BOJAN'S BLOG

Photographs, words and sounds
Posts Tagged ‘Zeiss Ikon’

International Workers’ Day

Happy International Workers’ Day comrades.

The photo above was made in Bologna, Italy a few weeks back. I’ll leave you with Billy Bragg.

Rural Routes episode on immigration in rural Canada

A new episode of Rural Routes is up!

A neglected podcast and a neglected blog. Ha! Much of my work time these days is taken up by proposal writing, negotiating, and administrative tasks. It feels a lot less productive than creating content and developing ideas on how to translate academic research into something that can be of use to people outside the university bubble. Rural Routes podcasts have certainly been one of those experiments that have exceeded any expectations I originally had. It feels good to be working on that project again.

This new episode features the work of Dr. Michael Haan from the Western University in London, Ontario on immigration in Canadian context, especially in rural Canada. Have a listen.

The photo is from a recent celebration at our friends place here in St. John’s. The amount of talent around that table is ridiculous.

Homesick…

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I have been away from Newfoundland for three weeks out of past five. I am officially homesick. The photos are from Bonavista.

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What happens to women in journalism

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I was on vacation so I am late to this story, but I do want to write a few words because this is important stuff. About a week ago local reporter Tara Bradbury wrote an excellent opinion piece on what happened to her when she wrote a straight-up story previewing a feminist festival/art show/workshops event scheduled to take place in St. John’s later that week. The comments ranged from creepy to criminal misogyny.

This stuff has been happening for a long time and it needs to stop. The only good thing I can say about it is that we are finally talking about it more openly then ever before. Tara did a great job locally. Canadaland has been talking about the harassment and misogyny women have to put up with in media organizations for some time now. Whatever you think about Jesse Brown, this is the guy who broke Ghomeshi story and has been covering the situation at the Toronto Star together with other media. The world of photojournalism is no better. Colin Pantall’s blog has a couple of good posts about what happens to women in photojournalism and photography in general (here and here) and it should make you furious.

The fact that we have amazing women working in the media and in photojournalism despite the daily insults and misogyny they experience is a testament to just how committed and how good they are at what they do. So for this post, here is a bunch of links to some pioneering and contemporary female photojournalists doing stellar works. This list could go on and on, but this will do for now:

[LENS] has a story about pioneering women photographers in Mexico.

PetaPixel featured Japan’s first female photojournalist who is STILL PHOTOGRAPHING AT THE AGE OF 101!

Ruth Fremson, wrote a story about women in photojournalism for [LENS]

And for the end I want to send you to three exceptional female photographers who were among those whose work was featured in June 2015 issue of National Geographic. What was remarkable about that particular issue was that majority of the stories were photographed by women and the difference in tone, style and subject matter was noticeable. We need those voices because they tell us very different stories. Spend some time with the work of Lynn Johnson, Stephanie Sinclair (Stephanie seems to be rebuilding her website so follow her on Instagram), and Carolyn Drake – you’ll be glad you did.

Bell Island

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For the past few months I have been facilitating a series of discussions on Bell Island as a part of my day job. Not much time to make photographs, but here are a few from the ferry crossing…

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New website!

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I am full of announcements this week and not even done yet. The next in line is the announcement of a new ‘professional’ website. Now, I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that I am not a professional artist so, you know, it is what it is.

There was an earlier version of the website that a lot of smart and helpful friends looked at and made some great suggestions. I accidentally deleted that site (very thoroughly, I might add) so this is a professional website for an unprofessional artist 2.0 and I have to say I am much happier with it. It is much better for all the comments, suggestions, and critique that the poor, disappeared 1.0 version was subjected to. There are still some suggestions that I would like to implement in the future, but I thought I’d launch what I have rather than wait until it’s “perfect.”

And for all the joking about being told that I am not a professional artist, that is certainly true. And so the tagline on the site is actually something I feel is much more appropriate and much closer to how I feel about the photography I do.

And of course, feel free to offer comments, critiques, or anything else you feel like dishing out.

