175 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/17

175 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/17 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
My friend Stan Maciaczyk thought he had a nose just like Bob’s. It’s Stans birthday today or yesterday or the day before…wow he is seven zero. This image was taken on my very first roll of film back in the late 60’s or the very early 70’s at my friend Don Tuckers house. Don painted that poster on to his wall in ultra violet paints that glowed in the dark with a black light…..wow

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174 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/16

174 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/16 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Andre Bernier and his three kids when they were much younger, Maya, Miles and baby Morgan. Andre passed away suddenly over a year ago. He was an amazing man of wood, anything about wood with wood for wood. I’d like to say we always saw eye to eye, we didn’t but neither of us ever ignored each other and always treated each other with respect. Andre had great integrity and i am sure he is greatly missed by his family, siblings and others. I took this picture in the old school house which is where his family lived. I lived in the front part of the huge one room old school house for a number of years. This picture shows how proud he was to be the father of these three lovely children.
Circa early eighties i beleive

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173 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/15

173 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/15 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Rick Hutt of Cedartree RecordingStudio an acquaintance then friend for 50 years or so. Rick has produced so much music i bet even he doesn’t know how many songs and compositions he has worked on. This in the old Cedartree studio when Doug Biggs was his partner and i hung around there learning computer skills in the late 80’s.
Both Doug and Rick have produced so much for this fleeting world. The list is a few light years long…Rick is one of the most interesting guys you could be honoured to know. Many have talked for hours with him about everything from this to that. Hello there from here.

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172 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/14

172 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/14 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I need a cafe to serve me words. I need a narrow road that leads to it. I need her to sit there and talk sometimes. There is a war outside the door. I don’t fit in this world. The demand to be is too great for this mind. Leave me alone here where i can write for no reason. My mother is dead, my daughter is dead, my brother is dead, there are many that are dead. The cafe is quiet this afternoon and sun light comes dancing in across the tables. The man in the corner is slowly sipping his tea. He looks around half interested in life but no one bothers him. She is talking again about her dreams and some thoughts about a future she knows will never exist. I look up occasionally and wonder, about nothing much, have a sip of coffee then continue to write words as if i was walking. There is a world outside at war. I never really understood what it was all about. People discontented with their lives, bullies pushing others around. The sun glistens off a wine glass and it looks beautiful for a few moments then disappears. The odd customer comes in, buys something then leaves. The day is normal. There is only the sound of soft people against hard dishes and the occasional street car in the distance. I love life today. She gets up and leaves. I write a few more words.

Image Circa late 80’s, cafe in Kensington Market Toronto; actor & friend Lindsay Stewart
Portrait of an Outsider
Alexandra Zaichanka picked this shot from my archives thinking it fit the literature.
I was listening to a CBC audio doc about Albert Camus’s book, The Outsider (sometimes referred to as The Stranger) which i read years ago. I was inspired and sat down and wrote the last paragraph to a fictitious novel called ‘Inside the Outsider’. A few of my bohemian friends fit this description as well as myself it appears.

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171 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/13

171 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/13 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘Even the Eternal Source is a Reflection’. With that statement i mean that there is no absolute anything, thought made it all up because of our fear of being simply mortal naked apes that think. All the gods, all the absolute laws, all the determinations to use reason to convince the brain that we are superior beings, aliens, creations in the likeness of gods, all definitive conclusions must be on trial endlessly; logic is no more than a tool to create technologies to explore the universe. There is no higher purpose. The eternal source is merely a shade of an infinite refection endlessly moving changing shifting. There is no great mystery that can be known. This denial is the source of all misery in the mind of man.
We have been conditioned with a need to believe in some formula from christ to buddha, to scientific law, politics, to happiness, enlightenment, afterlives to endless comforts and securities to soothe the fear of being in the natural state of simple unknowing clear observations. This is too scary and meaningless for the ego. Man has not changed at all since the cave man in his discomfort with his neighbour and his self, only the weapons have evolved. Think about it, if you can accept the fear to be without any direction home, no ritual to save you, no ceremony to ultimately calm you, no ideal to hang onto forever. There is no certainty in the mind of man, nothing is and never was. We have been fooled by the fears of the saviours, the saints, the holy men, the logicians. The body is all that is immortal, the mind is the illusion that fades and dies.
I am a man walking thru all history with a duffel bag strung over my shoulder hanging off my back and in my mental strength with my one hand holding a knife i slit the bag releasing the tons of beliefs, ideals, concepts, dogma, certainties, absolutes, sciences, securities, identities, words, abstracts, gods and demons and when the mind freaks out i grab the hole in the bag and breathe deep, slowly, grab my composure, resting into the new lesser emptier identity and when i’m strong and brave again i slit the bag once more and do it all over……….keep walking towards the illusion of the eternal source. Freedom from the known is the pathless trail to be. There is no method, like a coyote in the desert one just lives naturally. This may be impossible, but no more impossible than living with the illusions of ones absurd absolute beliefs and certainly much more honourable to the process of creation…………i suppose.
I don’t care what anyone thinks, i have more faith in the eyes of a crow than i do of any man. They are to the point, direct, real and without the illusions of the self fulfilling imagination of man. I move on from there.
circa 2017 Chiang Mai Thailand

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170 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/12

170 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/12 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
She held me in her hand, swung me to and fro, tripping down this cobble stone road with liquid air bubbling off the melting brick yellow with a sky full with turmoil set against a stage of oceans painted in atmosphere and caressing a magnificent sense of wonder lying in the streets below. Me in the handbag of hopes waving thru the speckled air, transforming into some formless light bending around the air like love in a summer afternoon and her dress free falling as matter disengaging from itself and splattering texture against the wind; she walked free into the day surreal and lovely.
Circa 2001 Montreal, St Paul Street, Old Montreal

