Outskirts (my painting is honored to grace the cover) is one of the Globe and Mail's favourite poetry compilations of 2011! At its launch Outskirts was read by 12 of Sue's friends: poets, preachers, sailors, painters and a guy who once fasted a week with no food or water (his pee turned into a stinky solid). The packed house cried and laughed and shone into the night. The poems walked us home. I'm being cheezy but it's true.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Congratulations Sue Goyette.
Sue Goyette is a last lamp down the long throat of midnight. 
Outskirts (my painting is honored to grace the cover) is one of the Globe and Mail's favourite poetry compilations of 2011! At its launch Outskirts was read by 12 of Sue's friends: poets, preachers, sailors, painters and a guy who once fasted a week with no food or water (his pee turned into a stinky solid). The packed house cried and laughed and shone into the night. The poems walked us home. I'm being cheezy but it's true.
Outskirts (my painting is honored to grace the cover) is one of the Globe and Mail's favourite poetry compilations of 2011! At its launch Outskirts was read by 12 of Sue's friends: poets, preachers, sailors, painters and a guy who once fasted a week with no food or water (his pee turned into a stinky solid). The packed house cried and laughed and shone into the night. The poems walked us home. I'm being cheezy but it's true.
Friday, December 30, 2011
I GRADUATED FROM THE CANADIAN FILM CENTRE?!
Which apparently means free reign on name-dropping.
The Directors' Lab was as hard as everyone said it would be, but not really because I got to hang out with John Paizs all the time. He once compared the depth of light in one of my shots to an Arabica coffee bean. So. That part was good.
The campus at Bayview is far as hell from my house, yes. But it's also a sprawling estate backing out onto fields of lavender, sumac and a (wimpy) brook. Yes!
Plus there's a theatre where you can get a new nearly anything torn as you watch rough cuts of work you'd been naive enough to think were good.
And then you show the fine cut and everyone either likes it now or it's too late to bother speaking up anymore. Real world experience!
This year the CFC took on Paul Haggis as Director of Film Programs. And they hooked me up with Ingrid Veninger who I also immediately fell in love with because that's what gifted filmmakers do to people (at least the ones I met this year).
But mostly the class of 2011 were falling in love with each other.
(As far as I know) all the writers, producers, editors and mentors became buds. Bosom buds.
WE THREW OURSELVES A PROM. Catered. Afterparty. Babes.
An unnamed high-ranking CFC exec showed up with 11 bottles of champagne and got the girls to line up in a row and pop them off one at a time like a 21 gun salute.
And, of course, there was a prom queen. And, fucking awesome, it was me. With the best runners up in the whole world (especially you Kincaid).
And, of course, Chris Agoston won prom king. Which qualifies Agoston and Agoston alone to produce the short I'm shooting on 35mm in January! About a man. Getting his period!
2012! NO FEAR
WATCH WORK FROM MY YEAR.
username: cfcindustry
password: film2011
(and a picture of me that Mike Clattenburg rightfully described as wack)
(speaking of wack check out the processing on these photos. blech)
(these pictures, btw, were taken by Sarah Mitchel, Kristin Adams-Leyes' husband, my phone and Kirsten Bolton)
The Directors' Lab was as hard as everyone said it would be, but not really because I got to hang out with John Paizs all the time. He once compared the depth of light in one of my shots to an Arabica coffee bean. So. That part was good.
The campus at Bayview is far as hell from my house, yes. But it's also a sprawling estate backing out onto fields of lavender, sumac and a (wimpy) brook. Yes!
Plus there's a theatre where you can get a new nearly anything torn as you watch rough cuts of work you'd been naive enough to think were good.
And then you show the fine cut and everyone either likes it now or it's too late to bother speaking up anymore. Real world experience!
This year the CFC took on Paul Haggis as Director of Film Programs. And they hooked me up with Ingrid Veninger who I also immediately fell in love with because that's what gifted filmmakers do to people (at least the ones I met this year).But mostly the class of 2011 were falling in love with each other.
(As far as I know) all the writers, producers, editors and mentors became buds. Bosom buds.
WE THREW OURSELVES A PROM. Catered. Afterparty. Babes.