A fairy’s steed

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We went for a walk and as we were passing through the Bannerman Park, this guy stopped us all excited about the dragon fly that landed on his shirt. We had a great chat. He and his girlfriend very much liked the fact that the Croatian word for a dragon fly translates as “a fairy’s steed.”

Royal St. John’s Regatta – Part I

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What would a St. John’s summer be without the Royal St. John’s Regatta?

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A road trip…

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Streets of St. John’s are empty at the best of times. On a long-weekend Sunday so sunny and warm you’d be forgiven if you thought you are somewhere much more south than Newfoundland, the chance of running into anybody on the streets is virtually nil. And yet, I ran into this family taking photographs in front of their house. The nephew, driving an old Buick with a maple leaf and a 10 of stripes on its hood, is on a trip of a lifetime – right across Canada. He’s done the Maritimes, is about to finish Newfoundland and then he will be heading west. He stopped to say hi to his relatives.

I had a blast making the photographs both for myself and some with the family’s cameras for them. I haven’t really done anything on the street in a while and I forgot how much I enjoy the encounters and stories street photography in a small town makes possible. This encounter was different only inasmuch as I was ever so slightly jealous of their road trip. It’s been a long while since I went anywhere with nothing better to do but wander. I would like a long road trip.

Here are a couple of road links courtesy of New York Times: “The Open Road: Photography and the American Road Trip,” and “A Comprehensive Look at California and the West.”

Photo links

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A neglected blog. Out of necessity, I might add, because in three weeks, through my work, I am going to launch an exciting new project that I think the readers of the blog will like as well. Stay tuned. In the meantime, enjoy the photo links on this snowy Thursday:

A fascinating story about an American photographer Louise Draper. Really excellent work and it is indeed interesting that he languishes in obscurity.

On lensculture, go see Javier Corso’s Fishshot. It’s an interesting project about issues of loneliness and violence plaguing Finland of all places. I am not sure what I think about the photographs and his approach, but he raises important questions.

Check out these charming Portuguese “lonely houses” work of photographer Manuel Pita who goes by the nom de plume (or is it nom de lumière for photographers) Sejkko. You can follow his work on instagram.

Photographer Viktor Egyed based in Slovakia has a lovely set of images from a village called Szödliget in Hungary.

Robert Götzfried, a Munich, Germany based photographer, has a set of images from his trip on the backroads of the southern United States.

Contemplative, serene seascapes of Hiroshi Sugimoto are a wonder. You’ll love it.

Patriots on the march

15-Family027At first, reading the stories about newly elected (installed? appointed?) Croatian government run by a group of right wing political parties calling themselves the Patriotic Coalition was like watching a Monty Python skit. From a safe distance of some 5,000 km, it was almost funny. It isn’t any more. It is rapidly becoming a horror show.

More that a hundred years ago, speaking in San Francisco, Emma Goldman described what we call patriotism in terms that ring very much true today:

“Patriotism […] is a superstition artificially created and maintained through a network of lies and falsehoods; a superstition that robs man of his self respect and dignity, and increases his arrogance and conceit. Indeed, conceit, arrogance and egotism are essentials of patriotism.”

The photograph was made in St. John’s, NL.

Canadian media, unions, and a flashback

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Today, there is more news about layoffs in Canadian media industry. This time it’s not the CBC that is getting decimated, but Postmedia. They are laying off 90 reporters and merging newsrooms in Calgary, Vancouver, Edmonton, and Ottawa. In the meantime, the people responsible for the chaos are collecting seven and six figure salaries. I guess it takes enormous effort to be consistently that greedy and incompetent. The situation is no better in Halifax where the unionized employees of the Chronicle Herald have voted in favour of a strike action after the management presented a truly reprehensible list of demands.

