Tag Archives: iPad art

My Family Photos Project: Notes on Reconstructing Three Generations of Family Photos

My mother, with whom I currently live, is getting older, and less well. Her enormous collection of family photos, taken mainly by her and her father, recording the lives of, basically, three generations, in England and Canada, is one of her most precious assets. (Technically, including a couple of pictures of my great-grandparents, and even great-great-grandparents, and a couple of pictures of my cousins’ kids, there are six generations represented in the collection.) To avoid family squabbles when the inevitable happens, I decided three months ago to digitalize the collection, so the pictures could be readily shared among family members. I had ready access to the original photos, and owned an iPhone and  iPad, with which it is now possible to accomplish such a job at virtually no extra cost (I had to purchase the photo scanner app, Pic Scanner, that cost all of $2.99)–unless time is translated into dollars.

When I started this project, I wanted simply to get the original photos into digital form. I had no thought of tinkering with the photos in any way; however, for previous projects, I’ve exploited the graphics capabilities of my iPad, acquiring a fairly good knowledge of these capabilities as I went along, and, not long into this family photo project, originally just for pragmatic reasons, I started digitally enhancing, or modifying, some of the old family photos. Later into the project, I made further modifications for my pleasure and amusement–and, I hope, for the pleasure and amusement of those who will see these images.

This blog post comprises a small sample of the finished digitalized photos, with notes about my process of making any modifications that were made–and, in some cases, not making any modifications, because the original photos were wonderful as they were. Besides being for interested family members, who may notice that several pictures in their collection of digitalized family album photos aren’t quite as they remember, this post may serve as an inspiration to others thinking of undertaking similar family album projects. There’s much more that can be done with the photos than just basic scanning. This post also serves to explain, to some extent, what I’ve been doing with my free time in the past few months, instead of writing the blog posts that used to appear here regularly, every couple of weeks. (My mother’s needs also have been greater lately, and have required an increased amount of my ‘free’ time.)



After digitalizing all the photos in my mother’s photo albums, and after making many of the enhancements that I would make–including, in some cases, adding colour–to certain photos in the collection, I found this photo, delicately painted with watercolours, amid an assortment of small, loose, photos from my mother’s youth in her native England, in a crumpled plastic bag at the back of a cupboard in a now unused room upstairs. These precious photos could easily have been lost forever if I hadn’t found them when I did.

The image is of my mother, at about age two, with her childhood pet dog. It probably was my mother who painted this picture, when she was still a child, a few years older than she was in this picture. However, although I don’t remember it, if I did get my hands on this picture when I was a kid, it could have been me who painted it, since I enjoyed colouring as a kid, and was good at it (even winning some colouring contests, for which I earned my first small ‘paycheques’). Or it may have been someone else entirely …

The inclination to add colour to B&W photos probably has been common for a long time, even long before there was such as thing as colour photography. Now that colour photography is our norm, the inclination is probably even more common. With digital photography, and the various graphics tools that cost next to nothing that can be installed on tablets and SmartPhones, enhancing B&W photos with colour has become extremely easy. Sometimes colour does enhance an old B&W photo–although, in other cases, it doesn’t. Sometimes, it’s a question of taste.

Pictures I Took Myself

The following two images started with B&W photos I myself took with my first-ever camera, when I was about seven years old and we lived on the beachfront at Crescent Beach (a beach town near Vancouver). The camera was a cheap plastic camera, that I must have received as a gift from my parents, for which the cost of a roll of film and the developing of the film probably well-exceeded the cost of the camera. Taking a decent picture with that camera was extremely iffy. I remember how disappointed I was when I got the pictures I had taken with it back from developing: most were just a blur.  (I went through only two rolls of film with that camera.) My mother did, however, save in her family album from that era the handful of pictures I took with that camera that were at all worth saving, including these two pictures–one of my youngest sister sitting on a log on the beach and the other of my mother standing beside a breakwater.

Because the original prints were somewhat out of focus (these were the good ones in the group), and because I had taken the original pictures myself, I felt no qualms about doing some basic editing, just recropping the pictures and doing some simple colour enhancement using colour filters from the app, Colorburn. (The app is American, hence the spelling.)  These were the first photos in this massive family photo project with which I did more than just scan.