An unnamed high-ranking CFC exec showed up with 11 bottles of champagne and got the girls to line up in a row and pop them off one at a time like a 21 gun salute.
And, of course, there was a prom queen. And, fucking awesome, it was me. With the best runners up in the whole world (especially you Kincaid).
And, of course, Chris Agoston won prom king. Which qualifies Agoston and Agoston alone to produce the short I'm shooting on 35mm in January! About a man. Getting his period!2012! NO FEAR
WATCH WORK FROM MY YEAR.
username: cfcindustry
password: film2011
(and a picture of me that Mike Clattenburg rightfully described as wack)
(speaking of wack check out the processing on these photos. blech)
(these pictures, btw, were taken by Sarah Mitchel, Kristin Adams-Leyes' husband, my phone and Kirsten Bolton)
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Still Life with Paintwater.
Airin and I have a great idea for a drink.
You just mix all kinds of booze together in a mason jar. It's called a Paintwater. You serve it with a paintbrush stir stick.
You just mix all kinds of booze together in a mason jar. It's called a Paintwater. You serve it with a paintbrush stir stick.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
DEL TORO!!!
the CFC brought Guillermo del Toro in to talk to us!
These are my fellow directors and the man who brought you Pan's Labrynth. And BLADE II!
These are my fellow directors and the man who brought you Pan's Labrynth. And BLADE II!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Self Portrait as a Dog.
Sarah Harmer came over. TO MY HOUSE. She loved the painting above the couch?? 
I MADE THAT PAINTING.
Me and my 17 year old self withered with joy. Sarah Harmer was really nice and pretty and she gave us a canteloupe she fucking GREW. I'm putting on a long dress and plucking my eyebrows for when Mazzy Star gets here any minute.
Here is the painting. Please note the box of cornflakes and the anus.
Shown above artists Chris Foster and Bethany RB.
I MADE THAT PAINTING.Me and my 17 year old self withered with joy. Sarah Harmer was really nice and pretty and she gave us a canteloupe she fucking GREW. I'm putting on a long dress and plucking my eyebrows for when Mazzy Star gets here any minute.
Here is the painting. Please note the box of cornflakes and the anus.Shown above artists Chris Foster and Bethany RB.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Scraining.
Screening of Light is the Day in Halifax at the Windsor Theatre in the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia.
Thursday May 26 at 7pm.
$5.
Thursday May 26 at 7pm.
$5.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Poetry of Andre Breton
Freedom of Love
(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti)
My wife with the hair of a wood fire
With the thoughts of heat lightning
With the waist of an hourglass
With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger
My wife with the lips of a cockade and of a bunch of stars of the last magnitude
With the teeth of tracks of white mice on the white earth
With the tongue of rubbed amber and glass
My wife with the tongue of a stabbed host
With the tongue of a doll that opens and closes its eyes
With the tongue of an unbelievable stone
My wife with the eyelashes of strokes of a child's writing
With brows of the edge of a swallow's nest
My wife with the brow of slates of a hothouse roof
And of steam on the panes
My wife with shoulders of champagne
And of a fountain with dolphin-heads beneath the ice
My wife with wrists of matches
My wife with fingers of luck and ace of hearts
With fingers of mown hay
My wife with armpits of marten and of beechnut
And of Midsummer Night
Of privet and of an angelfish nest
With arms of seafoam and of riverlocks
And of a mingling of the wheat and the mill
My wife with legs of flares
With the movements of clockwork and despair
My wife with calves of eldertree pith
My wife with feet of initials
With feet of rings of keys and Java sparrows drinking
My wife with a neck of unpearled barley
My wife with a throat of the valley of gold
Of a tryst in the very bed of the torrent
With breasts of night
My wife with breasts of a marine molehill
My wife with breasts of the ruby's crucible
With breasts of the rose's spectre beneath the dew
My wife with the belly of an unfolding of the fan of days
With the belly of a gigantic claw
My wife with the back of a bird fleeing vertically
With a back of quicksilver
With a back of light
With a nape of rolled stone and wet chalk
And of the drop of a glass where one has just been drinking
My wife with hips of a skiff