All of it is a bit of a deja vu, to be honest. In 1999 and 2000, Ms. M and I worked for a small news agency covering southern Alberta for major metro dailies. Those were contract positions filled mostly by students like us and they required that you have your own equipment and a car and that you work from home. We lived in a small bachelor apartment in Inglewood and, honestly, those were sweet times. We were newlyweds and we thought we were making inroads in the media industry. Then the Calgary Herald strike happened. It lasted a year if I remember correctly. At one point, about half way through the strike, we were all hauled into a meeting with our editor and this guy they brought from Ontario (St. Catherine’s, I think) as the new publisher whose job was to bust the union. He intermittently yelled at us and tried to sweet-talk us into crossing the picket line. When it became obvious, with the exception of one person, that none of us had any intention of doing so, he told us he will make sure none of us ever worked in the media industry in western Canada. He was true to his word. As far as I know, none of us did – except the guy who crossed the picket line. That asshole who threatened us? He has recently published a book about leadership.

It became quickly obvious to me and Ms. M. that if we wanted media jobs, the best we could do was to move and so we did. A couple of months after we left, the Calgary Herald strike ended. One of the conditions was that the union had to be dissolved.

On this week’s episode of Canadaland, Jesse Brown has a conversation with Nora Loreto about the role of unions in Canadian media. In the interest of full disclosure you should know that I do support the show financially with a subscription. In this episode Jesse Brown, the host of Canadaland, is his usual somewhat pompous and somewhat unaware-of-the-world-outside-of-his-bubble self and Nora Loreto doesn’t appear to understand anybody younger than 35, but I think it was very important to have that conversation publicly. We need unions more than ever, but something needs to change and it needs to change quickly. The unions have to figure out how to make themselves relevant to a new generation of workers – journalists included.

In 2000, we did not cross the picket line because we had respect for the Herald journalists. We were never approached by the union, never offered their side of the story, nobody explained to us what was at stake. In the end, they were just lucky we felt solidarity with the people we saw as our colleagues. Or maybe we were just not yet aware that it would take another 15 years before we paid off our student loans. They can’t expect to be that lucky all of the time.

In the photo is a decidedly non-unionized shoeshiner on the Water Street in St. John’s

Geography links

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The photograph above was made on my way to work one day. I have no idea why these old suitcases were left outside by the fence – probably just for garbage pick up.

Time for some geography links. I haven’t done that in a while.

Let’s start with the worst news in a while as far as magazine industry, and to an extend geography goes. In Canada, geography is very poorly taught in primary, elementary, and secondary school system. To make things worse, even our national popular magazine about geography, Canadian Geographic, is so abysmal we actually did not renew our subscription. So the fact that National Geographic has been purchased by Fox is really tragic. National Geographic is not a perfect magazine, but it is the best magazine on the market that promotes geographic knowledge and encourages interest in the world we live in. It has a strong American bias and a share of other issues, but we had subscription for years. I read every issue and the girls are starting to read stories that are of interest to them. I would like to think that editorial independence and high standards, especially when it comes to visuals will remain as they are or get better, but Fox’s track record is not good. Not cancelling my subscription yet, but watching closely.

After you contemplate the terrifying concentration of the global media ownership, head over to the Economist and take a look at a story that claims that the EU will soon have more internal physical barriers to movement of people than it did during the Cold War.

The rest of the links should be a little bit less pessimistic.

Lucas Foglia has been photographing American West and is concerned about what rural America will look like: “What is going to allow people to continue to live in the rural American West and how are we going to preserve or use the wild land we have left?”

Cornell University Library and its Division of Rare & Manuscript Collections has made public an amazing collection of persuasive cartography. Watch out, it’s highly addictive and you may find yourself wasting ridiculous amount of time – although, in my books, that would not be time wasted.

Two somewhat connected and fascinating stories. The first one looks at just how powerful oral traditions are as repositories of community knowledge. University of Sunshine Coast geographer Patrick Dunn’s research demonstrated that some Australian Aboriginal stories preserve environmental and ecological memories and knowledge stretching as far back as 7,000 years. The second story comes from the world of art and focuses on incredible work by an Australian Aboriginal painter Warlimpirrnga Tjapaltjarri. The fascinating thing is that his intricate paintings are not just visually impressive, but also serve as a repository of community stories. The code is incomprehensible to us, but those who understand it have an access to a lot more than a visually arresting work.

