behind sapphire for the winter issue of freckled

this is a shoot that i did in january with 3/5 of behind sapphire for the winter issue of freckled. they are truly wonderful people and their music is really something special. you can check out their music here, if you like.


they even sell their own rain boots! you can buy a pair here.

lindsay


matthew, grant and lindsay

a much needed update

i often forget that this blog exists and i'm sorry for neglecting it for so long.
i promise to post more regularly, really.

anyways, here is a piece that i wrote with my good friend, joshua foster as a collaboration for the fall issue of freckled (a magazine that i co-run with my best friend shanene) which was released a few months ago. i hope you'll enjoy it. you can check out the issue in its fullest entirety here.

"Time Zones"

(I) by Joshua Foster

She leaves her home while the birds are sleeping
and the flightless travellers wish they were sleeping,
or at least had something to keep them awake.

Walking through twice forgotten laneways
her shadow repaints sun stained walls,
while she listens to branches conversing with the wind
as it stutters and stumbles by,
clumsily dropping rumours of Winter
‘I’ve h-heard he’s on his way!’

Arriving at the station, eyes out of synch
swaying like the needle of an untrained metronome,
she separates the 50% wool, 50% cotton wagers
strangers have placed on Autumn’s mood.

As she waits, she opens her book, page 97
four months have bound
her fragile hands from the veiny pages
and in the meantime a dandelion floret has settled
between the crooked dog-eared crease.

It’s no longer the mini-helicopter
she remembers as a sun kissed child
but instead a lost firework
from a faded Summer evening,
muffled by the equinox.

(II) by Ting Shuen

The callused soles of his chestnut wingtips
mourned the cacophonous pitter patter of November’s showers
as he unwillingly wrestled and refused to surrender to Nature’s stubborn metronome.

The half-forgotten verses of William Shakespeare:
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players;
they have their exits and their entrances…”
silently lingered and fell asleep within the vacant abstractions
of his vintage Filson.

A pair of 35 mm cameras sought sanctuary;
steadfastly perched beneath the southernmost hemisphere
on the waning map of his wax-like eyelids:
his frostbitten pupils, all rain-swollen and wide-angled
filmed the odes and eulogies,
absent-mindlessly recited by the 10 o’clock passengers
as he approached the 10 o’clock platform.

He rest assured in seat twelve ‘b:’
fingers crossed for first impressions
and second chances.

“I do believe we’ve met before,
but I don’t believe in pseudonyms.
My name is Autumn.
Take care, Winter.”

(III) by Ting Shuen

It is where Summer and Winter meet, it is the fractured veins of a hemlock’s stray child haphazardly sewn onto the leather outsoles of your burgundy loafers, it is the tears of condensation your kettle cries as it impatiently waits to be poured into your eight o’clock pot of earl grey, it is the innocent scars from your feathered paperbacks and your honey-and-milk-stained mug sunken into the marbled skin of your living room mantelpiece, it is the petty, short-lived quarrels of the howling wind and the ill-tempered rain that awkwardly cross paths with your pneumonic complexion, it is the archival palette of Harvard crimsons and Cuban mahoganies and woodland emeralds resurrected from your grandmother’s anthology of fair-isle sweaters, it is the unspoken soliloquies that Autumn so eloquently rehearses before Winter takes the stage.

"men of snow" - ingrid michaelson

people and things i have been inspired by as of lately:

• the photographs of ryan mcginley and alison scarpulla
• amber ortolano (she’s only 15)
• the movie submarine
• the soundtrack for ^
• overheard conversations
• the colours of the trees on campus
• paradoxes
• quirks and abnormalities in other people
• this guy’s tumblr
• this woman’s voice
• this man’s voice
• the way snow looks on a mountain
• castles and old cathedrals
• willow trees when they sway in the wind
• houses and rooms (how where we live can say so much about who we are)
• fleeting moments shared with intriguing strangers through alternating eye contact (especially while on public transit)
• the sound of piano keys and violin strings
• this
• and this

the colour of the trees at the park near my house.

“All of my books are about two people trying to talk to each other. Everything that I’ve ever written is about people trying to talk to each other and the total impossibility of ever saying actually what you want to say and being understood exactly as you want to be understood and the worth of trying. The books are not depressing. They are not about how we’ll never be able to communicate. They are about how we continually try to communicate and how those efforts are so important and so beautiful.” - Jonathan Safran Foer

just in case you didn't already know, my friend shanene and i decided to start our own online magazine. you can view our first issue here.