Concentration Troubles

Oh boy.  

I mean… Hi there.  How are ya?

I am much better than I was on the weekend.  I did a good job of hiding how sick I was eh?  *laughs*  It’s easy in text, not so much in person when I couldn’t uncurl my body.  I had an extreme reaction to a new medication, which led to a trip to the emergency room, which led to another new medication.

Okay, mostly new, it’s been 5 years since I’ve been on it.  Long enough that it took me 2 or 3 days to remember that I’d been given it before.

But I am getting better now.  Almost back to normal.

My issue is that I’m having trouble concentrating.  I know part of the problem is having my chat programs open.  I can’t close them though and the people who need me to have them open know that if I’m writing it’s better to leave me alone as much as possible.

Part of the problem is facebook.  That’s easy.  I close it, it’s gone.

And I still can’t concentrate.

“Woman, you’ve been sick, let it go.”  Sure Val and Tee (in stereo no less).  But it was a problem before.  I’ve been kind of write, write, wri- 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*sigh*

In the last 2 weeks, this is all I’ve written:

They woke up together the next morning and Anna faced the burnt shell of a bedroom with a sigh.  She leaned against Liam as he came up behind her and then bolted forward and whipped around.  “Liam!  Caspian’s things.  We never sent them back.”

Liam facepalmed.  “I’m sure he’ll understand our delay.  You did wonderful work on it all, he will be grateful.”  He kissed the tip of her nose.  “We’ll get it delivered today.  One of the Omegas can take it up.”

They set about packing for the trip to Glen Coe and it took some debate but Liam stayed behind this time, to supervise the clearing of their suite and attend to some other business.  Liam began to insist on who Anna would take with her.   Marcus, Doug, Jane, Brock and – “We’re not invading the place, Lee!  These four will be enough.”  Anna smiled up at him.

Liam growled softly and his brogue thickened with worry.  “Ye’ll be away from me.  I want a call every two hours to let me know yer safe and still bloody alive.  I want a call at bedtime and when ye wake.”  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her insensible.

“Aye, my Alpha.  We’ll make sure that she does.”

Breaking the kiss, Liam lifted his head and glared at Marcus.  “None of ye had best be in her bed when she wakes.”

Marcus knew better than to let the mirth in him escape and merely nodded.  “Of course not, my Alpha, but we’ll be close by.”

Liam broke the glare and looked down at Anna, his eyes all soft and loving.  “You be safe, remember your shields and let this lot protect you as is their duty.  You hear me?”

“Yes, my love.”  She kissed him again and refrained from reminding him that’s exactly what he said before she went shopping and was attacked by snakes in the botanical gardens.

Liam watched as they left with misgivings niggling in the back of his mind.  He sighed as they turned the corner out of the driveway then took himself back into the house to pay bills.

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

January 1st, 1793, almost a century post massacre, Glen Coe

The tiny blonde Russian Vampire, Liliya, rose from the double-wide coffin Alasdair had insisted upon in some insipid romantic gesture and checked the time.  She slapped Alasdair on the chest and yelled, “Get up you lazy ass!”  She would never admit to yelling, it was undignified and unladylike.

The Vampire in question jolted into consciousness and sat straight up. “What!  Who’s there?  Wh…Oh, Sweetling, what is the problem?”

Liliya’s fists curled at her side, hidden in the folds of the silk chemise she wore.  “It is New Year’s Eve and there is a party at the palace to attend.”  Liliya had recently managed to ingratiate them into Empress Catherine’s court in St Petersburg.  With the charm she’d taught – beaten into – Alasdair and her cold, calculating manner of being whatever she needed to be, it had been easy to get them into the Court.  “And I have told you not to call me that.  Ever.”

The Vampire’s now easy grin curved his lips as he climbed from the coffin that was deep in the large house they’d rented near the palace.  “Radost’ moya, ti takaya chudesnaya.”

“You stupid Scottish sheep!  You still cannot speak Russian without an accent.  Telling me that I am beautiful will not get you anything!”  She turned her back on him.  “We must get ready.  Where is that girl?”

“Sophie is aware of the time you wake, she is waiting upstairs.”  Alasdair came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.  “We’ll make it on time, milaya moya.  Don’t worry.”  He used a tried and true method to get her to calm down – he nibbled on her ear.

True to form, she softened.  “Yes, angel moy, if you say so.”  She turned in his arms and lifted her mouth for a kiss.  She allowed a passionate kiss and then pushed him away.  “Go get dressed.”  She headed up the stairs yelling for her maid.