A sleepless night and Interstellar science

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Aware just how pointless it is to be irrationally angry at the fact that on one night we could use a good night of sleep, Little Miss F, poor thing, had to come down with a stomach bug, I spent the early hours of the morning watching Interstellar on Netflix. Not a great movie, but it beats laying in bed seething.

After finishing it, I was wondering about the science of the whole thing – in fact, it was a particularly silly scene where the little spacecraft hits an ice cloud and the shards of ice FALL DOWN while the cloud itself defies gravity that lead me down some interesting internet rabbit holes (there was no explanation for that particular silliness, though). Here is an interview with Kip Thorne, scientific advisor on the film (he spends a bit too much time selling his book, but whatever).

The photo is from Vis Island.

The Royal St. John’s Regatta 2015

1508-Regatta004One of my favourite things to photograph in St. John’s is the Royal St. John’s Regatta. It takes place on such a massive scale and in such a uniquely St. John’s way that nothing else really compares to it. Every year, I promise myself that I will spend some time photographing the actual rowers who spend months preparing for the event and I yet have to do that. The crowds are just too compelling. Here are a few photographs from this year’s festivities.

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For gear heads: This was all Tri-X in Rodinal.

Photo links from Cuba to neighbourhood shops

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Photo links post today:

Three things you should take a look at on [LENS] (incidentally, see how good and smart a photo section in a newspaper on-line can be when you dedicate resources to it!):

Photography in Cuba: It’s Not Easy. An interesting take on the International Centre of Photography retrospective of Cuban photography by both Cuban and non-Cuban photographers.

Visualizing the Common Core Curriculum. How do you photograph a government policy? Here is one photographer’s take on a new education policy in the USA.

In China, the Photobook as Art and History. I would love to get my hands on this one.

After [LENS], head over to The New Yorker’s Photo Booth and take a look Zoe Leonard’s photos of old neighbourhood shops. As somebody who photographs corner stores, I suspect I find this more interesting than most.

In the photograph is a scene from Vis Island, Croatia.

Photography related links

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Vis on Vis island, Croatia.

Some photo links today:

Guardian has a story and interview with Stephen Shore on his exhibit in Arles.

An interesting story on women photojournalists in [LENS]. Incidentally, I believe June issue of National Geographic had all the stories but one photographed by women and you could see the difference in approach, subjects, and themes they covered.

Fantastic photographs and a very important story in New York Times Magazine on Wisconsin’s governor Scott Walker’s efforts to dismantle organized labour in America.

Silently cool

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We passed this skateboarder on Vis island in Croatia whose board had lit wheels and we all commented on how cool that was. In fact, Ms. M. said she wished she had a cool husband like that. Little Miss F., without missing a beat, looked at her and said with absolute conviction: “Dad is cool in a silent way.”

Take that world.

Photo: Vis island, Croatia.

Tito in a St. John’s cab

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When I looked at the driver and even before we said a word to each other, there was a jolt of recognition, a sense of familiarity every immigrant sometimes feels – a genetic alarm telling you that the person in front of you hails from the more or less same ancestral pool. It is not necessarily a joyous feeling, rather a mix of caution and a hope that you might be able to exchange a greeting in a tongue that feels familiar and mysterious this far from its homeland. This cab driver, a Bosnian, and I got along alright. At some point, he pulled the card hanging on an elastic band from his rearview mirror and turned it towards me. And there was Marshal Tito, in all his uniformed glory, in a St. John’s cab. We laughed and he looked out at the snow buried streets and said: “And here we are.”