Now I get to feel better about my first venture into photography than I did when, as a young kid, I pulled those very disappointing B&W prints out of the photo envelope at the drugstore. (My mother very much likes the subtly colourized version of herself on the beach.)

Pictures Taken by My Mother

When I next started tinkering with a few of the family photos taken by my mother, I had to think twice about whether I was crossing a line that I shouldn’t be crossing. My mother has, by now, seen these colourized pictures, and says that–with one notable exception–she likes the pictures.

I chose to try colour enhancement with the photo immediately below because it is an important photo in terms of our family record, yet the original was somewhat out of focus, and also needed more brightness to make the subjects stand out. The subjects of the photo include my father, in the centre, flanked by his mother (or my grandmother) and her identical twin sister (or my great-aunt), the twins’ mother (or my great-grandmother) sitting at the front, me on my father’s shoulders, and my younger sister, then a new baby, on our great-grandmother’s lap. The setting is, I think, the  large back yard of my grandmother’s house in North Vancouver–where she kept a goat, for milk. (Even back then, this was odd in North Vancouver.)

After much trial and error, I came across a wondrous single photo filter, Wonka, within the camera app, Camera Awesome, that did all the amazing colourizing that is evident in the before and after images. This AWESOME filter adds a cloudy blue sky effect in the upper reaches, greens and browns for vegetation in the background, and highlights for central figures, plus a little red trim along the bottom that works beautifully in this picture with the trim on the bottom of my great-grandmother’s dress, all in one fell swoop! I couldn’t have done a better job colourizing this photo if I’d handpainted it. This miraculous filter alone makes the app worth purchasing. (I already had it on my iPad before starting this family album project.)

To give readers some sense of the sensitivity to form of the Wonka filter, I also used it to colourize the below image, of me again perched on the shoulders of my father. The filter apparently recognized, through shape and location cues, that there are no trees or lawn in this photo, and omitted most of the green part of the filter.


Even in basic B&W, the below photo of my father with me again perched on his shoulders walking in the woods, another taken by my mother, is beautiful. It was my attraction to this lovely photograph, and what it represents about my early relationship with my father–and the early relationships of both of us with my mother, the photographer–that led me to play around with it. I created about a dozen variations, only two of which, plus the original, I have included below. For the image in the centre, I used just basic colour filters. For the image on the right, I used the app, Brushstroke, that offers a wide and very interesting selection of painting effects and colour palettes.

I chose to tinker with the below B&W photo taken by my mother because it was an interesting photo of me and two of my sisters (I’m on the right, feigning surprise, I think) yet I found the lighting qualities of the original very unsatisfying. After playing around with some filters, I very much like what I ended up with–although my mother says my version is “too bright.”  Sometimes, it is a matter of taste.


On the whole, adding some enhancements to my mother’s photographs, with her providing input, proved to be a lovely collaboration between me and my mother.


When scanning photos using the ‘snapshot method’ that is the foundation of smartphone scanning apps like the one I used for this project, Pic Scanner, you’re likely to sometimes get distortion effects through holding the ‘camera’ (i.e., phone) at the wrong angle. When you’re getting towards the end of a batch of more that a hundred photos you’re trying to scan in one morning, before heading off to work, getting some distortion effects is almost inevitable. In both of the below images there is some distortion, although the distortion is far more pronounced–and more interesting–in the image on the right. (The image on the left is closer to the original although, in that one, there’s still a strange elongation of the lower limbs of my father and sister.)

The effect of the looming totem pole was so interesting that I took the time to add some colour to this image using Colorburn. (I hope me playing around with this totem pole in this way doesn’t offend anyone. It’s not my intention.) The use of just a couple of colours for the entire image, repeated for the totem and the human subjects, suggests, to me, the people in the image are part of the totem pole.



As I previously mentioned, after digitalizing all of the photos in the many family albums, and tinkering with a few, and thinking I was finally DONE, I came across a stray crumpled plastic bag containing many more small photos from my mother’s youth in England. There were at least fifty photos in this batch.

Many of these small photos (each only two inches by three inches) were extremely damaged, although several were, despite the damage, quite lovely. The salvage job required that I become adept at using the photo-editing app, Snapseed (another app I already had downloaded, although used infrequently, prior to this project).  This iPad app, that again costs next to nothing, is exceptionally good, enabling anyone with some extra time and some manual dexterity to do the kind of photo-editing that previously would have had to be done by professionals, using expensive equipment.

