One of Edmonton’s most iconic structures, the Muttart Conservatory offers a year-round escape into the beauty of the world’s plant life.  Vibrant, colourful, tranquil and inspirational, the pyramids’ display gardens are a welcome oasis for all.  Designed by award-winning Canadian architect Peter Hemingway, the Muttart Conservatory officially opened in September 1976. The Muttart Foundation donated half of the Conservatory’s original $2 million construction cost. The City of Edmonton and the Province of Alberta provided the balance of funding.

They are iconic I have to admit.  The pyramids are often shot in in the foreground to the cityscape and as such are present in many city-made advertisements.  I’ve played in them a few times, visited as a patron a few times, and have scoured the surrounding landscapes more than a few times.  You can’t not notice them really, and they are a prominent feature in the city …along the lines of West Edmonton Mall, Wayne Gretzky and perhaps potholes.  I went out at night this time around.  I also used my new (to me!) manfrotto tripod.  It worked well, especially with my heavy-ish D200, and considering I got it for $50 I think I did alright.  So here you go, ten shots of the Muttart Conservatory.  Remember, it was dark out :)

I remember a conversation a few years ago with a young songwriter who had been lucky enough to experience ‘success’ early in her teens by having the opportunity to cowrite with some reputable names in Nashville.  I was impressed with her accomplishments (not of her current material per se, as I recently had to learn it and didn’t think it was anything special) and dismissed my little ‘closet writing experiences’ as somehow inferior to hers.  I got a chance to talk about those silly notions that I figured all of us songwriters experienced, and said something along the lines of “Isn’t it just great when you finish writing something and it feels so right that you can effectively fall of the face of the earth and still be happy!?”  She looked blindly at me though, obviously never having experienced such a thing.  I realized then that she might not only be too young to understand, but that I was perhaps a bit ‘different’.  But then we all are I suppose.

My creations are somewhat summations of my experiences. I’m far more ‘fartsy’ than artsy when it comes to creativity in general (I don’t at all buy into the tortured, troubled, sensitive, introverted, misunderstood artist who emotes in exotic, multi-syllabled words and layers)  but I honestly feel that every song I write is something representative of my character at that time; whether it be a lyric, a melody or a particular sound.  In every poem too, there’s a phrase or a word or a rhyme that identifies something of me at that moment it’s made.  Through shades and objects and forms, photos also echo that which is often hidden – or not!  In hindsight, every creative act I engage in, at some point in its process, contains something of me.  To varying degrees of course.  As for the final product itself, why that’s just my adhd attempt at expressing …something.  And I have to emphasis the word ‘attempt’ here.

The tools you have at your disposal though, are reflected in that final product.  School is a great example …as learning how to effectively shape and mold that which you create will no doubt refine that creation; it will better represent whatever it is you want to say.  The same can be said for your life experiences, the people around you or your understandings of the world.  However, I feel there’s still something primal about the process that doesn’t depend on excessive practice, rehearsal or discussion.  At its root, creativity in the hands of a child in grade school can be as equivalently rewarding as that experienced by a seasoned artist.  After all, isn’t it often the case that the old look to the young for that wayward exuberance or fascination they once had?  Doesn’t the adult strive to relive that lost child-like sense of awe …constantly struggle to retain that inner child themselves?

That desire to explore and to make sense of your place, regardless of the methodologies attached, is the primary motivation of any artist.  Be it through finger painting or through symphonic composition, it is the struggle that matters most …not the output or the medium used; these are but markers.  I have no doubt that creation can come about machine-like or through exercise and routine, but any stroke, note, sentence or crop owes its life to that initial desire.  Any ‘product‘ pays homage to that inspiration that came before it, and I feel it’s this exploration that defines art more so than any net accomplishment or benefit to an observer.  Art, like I’ve often said about Science, is but a process.

And this is how I reconcile my status as a hack; for as much as I care about my product, I care more for the way I come about it.  Toying with words in pencil on paper while hoping to trace a story that races through my brain far too fast to pin down; looking at that which I have looked at a thousand times before and finding yet more by frame and mirror; having sounds in my head drift outward and then back again endlessly until they form a series that might represent something more than their parts …all these things I cherish.  All these experiences.  Not necessarily some end goal that pulls me along with promises of an effective finality.  There will always be another best after all.  There will always be another product …another photo, another song, another poem.  And I will always enjoy making them.

Although, I’m still not a poet.

Funny thing when I got home after the run though, the Jehovah Witnesses were at the door.  Luckily the roomie had them occupied so I could sneak around to the back to get some water.  So I waited for a bit outside and then quietly ventured in …but I still heard them talking.  Something about no mosquitos in heaven I think.  Suddenly though, the intensity picked up (the roomie is a die-hard Christian) and I heard the words “Why don’t you come in for a bit.”  Oh No!  I snuck back out and headed for the neighbours who were out in their garden and mentioned to Jim that the roomie just invited the Jehovah Witnesses into the house.  ”Thank God for backdoors!” he says.

Yes.  Yes indeed.

Some unrelated graffiti. Just because.

That’s a neat little quote from someone in the Scott Burdick documentary titled ‘In God We Trust?’  I came across it on this blog but you can view the filmmaker’s upload and comments here.  *his website has a great read here btw!*  Of the entire 2+ hours viewing, it was that quote that I picked up as the most meaningful.  Why?  I suppose because ultimately that which you strongly believe becomes that which you put into practice in your daily life …ha, or into the practical/physical world as I’m suddenly reminded.

Believing without seeing is part of what we all do I think, to some degree at least, but often these beliefs become so rooted that we allow them to operate from us without question.  But we should question them.  And all the time, least we remain the same person we are throughout our entire life …and how stagnant or closed-minded would that be!?  It’s hard work though, and often our daily-grinds keep us from challenging ourselves through questioning, but it’s imperative I think.  Especially if we want to better understand and consequently work with the diversity of people and beliefs around us.  No one wants to feel left out, alienated or forgotten.  I think Burdick phrased it nicely when he had this to say about his experience while shooting the film…  “Although I started the project out of anger, I ended up truly liking the people I interviewed on all sides of the issue and it helped to diffuse my own negative emotions to the point where I felt a responsibility to honestly represent the viewpoints of even those I disagreed with the most.”

And that kids, is what makes the world a better place.

Speaking of worlds being better places, I got to meet some old friends this weekend as my buddy C was in town for an economic development conference.  Her and I were roomies for a while in the early 90′s and have always stayed in touch, although I don’t get to see her that often …five years ago being our last visit.  It was great to hang out though.  I brought her to visit my Dad too …and that turned out to be quite fun.  Lol for me mostly, as I enjoyed watching her defend herself from his ‘traditional’ points of view.  I thought she did great however, and I’d even go so far as to say that I felt some sort of feeling that was oddly reminiscent of pride.  Yep :)

I also hooked up with E for our somewhat annual dinner out.  Her and I used to work at the Waterpark a loooong time ago and although we weren’t in touch for quite a few years, we have been lately.  She as well is doing fine, and got to meet a few of my current friends while at the LP.  It’s kinda weird, but I always feel somewhat awkward when different worlds collide.  It could be me though.  I think I actually have different mannerisms I adopt when I’m with different people, so to bring these together is a tough balance.  But it was all good and I didn’t spontaneously combust or get sucked into some strange wormhole.  Yea again :)