That was a few months ago. To tell you the truth, I forgot about that photograph. I just developed some film this past weekend and this photograph suddenly became more significant than if I looked at it a couple of months ago. In two weeks, we will be leaving for a much needed family vacation to Croatia. It’s a cause of great excitement. My older daughter has fond memories of a couple of visits she can remember. How could she not? When she is there, she is surrounded by people who genuinely love her and care about her and what is more, they get to see her so rarely that they are willing to fulfill her every wish. That is certainly not how her parents treat her. For the younger one, this is the adventure of her life so far – she is looking forward to almost two months of firsts: a first plane ride, a first train ride, a first trip abroad, and the first visit to grandparents who last saw her when she was a gurgling bundle of diapers and blankets. Above all else, for my daughters, Croatia is a place of madcap stories, odd relatives, happy childhoods and magical beauty. It is that because of me. I am the one who over the years created that narrative and now, as I read yet another surreal article about the rise of nationalism, poisonous catholicism, and glorification of the country’s fascist past I feel guilty about it. I feel I lied to them. I never told them about this other Croatia rapidly unfolding over the last few months on the screen of my laptop.

This Croatia is a country whose nationalists seemingly read Orwell’s essays on nationalism and totalitarianism not as a warning, but a how-to manual for achieving a supreme state of paranoia, xenophobia and the hatred of everybody and everything that is not Croatian. “Every nationalist is haunted by the belief that the past can be altered,” wrote Orwell and Croatian nationalists took it to heart. From nazi salutes at football games to wilful blindness when it comes to the horrendous record of the Croatian nazi collaborators, to fascist movements, to Marshall Tito and five decades of socialism, Croatian nationalists are re-imagining history busily following Orwell’s advice that for nationalists: “…history is something to be created rather than learned.”

And it’s not just history. As the economic recession drags on and the number of the unemployed stays stubbornly high, as those who can leave the country in search of a better life somewhere else, leave, the range of issues that sends nationalists frothing at the mouth is growing: homosexual and reproductive rights are out, misogyny is in, asylum seekers are not welcome, anything to do with science and technology – from vaccines to large hadron collider – is suspicious, Catholic Church is trustworthy, and every crackpot conspiracy theory makes perfect sense to them. After all, Orwell said that “totalitarianism […] in the long run probably demands a disbelief in the very existence of objective truth.”

And so what am I to say to my daughters about this place we are going to? That their worth will be measured by how they look because the opportunities for women in a society overrun by rabid nationalism glorifying violence and subscribing to a bizarre version of fundamental catholicism are non-existent? That nobody will say a word of encouragement to a 12-year-old who is writing her first novel? That the 8-year-old’s ambition to become a chef will be laughed at? That just by virtue of having this cocktail of Austro-Hungarian, Scottish, French and Cree genes running through their veins they are less then perfect? And, maybe worst of all, that their parents are antifascists and humanists who find the crassness and futility of cheap nationalism as scary as it is repugnant?

“And here we are,” as the cab driver would say.

We will go first to an island. Small islanders everywhere still know how to live. After that, we’ll thread carefully. We are going to see a Rodin exhibit and we’ll spend a lot of time with grandma and grandpa discovering some old recipes that have been in the family for generations. We’ll build some memories and strengthen family ties. We’ll hike in the countryside and visit some rural places. We’ll sunbathe and swim in crystal clear waters. We’ll read lots of books. Hopefully, all of it will serve as a bit of an inspiration to a budding novelist and a beginner chef. And I am sure we will have conversations about poverty and unemployment, and what it does to people. And we’ll talk about nationalism and fascism.

And most of all I hope that we will also make some new stories – the family kind we can all share with friends and hopefully they will be just as crazy as those I told to my kids already.

2014

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I am not sure where the last year went. Lots of changes. We moved to a place that allows me to have a darkroom, a tiny darkroom, but still a darkroom. I can already develop film, but making prints will take a bit more engineering to figure out how turn the whole operation vertical rather than horizontal. This should also mean that I now have no excuse not to submit something to a few competitions I have been consistently missing deadlines of for the past six years.

I turned 40. I finished my thesis – although I am still waiting to hear whether or not I actually met the requirements for my MA. So not a bad year all in all. Let’s see what this one brings along.

The photo was made on Change Islands this past summer.

