On our first Friday in Los Angeles, Jordan and I went up to the Getty Center. En route we encountered our first LA traffic jam. It was pretty frustrating. Naive as we were, we kept expecting to encounter some sort of accident or obvious reason why the cars were backed up for miles, but no cause ever revealed itself.

At the Getty, we saw an exhibit about a day in the life of a Parisian in the 1700s, with furniture and clothing and household items — my favourite kind of stuff! Also, a great collection of photographs from Cuba, my favourites were by Alex Harris. I made Jordan go through all the pre-Modern rooms as well.

Without a doubt, however, it was the Getty Center itself that stole the show. I always love museums but just being there was an experience, wandering throughout the architecture and landscape, bathed in the warm glow of a California sunset.

The island of Chincoteague has come up twice in recent conversations and it reminded me of some of my favourite childhood books by Marguerite Henry. I was a little horse maniac and loved these books to death. My library had the oversized hardcovers, each with beautiful illustrations by Wesley Dennis. I would love to have some of the covers and colour illustrations blown up– I’d hang Sea Star in a cute little eggshell blue room.

I was also spoiled rotten by my Grandma, who sent me a new Breyer horse model every year, many of which were based on the horses in Henry’s books. I still have the horses back in Kamloops. I wonder if my roommate would appreciate a dozen model horses strewn about the apartment?

Pictures from here and here.

Mr. Schmidt on a cold day in The Little Photo Shop.

On Saturday, April 23, 2011, Wilf Schmidt passed away. He was my social studies teacher in grade 10 and my photography teacher in grades 11 and 12 at Kamloops Secondary School. He also taught me pinhole photography when I was an elementary school participant in the Young Artists Conference.

After we graduated and Jordan and I had moved to Victoria, Mr. Schmidt retired from teaching and opened up a photography store in downtown Kamloops. The store was the size of a large closet and he could be found behind the little desk crammed into the tapering end of the room, usually entertaining whoever could squeeze into the space. The Little Photo Shop lived up to its name — Mr. Schmidt claimed it was the smallest photography supply store in the world – and it was cluttered with his work, famous photographs and an eclectic collection of cameras.

The tiny, eccentric scale of the store came as no surprise to anyone who knew Mr. Schmidt. He loved small things infused with big personalities. From him I learned about pinhole and toy cameras and the arresting images that could be created by such basic objects (his store was the only one in Kamloops to sell Holgas; he posted a sign declaring himself “Holga Salesman of the Year”).

Anja and I holding some of Mr. Schmidt’s photos in 2001. Note the “tiny bike with big feet” photo on the right.

One of his series of photographs always stuck with me: tiny objects in contrast with larger things, a simple and whimsical concept. Jessica said that Mr. Schmidt encouraged the weird and wonderful in all of us and his work showed that he took this principle to heart. He encouraged us to explore the world around us and to develop our own unique perspectives. He made us look at the details of our every day lives, and took his students on field trips to farmer’s markets, tiny towns (like Spuzzum) and, memorably, to an abandoned tuberculosis and insane asylum.

His love of history was infectious. He especially enjoyed personal histories, helping me develop old family negatives and encouraging me to explore my Doukhobor heritage, writing books about local history, photographing heritage buildings and ghost towns, and possessing a passion for Billy Miner. In grade 10 Social Studies, he even shared his own life story. My class was slightly baffled as he gave a slideshow that included childhood photos and anecdotes about growing up in a divided Berlin and his immigration to Canada (he threw up on the plane ride over). Oddly enough, the “Life of Wilf” lesson remains firmly etched on my memory, more so than any other class I experienced in high school.

I can definitely contribute some of my love of personal and social history to Mr. Schmidt. I can also credit him for introducing me to the works of photographers including Margaret Bourke-White, Jacob Riis, Man Ray, Weegee, Henri Cartier-Bresson and Ansel Adams, to name a few, as well as street photography, toy cameras and the ultimate satisfaction of developing my own photographs.

Me and Jordan in front of The Little Photo Shop (we took these to send to Mr. Schmidt to show we’d missed him)

If Mr. Schmidt sensed even the slightest bit of genuine interest in you, he would let you get away with anything. We called him Papa Schmidt, held peaceful sit-ins in his office and he never shut down Darkroom Fight Club, thus we came to regard him with great respect. He encouraged a creative side of Jordan that I’m not sure even Jordan knew he possessed at the time, he recognized the obvious talents of Anja and always supported Jessica’s commitment to doing her best possible work.

Mr. Schmidt was a wonderful teacher and friend. His steadfast devotion to film (though he was far from a luddite, being one of the earliest Mac users I knew), his passion for helping people discover their innate creativity, his wonderfully absurd sense of humour, his artistic joy and his warm friendship are all qualities I will miss dearly. I will also miss his huge smile, white moustache and quirky mimicry (a quality I consider a great treasure).

Thank you, Mr. Schmidt. I will miss you.

Don Denton, photo. Please visit his blog to see some wonderful photos of Mr. Schmidt in his store.

Polaroids are instant disappointment – Wilf Schmidt

Recently, while visiting Victoria, I bought myself something I had been eyeing (“why I eyes ya“) for a long time. For about a year I walked past this old poster of what I thought was an actress (but turned out to be an opera singer). I went into the store and examined it closely many times. For some reason, 2011 was the year to buy it. She’s Louise Homer, in costume as Amneris in Aida. The poster is from 1908.

Louise (b 1871) was an American operatic contralto (female singing voice that falls between tenor and mezzo soprano). She married composer Sidney Homer, had six children and made her operatic debut in 1898. Her recordings can be found online. I love the comments on those youtube videos so much for some reason… it’s great that the internet even brings out the turn of the century opera geeks. It’s so nice to hear her sing too!

I really love Lizzy Stewart, a illustrator based out of Edinburgh, for the following reasons: Russian imagery and motifs, the classic Victorian novels, tintypes, old photos, and that perfect, scratchy, elegant illustration style. It’s like a modern interpretation of a Victorian woodcut.

I’m seriously considering ordering this screenprint:

I also love these Russian Christmas cards, they are a really stylish take on the theme. I know exactly who would love getting one of these this Christmas.

Lizzy Stewart also did this fantastic Wuthering Heights family tree I saw on Good Good. It that really captures the moody essence of the book.

There’s another amazing version of the print imagined as a book cover here.

There’s tons of great illustration on her blog too. Tess of D’Urbervilles! What a deliciously tragic book.

Here’s Lizzy Stewart’s Etsy store. (Wuthering Heights is sold out unfortunately. Apparently there will be another run! I will definitely be checking back!)