Before coming across these old pictures, some of which are close to a hundred years old, I had no idea how attractive my mother’s mother (my English grandmother) was as a young woman. I also had no idea what an excellent photographer my English grandfather was. (He never finished high school, but made a great success as a wine merchant in London after serving in WW I. He was the one in that generation of the family who took most of the family photos.) His forte was composition, with many of his photos resembling still-life paintings.

Because most of these photos were so beat up when I found them, and serious imperfections remained in several of them even after my editing with Snapseed, I again took the liberty of doing some cosmetic tinkering.

The first example is of my mother as a toddler, with her mother behind her, apparently helping to ensure the toddler remains erect, wading in shallow water on the shore. This picture seemed well-suited to a vignette treatment–and a little colour.


I chose to tinker with the below photo, of my grandmother lying on the sand with grass in the background, taken by my grandfather on their honeymoon, because the sky in the original photo was very blotchy, even after my preliminary editing. I used a painting effect for my grandfather’s painterly photo available on Brushstroke, and a blue and gold colour filter also available on Brushstroke. Finally, I went over the sky using an airbrush effect on  ArtStudio, to get rid of the last of those blotches.


The below two symmetrical images, of my grandfather smoking a pipe and my grandmother holding a coat, wading in water, originally were separate, but I joined them, using the app Pic Stitch.  After that, I added some colour, using colour filters.


I wonder what my grandfather, in particular, who seemed to be quite the artist at heart, would think of this picture of him and his then-new bride dipping their feet in some colour. (An ordinary blue would have been too prosaic for the kind of effect I wanted to capture here. I wanted my youthful grandparents to be dipping their feet in some real COLOUR.)


Some photos just shouldn’t be messed with, other than, maybe, a little tuning, and the following photo is one of them. I love this picture of my grandmother, taken when she was about twenty years old, by my grandfather. Her face and expression in this picture remind me of a young Kate Winslet. The composition of this photo is beautiful.

The below photo, another taken by my grandfather, is of my mother when she was about two years old, against a bucolic country backdrop.  (When my mother recently saw this picture, she was reminded of all the times when she was a young child that she took off on her own to explore her environs, leaving her parents very worried.)

All I did to this picture was sharpen up the focus in certain areas using Snapseed, brighten up the foreground image of child, again using Snapseed, and patch up the sky, that was quite damaged in the original photo, again using Snapseed and ArtStudio. My grandfather deserves the real credit for this beautiful photo.





In the course of my family photo album project, while I added colour to several old B&W photos, I never took colour away from any of the hundreds of colour photos with which I worked. It’s a technique that could be worth exploring for this kind of project.

I’ve included the above images of tomatoes here to illustrate one use of this technique. The images started with a colour photo I took of three of the varied tomatoes I grew in our garden a few years ago, that I tweaked with ArtStudio to derive the image on the left. Then I took the colour away, and superimposed a photo of clouds in the sky,  to derive the second image of a “tomato-being” floating in the clouds. (The image was to illustrate a post about cloud computing in my first, novice, blog, “The Tomato Diaries.” Each post included an image that incorporated tomatoes.) No, the “tomato-being” is not a relative. I’m not descended from inhabitants of an intergalactic vegetable patch–or, for that matter, from a terrestrial one.



With digital graphics techniques, and the current ready access of most of us to good, and inexpensive, graphics tools, there really are no limits (other than the ethical kind) in how far one can take the photos in the digital family album.

On Pi Day, last week, I created the below image, starting with a simple B&W photo my mother took of me on a teeter-totter. To create this image, along with various apps I’ve already mentioned in this post, I used the app, Fragment, to get the multiple images of the girl (i.e., me) that frame the central image.

The edited image suggests to me learning the basics of geometry and physics through physical activity. It’s also a happy picture, with the suggestion that the related learning experiences are enjoyable.

On a related theme, one of my sisters has less pleasant memories of teeter-totters. I showed her the below photo, without any of its graphic embellishments, when she came for a visit recently, when I was in the midst of my family album project,  and the words in the speech bubble are almost word-for-word what she said. (She thinks this ‘cartoon’ is amusing, so I’m taking the liberty of sharing it.) To get the ‘cartoon’ effects, I used the app, Halftone.