Two hours later they were ensconced on in a comfy place near Catherine the Great sipping something from crystal glasses that looked like red wine.  Liliya was nodding with sympathy as Catherine explained the plight of the orphans that populated her castle.  Alasdair was eyeing the young ladies, the ones just hitting puberty, with lust in his eye.  One reminded him of his sister and that threw his mind back into memories of the first few weeks after the massacre. 

As the only surviving son of the massacre he’d been thrust into the role of Chief.  He’d pretended reluctance and mourning but had taken over his father’s position.  He’d spent the next twenty years helping them rebuild.  He had managed to find a way to put white streaks in his hair – it was some combination of lemon juice and something Liliya refused to disclose – but he had found it impossible to hide that his face wasn’t aging.

So they had faked his death on a hunting trip and left.  By that time the stories about by he refused to leave his house until the sunset, even to ride out to check the crops, were getting stronger and he was losing the respect of his people.  There were stories of children disappearing and others becoming sickly and dying, especially in homes Alasdair and Liliya had dined in.  The old died of inexplicable illness.

And yet, for two decades they managed to keep their secret.  Once every three months they had taken trips to other towns, visited other clans and cities.  To his clan, Alasdair had called it keeping political ties in good balance.  In private, Liliya called them hunting trips.

Since they left Glen Coe they had been traveling.  They had gone back once, thirty years ago, claiming to be long lost relatives.  They’d proven kinship to Alasdair’s father, son of a bastard son, and lived as guests of the Laird until the stories began again.

Now, as he stared at the girl with the dark hair and big green eyes he was suddenly homesick.  He wanted to see the big rolling hills again.  Liliya had promised him power and wealth and so far it wasn’t coming through.  He couldn’t rule his clan and he was stuck following her around the world. 

A scowl creased his face.  He quickly wiped it off and settled his features into a placid, politely bland expression with a hint of what looked like pain around his eyes – the only expression of his sudden fury.  He bowed low in Catherine’s direction and waited until she looked at him.  “Most beautiful Empress, something suddenly distresses my belly, if I may be excused before I embarrass you or myself…”

Catherine looked up and gave him a brittle smile.  “If you must.  Perhaps your wife should accompany you.”  Then she turned her back on them both, dismissing them.

I have to tell you, Liliya is furious.  And she’ll let him know.  I’ve been trying to get this chapter finished since… well this blog.  And since I know what’s going to happen now it should be an easy finish.  I know the next chapter too. 

I’ve been sick.  I know.

November is coming fast.  I have two months to get back into the habit of writing AND do a bunch of research and note taking.  Some plot outlining.  

So my question is this.  When you need to concentrate – and need to be on the computer (leaving the computer doesn’t count Val) – what do you do?  Maybe I should make it a habit to turn off my chat programs while I’m writing?  At least until 11 or so.  

People know how to reach me by email if they REALLY need me, right?  

That leaves me with less distractions but does that mean I’ll actually write?

Maybe I need a test run.

Hmmm….Or maybe I should start writing when I get up and not stop until I’ve hit my word count?  Nah, that doesn’t work, I have to stop to make breakfasts, lunches and get my daughter to school.  We’ll figure it out, somehow.  Suggestions are always welcome!

Also:  Kids are back in school on Tuesday!  Routine will be in place again.  That will help I’m sure.  So you get this song because of this one line: “Yo, ring the bell, school’s in, sucka”

 

 

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Construction Fun

As promised, some thing fun and totally cool.  Again, that might just be me but I do know that my 55 y/o boyfriend was pretty fascinated too.  

Across the street from our friend’s house they’re putting up a new house.  The process is fascinating.  Also sickening apparently, we were watching them pump the concrete into the forms and I suddenly got slapped with a migraine so hard I nearly fell over AND almost puked all over the neighbour’s lawn.  We believe it was the diesel fumes, the trucks were running constantly.  I did not take all the pics I’m going to show you.  Peter took a bunch of the ones of the trucks.  

