This is not a photo; it’s a document, a testament. This is the year we started out as Canadian bad asses. January 1st, 2018. Broken and bruised hearts full of hope, the way life has a way of coming at you. We came out with our bottle of whiskey, my camera, our boots. I didn’t even know how cold it was because my phone froze. -13? -14?
This is the kind of photo I might have admired from a distance. You won’t catch me out there, doing that. But there we were. Wondering about the light in the sky and the hard life of swans and other birds on a day such as this.
Shot January 1, 2018 as the sun went down. Approximate weather at the time was recorded online as:
|Temperature: -13 °C or -14°C
||Wind: 26 km/h
||Barometer: 102.78 kPa
||Visability: 24 km
I wouldn’t swear to it because I got this off the internet, but I believe that this is Axalta Coating Systems which produces performance and transportation coatings. Their slogan is “Simply Brilliant”. They are an international company with principal locations in Philadelphia, Switzerland, Pennsalvania US, Mexico, Singapore, Shanghia and have approximately 13,000 employees. Here they are quietly in Ajax, too.
They have 47 training centres around the world to help their customers get the best out of their coatings and colour tools. Ajax is one of them.
Stuff you might not have known about Ajax.
I was heading toward Station Street with the intention of shooting some of the industrial buildings just south of there. It’s my favourite route to the soccer turfs. But this freight train was blocking the road. I’ve never seen a train on these tracks, but then, I’m not sure I’ve ever been down there that time of night.
It sat there for a long time. I decided to shoot it: from the sunroof, from the window, through the windshield. What else are you going to do while you wait?
Cars that had lined up behind me eventually backed up and turned around. This allowed me to get off the road and approach the train on foot. I waited until the train got moving again to get this. Patience can be a virtue.
We love our fences out here. When I was growing up, the neighbourhood I was in didn’t have very many fences. The properties had been built in the 50’s or 60’s so I can only assume the property sizes made the cost of fencing a little prohibitive. But there was also a kind of unspoken thing too. That somehow it wasn’t very neighbourly. Maybe that anyone who had to hide has something to hide, I don’t know.
But in this town we are all about the fences. I love my fence. I want to feel I am alone(ish) in my little yard without having to feel “on”. We need time to be unwatched to allow ourselves to be the truest versions of who we are.
Or maybe we just have something to hide.