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Patrick Wey

169 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/11

169 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/11 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Rubin Hurricane Carter and Vernon Harper….Vern had a short lived boxing career, he loved boxing and one of his heroes was Rubin. Long before Rubin came into his life Vern admired him for his boxing and stamina surviving in a prison for almost twenty years for a crime he didn’t do….https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubin_Carter
Rubin attended a number of sweats down at Verns lodge before the film with Denzel Washington acting out his life as a boxer and prisoner….https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hurricane_(1999_film)
Vern is wearing an honorary Middle Weight Champion of the World belt given to Rubin just weeks before at a ceremony in Las Vegas honouring Rubin. This was one day down at the lodge before a sweat lodge ceremony with the two hurricanes proud. Verns boxing name was Hurricane Harper. The size of Rubins fist is almost the size of my head. Bob Dylan wrote in a song that helped to free Rubin………https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/bobdylan/hurricane.html
LAST THREE STANZAS
How can the life of such a man
Be in the palm of some fool’s hand?
To see him obviously framed
Couldn’t help but make me feel ashamed
To live in a land
Where justice is a game.

Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties
Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise
While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell
An innocent man in a living hell

Yes, that’s the story of the Hurricane
But it won’t be over ’til they clear his name
And give him back the time he’s done
Put in a prison cell but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
LIVE PERFORMANCE 1975
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfiK17FhP4g
Photo Circa early 90’s

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167 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/09

167 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/09 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Just another pretty picture, it’s all in the composition they say. The overall surroundings looked nothing like this. Some people say you have to have an eye for it; to pick out the gem in the ordinary.
circa 2015 or so, from some antique shop or nursery i believe.

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166 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/08

166 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/08 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

Portrait of a man on the street looking straight to me thru his lizard eyes.
By now he’ll be back with his maker and isn’t it strange how we conjure feelings, emotions, liquid conclusions about things that are now dead and invisible. He was well with his gesture from my camera, a simple love in his smile. Someone with a few stories easily melted into his mind, you can tell by your imagination of his heart, by the well worn wrinkles in his leathered face.
circa 70’s somewhere, some city in america.
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Patrick Wey

163 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/05

163 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/05 of-byhttp://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Suspenders and straw hats walking thru the concrete paradise
dreams of salvation lying in the furrows of their fields
baseball fun waiting in the sunday afternoon school house lot
generations of mennonite men and boys and dreams real and not….

See More

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Patrick Wey

162 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/04

162 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/04 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
You can’t stage shots like these. Grown ups acting out a taste of their worlds for a flash of a second. Who knows what’s goin on here? Mennonites having fun with my world at their own expense? Possibly they were talking before i got the shot about my camera infatuation and all just a few years before the onslaught of the digital age whereas practically everyone’s a photographer of sorts documenting everything that moves. Us normal white folks used to make fun of the chinese, asians and their obsession with taking a shot of themselves in front of just about every structure on the planet. Nowadays everybody’s doing it. I thought i was unique, perhaps i was.
They work hard, eat fulsome meals, live long lives, pray to jesus and treat the land as a gift from god. Many have a great sense of humour and many live their lives rather like a mule, hard and stubborn. This is just one point of view amidst many; simply for the sake of my image/content for the day. There are moments it feels like an unpaid unappreciated job that must get done. That is the pressure that one impresses upon oneself when one commits to a procedure for whatever reason. One that comes and goes. It is already gone; having fun again. Better quit while things are goin well.
Mennonite Men circa late 80’s but it could have been yesterday.

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161 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/03

161 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/03 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Death and life walk hand in hand down the road to where?
Past the farms of life for death on top of indian blood
Down the roads where ancestors lived and died
Some in vain some for good and where some still painfully hide
The Heidelberg Hotel serves limburger cheese and mennonite summer sausage on rye bread. I never got to know my dad much as he left my mother with eight children when i was 5 or so. When i was a little older and could do as i pleased i visited him more frequently. A few years before he died i picked him up one day and took him to the Heidelberg and ordered two of the infamous sandwiches. He couldn’t believe there was still a place on this fine earth that served such an ancestral feast…..that and a glass of draft beer. One of the few memories i have left swimming around in this brain some believe is mine. This land held memories long dead passed on beyond the remains weighed down by engraved stone into living eyes here, but this land holds remains of remains of remains as far back as the stars and beyond. We live a short time in the scale of our vast imaginations and time stretches far beyond all that i presume. The i i presume as me has come and will go with a whimper in this mysterious scheme of things.
My ancestors arrived in the neighbourhood in the 1840’s so history says and i came along in the late 40’s of the nineteen hundreds but the previous peoples of this land some claim go back 50,000 years or more. Numbers. None of this matters much to me. There was blood shed, deceit and love as far back as humans walked upon this incredibly beautiful planet. I’ve done my share to walk my walk as best as i can thru contradiction and fiction, to be as i am to be as i am not. These words will crumple as the rye stone returns to whence it came, even the limburger is doomed to become something inconceivable.
In honour of tombstones of limburger cheese and summer sausage and rye bread and beer.
Circa late 80’s

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Patrick Wey

157 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/30

157 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/30 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Floyd Buffalo Hand…..Floyd Hand is a full blood Oglala Lakota, descendant of Chief Mahpiya Luta. I got to know Floyd and hung out with him in South Dakota and also north of Thunder Bay at a camp i went to for ten years for 10 days twice a year doing sweats and learning about the red road. I also did sweats with him at Verns lodge in Guelph Ontario. He is one of the most controversial medicine men in north America for many reasons too involved to even mention here. He has a voice like thunder.

