The Brown Knowser

The first one was the hardest. A year ago, emboldened by the popularity of my Bate Island Project , I set out to start another photo project, one that would provide a great challenge for me in overcoming one of my biggest handicaps and greatest fears. One, that would get my adrenaline flowing, my heart rate increasing, my breathing deeper. I would overcome my extreme shyness and I would talk to total strangers. And ask to take a photograph of them. Last year, when I embarked on this project, I walked the cool streets of Westboro to Hintonburg, my D80 slung over my shoulder, camera bag strapped to my back, looking for people who caught my attention. I saw many, had a script tightly composed in my head, Brown Knowser business cards at the ready. And all I could do was keep walking, never making eye contact, never uttering a sound. I'm morbidly shy. The photo project ended before it began, and I turned to doing a daily self portrait, but I hate photographing myself almost ...

No one can argue when I say that I love women. At one point, I had more lady friends than I had guy friends. Some of my best friends are women. I find that I can be more open with women, can be myself. I'm a lady lover. One of my friends, Amanda Cottreau , has a great talent: she has a voice that soothes, that calms. I have shared some of Amanda's music in previous Music Mondays , and I hope that you have enjoyed her beautiful, ethereal tone. Amanda has a new song, which I heard her perform live, a couple of weeks ago, in a Wellington West chocolate shop. An unconventional venue, to be sure, but when you know how sweet her voice is, and her love of chocolate, it makes perfect sense. Amanda's latest release, "Lady Lover," has a full band accompaniment, which is a departure from her acoustic sound, and it comes together beautifully. Amanda described the genesis of this song to me: "'Lady Lover' started as a single vocal/guitar smartphon...

One of the things that had bothered me the most about my dying camera was that I couldn't take a night exposure without spending a lot of time, afterwards, editing the photo: sharpening, adjusting the contrast, making the colours more vibrant, and the endless removing of blown pixels, which added annoying red and blue blocks to the image, making it hard, sometimes, to tell what was a fault with the sensor and what was a real star. And the image was never truly sharp, because the camera would shake a little as the mirror flipped up to take the exposure. That wasn't a problem with an ailing camera, but was a sign of the limited, clunky technology. The last photos that I shot with my old Nikon D80 were of the night sky, on a side road in the village of Galetta, north-west of Ottawa, in the Ottawa Valley. And they weren't very good, though I did publish them. You can see the images in last Thursday's post. My D80 was a 10-megapixel device whose ISO speed was limited t...

This is not a photo project. They line my office building, blocking the view from the west-end, front parking lot from the path that I walk, from the northern entrance of the office to the northern parking lot, which is on the far end, away from the main accessway. The trees, evergreens, are, of themselves, nothing special, except that in the bleak months of winter, they are one of the few signs of life. And, at different times of day, the light catches them and plays with them in different ways. I just like the way they look, and so, as I arrive at work, or as I make my way home, if the light strikes my eyes against these giant pines * in such a way that I look twice, I have captured them with my Android device. Sometimes, although rarely, I use a D-SLR. But it's not a project. And I'm not the only one who has found them lovely to look at. My dear friend, Rebecca, liked one of the photos that I took and decided to show her own artistic take on these trees. ...

I have no illusions of grandeur: I like to take photographs, but I'm no professional. So, why would I need a professional camera? The answer was simple: I didn't. And so, after many months of dreaming, after weeks of shopping around and of patiently waiting, I finally replaced my aging Nikon D80. I had seriously considered moving up to a full-frame format, of spending the extra money to have a camera that would do everything I needed it to do, and more. Much more. When my wife and I were going to go to New York City, in the first week of March, I was fully prepared to return with the new D750: full-frame, built-in WiFi, and super-fast processor. But moving to this model would have meant that half of the lenses that I already own would not have been fully compatible with a full-frame format. One of them, my 10-20mm, super-wide-angle Sigma, was my current favourite lens. When I was in France, last summer, I used this lens more than any other. I would still be able to use it...