Mummers are here…

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What would Christmas time in Newfoundland be without Mummers’ Parade? The last year’s parade was brutally cold. The batteries in my Zeiss Ikon froze twice. This year, it was unseasonably warm with light rain. Still, loads of fun…

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Of capelin and drones

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The waves hitting Middle Cove beach were alive with writhing of small silvery fish spawning and washing ashore – capelin’s last act of defiance before the inevitable death. As people, whales, and birds flocked to the cove there was a frenzied sense of joy in the air – a feast from the sea freely given to all with a belly to fill.

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Newfoundland has been our home for six years, but somehow we always missed the rolling of capelin. Not this year. We were not prepared exactly – we had no nets or buckets or even plastic bags to catch the sea’s bounty in. We came for a stroll along the beach and I only hoped that the capelin might be there as well.

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The weather was right – capelin weather – a rainy, cloudy and foggy late June day. And there they were. All over the beach, there were trampled bodies of fish and excited men and women and children – many of them Newfoundlanders born and bred, but also newcomers from every corner of the world who came to watch this small annual miracle and partake in a tradition of their new home.

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It did not matter that we were woefully unprepared because this is Newfoundland, after all, so an older couple quickly filled a plastic bag for us and there was really no way to refuse the generosity of the people and the sea. And why would you – there was plenty for all of us.

Every face had a smile and the fires were lit on the beach. People gathered to watch the little silvery fish and the minke whales gorging themselves in the cove. It was truly a perfect moment.

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I made a few photographs. It wasn’t really difficult. People were happy to be photographed, to engage in conversation, and some even asked to look at the TLR’s ground glass.

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Unfortunately, even Newfoundland has its tactless ingrates. Standing on the beach, sporting a fluorescent vest you usually see on road workers, was a man with a drone. Until that moment, I felt pretty agnostic about camera drones and gave them little thought. Well, not any more. Whatever this is, it is not photography and it is certainly not documentary photography. It says volumes about that day that, despite the thing buzzing around our heads and swooping down on the crowds of people who were never asked, engaged or otherwise made aware of the man and his toy, nobody took a rock and knocked the bloody thing out of the air. It was invasive, rude, and if the reactions of those on that beach who came from less fortunate places in the world are anything to go by, it was also frightening. Everybody I photographed and engaged in conversation with that day frowned at the white drone and its annoying buzz. There was no escape from it and no way to say no. Once the man in the vest packed up and left, people visibly relaxed.

There is no sense in arguing against this technology. That ship has sailed and we are all going to have to learn to live with it. It is, however, disheartening that many of my former photojournalism colleagues are embracing the drones as if they are some sort of a technological breakthrough. This is not going to result in better journalism. Good photojournalism was always about storytelling. This has nothing to do with storytelling, compassion or genuine curiosity about people and places. This is pure gimmickry for talentless hacks – sort of like HDR photography, just worse.

So a fair warning: next time that thing buzzes around my head, I may or may not be as restrained as I was on that June day with the capelin miraculously rolling on Middle Cove beach.

 

On CBC…

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Sometime today, the CBC president will hold a “town hall” meeting with CBC employees and tell them that as many as 600 jobs may be lost in near future. There will be platitudes about hard times and budget cuts and budget overruns and lost revenue and changing media landscape and it’s all going to be utter bullshit.

My heart goes out to friends and acquaintances who work for our public broadcaster and many, many voices that over the years became a part of my Canadian experience. No matter how many times this happens, it never gets easier. And every time it happens, this country is a little bit poorer and a little bit less Canadian.

I don’t have it in me to write a long post. It just makes me too sad and too angry to even think about it so below is something I wrote in 2009:

On CBC

I don’t remember the first time I listened to CBC radio. It must have been sometime in 1994 or 1995. I was a lanky teenager who just landed in Calgary armed with nine years of French classes and barely a word of English. In my mind, Canada was a bilingual country so the fact that my English was nonexistent didn’t bother me too much.

You can imagine how useful my French was in Calgary. That first year, I was taking English as a second language classes and struggling to understand news stories in the Calgary Sun, the only paper that ever made it into my uncle’s house. The first book I ever read in English was Richard Bach’s Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I feel like I should apologize for it, but a 19 year old from Croatia who just crossed half a world on his own thought that was pretty deep stuff.