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155 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/28

155 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/28 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
This was a place i would go to when times end, the place where most people walk endlessly around, where the square is the world, where the buildings are made of cutout cardboard and the cafe feels on edge. In the afternoon the gray people walk their gray walk in a slow hurry to the other side; i felt that place within, that sacred place where saints pray and martyrs hide their sins. With every footstep a melody caressed the air in gratitude for the day, the gray day in all its grayness, a seemingly reasonable way, a gray way with all its subdued glory. The cafe expressed itself with a fine aroma. Espresso served in a grey cup. I was there participated like a prince. Herbs hanging on the wall.
In Poland waiting. She says she is near but things feel so distant. Time is slowing down almost still at moments. Her walk slid around a corner appeared disappeared came close then fell apart again. I loved her in the middle of the gray. Her dreams slithered in beside mine and stayed there awhile full of colour before an ocean caught between us ended things.
The square is empty without her, this time is absent now. Her polish is elsewhere. The gray haze of the day continues as if nothing has happened and nothing ever does here in the square gray.
circa 90’s…..a search for love is vain, it finds you or it doesn’t, it didn’t….Wroclaw Poland Square

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154 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/27

154 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/27 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Man on the streets of Dublin with two different eyes, one looking backwards and one attempting to weave into a future. Just like you and i travelling thru space with one foot on the ground and the other in our dreams. We spend our full live’s orchestrating realities out of thin and thick wind. We think we see what we see even when the weather has shifted. Some catch on quick, some never hear a sound and live in the noice of their minds till there is little or no mind left. There is always enough reason lying around to prove even the most absurd conclusions. People believe what they want to believe, what they are forced to believe, what makes the most sense under the conditions that roof their shelters. We mostly feel the same, we just walk down different roads, roads of love, manufactured and pure, simple and sweet, complicated, discreet.
We exchanged a few pleasant words and looked right into each others eyes. He was weathered and torn, there was no doubt about that, but he didn’t care and neither did i. There was almost a pint of guinness in that nose i thought, and he wore it well as we passed by.
Dublin Ireland in the early 90’s, but it’s been that way forever.

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Patrick Wey

150 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/23

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‘Beautiful Sadness’
You ever have one of those days when you feel like you just want to cry yourself off into oblivion? When it doesn’t matter who loves you, how many good times you’ve had, the promises of paradise awaiting within; you just want to be sad, sad to the end. From childhood to old age those days just happen. There is no cure for a melancholy mind. You don’t have to praise the state, embrace it or avoid it. It has its beauty, its horror, its love. It just is.
‘It is a sad and beautiful world’ as said in the 1986 black-and-white independent film written and directed by Jim Jarmusch and starring Tom Waits, John Lurie, and Roberto Benigni. A great classic.
That is where i heard that phrase for the first time and i see it in Sierra’s eyes so long ago so close to my heart. Not everyone has the fortune of feeling such a feeling to such a depth. Our society prefers to smother reality with ‘happy’ everywhere and avoid this wonderful sad aspect of being human. This avoidance can create worse unnatural conditions leading to dependence on psychiatric substances that in the long run cause much more harm than good. It’s everywhere.
This is an amazing book describing this problem in detail…https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anatomy_of_an_Epidemic
Anatomy of an Epidemic: Magic Bullets, Psychiatric Drugs, and the Astonishing Rise of Mental Illness in America is a book by Robert Whitaker published in 2010 by Crown.
In April 2011, Investigative Reporters and Editors (IRE) announced that the book had won its award as the best investigative journalism book of 2010 stating, “this book provides an in-depth exploration of medical studies and science and intersperses compelling anecdotal examples. In the end, Whitaker rejects the conventional wisdom of treatment of mental illness with drugs.”
Sierra was a year or so old here, early 90’s. Taken thru a screen window at a cottage in Algonquin Park, Ontario. She was very sad for some reason staring out at the trees and gray skies. She appeared content with this feeling. I knew this was a great expressive shot when i snapped it and now here it is 25 years later. She’s been gone three years now and i often have a very similar expression when i’m alone inside floating around in memories of her.

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149 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/22

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The Harp Angel of Ireland…Mairead Kelly
I first met Mairead while she was playing her harp in the streets of Cork Ireland in the mid 90’s. We became friends, i photographed her husbands band for promo shots, had dinner with the family and one day we wandered along the cliffs near Bally Cotton for an interesting backdrop for some timeless images. We have kept in touch via facebook. Would be lovely to revisit the cliffs today and i suppose i have, if only in my dreams. I spent many moments walking along these cliffs over looking the Emerald Sea towards Wales soothing my melancholy moods. Sometimes when days are tough, one just wants to die into eternity with such dreams.
Mairead encompassed the epitome of the Irish damsel of the cliffs of heather and grasses of the romantic turquoise emerald sea shoreline. Her harp her wings. Her beauty her beauty.

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Patrick Wey

148 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/21

148 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/21 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Another Water Colour by Mother Gaia
I am simply a documentary photographer collecting natural impressions produced solely by the water on this earth without any photographic manipulations. A technique that i have been doing now for about 35 years. They never cease to impress me with the billions of possibilities and incredible texture and colour. I have a large collection of trees if i ever get around to sharing them on my site. This is one taken in the last year on the Island of Vancouver here in BC.