After three months, my family album project is finally complete.

It’s been a very worthwhile project, and I encourage anyone who is thinking of attempting such a project to go for it.

It’s good that I did this while my mother is still with us, since she’s been able to pass on her knowledge about people and places in the photos–that I recorded in the Comments section of Dropbox, the app that I used to share the photos. It’s a process that I think she’s enjoyed, as well.

Enhancing some of the photos in the vast collection has proved to be a lovely collaboration not only between me and my mother, but also between me and my English grandfather, who passed on his love of photography to his daughter.

Now it’s time for me to celebrate! That’s me, below, on my fourth birthday, many years ago, before colour photography–but colourized with Colorburn.  (My next birthday is in just a few days.)



Bluebells Blossoming in 5 Pics: What CAN’T be Done With Twitter’s New Picture Posting Feature

I earlier tried posting the following 4 pictures of bluebells squeezing up along the side of our house using the new Twitter picture posting feature that allows Twitter users to post up to 4 pictures in one Tweet.  Unfortunately, I ran into a problem with, basically speaking, aspect ratio.

Before my experiment, I’d seen some good examples of 4 rectangular pictures displayed in a 2 x 2 grid in my Twitter feed and thought my four matching pictures, taken at intervals over the past two months, would suit that format.  (I took the pictures thinking they could be the basis of some animation. Originally, I wasn’t planning to publicly display just these pictures.) The basic problem was I didn’t realize all rectangular pictures that preview in Twitter feed, whether single pictures or part of multi-picture groups, are displayed in a 2 to 1 aspect ratio.  Only when you click on the pictures do you see pictures that don’t actually have a 2 to 1 aspect ratio in full.  (Squares seem to be an exception. I’ve seen some 4-picture groups in preview mode consisting of square pictures.)  In preview mode, not only were the tops and bottoms of my pictures lopped off, but also they were lopped off unequally.  Pictures on Twitter, whether single pictures or part of multi-picture groups, are shifted upward when they are fit into the new frame(s).

I could have dealt with the distortion of the pictures in preview mode if, when the 4 pictures were opened up, they all appeared together.  But this doesn’t happen with the new feature.  The pictures appear only individually–so my intended effect of plants maturing over time was essentially lost.

I’m posting those pictures again here–and have added one final closeup picture at the end.  This still isn’t exactly what I wanted.  (I’m still trying to figure out side-by-side pictures in WordPress, to achieve my 2 x 2 grid. It’s not as easy as one would think. But many things aren’t . . . )  However, it is, I think, an improvement over the Twitter version–even without the closeup, that turned out well, if I do say so myself.

As I’ve learned from my experiment, if you want complete pictures to appear in the preview mode in Twitter feed, whether you are posting a single picture or multiple pictures, use a 2 to 1 aspect ratio for the original pictures (or maybe stick with squares). However, the distortion that occurs when pictures that don’t have that aspect ratio are fit into those rectangles in preview mode can sometimes work to good effect, to achieve surprise when you click on the pictures and open them up, or intrigue that compels people to click–if you know what you’re doing.



January 19


February 2


March 4

March 29

March 29


Be My Valen-vine: A Blogger Becomes More Social via Twitter and Vine


I recently came across a comment about publishing in the digital age (I don’t remember where) that nicely encapsulates my experience of blogging. To paraphrase, in the digital age it’s very easy to get published, but much less easy to get people to read what you’ve published. With this blog, and its relatively short-lived predecessor (The Tomatoes Diary, also on WordPress), it’s been frustrating to me that some of my posts that I think deserved a relatively-wide readership got so few ‘hits’, and many fewer ‘comments’. If I really wanted to get my ideas out into the world, so that they might contribute to political change or at least to discussion about certain issues, or so that more people would recognize the things that I think are right with our world, it seems I might have had better results simply writing letters to the editors of print publications with relatively large circulations; in the past, I’ve had several letters published in newspapers and magazines, and I’m pretty sure more than a couple of dozen people read those letters–that is to say, each of those letters.