I believe it was my English language teacher who suggested that I should listen to CBC. And I never stopped listening. And secretly, deep down, I harboured the idea that one day, maybe, despite my accent and background, I’ll be a good enough journalist to work for CBC.

As a journalism student, I worked with my broadcasting professor on minimizing my heavy accent. I was reading out loud and taping passages from Winston Churchill’s memoirs. The aim was to soften my rolling rs, round my ws, form the th sound properly and clean up my guttural hs. It was hard work, much harder than I expected.

I have two CBC memories from those J-school days. I remember sitting in the auditorium with my fellow communications students from public relations and technical writing streams. It was funny, because we were separated even then. Tech writers and us, journalists, sprawled in the seats on the right hand side of the room and slickly dressed, sophisticated public relations students on the left. Our guest speaker was the host of Calgary Eyeopener – CBC’s morning show. He regaled us with stories from the front lines of journalism and then opened the floor to questions. A public relations student got up and asked him how does he prefer to receive press releases. His answer was something along these lines:

“Well, I have a routine in the morning. I get in. I make myself a cup of coffee. Then, I walk over to the fax machine and I gather the reams of paper that sit there. There is a garbage bin next to the machine and I just dump it all in.”

The right hand side of the auditorium exploded in howls of laughter, while the folks on the left sat in stunned silence. Of course, his point was that a journalist shouldn’t let PR people spoon-feed him the stories.

My second memory of CBC has to do with a paper I was supposed to write for one of my classes. I decided that I will interview Brenda Finley who, at the time, worked as an anchor for CBC Alberta. I don’t remember anything about it except that I felt intimidated and embarrassed because it was so painfully obvious that there was only one journalist in that room and it wasn’t me.

Eventually, I ended up working as a photographer and writer. I never stopped listening to CBC. As I crossed this massive land from west to east, I appreciated ever more the vastness of landscape and the work it takes to keep this country together. In all my years in Canada, CBC was there to teach me about places I left, places I arrived in and places so far away and so far out of my realm of experience that they appeared exotic. CBC introduced me to the stories of the far north, it told me about the shenanigans of my municipal government, it made me laugh, it made me angry, it made me think about things I would otherwise never be exposed to, but above all, it made me realize that this country and this world speak in a multitude of voices and that without CBC I would never hear any of them.

A few years back a friend of mine who works at CBC convinced me that I should give CBC a try as a freelancer. I was skeptical. I never got over the embarrassment of my accent and I am still not over it. Radio was a new medium to me and I felt unsure of my ability to do it right. My friend is a kind and persistent soul and only thanks to him my first CBC piece made it on air.

Later that year, I developed two short documentaries from Croatia for CBC’s Dispatches. That was my most rewarding experience as a journalist. For the first time, I felt that I did what a journalist is supposed to do, add another set of voices to our collective experience, voices that otherwise might not have been heard.

This week, my friend and hundreds of his colleagues at CBC might find themselves without jobs. If that happens, if they walk out of their newsrooms and studios in Iqaluit, in Sydney, in Medicine Hat, in Happy Valley-Goose Bay, in Toronto and Prince Rupert and dozens of other communities across this land, if they walk out and don’t come back the next day, and the day after, and the day after that one, there will be thousands of voices and thousands of stories we will never hear. Some will argue that in the grand scheme of things, those voices and those stories don’t matter anyway, but somehow, I doubt that’s true. I think those voices and those stories are the only things that really matter.

William Klein documentary

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The photo above is from last fall. I think that’s the only time I’ve ever seen somebody actually using those phones. And the fact that they are wearing shades is just icing on the cake.

Thanks to Brandon Manitoba based photographer Colin Corneau, I had the pleasure of watching this documentary on William Klein and you should watch it too. It’s fabulous.

[embed width=”500″ height=”400″]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnN9LMvjM7Y#t=1691&aid=P7CJu421HAA[/embed]