These guys were the cement pumper truck and the cement mixer truck operators:

They thought I was cute, taking pictures of them and their work. To be honest, I hadn’t noticed them. 😀

I’ll be 39 in less than two weeks but apparently people still think ‘cute’ is a good word for me.  *shakes her head*

Construction is fascinating, whether it’s something as simple as a toaster or as complex as a building.  Admit it, if you’re walking downtown and you see work on a building going on, you crane your neck to see what you can see.  You point at a crane and say to the nearest person (hopefully someone you know!) and say “Cool!  I wonder what that guy does when he needs a break.”  (or to pee or how he stays cool or “that can’t be comfortable”)  If there’s a hole in the ground, you stop to look.  And dammit, you’ve always wanted to take apart that toaster just to see how it works.  (ok, that last might be the people I know. *laughs*)

So, we watched them get the hole in the ground and put up the forms:

These are the walls for the foundation. They had it sectioned into large (but short) basement area, porch and garage.

Then the pumper and mixer arrived and started pouring.  

That boom pipeline, at full extension is 200′ (61m) long. It can be as short as 56′ (17m).

There are no helping pump mechanisms on the boom.

The cement is poured into a hopper from the mixer.  From there it goes through a sieve to remove anything that might clog the pipeline and an auger keeps the cement turning and flowing. It’s shunted into a valve system that forces the cement before it up through the pipeline.  To clean it they take a firm rubber ball just slightly larger than the tube size and suck it backwards through the boom.   Cool eh?

At the end of the boom are guys guiding it. And more guys following behind smoothing it out.

It ends up looking like this:  

and this…

The next week (last week) I went back with Peter and they had already done this:

We figured out that the basement is only about 5′ high.  A stupid height. Too short to walk, too tall to crawl.   But at least it’s finished and not a dirt crawlspace like the one at the house I lived in when I was married.  *shudders*  

Today I’ll take pics of the way it looks now.  Peter says they’ve done an amazing amount of work for “only a few people working a few hours a day.”  I can’t wait to check it out.

I feel like crap today but it’s better than Thursday and Friday so I’ll take it.  I am getting out of the house later and to the beach so I’m happy.  

I hope you all get out to enjoy the day today.  Have a great weekend!

 

NOTE!  I totally panicked Peter because I misspelled the word ‘six’.  My birthday is in less than SIX weeks, not too.  So sorry, my Love.  Muah.

Motivations, Development and Blocks

ARGH!  I’ve been stuck AGAIN!   And why?  Because I realized that I don’t know why Alasdair the Second would betray his entire clan and set about having them destroyed.  Or why Liliya, a beautiful Russian Vampire, would turn a man such as he.  

So I need a little back story on the two of them I think.  I’ve been mulling this over for a week now and I think it comes down to two things:

Love.

Power.

Obvious right?

HA!

I think Liliya is the love.  She wants a companion for her (semi) eternal life.  For some reason she fell for the angry Highlander.  Maybe Allie reminds her of her father.  A brute of a man in the 14th Century who was angry most all the time.  Maybe.  Or maybe she sees something in Allie he doesn’t know is there yet.  Maybe her turning was a violent thing.  

Allie is in it for the power.  He hated being a second son (second born, numbers 3 & 4 were girls) and wanted to rule the clan for himself.  He’s promised power, wealth and eternal life with a beautiful woman.  What more could a man want?  Especially a man dissatisfied with being the second son who is being sent off to serve in the Church of Scotland.  He met her when he was sent to a General Assembly of the Church.  He served in his own Kirk at the will of his father.  He did so with a good pretense of being a good, godly man.  He was to be sent to theological university, leaving his wife behind.

(Writing on the fly here)

His marriage to Sarah Campbell was meant to ease relations between the two clans but he hated her.

And this is where I will veer off from history.  Sarah dies and Allie remarries but obviously, since he’s going to be a Vampire, he’ll not do that.  I’m trying to decide where the wealth and power comes in but maybe he’ll buy up land under assumed names throughout Glen Coe over the centuries and hold on to it.  Haven’t decided why yet.  Maybe he’ll rule the clan for a few years and leave before someone notices he’s not aging properly.  There’ll be stories of people disappearing, whispered terror over why he doesn’t come out before sunset.  And maybe snide tales about the beautiful Russian who lives in sin with him.  

*le sigh*  That means rewriting this chapter.   Again.

But the blockage is smaller.  

Now, if I could stop hurting quite so bad and stop getting toxed.  

Oh wait, that means getting rid of the children.  (My 16 y/o son has his 16 y/o best friend over, an Xbox and an HDTV.  My 12 y/o daughter is also here but being quiet) 

 

hmm….

Kayaking in Style

Greetings!  

Today is, as promised, a very special photoblog and it’s because of one person: Skip Izon.  He owns Shadow River Boatworks.