Even when I’ve had a fair number of ‘hits’ for certain blog posts, I usually haven’t had many ‘comments’, or just regular comments–other than from loyal family members. (That’s you, Shirley.) That’s at least as troubling as getting a paucity of ‘hits’. I inevitably wonder if those who did arrive at the post thought it was so uninteresting or inane that they quickly moved on–or maybe did read the entire piece, but hated it. The below cartoon from the current edition (Feb. 11 & 18) of the iconic The New Yorker magazine nicely sums up the self-doubt due a lack of feedback that is probably extremely prevalent among today’s bloggers (although probably not among those who write blogs for the digital edition of The New Yorker, to which I myself subscribe).


Copying the cartoon here is a violation of my own, earlier-expressed, views about blogging and copyright; but, by now, I’ve come to realize that so few people are likely to read this blog post that it probably doesn’t matter. If I do get a nasty ‘comment’ about using this cartoon here, or even a letter from someone at The New Yorker threatening a lawsuit, I’d actually be thrilled: it would mean someone other than family had actually read this post–or at least the first couple of paragraphs of it–and was paying attention.

I’ve tried drawing more readers to my blogs through the commonly recommended method of reading other blogs, and leaving ‘comments’, or at least ‘likes’, on those blogs. I’ve had a modest amount of success using this method–and also have sincerely enjoyed reading many blog posts by others who share some of my interests. (I’m itching to make a trip to Los Angeles, to check out some of the art museums and public art in that city. Los Angeles artists are strongly represented among those whose blogs I read, and who read my blog.) But the fact is that I have a limited amount of time for that kind of thing. Although I do a lot of reading, due to my age and my predilections, I’m still strongly attached to traditional media, and wouldn’t forego reading my usual newspapers and magazines, even though I now usually read them in digital form, as well as actual books, to free up time to read more blogs by bloggers of whom I’ve never heard.

I’ve also sent several short, introductory, emails to various parties who were likely to have an interest in what I had written in particular blog posts, with links to the relevant posts, but without any success. I sent out three such emails to staffers at the Globe and Mail newspaper directing them to the post I had written about the series run by the Globe in the fall about Canadian universities, that I thought was an important piece, and I didn’t get a single verifiable response–although it’s possible I had one or two more ‘hits’ due to my efforts. (Maybe I should have posted a comment in the comment section of their website after all–even if there was no place in the comment section for graphics.) About a year ago, I even managed to track down the email address for Gary Bettman, the commissioner of the National Hockey League, and sent him an email with a link to my blog post in The Tomatoes Diary about hockey, but I didn’t get a word back. (If I were Gary Bettman, I’d keep the email address I actually used private. Maybe it wasn’t really his email address.) And to think that, at one time, I’d been worried about too many people seeing my name published in the Sports section of The Vancouver Sun as a three-time winner of their hockey pool! More than likely, as I’ve come to see, these emails were immediately deleted, not based on the merit of what I had to say but, rather, because the people to whom I sent them receive so many emails these days, including from bloggers like myself, that they can’t possibly follow up on all of them.

When I didn’t get many readers for my posts in The Tomatoes Diary, even after I’d tried the above-mentioned strategies to get more readers and the blog had been running long enough to have built up a reasonable readership, if that was ever going to happen, I convinced myself that there were some fundamental, design-related, problems with the blog that were keeping my readership so low. For one, the name of the blog was misleading. Particularly during the tomato-growing season, a fair number of gardeners ended up on my blog, looking for information about tomato-growing, but not many people who were interested in the actual subject-matter of my posts. (WordPress provides bloggers with the search terms that people use to get to their blogs. I could tell from the search terms that many of my readers were looking for information about growing actual tomatoes.) Also, the diversity of the issues that I addressed in that blog seemed to impede building up a loyal readership. (The hockey fans who might have been interested in my post about hockey weren’t necessarily interested in the latest show at the Vancouver Art Gallery, and so on.) I thought that, with my current blog, that I started last fall, I had rectified these basic ‘problems’ (or what I thought were the basic problems with my earlier blog), and that I would now get more readers. But that hasn’t happened. At least not yet.