With hips of a chandelier and of arrow-feathers
And of shafts of white peacock plumes
Of an insensible pendulum
My wife with buttocks of sandstone and asbestos
My wife with buttocks of swans' backs
My wife with buttocks of spring
With the sex of an iris
My wife with the sex of a mining-placer and of a platypus
My wife with a sex of seaweed and ancient sweetmeat
My wife with a sex of mirror
My wife with eyes full of tears
With eyes of purple panoply and of a magnetic needle
My wife with savanna eyes
My wife with eyes of water to he drunk in prison
My wife with eyes of wood always under the axe
My wife with eyes of water-level of level of air earth and fire
(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti)
My wife with the hair of a wood fire
With the thoughts of heat lightning
With the waist of an hourglass
With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger
My wife with the lips of a cockade and of a bunch of stars of the last magnitude
With the teeth of tracks of white mice on the white earth
With the tongue of rubbed amber and glass
My wife with the tongue of a stabbed host
With the tongue of a doll that opens and closes its eyes
With the tongue of an unbelievable stone
My wife with the eyelashes of strokes of a child's writing
With brows of the edge of a swallow's nest
My wife with the brow of slates of a hothouse roof
And of steam on the panes
My wife with shoulders of champagne
And of a fountain with dolphin-heads beneath the ice
My wife with wrists of matches
My wife with fingers of luck and ace of hearts
With fingers of mown hay
My wife with armpits of marten and of beechnut
And of Midsummer Night
Of privet and of an angelfish nest
With arms of seafoam and of riverlocks
And of a mingling of the wheat and the mill
My wife with legs of flares
With the movements of clockwork and despair
My wife with calves of eldertree pith
My wife with feet of initials
With feet of rings of keys and Java sparrows drinking
My wife with a neck of unpearled barley
My wife with a throat of the valley of gold
Of a tryst in the very bed of the torrent
With breasts of night
My wife with breasts of a marine molehill
My wife with breasts of the ruby's crucible
With breasts of the rose's spectre beneath the dew
My wife with the belly of an unfolding of the fan of days
With the belly of a gigantic claw
My wife with the back of a bird fleeing vertically
With a back of quicksilver
With a back of light
With a nape of rolled stone and wet chalk
And of the drop of a glass where one has just been drinking
My wife with hips of a skiff
With hips of a chandelier and of arrow-feathers
And of shafts of white peacock plumes
Of an insensible pendulum
My wife with buttocks of sandstone and asbestos
My wife with buttocks of swans' backs
My wife with buttocks of spring
With the sex of an iris
My wife with the sex of a mining-placer and of a platypus
My wife with a sex of seaweed and ancient sweetmeat
My wife with a sex of mirror
My wife with eyes full of tears
With eyes of purple panoply and of a magnetic needle
My wife with savanna eyes
My wife with eyes of water to he drunk in prison
My wife with eyes of wood always under the axe
My wife with eyes of water-level of level of air earth and fire
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Opening Credits
I made a movie and here are the opening credits to it. I put this on Youtube and then forgot to put it up here because I had made this Light is the Day website and posted it there. Anyway. How are you?
Klarka Weinwurm
April 8 of last year was warm enough to be in the LaHave river in a tank top. Thirty-seven day countdown begin.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Prime Life Time.
I AM BACK MOTHER TOUCHERS!!!!
FINALLY uploaded and editing the footage from Nocturne.
So much to do. Want to get into Nuit Blanche. Want art. Don't want job.
Paintings forever in the new years resolution of OIL and TURPS and cerebral meltitude.
IDEAS!!! PUNCTUATION!!!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Road Trip!
Going to Providence RI, Philly, Baltimore, NY to visit friends. Then to Montreal to screen then maybe down to Florida to escape the cold for a bit!! Then home in time for Christmas...
Going with this guy in this bus.
Powered veggie oil cleaned by this thing that he invented/built.
Was gonna shoot a documentary on the way. No longer care. Just want to write and relax.
Going with this guy in this bus. 
Powered veggie oil cleaned by this thing that he invented/built.Was gonna shoot a documentary on the way. No longer care. Just want to write and relax.
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