Skip is an amazing boat builder and Peter and I met him last Saturday when we were wandering around peering at the art galleries and boats on River Road in Grand Bend.  Which, honestly, is fast becoming my favourite place to be.  I LOVE the lake and the people we’ve spoken to.  

Today’s pictures are courtesy of the kayak Skip had on display outside one of the galleries.  It is a work of art and you’ll see why.  

One of his rowing shell designs, designed with Hudson Boat Works, went to three Summer Olympics starting in ’84 and brought home medals with the Canadian teams.  Awesome eh?  Mad River Canoe put one of his designs into production with the help of Gary and Joanie McGuffin, a husband and wife team of Canadian adventures.  (Phew that’s a lot of links!)

He builds custom boats and takes great care to make them the best available.  With lists of goals, constraints and specifications, he does everything by hand and in his head.  

This sounds like an advertisement doesn’t it?  It’s not, I’m just so impressed with this guy that I can’t help but tell you about him.  I’ve always wanted to learn to kayak and if I had the money I’d learn in one of Skip’s boats.  

This particular canoe is his 2011 Chipmunk design.  It is roughly 14’3″ long and 45-50 pounds.  It’s made of British Columbia red cedar and trimmed in white ash (I believe that’s what this one is) with touches of mahogany.  This video talks about the design, though the pictures here are not of the canoe he was displaying last weekend.  This one talks about Skip and his successes.

Let’s get on with it, shall we?   (It is obvious in some places that I don’t know kayaks very well, forgive me and keep going eh?  😉 )

Nice sharp line in the bow plows through the water with ease. And right away you can see the craftsmanship.

Skip builds the boats then coats them in fiberglass.  He follows that up with three or four layers of epoxy, sanding  carefully and thoroughly.  Then it’s finished with three or four layers of varnish.  The result is something that appeals to my collector-of-shinies side.  

Down the starboard side you can see the overhang that not only gives this boat its name but throws the water outwards and helps keep her bow up should a wave come at you from behind and try to force it down.  The boat surfs well.   

You can see part of the double paddle he built as well.  It too is a beautiful piece of work.  

Along the port side here you can get a feel for the length of the boat. And a better view of the wider gunwale he’s created for stability. Makes it less tippy.

 You can also see the length of the cockpit and the open storage space.  The coaming he’s built here helps keep the water out.  

Here’s the stern. He’s created the stern to lengthen the water line as you pick up speed. And the wing shaped skeg below helps force the bow up in the event of a wave from behind.

Skeg is a funny word and it took me some time to figure out what he was saying in the video and how to spell it.  *laughs*  Kudos to google for finally getting it right after a dozen tries.

Peter and Skip tipped the boat over (and I’m sorry for cutting you out Skip!) so I could photograph the top. It gives you a good view of the cockpit and open storage. And a good impression of the 14+ feet of the kayak.

 

Here’s the yoke he’s built. It bolts on so you can hoist it to your shoulders and carry it easily. The fact that the boat weighs less than 50 pounds is astonishing, especially for a wooden boat. Peter had a Kevlar canoe in the 80s that weighed 55 pounds and everyone thought that was super light then.

The interior of the bow and the foot braces. He’s made them fully adjustable so that if you’re 5’6″ or 6’5″ you can paddle this particular canoe.

Some four hundred hours went into the creation of this craft.  Peter and I fell in love with it and, if we could afford the price tag, we would buy one each.  

We did the math and divided the price tag by the number of hours Skip put into this kayak.  We figure that he’s making, after materials, $12 an hour, roughly.  So it’s not like Skip is doing all this work to make it rich.  He’s doing this for the love of it.  He is an incredibly talented man and Peter and I think this kayak, this particular Chipmunk, goes way beyond the label of “functional art.”  Peter says, “I think it’s sexy as all hell!”  And I agree.

I love canoeing, I haven’t been since I was a kid.  Peter loves being on the water probably more than I do and Skip’s boats are now a dream of ours.

I am taking walks every morning and taking pictures on these walks.  I am building a collection for a series of Saturday blogs I’ll call “Life in a Small Town.”  Next week though I have something fun that happened here last weekend.   

It may be that my definition of fun differs from yours but we’ll see. *laughs*

 

 

 

 

Life Lessons

Out on my walk (4 mornings this week, thank you very much, and that means I deserve Timmies) and I discovered three life lessons.

