the only person that was available to look after the girls on an interim basis was the new tenant in the other half of our duplex, a who I scarcely knew. So I waited, and waited, becoming more and more frightened, until about four o’clock, at which point my pains were  scarcely one minute apart.  I can still  remember the frightened faces of your two sisters as I left, with them crying, and  the new neighbor obviously unhappy about this turn of events.

It was a good thing  that I did not delay any longer, because as it turned out, you were the only one of my children who would not have been born easily without assistance. You were a frontal delivery, and required some expert manipulation in order to be born without any damage. The procedure is also rather painful, and my concern for my two older children probably added an extra level of tension.

When you finally arrived about 8.30 P.M., you were just fine …no severe bruising, just a slightly elongated head, which the doctor assured me would shortly resume its normal shape (which it did.)

Your dad did not get to see you until you were almost two days old, although he did come back early on the Friday. (You were born on a Wednesday.) He also reclaimed our little girls from their relieved grandparents, and looked after them until I returned home when you were five days old.

During the weekend while I was in the hospital I was deluged with flowers and gifts for you from
all your dad’s relatives, who were absolutely delighted that we had finally managed to produce a boy. They arrived in droves to inspect you and declared that you were very nice. However, once I returned home they disappeared into whatever limbo they had occupied before …many of them I didn’t see again for years.

However, you certainly were given a royal reception to the clan!