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145 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/18

145 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/18 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day\
A mixture of lit past caught in a realm of space. Time sits quietly in the walls. The story is folding over itself, myths are emanating from the mood, a texture of love is diminishing in the corners, worlds are falling all around, everything is concealed. The statute takes the lead, the dance begins again.
Vern knows..
Circa 90’s….gallery of the infinite….( Vernon Harper )

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144 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/17

144 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/17 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I am there, P4W, Prison for Women, Kingston On. In the early 90’s there was only one federal prison in Canada which meant any women serving a federal crime had to serve her time in Kingston Ontario. This caused great grieve for many women whom came from poor families across the nation and because of economics, never had a visit for years, if ever. That is not to mention the severity for crimes committed by the poor from undesirable backgrounds with racist treatments for people of colour, blacks, browns, reds and women were mistreated the worst. The women of the land, native, anishinabi, native american women were at the end of the end. There are many unreasonable reasons why the native has been persecuted so insanely and especially the women. Far too complicated to explain here but one thing that can be noted is that people all suffer for different reasons and the truth of the nature is that we all are so incredibly similar regardless of race colour sex and age.
This shot was taken by one of the inmates with my camera. I was becoming a common figure as i was returning so often, as an elders helper (Vern Harper), that some were getting to know me and trust me beyond the shield of white and male. I was simply myself, it always has seemed insane to stumble first thru a veil of colour, as if that has any real significance before relating to another human being. Yes i know, it is much more complicated, but one must attempt to see clear thru skin.
Many american natives, possibly even more so then american blacks are very leery of the white man and easily understood but i don’t bother with that realm unless i am confronted with a situation that i need to address. Otherwise, i just live life and do the best i can to respect, love and care for all people and all things.
There is so much more that could be and should be stated here about what sits behind in this photo, the earth altar, the sweat prayer lodge, the prison, the world and the mystery everywhere. Besides all the torture existing surrounding there was a great sense of humour at times in the air between the minds of the sisterhood of mostly native but not all. Anyone with a true heart could find a way into the way of the red road, sometimes it would simply find you….if you were listening.

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143 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/16

143 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/16 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
“You think i don’t know cause the way i’m dressed, the desperate walls i attempt. Well that’s not the way it is. Most of you could never walk the streets i walk but we are not that different. You would do what you have to if you had to but you don’t and that’s the difference. I look for a few cents, i scrounge around for food. Yes, i have relatives that don’t know me, don’t want to know. i have dreams and as ridiculous as they might be, they are not much different than yours. Here, take this portrait and show it around the world, it doesn’t matter a damn to me.”
I saw this shot, felt it, stole it quick, no thought but the camera, the angle, the reflection, the exposure, click………click click……..a nod of gratitude with a blink of the eye in a deep reverence and i moved into new territory. Sometimes it is like that, the ambiance dictates the move, the road pulls and i go.
Circa 80’s

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142 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/15

142 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/15 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
“I see clear like you do when you’re alone full of emptiness and spread out like things are when they are separate from each other in a way that keeps them apart. When you feel like nothing it is different than being in nothingness. Life takes one on many trips thru the mind that can never be duplicated, retraced completely, but we know a few things we know as certain here in the consciousness of bird brain. Love is just a word in the mind but love is also what binds it all together, one might call it the tao. The way is the road in the tao, love is the substance that beholds mystery; the knowing where thought can not go is where it is at. I am just a crow you say; of course you would!”
Rosetta – circa early 90’s

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141 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/14

141 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/14 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
An example of one of my Virtual Graffiti pieces.Yes, i added John to the image and made it look a part of the existing doorway graffiti.
John says, “i don’t believe in”, just about anything, and “imagine no religion too, i wonder if you can”, he also said, “it’s a love that last forever, it’s a love that has no past”, he once said, “you’re all just fucking peasants as far as i can see, if you wanna be a hero, well just follow me’ and “all you need is love, love is all you need” john said a lot of things, he is remembered by so many in so many ways; “There ain’t no guru who can see through your eyes”, “But then again, you’re not to blame.
You’re just a human, a victim of the insane.”, “Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall. I’d love to turn you on”, “Come together right now over me”………..Thanks John, you helped to verify conclusions i also stumbled upon; and your melodies and your voice; wow.

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140 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/13

140 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/13 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘behind the walls lie the answers
on the surface the dream
you must pick one or the other
but neither are as they seem’
I have a large collection of graffiti which i have yet to post on my site. I also produced numerous virtual graffiti pieces which are part reality and part my composition created with the help of photoshop with my own images and others to enhance and create a new concept. There is a fascination with graffiti for many reasons. The history spans thousands of years and it has had many applications. Wikipedia elaborates – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Graffiti

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139 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/12

139 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/12 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
A train of thought, soft in the mind
All those things left behind
Things built with tender time
Things rolling on down the line
Some trains are lame, some sane, some from the heart and some from the brain.
The mellow moods one gets pondering over life and its changes when one lets ones thoughts just curve around the bend just like that train does when it rolls past and diminishes into the invisible horizon. Life is so many things, so many judgements, conclusions, so many trains of thought pulling into the station, letting people on, letting people off, befriending, making enemies, holding on, letting go; trains of thought of every hue come and go into the space of the station. Some change stations, some never leave, some move on continuously down the line. A train is a train is a train…some are full, some are empty, some crash, some are at peace but they all leave the station and fade into the long horizon of the great divide someday.
Circa 80’s, model – someone Lindsay Stewart knew, i believe or wanted to know, can’t recall correctly……my train pulled outa that station centuries ago.