1.  You really can chase a rabbit down a rabbit hole.  Damn thing was too fast for me to get a picture of though.

2. Never take a wooded path early in the morning without long pants and sleeves.  Especially in a town that calls itself the “mosquito capital of Southwestern Ontario.”  (It isn’t but we really do have so little to brag about)

 

 

 

3.  And this is really most important:

Never assume that the path before you is the only option there is.

There are always options.

Some are difficult to climb.

 

Some are a steep climb that lead to the scary unknown.  (I know, it’s blurry, took me 43 tries to take pics of anything today though)

And some are a slippery slope full of bumps, bruises and scrapes that could lead someplace beautiful.

So you never know if the path you see before you is the only one there, if it’s the path you’re stuck on.

Heavy for a 7 am walk, eh?  

Oh and some places that look peaceful can really stink:

This place smelled like stale water, mold and deep fried things.

Just some thoughts to share with you today!

In HW3 I have decided that Alasdair the Betrayer is going to frighten a Glen Coe family into service – day time protectors, errand runners etc.  Have a chapter in my head that will show that.  And the kind of evil that he is becoming.  I’m not quite sure where it’s going to go that won’t be a Vampire cliche but we’ll see.  Maybe a run in with someone in Cain’s Kiss that will leave a mark in the books and piss Cain off.

Ooh, yes, good idea.

Oh and the old woman in the massacre chapter that just fades away and disappears (Liliya lets her go) dies and becomes a ghost, staying hidden from everyone, waiting for the chance to tell someone what happened.  Someone who can help.  Maybe she travels with Allie and Liliya?  hmmm  I like this.

Yes, tomorrow I will still be posting a photoblog.  I have something special to show you.

Have a great Friday folks!  

WeddingThis and Highland That

For some reason, Anna has decided that she wants to show Liam and the rest of the Pack that she respects their culture by having a troupe perform a Highland dance.

I thought “Okay, that won’t be a bitch to write or anything but I like the idea.”  

There are two dances I knew of off the bat: The Fling and the Sword Dance.  Everybody knows those dances, right?  (Okay, maybe it’s just some Canuck who’s been obsessed with Scotland since she was a kid that knows)  Apparently there are ways and there are ways to do those dances.  

There’s a traditional sword dance like this one: 

There’s another traditional one called the Army Sword Dance (I think) that looks like this:

There’s the Fling, which I like but I don’t think fits in with a Supernat wedding attended by all kinds of were-animals.  

So I’m thinking – after a lot of research – that maybe combining these guys:  (And I swear, if you’ve not clicked on a video yet, click on this one!)

with some one like these three:

Hmmmm…

A male who can dance traditional and wild at the same time.  Someone who can throw themselves into the music.  Who can turn his body into the music, show the emotions with his movements.  A fire dancer.  I wonder if there are any in Scotland?

Oh and aye, there are.  A quick Google search provided me with several options.  

I think they’re going to be a small Wolf Pack living in Northumberland National Park.  Mountain men style.  

It’s settled!  Even D thinks it’s a good idea (grudgingly mind you).  It’ll be a surprise.  And I do love that it’s fiction and I can do/get anything I want for the wedding.  hehehe  It’s going to be the Clanadonia, a huge bonfire and a fire dancer or six.

I think the Clanadonia are phenomenal.  The question truly is: Can I do them justice writing about them?  They are as much visual as they are audio.  

Chalk Art! (long post)

This year, once again, Imadon, Expressions in Chalk came to London, Ontario!  As soon as I heard about it I insisted we had to go.  Peter agreed and so we did.

I have been living in this area since ’94 and I have never heard of this particular event, let alone that my favourite city has a Performance Art Festival of this type and caliber.  Usually we do rock, jazz and food type festivals.  There are celebrations and protests (well, okay, one protest, can you guess which one?  Here’s a hint: It was last year.), and fundraisers.  I think there was a Busker festival once.  

There were small sections of work this time, thirty artists in total, which was apparently a new way for them to go about it:

NEW THIS YEAR: There are a total of 30 spots for artists . Artists chosen for the” Open Artist “category (max 20) will be paid $150 for their completed work along with the chance to win prizes. All submissions will be considered for the open category . Artists not selected for the open category but being eligible for youth and student age groups will then be considered for the 10 spaces available in these areas. 