A couple of months ago, I signed up for Twitter, mainly for the purpose of publicizing posts in my blog. So far, I’ve been using a relatively passive approach with Twitter. I have only about ten Twitter ‘followers’ so far and, as I’ve learned thus far in my experiment with Twitter, simply sending out a Tweet to these few individuals announcing that there is a new post on my blog doesn’t attract many new readers. The trick seems to be to send a Tweet to somebody who already has a large number of ‘followers’, and have them Re-Tweet one’s Tweet. That’s something I plan on trying in the near future–if and when I find someone suitable to help me out. Last week, I also signed up for Vine, the new system for attaching short, six-second, videos to Tweets. I’m interested in learning more about this new technology, but I’m not very optimistic that Twitter and Vine are really going to help to bring more readers to my blog. Although it hurts to have to say it, since I enjoy the process of creating blog posts, including the graphics and the writing, I’m starting to seriously doubt that blogging is a good way for me to get my ideas out into the world.

Last weekend, I was sitting in a coffee shop, having breakfast and taking advantage of the coffee shop’s free WiFi. While I was doing my iPad business for the morning (keeping up with all the app updates and so on sometimes really does feel like ‘business’) including, that morning, checking out the dismal stats for the past couple of posts I had written about education for this blog, I overheard a couple of men at a nearby table talking about education. They seemed to be roughly the same age, probably in their mid-sixties, and seemed to be longtime friends–or at least longtime acquaintances. One of the men, the one who was doing most of the talking, was a university professor of some sort (I was curious about his discipline, but I never managed to figure this out) who mentioned various out-of-town universities, including McGill, that he’d be visiting in the near future. The other, quieter, one eventually brought up having watched a documentary on CBC television a couple of nights before that I also had watched: “Generation Jobless”.  This excellent documentary is basically about the problems that recent Canadian university graduates are now having finding jobs, and suggested various solutions, including more apprenticeships for young Canadians. These were the same kinds of issues about which I’d written in my recent blog posts. The more talkative one, the professor, was dismissive of what his ‘friend’ had to say, and quickly went back to talking about his upcoming academic junkets.

Since I was sitting very close to these men, it wouldn’t have seemed odd if I had simply mentioned that I also had seen the documentary, and found it very interesting. But I did no such thing. Instead, I continued playing with my iPad, registering for and figuring out how to use Vine. By the time I was ready to shoot my first Vine video, their table was empty.


Dreaming Up a New Phone App, Part 1: The Ian Wallace Show at the Vancouver Art Gallery

A few nights ago, I dreamt up a new app, literally.  I woke from my slumbers with an idea, unusually rich in detail, for a new app for iPhones and other mobile devices that could help to revolutionize how we consume art and how we think about art–not necessarily in that order . . . and maybe not necessarily ‘revolutionize’.  But I think it’s a decent idea.

I’d been thinking quite a bit about art and its relationship with modern technology in the several days prior to my dream–and, if that dream is any indication, maybe during the nights, too, while I was asleep.  The week before, I attended the current main show at the Vancouver Art Gallery (or VAG), Ian Wallace: At the Intersection of Painting and Photography.  The night before my dream, because I was given an annual membership to the VAG as a Christmas present last year and because the proposed relocation and expansion of the Gallery is apparently still up in the air and I thought my input might help to quash this ill-conceived idea–or maybe, just maybe, some impassioned debate at the meeting would convince me I was wrong–I attended the Annual General Meeting of the VAG.

Ian Wallace, for those not familiar with his work, has been a central figure in the international photoconceptualism movement that developed in Vancouver, beginning forty or so years ago, sometimes referred to as the Vancouver School.  Before attending the current show, I was relatively familiar with Wallace’s theoretical work.  (About 20 years ago, back when I was doing my MA at Simon Fraser University and I did some temping to finance my studies, I had a temp job for a couple of weeks at the VAG transcribing tapes of lectures given at the Gallery by Ian Wallace and Jeff Wall, formerly a student of Wallace.)  I was less familiar with Wallace’s actual art: as far as I can recall, I’d seen only a few of Wallace’s pictures here and there.  (I recall having seen more of Jeff Wall’s work, including several of Wall’s large, staged, photographic images, and some of his smaller works mounted in light-boxes.)

Wallace’s work in the current show at the VAG is generally more playful than I had anticipated, and seemed somewhat at odds with the wordy, professorial, theorizing he used to talk about his work– at least on those tapes I transcribed.  (Wallace was a professor at UBC until he retired from that position a few years ago.)  A comment made by Wallace in an interview done relatively recently (I’d say within the past couple of years), a video of which was included as part of the show, suggested to me that Wallace himself recognized this disjuncture:  Wallace mentioned in the interview that, in the creation of his art works, he effectively just followed his instincts and, only afterwards, did he figure out how he would talk about them. (These aren’t his precise words.)