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Patrick Wey

137 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/10

137 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/10 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Madness on the corner, uncertainty in the street
turmoil in the dream world
where umbrellas try to sleep.
and with all there is, joey’s on the move
classified time left behind in litter bins
truth splattered in the streets.
…..words hardly begun untitled sifted like a scene
can’t determine what’s going on
where you’re going
or where you’ve been…..
circa: america facing forward dragging along phantoms

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Patrick Wey

133 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/06

133 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/06 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘Now the wintertime is coming
The windows are filled with frost
I went to tell everybody
But I could not get it across’ – B Dylan
From, “It Takes A Lot To Laugh It Takes A Train To Cry”
HEAT WAVE – how many hot BTUs get hurled into the atmosphere with the invention of the conventional ‘air conditioner’…..truly makes this unpopular revelation make sense, “damned if you do, dead if you don’t”…….image of walking on wintertime earthscape.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM
Patrick Wey

131 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/04

131 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/04 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Happy Birthday Emerica…..Let’s Fake America Great – Again & Again!….You haven’t changed america, when will you grow up, when will you give the freedom you promised; america, is there anybody listening……

America
BY ALLEN GINSBERG….Berkeley, January 17, 1956

America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.
America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.
I can’t stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.
I don’t feel good don’t bother me.
I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I’m sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
I’m trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I’m doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven’t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid I’m not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I’m perfectly right.
I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven’t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.
I’m addressing you.
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
I’m obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It’s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.

Asia is rising against me.
I haven’t got a chinaman’s chance.
I’d better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that jetplanes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfive-thousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I’m a Catholic.

America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they’re all different sexes.
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor the Silk-strikers’ Ewig-Weibliche made me cry I once saw the Yiddish orator Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.
America you don’t really want to go to war.
America its them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia’s power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader’s Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.
That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.
America is this correct?
I’d better get right down to the job.
It’s true I don’t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I’m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

Berkeley, January 17, 1956

Allen, i could rewrite a few words here and there but what’s the point if they never got it then they sure as hell won’t get it now. america, emerica, hollyworld, war, here there everywhere…….there is a good side tooooo, get on, be on, stay on.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

130 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/03

130 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/03 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
David Finlay was a very close friend for a short period of time and as time does, it twists things this way and that. We shared many intense moments down at the Station concurring about the secret societies that govern so much around us behind the scenes right there in front of us. I hear about Dave occasionally off echoes of corridors swinging around from the people and mediums i encounter. As with life in the past, there are always things you wish you had said that you didn’t, expressions to show just how much those moments meant, feelings that transform into shadows, hide in the dust, but they’re there and with a simple flick of the wrist they can reappear but all too often there is nothing but an empty hall way and aging photographs hanging between the doorways to anew. I loved you man, bring on the roads restless and still and let the winds blow. circa late 80’s

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM
Patrick Wey

129 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/02

129 Image-Content of the Day 2018/07/02 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Connie and Wayne Schell back in the day when the 60’s movement blew towards the country and a simpler way of life. Of course simple never stayed simple but there were years of good love for a few. Back to the land, looking back seems so far so close so far. I see a few styrofoam cups with a few plants soon to be legal sitting lonely on the window sill. Geeze it took such a long time, half the hippies are dead now and many served time in prisons all over the planet that cost the world trillions and lots of suffering for mostly the poorer on this earth. Now big business has there claws in like money smelling tycoons do and all will be as it is. Connie sewing something and Wayne thinking about something and me writing something for nothing. By the way that is an ancient sewing-machine for the new comers. Hi Wayne, hi Connie.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

127 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/30

127 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/30 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Vernon Harper standing in front of a store entrance reflecting a sunny side of Queen St. W. near Spadina Ave. Toronto of a shop called Red or Dead. Vern was a great actor, seldom did i suggest much other than a location and he would just take a pose or two and i never wasted time. I seldom let people wait uncomfortably while i grabbed a few images. I usually had the composition worked out and moved into a few angles with a variety of lens lengths and occasionally added some colour shots from a second camera; but all quick, not to have the subject feel uncomfortable, awkward and throw on strange expressions. It’s got to be natural for these portraits to portray something that laymen’s words seldom express….possibly a poets words can shape a Picasso like angle across the terrain but it is still not a pure comparison for a great portrait, just different.
Vern was proud to be Red, but it goes much, much deeper than that. The reflection of the city was always behind Vern, his walk was focused forward into a red horizon.
circa 1990’s

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

126 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/29

126 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/29 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
When i was practising model photography Leslie Zawadzki‘s mother lent me herself as a subject. I thought she was a natural. I remember super imposing this onto a beautiful long exposure sea shore from Mexico; the old way in the darkroom. Another lost art. The digital revolution eliminated so many art forms in its wake. This is progress reguardless of our intent. It has allowed so many new forms of art an easier entrance into reality but has also opened the door to more mediocrity. As they say ‘beauty is in the eyes of the beholder’…. but they say a lot of things! That original image of a super imposition attempt is floating around here somewhere. If i ever find it i’ll post it.
Ted Zawadzki, hey, show this to Marianne….circa 1977 or so.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

125 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/28

125 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/28 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
This is a pretty picture hanging on our wall here in BC. It is printed onto pexi-glass so has a real sheen to it. The original is a puddle shot somewhat enhanced in photoshop.
Trees and blue skies of simple complexities
weaving the world round
and magic entangled within realities
as silence within sound

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM
Patrick Wey

122 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/25

122 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/25 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
This guy Bob Arnold, was infamous for causing a lot of mischief for a few of us that knew him. He went down with the Station Hotel a few years before it burned to the ground. This shot is in the American hotel, king and queen Kitchener. Bob died somewhere around 20 years ago so we won’t say much. A smart guy but devious like some truth is. Those were the days wasted getting wasted, a foolish thing for the most part but you can learn from the bad as well as you can from the good if you’re paying attention. All in all it is what it was. I always had my handy Minox with me to capture scenes of realities no matter what or where they were; it felt like some sort of mission and as honourable or useless that it was, here are some of the remains of one mans life thru the tunnels of time of the late 20th and early 21st century….of course now everyone plays the game of image-stealing with their handy phones but they didn’t exist in these times..lol, as is said in the new medium growing older in every image….that’s me off to the side….circa late 80s

