* not with ink

Today was a wildly successful photo adventure with the vivacious Shelly . It was the first time I'd pulled out  my SLR since moving to Toronto, and a great warm-up for my photo shoot with a friend and her fiance on Thanksgiving weekend! I've uploaded my top pics onto Flickr , but I would also like to pause for a second and share some thoughts on these self portraits. In each one, I'm intentionally difficult to see, incomplete. I think this captures a profound insight into identity and self. Photo #1 There is so much going on here that it's difficult to pick the pieces apart. Can you tell what is reflection and what is "real"? There is place, clothing, colour, movement...it's so rich! And that's the reality of life. I exist in chaos. Beautiful, overlapping, complex chaos. Photo #2 Here you can see my reflection quite clearly. But you know what? It's such a small section of mirror, one part of a larger mosaic. You can only see part of my face...

If ever you come visit my parents' house, one of the first things you will probably notice (it's been a consistent trend thus far) is that there are multiple clocks in each room. My maternal grandfather was an avid clock collector. By avid, I estimate that he owned over 500 clocks of all shapes and sizes when he died. The best of the clocks were then divided among the children, and the rest were sold. The inundation of clocks served to make my mother an even more avid chronomentrophiliac ( lover of clocks ), and we have added even more to the ones she inherited. I'm a fan of antiques, and antique clocks - even greater.   Now the goodness is slowly trickling its way down, and I am the owner of one small but adorable clock. I still have to get the hang of it - winding every day & adjusting the speed to keep an accurate hour. Some people can't handle it, but falling asleep to a ticking clock brings back happy childhood memories. To paraphrase a Lifehouse song ...