Regarding the techniques employed by Wallace, Wallace seemed to take considerable pleasure in basic experimentation that stretched the boundaries of what we think of usually think of as photography.  Incorporated in the show are images that combine photography and colour-field painting; images that incorporate superimpositions of photographs, or other materials superimposed on photographs (such as the pieces of plywood glued onto the large photographs from the forestry protests at Clayoquot Sound, on Vancouver Island, in the early ’90s); multiple photographs arranged in a narrative sequence to create one cinematic piece; images that employ what I call a “cut and paste” technique, involving taking visual material from one source and “pasting” it elsewhere (such as the many human figures in the monumental, around twenty-feet long, panorama of a verdant nature scene); and just the creation of basic panoramic views–which, when Wallace created his panoramas, involved taking multiple shots and assembling them to make one image.  To me, Wallace’s exploration of technique was, for the most part, quite a bit more interesting than the strictly photographic content of these images.

While these techniques may have been enough to garner Wallace wide acclaim thirty or forty years ago, in the early days of his experimentation, or even ten years ago when he created the Clayoquot series, or maybe even just a couple of years ago, by now these techniques are very easy to achieve, thanks to digital technology, and they’re commonplace.  Just for the illustrations I’ve created for the couple of posts in this new blog, using my iPad, that I’ve had for about a year, and my iPhone, that I’ve had for only a couple of months, I’ve incorporated some of these techniques–including superimposing images (for the header graphic and my picture of raccoons) and a panoramic shot of Crescent Beach, using a 99-cent app on my iPhone.  I wasn’t thinking of creating great art when I was creating these images, but only of creating some serviceable illustrations to spruce up my blog.  (There are many similar examples in my earlier blog, “The Tomatoes Diary.”)

(I had the idea when I was at Wallace’s show at the VAG of using the Panorama app on my iPhone to take a panoramic shot of Wallace’s 20-foot panoramic picture to use as an illustration in this post.  Because there was a guard standing near the picture, I thought I should ask her first about using my phone to take a picture, which I did, and she said it’s against Gallery policy–even though I have seen other Gallery visitors using their phones to take pictures of artworks. Maybe it’s a good thing she stopped me, because I could have got into trouble for copyright violation.)

A much more interesting show, in my view, would have been combining Wallace’s work with some current digital art, including iPad and iPhone art, that incorporated some of the same techniques.  (Maybe the title of the show could have been Ian Wallace and the Next Generation: At the Intersection of Analog and Digital.)  But then, shows at the VAG  probably are usually planned at least a couple of years in advance: even just two years ago, many of us (including myself) wouldn’t have realized that, by now, much of Wallace’s experimental photography work, including his panoramas, would seem passé.

(As I wrote in a blog post in “The Tomatoes Diary” about attending the show at the VAG last winter that incorporated some of Jeff Wall’s light boxes, in an age when we see so many visual images with back-lighting, including on computers, tablets, and phones, the same could be said about these works.)

Another comment made by Wallace in the interview to which I referred earlier struck me as quite sad.  Commenting on the acquisition by the VAG of some of his works for its permanent collection, Wallace remarked that “generations to come” (his words) would now be able to see his work. This was an older man speaking, and I couldn’t help but think that he was concerned about his own mortality, and hoped to achieve a kind of immortality through his art, and its ongoing display at the VAG.  But, frankly speaking, if the current generation of technologically savvy people is likely to now see his experiments with photography mainly as historical curiosities, I wonder if succeeding generations would be interested at all in this work.  Although many of his works were undoubtedly highly captivating when Wallace’s work was novel, and the effects he produced were difficult to achieve, at present, using basic digital tools that are widely available, fundamentally the same effects can be achieved by amateurs with no special training or talent, in a fraction of the time that it probably took Wallace to create his more ambitious works.

Wallace’s show was still fresh in my mind when I attended the Vancouver Art Gallery Annual General Meeting the following week, the evening before I had my dream about a new iPhone app.   I’ll be discussing that meeting, and my dream, in upcoming posts.  (Sorry I couldn’t get it all into one post.  That was my plan.  Now you’ll all have to wait, digital devices at the ready, to find out about my ‘revolutionary’ app!!)