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

121 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/24

121 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/24 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
On the edge of Arizona by the California border at a huge trailer park the size of a small town. Similar to a burning-man event but not quite as extreme. Loads of strange people from all the hippy, bohemian corners of america. I wandered about there, i believe with my friend Helmut, Mike Kleinwhom lives in Southern California but travelled here to spend a few days in my volkswagen westfalia camper van with me.
I was travellin in the south west simply for the fun of it, avoiding the canadian winter and visiting a few friends spread out in the southwest. This guy was just a friendly dude allowing me to capture his soul for a few decades….circa early 90’s

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

120 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/23

120 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/23 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
St Patrick reincarnated into a lonely pagan cow wandering in the heather and hay off the moorland cliffs of Bally Cotton along the coast of the emerald sea of Ireland. I lived just a few kilometres down the narrow stone fenced road for a while, once upon a time. I conducted a sweat lodge weekly where as many of the new pagans of Ireland gravitated and a few became regulars and friends. Ireland may be known for green Guinness and a lack of snakes by many, but not by me. Ireland is certainly a magical land and i lived a magical time for the short year remembered.
I was a lot closer than it looks to this infamous saint with my 20mm lens on one of my 35mm Nikon cameras, a very few feet at best…she was full of milk and lovely…..circa 90’s

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM
Patrick Wey

119 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/22

119 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/22 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Travelling back to my apartment in Mexico city from Fortin De La Flores, a small town a couple hundred kilometres east of the city where the family of my wife to be Rosa lived. At one point along the windy road i encountered traffic backed up for miles but eventually managed to get close to this sad event of a train wreck. This is one of the many photographs that emerged. The news was all over the front page of the Mexico City newspaper the next day. I believe two engines collided head on and numerous people had died. Living in the big city of 30 million was an extraordinary experience filled with adventure every minute. Dangerous and pleasant moments existed close by as with the extreme poor living beside the privileged rich, sometimes technologies and situations were held together with coat hangers, literally. Sometimes it would do the job, sometimes it didn’t. Not to imply this was the case here.
If i would have submitted this image they would have used it; their photograph was well after the smoke had lifted, silent and still. Another opportunity missed in my estranged career. Circa 1976 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fort%C3%ADn_de_las_Flores

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Patrick Wey

118 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/21

118 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/21 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The window sees thru the wall….Eyes meet,
Down by the edge of a down town and a second millennium, in his flannel trousers and a head full of pain he headed in the wrong direction. His name was hard to find and his looks were likewise. The wet from the sweat drenched his heart but it still wasn’t enough to keep the demons away; times took him were he was told not to enter, those crazy places that one has already left.
In another part of a town and the world, she lifted her head to a soft wind, gentle hair black against a night and her shoulders, she let go a gaze that pierced his heart.
The night brushes against the brick, footsteps lay across the valley’s like lead. In a miracle someone catches a glimpse in a red road of dust upon his heals, and he turns up in the ceremony, and someone says, ” hey cowboy, is that red around your throat”, and stretches off into the distance backwards.
She sees the brick laced in night and yellow faces crowded in sacred places, quiet hiding across terrains of mad beliefs and terrible sadness; the silence enters her web like the brick.
His voice is gentle as it reaches a window on the silver side of town, ” that’s the way to the other side”, down towns blocked with heavens from a black book on the edge of dawn.
When he awakes she’s dreamin he’s leavin, comin soon, and carries water from a secret well in flesh of silk and satin and draws him to her breast.
The day spreads itself out like time does when it’s twisted around a bend. From the corners of hallucinations to transparent-dust-forming-dreams, sacred air from the other side, the neons dangle off the brick.
On the trail his mouth is on fire, “Hey cowboy, you comin out here”, the tracks are torn of grime and greed, the shadow of the nite, she whispers in some ancient lore,”(rush of wind a half an earth apart)”.
On the street to ecstasy under construction, signs rustling in the wind, crows cawing over splattered glass, the pavement livin the life in the underground, the kid shufflin thru a long turn out.
In the backwoods by the turn of a century some magic tree is walking towards them, ” you will meet again, this earth is your saviour”, the wind clutches clouds, hurls rain, time and them far apart. Destiny plays fate to the crow, black hair in sea-wind blowing thru space where time is dead, truth laid out like the brick spread out against the alley.
The scent of her golden skin, from the glow of a million moons, whispers in the silence of the earth beneath his feet. Patience falls soft in a gentle rain, two crows sit huddled in a tree blowing across a horizon in a dream.
The day cracks open and the trail reaches out towards the other side. In the room there is new furniture from another piece of history. The window sees thru the wall. The love once so soft hard against the brick dangles medicine from its neck. In the end sage brush smiles to the wind, the sea is wild inside calm upon the earth and two strangers touch.
There is another day waiting in the streets, from Shanghai, New York is sinking and the drum is rolling across the plains. He speaks into the machine, her keypad stretches across the wire but the link is dead.
In an afternoon across the street by the edge of the park, sun glistening off the air, their eyes meet between light years and a million worlds.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