This festival is run on donations, corporate sponsorship and the help of Koss,  (artist supplies, not stereo equipment), who sells them chalk at insanely low prices and allows them to sell boxes of chalk and keep the proceeds.  They use soft pastel chalk for two reasons – it’s easy to work with and the oil based chalk is, to quote Brad Harwood of Karma Productions  (an event coordinator/creator for Blues, Roots, Folk and Rock music) and head volunteer of this weekend’s festival, “Like crayons.”  He said it’d be near impossible to get the chalk off the streets.  Think about crayon on your walls, he said.  It just doesn’t come off.   At 6 p.m. yesterday evening, the last day of the event, the street cleaner came through and washed all the artists’ hard work into the gutter.  

Can you imagine working all day on pavement that was 50°C in 34ºC heat to create a massive work of art just to have it washed away?

Brad told me that they think street painting started in Italy in the 16th Century.  Artists who painted for the Church would then recreate those works on the street (in non-permanent materials) in hopes that rich people would walk by, see their work and commission them to do works inside their homes.  These street painters most often painted images of the Madonna in front of church steps on holy days.  Sometimes they wandered from town to town to do their street painting on holy days and during festivals.  They were most often called “Madonnari.”

I took a number of pictures but since I couldn’t get above them I couldn’t possibly do them justice.  And there was one I missed because it was designed as a 3D piece, to move as you looked at it but it was bisected by the shadow of a streetlamp.

I was in awe of the work done!  The artists are amazing.  The students in particular were fantastic, simply because of their ages.  There was one student-aged girl who blew me away.  She was accepted into the Open Artist category and I can see why.

Silly me forgot to ask the girl her name. But she’s just 18 and was one of the best I saw there.

There was also a very little girl, Natalie, 9 years old, who won Best Student, Honourable Mention.  She walked away stunned and thrilled, according to Brad.  And I could see why:

What could YOU draw at the age of nine?

The other student that blew me absolutely away was by Meaghan.  She just turned eighteen and was astonished by the awards she won.

She won Best In Show AND Artist’s Choice.

There is one that I thought is phenomenal in its dual complexity and simplicity.  He had to agree to work in the spot with the manhole cover.  Brad explained that lots are pulled out of a hat and given to the artists, there’s no preferential treatment here.  When this guy was called there was a discussion about whether he’d work there.  He agreed and it doesn’t detract from his work at all.

It’s wonderful, isn’t it?

There are a few I would like to show you from the students that I thought were also exceptional.

Like this one from Kalyn and Alexis.  It is very difficult to draw cars from a 3/4 perspective, especially when you’re an 18 and 19 year old student.  

They did good, no?  The judges certainly thought so, they won Best Student Runner Up.

Street painting has a long and respected history.  If you have the opportunity to see it for yourself you really should.

I’m not an Anime fan but Rachel certainly is and it shows.

She won Best Student.

Just a few more.  

I simply adored the next two pics.  The first one won an award but I forget what it is and I didn’t snap a photo of the plaque. 😦

I believe he’s a Capuchin Monkey. So well done, love the shades of grey. (I wonder if there’s 50? 😉 )

This one is called “Peek A Boo”. It didn’t win any awards but we thought it was adorable.

This next one is one of Peter’s favourite’s, simply because of the colours.  Apparently, he really isn’t a fan of the abstract but I thought it was well done.

Best Adult Runner Up. Lovely, isn’t it?

Two more.  Then we’re done.  🙂

I loved this one (although it took me 4 tries to get the shot *laughs*) because of the colour, the sweep of the lines and it felt totally alive.

Beautiful! She looks like a tropical Goddess.

And finally, our favourite piece of the show.  The colours were vibrant, the lines beautiful and it was so evocative we stood there looking at it for several long moments.

She looks like another Goddess. Or maybe a Goddess turned to the dark side. Maybe she’s a demon queen. Either way, we thought it was stunning.   The artist is a local tattooist named Will Graham.  

It rained Saturday morning after the artists had started their work.  Brad told me that the weather predictions have been so wrong so often lately they didn’t know whether to take it seriously or not.  But they were bang on and the artists and volunteers got the work covered.  They tented it with tarps and taped it all down.  Only a couple pieces had any water damage and it was easily fixed.  

The awards were made by Lazer Tech Etching and Cutting in London.  The owner of the shop gifted the artists with awards they created for them out of acrylic.  They took the Imadon logo and made it a base.  The upright was, as Brad described, “jagged and raw and very urban.”  Each of the artists were thrilled to participate and those who won were astonished and grateful.

Street art is an old and respected tradition.  If you have the opportunity to attend a festival where this is a part of it please, attend, support the artists and the companies who support them.  Imadon in particular is a wholly volunteer organization who uses almost exclusively artists local to your area.