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resting places

i've mentioned before on the blog that i've always loved cemeteries and that i grew up playing in one, which for a lot of people probably explains some things about me. i love photographing them, but one thing i regret is that i moved away from halifax before the advent of widely available digital photography, which made amateur professionals out of all of us.

halifax actually has a lot of centrally located cemeteries with fascinating histories. many of the victims of the titanic are buried there, including the one whose name james cameron borrowed for leonardo dicaprio's character in some movie. apparently, there were teenaged girls making pilgrimages to the site of his grave, the strains of celine dion still plucking at their heartstrings when the film came out.

there are the usual assortment of local historical characters interred there. a friend of mine from high school snapped a picture of me raising a bottle of keith's while sitting on the grave of alexander keith, but unfortunately, it's been lost to the ages. and i'm sure i was drinking underage. i poured the beer out. or found the bottle empty. i most certainly didn't drink it.

one of my favourite cemeteries in halifax, however, is the tiny one in the middle of downtown [or what used to be the middle of downtown, since the decline of barrington st. has made that area seem like a far-flung suburb from what i can glean] called simply "the old burying ground".

it is well-named, for many of its residents have been there since shortly after the city's founding in 1749. the graves there are noticeably different than in other places, too, bearing the more sombre symbolism of the eighteenth century, like skulls and bones and hourglasses turned on their sides to remind you of your own mortality.

i've been haunted since i was in my early twenties by the image you see here: a combination of the darker images with the mid-eighteenth century shift towards the power of resurrection imagery. the soul rises from the body and gains eternal life beyond the physical, beyond the bones, beyond the power of the hourglass.

when i was younger, i desperately wanted to get that image tattooed on the base of my back. it seemed appropriate, since the base of the spine is often considered the root of the soul. but i put it off and procrastinated and the next thing i knew every woman had a tattoo on the bottom of her back, to the point where most people i know refer to it derisively as the "tramp stamp". i still play around with the idea of doing it, because i still absolutely love the image and it would seem to be an appropriate tribute to my lifelong fascination with burying grounds in general, but any time i even mention the placement, i'm greeted with groans and rolling eyes. given the size and shape of the image, as well as the meaning of having it placed there, it would feel weird getting it anywhere else.

woe is me.

until then, i just keep reminding myself that the next time i visit, i'm taking the big camera, so that i can get all the shots i need of the graveyards of my youth.

the top image is one that i took myself. the bottom one, i'm embarrassed to admit, could come from anywhere, including myself. it's been on my computer forever and i've no idea where it came from. it was in a folder that contained a mix of found images and old images i'd taken from my cell phone.

oh, and in case you were wondering about mental health mondays, i'm giving it a rest for the week. it'll return for august, fresh and new.


as long as you're here, why not read more?

making faces :: soft touch

ah winter, how my lips hate you. it's too bad, really, because the rest of me likes winter, down to about -12 or so. but there's no arguing that i get dried out. nuxe rĂªve de miel is my super best friend at this time of year, even more so than otherwise. [i gave bite's agave lip mask a try only to find out i'm allergic to something in it.] but our [still] new apartment is somewhat drier than the old one [electric vs hot water heating], which meant that, for a long stretch, virtually every kind of lipstick was uncomfortable. the horror. [i wrote a post a while back about the formulas that are friendliest to chapped lips.]

faced with this dilemma, i decided to try something not exactly new, but [for me], out of the ordinary: being a gloss girl. now, i don't mind glosses. i buy them from time to time, and i used to buy more until i discovered that i just wasn't using them near enough to justify the continued purchases. my issues with glosses are that they feather…


i keep seeing this ad for tictac candies:

am i the only one who finds the suicide bomber clown at the end a little unnerving? all the nice natural things like the bunny and the [extinct] woolly mammoth and the fruit get devoured by a trying-to-appear-nonthreatening-but-obviously-psychotic clown who then blows himself up. congratulations, tictac, i think this ad has landed you on about a dozen watch lists.

oh and by the way, showing me that your product will somehow cause my stomach to explode in a rainbow of wtf makes me believe that doing consuming tictacs would be a worse dietary decision than the time i ate two raw eggs and a half a bottle of hot sauce on a dare.

making faces :: a lip for all seasons [winter edition]

it seems oddly canadian to have two posts in a row about winter/ cold/ snow, but they're obviously unrelated. after all, for most people winter is a season, but in colour analysis terms, winter is part of what you are, an effect of the different wavelengths that comprise the physical part of the thing known as "you". this might be getting a little heady for a post about lipstick. moving on...

if you've perused the other entries in this series without finding something that really spoke to you [figuratively- lipsticks shouldn't actually speak to you- get help], you may belong in one of the winter seasons. winter, like summer, is cool in tone; like spring, it is saturated; like autumn, it is dark. that combination of elements creates a colour palette [or three] that reads as very "strong" to most. and on people who aren't part of the winter group, such a palette would look severe. the point of finding a palette that reads "correctly" on you…