A couple of months ago, while I was reminiscing about old 80s music, a song came into my head and I immediately checked to see if it was available for download on Google Play. The song was "Don't Walk Past," by Markham, Ontario, band, Blue Peter . In 1983, this song was popular among my close friends, in high school. I owned the album, Falling , and I think I played the vinyl disk until the grooves wore out. In the days of mixed audio cassettes, I made sure this song featured prominently. On my smartphone, "Don't Walk Past" is now part of the rotation. Earlier this month, as Midge Ure wrapped up his stellar show at the Black Sheep Inn , his promoter came on stage and asked the audience if they would be interested in seeing some performers, who were contemporaries of Midge, play at the Black Sheep . These 80s-era performers included Howard Jones, Chalk Circle, and Blue Peter. I almost blew out my vocal chords in cheering. Any three of these acts would...

This could very well be the last day that I show a photo from my Nikon D80. It's not the last photo that I took with it—you saw those yesterday . But the last photos that I shot with my trusty, first D-SLR have been downloaded from the card, and later today, I will be picking up my new replacement. Tomorrow, I hand off this camera to my youngest child, who wants to learn photography. It's a good starter camera for her. And, while I'm giving her this camera, I have reserved the right to borrow it, should I need a backup. Until then, should that day ever come, one more photo, for posterity. A little life, in the dying days of winter. And one really cheeky squirrel. Happy Friday!

It's not like I haven't seen them before. The first time that they presented themselves to me upon the northern evening sky, it was a late-summer or early-autumn evening. I wasn't expecting them: they just appeared, silently, not so much drawing attention to themselves as they had walked in on me, enjoying a quiet moment to myself, and they were doing the same, not realizing that I was already there. I was at a friend's house, along March Road, just north of Kanata and just before the bend that brings you to Dunrobin Road. It was the late 1980s, and the urban sprawl was still several kilometres away. Back then, this house was way out in the boonies. There was a party in the house, and there was lots of noise and even more drinking. I was enjoying myself, but I needed a break from the loud music, needed some fresh air. The house backed on to a large field, with tall trees a couple of hundred metres in the distance. It was fairly flat land, and when the faint, red...

But mostly, it's you. More than four years ago, I opened a Facebook account, not because I wanted to dig up old friends from high school, but because some of my really good friends, who lived out of town or out of the country, were on the social-media tools, and I wanted to keep in touch with them, to know what they were up to. Facebook did not replace a phone call or reaching out via e-mail, but it supplemented that form of communication, provided photos and status updates of the every day. I had my blog, and would share activities in the Brownfoot household: looking at Facebook, I could see what my friends wanted to share with me. I also found family members with whom I had lost touch, and it was good to reaffirm those connections. But as that app is wont to do, it brings out people from your past: high-school acquaintances, old girlfriends, long-forgotten neighbours, and people who belonged to old clubs and former places of employment. Those people saw you profile, re...

Another word for prime is first . One of our prime ministers was William Lyon Mackenzie King. There is a church that holds a labyrinth walk on Sunday afternoons. There is a word that describes land that is set aside for the church: that word is glebe , which is a well-known neighbourhood, south of Centretown, on the other side of the Queensway. In the Glebe, there is a church that was once named St. Andrews: it is now called St. James. It's located at the corner of First Avenue and Lyon Street South. And it is the 45th location for Where In Ottawa . I sort of gave up on this challenge over the weekend, which gets busy with family activities. I make no apologies. But that also meant that I only posted four clues for my photo challenge for you to work with. Frankly, I'm surprised it went on for as long as it did. And, while a lot of you viewed this post, no one ventured a guess. So, at noon, on Sunday, I closed the contest. Better luck next month.

There were days—many days—when I thought we'd never see it. Signs that spring is around the corner, that winter, which stubbornly held on with razor-like teeth, is beginning to weaken, to ease its bitter grip, to fade. Icicles stretch downward to needle-like points. The drip of water droplets play as tinny notes. The rush of water echoes through sewer grates. We relax, but we should be wary: winter has a habit of railing against the growing light. We thaw for now, we see the movement in the landscape. And we are filled with hope. Happy Friday!