117 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/20

117 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/20 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I spent a month in Puerto Vallarta area in late November and early December of 2017.
I collected a few images mostly puddle shots and wrote pages of text about my existence here on this earth. Images and text to be found here…. http://patrickwey.com/…/in-mexico-gathering-excerpts-gone-b…
Excerpts of Excerpts:
– Everybody’s life is a story but few ever get told. Even when they are told they can never really hit the depth of the experiences that had taken place. I don’t believe in so called non-fiction, i can hardly take anyone serious when i am face to face, anymore than i take myself very serious. Everybody’s life is partly truth and partly fiction, and i get it, lets not quibble about semantics.
– Here, later in the night in my mexican hotel room off in an old neighbourhood and things are clear…….
– The morning is here. The sleep was peaceful and i feel rested and ready for another day upon this earth. I meditate as i walk, as i sit, as i eat, as i observe what is before me. I have no method other than to eliminate any method that may be found. Everything does exactly what everything needs to do.
– – Yes, so you find numerous contradictions here, well, you’re right, there is no thought that can exist without ultimately slipping into contradiction and oblivion. That is why people fear death, fear psychedelics, fear silence, fear any process that disintegrates their belief system, their personality, character, but certainly when death comes a knocking it will surely do exactly that. You can get prepared or not, it doesn’t matter. Enjoy life the best you can, help others when they need a hand, be gentle and let the mystery move you and to be your only faith.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

116 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/19

116 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/19 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I look out everyday at the same people from my small market space here on spadina. I have no choice. I miss my home, my village, my people, my dreams. They said it would be better here. I only remember the feelings of being where i belonged; i don’t feel that here. I walk my chinese down these streets, work all day and sleep restless nights. I do my best to pray my way and to help where i can but my eyes are drained, my love is routine, my praise is weak; the world is gray. I see my children’s children look out onto these same streets and see something, something not quite right. They feel it in their soul, their hearts will break; my love must be strong, carry on, do what i can.
They said it would be better here; i suppose it is….circa – 80’s

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

115 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/18

 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Sierra’s cousin James Bernier, the son of Lovely Rita….I knew him when he was young, a real boy character, mischievous but respectful; often wondered how this world wrapped itself around him…..caught that shot just before he was about to do something exciting, but exactly what that was, i don’t know. circa late 80’s

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

114 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/17

114 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/17 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Today this little girl, Sierra, would be wishing me a Good Fathers Day, but she won’t be. So, though yesterday on my birthday was mostly happy, today may not live up there all day. Life is living with reality as best as one can, to accept what you can and be grateful for life itself and keep moving on. Today is Vernon Harper‘s birthday he was a rat gemini as myself and he will be missed especially today, being it is Fathers day and since he passed on so recently. Lots of thoughts travel his way today, he was a father of many of his blood and many extended sons and daughters also. So for all those missing a father or a child today, many moments of no words and silence of the heart, where forgiveness and gratefulness reign…..image circa 92 ish

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

113 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/16

113 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/16 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Today marks 70 years of childhood…yup, this naked ape with a bunch of names entered into the 7th decade of life on this planet – as a guest. He never wanted to grow up, hell i don’t even know what that really means….so i didn’t, kept my ‘forever young’ well protected from all the boxes and boxes of repetition, deceit, absolute moronic nature of sheep, responsibilities to institutions and all that fuckedupshit……hey i’m just kidding, i’ve become a very reliable mature adult for the most part; i just don’t take it all that serious most of the time, all that religious political scientific trap is all irrelevant down here ‘where nothing is real, nothing to get hung about’, happy birthday me….and though i don’t enter the news wall of the facelook any longer for a while yet, i still throw in an image/content of the day…..just because…..and thanks to all my friends wherever you are whatever you do, we are all really quite similar when the facades fade, kids at heart in aging bodies. If it weren’t for all the wars in the brain because you believe in that and i believe in this, we’d all be just wild animals living free in reality inside the gates of the garden where strawberries stay ripe in fields forever. Happy Birthday everyone…… happy birthday apeman pat!…….Sasha and i are going to have a lovely day with a few friends in the west coast wind. Everybody’s welcome….really, i never thought i’d ever make it this far down the line, it’s all so sureal, mellow-like….thanks again life and dear friends……a selfie with my friend Sukatu

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

112 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/15

112 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/15 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘The Pink Car Door’, isn’t it strange how so many titles to art work simply state the obvious, how about ‘Mud on Pink’, or ‘Love Wanted’, or ‘The Oval Way’, or ‘Man and Mud Collaboration’ or the easy way out, ‘Untitled’.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

111 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/14

111 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/14 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
This shot is of my brother Allyn, my favourite brother alive. Two have deceased, my oldest brother David and my brother Bill. This was Bills birthday today. Allyn is back east somewhere doing his thing and i’m out west doing mine. Life is so damn short. We had so many fantastic times together. This was the northwest table in the Mens Room of the Station Hotel, the one by the exit with a view of the train station and its desperate tracks. Yea, they used to have a Mens Room that women could enter but in the Ladies Room, men had to be accompanied by a woman. That was mostly all gone by the time our generation came into the scene but the signs still existed. Allyn and i were extremely close as brothers, but as time does, it shoved space between. As most, and as memory can, it ‘takes you down, where nothing is real and nothing to get hung about, Strawberry Fields forever’, and may this take you down gently. Many of my friends sat at this table, we were young and we resolved many of the issues of the world; we smoked dope in the washroom, even a few of us did a few lines i remember. All in all, it was what it was, a room in the structure of life that had to burn to the earth, literally and figuratively. Now, there is a parking lot and a mall where some chose to live as a replacement. Many roads have entered and disappeared, the train station was always on my mind in my view and many of my brothers are now gathered here at the station, waiting for the silent steel wheel to roll once again. I love this shot of my brother, it could be anyone, you or i, the inside and the outside so vague, even blurry but the everlasting wall is sharp and distinguished but boring and dark and ‘a wall’……My brother Al, more than most by far, supported my creativity in any area i chose, no matter how great or inferior it was, here’s to you brother Al, and all brothers……circa78 and timeless.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