She took me too seriously. Far too seriously. The first time I met her, Lori and I were heading out for an evening of fun with our friends. I wasn't dating Lori at the time, but on Thursday nights, we would often find our way out to a bar, such as Equinox, at Ottawa University, or in the Byward Market. Lori worked with one of my best friends in a department store, with her best friend, and Thursday night, for some long-forgotten reason, was our night to party. I pulled up to her driveway in my '85 Sunbird. Andy was in the passenger seat. I hopped out and knocked on the door, which caused their Shelty to bark, a warning to all indoors. Lori was at the door, eager to head out. Her mother, Norma, followed her to the door, seemingly eager to see who her daughter kept company with. I said a brief hello, but we wanted to be on our way, so I didn't say anything else. I remember Norma, watching us as we pulled away, her look gave the impression that she was trying to figu...

My kids love Japanese anime. But they laugh at me when I tell them that I watched animation shows from Japan when I was their age. While they watch series such as Attack on Titan , Sword Art Online , Ouran Highschool Host Club , Soul Eater , and Black Butler , shows that are just too strange for me, go well beyond my ability to suspend my disbelief, I watched a futuristic show about five orphans who had supernatural powers and who fought off invading forces from outside our solar system. Considering I was totally immersed in Star Trek , Batman , and Spider-Man , it wasn't a stretch for me to be hooked on Battle of the Planets . But when my nearly 14-year-old and 12-year-old daughters took a quick look at the show's intro, they laughed and said, "That's not anime. That's just a cartoon." Hmph, I said. Here's the show's intro. Like lots of animated shows of my generation, the heros were always able to defeat the villain's evil plans, wi...

Traditionally, my Where In Ottawa photo challenge runs on the first Monday of each month, but with the passing of Leonard Nimoy, I couldn't let time elapse without honouring the iconic man. But it's back, and I'm hoping that this time the challenge isn't solved as quickly as it has been in the past two months. If you haven't played this challenge before—or even if you have but you've forgotten the rules—here are the conditions of play. The following photograph was taken somewhere in the greater Ottawa region. Your job: locate it. If you think you know the location of the structure in the image, leave your guess in the Comments section of this post. Answers sent to me by Twitter, Facebook, e-mail, or any other method than by writing a guess in the Comments section do not qualify for this challenge . I will not reply to any other form of guess. If you were with me when I took the photo, you may not participate in the challenge. If you have won Where I...

For months, my darling wife and I have been making plans to spend my birthday in The Big Apple, the city that never sleeps, New York, New York. We were to head down, bright and early, on my birthday and spend Thursday after noon and evening, all day Friday, all day Saturday, and Sunday morning taking in Broadway, the end of Restaurant Week, breweries and brew pubs, and art galleries, and looking for new places for me to photograph one of my favourite cities. I was also going to buy a new camera. But life gets in the way when you're busy, making plans, and when a crisis arises, you drop everything, unquestionably and without hesitation, to be there for those who need you more. And that's what has happened. New York isn't cancelled. It's postponed until we get through this crisis. The city will still be there when we're ready to go. Happy Friday.

Fifty years ago, today, I was born. And on that day, a portrait was captured so that, years down the road, my parents could prove to me that, yes, I was once an actual baby. I have always looked at this photo and thought, "God, I was an ugly baby." I have often joked that it looked like I was pressed under a glass plate, to hold me still, while that photo was taken. I have a big, flat face that looks compressed. I'm not a baby any more. I'm firmly entrenched in middle age. Even though I sometimes continue to act like a kid. And I still have a big head. Happy Thursday!

Midge Ure said it best. To paraphrase, music today has become too contrived, over-produced from cookie-cutter production houses, with more contributors to the creation of a song than the list of ingredients in a ready-made cake * . Just add water. Just add singer. Rare is it, on the hit charts, a good song that is conceived, written, performed, and produced by the actual artist. Now is the age of Beyoncé, of One Direction. As Midge put it, there are too many Karaoke singers. And so it is a good thing that we still have legends like Midge Ure, who continue to create, to compose, to give life to music. Midge Ure played to a packed house at the Black Sheep Inn , last night, and exceeded expectations. After more than 30 years, he can still belt it out, without an auto tuner, showing his fans that he and an acoustic Fender can create a warm, intimate atmosphere. Between numbers, Midge delighted the sold-out crowd with wit, humour, and personal anecdotes. He played songs ...