110 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/13

110 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/13 of-byhttp://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The old and the new in a harmonious conflict with horse and horse-power at odds in the streets, with one way of the many-horses heading who knows where and the other wanting to ponder for a longer while in a more simplistic proven method of field and barn. This mennonite woman in her cool sun glasses shops the downtown of KW on a lazy Tuesday Afternoon with her Moody Blu

See More

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

108 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/11

108 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/11 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘Kachina Doll Blessing the Desert Earth………..this Spirit Symbol was specifically made for Sierra a year or so after she was born, by a medicine man on the hopi reserve in Arizona. I had never heard of such an object when i named Sierra, ‘Kachina’. Sometimes things happen with continuity way beyond our imagination, maybe always….. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hopi_Kachina_figure ….i took this image on the way home from the Arizona desert lands surrounding the Second Mesa of the Hopi Nation early 90’s

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM
Patrick Wey

107 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/10

107 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/10 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
SIerra Kachina – In honour of her life that ended three years ago today at 24 years of age. This shot was Sierra so happy and proud of her new baby sister Baylee Nguyen only a few minutes old, that seemed to take forever to come out of her mothers womb, she thought. There are too many thoughts that emerge to consider writing much at all today, so i say no more and that says it all…. Sierra was five in this image.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM
Patrick Wey

106 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/09

106 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/09 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
SIerra Kachina has been gone three years now. There is nothing i can say here about that. I miss her. I had loved her more than life itself. She was a true unique spirit, a revolutionary here.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

Words about Sierra:

Writing words you will never see
editing pictures you never saw
killing dreams we never met
living around lies tangled up around us yet
crying alone into fading memories
a busy numbness surrounding often
and you and me ending again
this time forever ending within
i see this thru vague scenes
that crumble into one another
drenched in pain and love
as they move along the trail
with a crippled weakness into the day
and words to you i will never say
i write to no one but the stream
of endless dreams across the purple sky
the universe that comes in clear
the universe that closes when the dream ends

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Without You Sierra
sometimes it tears tenderly to my heart
sadness where it has never gone, goes.
a year passing without you
your little heart and mine
twisted into each other like time
i gaze across the highway to the grassy fields beyond
the silent wind bends around invisible canyons
straight into my mind
your essence emanates soft and deep into me
with dry tears i caress the moments slipping by
there will never be anyone so true to me as you
our bond was woven by the mystery of love
no one can alter what was so clear
that alone gives a graceful comfort
this pure sadness against my path
your delicate sense breathes life into death
i need no promises, commitments, no proof
we knew we were special
a love so rare so true so threatening
we lived thru this with the most fragile of hearts
now thru this fading silence
with nothing but the humble caring of the wind
i love you with your tears upon me
nothing can harm you now
you are safe from this world
and all its misery
i am seeing this with my hidden pain
as i walk on without you….

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

There are few words left to say
i know in my heart there are no ears of yours to hear
what can never be said to you ever
you’re gone and love feels so empty without you
i have learned that this world is even more cruel than imagined
fake everything lures everybody into so much of little worth
they have little room for real tears
no time for true sadness
only shallow laughter and smiles against the rain
ultimately they are afraid to face their own mortality
they need to blanked it with tender wit, swift gestures
hidden desires leading secure beliefs to selfish love
They are the lost children of the american dream
stretching across every continent
desperately hanging onto every note from the popular song
caressing comfort with their broken bodies
falling alone down into cancerous heavens
to worlds they could never be
They are my brothers, my sisters, my friends and my foe
they are the celebrities cared for more than neighbours
more than the blood across the land
more than the mother in the land
the father of the other hand
the truth scattered into words
blasted against the walls of your brains
and in this context everyone is to blame
the dilemma of the human insane

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In this beauty one must weep. The overwhelming understanding of pain from loss is so sad it is beyond comprehension. It goes so deep one can only cry tears from memories dying and the letting go of its truth, its reality. Admitting that it is hard to live life one must let go of the dearest feelings; all the tangled ones and all the gentle and soft ones. It is hard to see this in the air, all the clusters of memories contained in one soul and spread out across the minds of the people. The close ones the distant ones the collective ones, all of different quantities and depth, moving in and around as a dream does.
When one dies and the entanglement of thought-energy floats thru the atmosphere as a spirit would, the visions of these holographic scenes may be more real than a normal reality appears. This is pure vision with no interpretation from a past, a future, just the endless flow from one scene to the next. The magnitude of this impression is life altering.
You can feel the waves of peoples thoughts and dreams, with their spirits creating intricate delicate holographs of varied scenes floating thru the forests along creeks veins like an epiphany from ‘nature’, the creator of all known. I cried, knowing i had to let go to live. It will come in small doses, not as to destroy me, little by little till i carry on alone. This may never happen. This is the dream, the dream will change, the observer will be altered, vast death is the nature of all this. It will come regardless of what one does. It is this movement in life that sees this death and the illusions of dreams as necessary branches to this tree, as life is a dilemma.
————————————————————————————————————————————————————
the days go by and you fade beyond my will
every step another distance without you
memories slip in and out of the air surrounding here
some are peaceful and serene and others are dark and deep
when the pains you felt, lived through and died with
punctures my heart like a knife with tears
the road curves up ahead and your presence is near
there in the pale afternoon where your love lies
and the sunset full of your colour
there are the photographs and your remnants scattered about
there are memories hanging on the walls without you
you meant everything to a few left behind
and they struggle down the path alone
and there is no answer fit
to why you left the way you did
no conclusions can soothe this heart
it is what it is and love and you are one
there is nothing along the cove
to replace this shore on eternity
memories will continue their journey across the universe
and fade into the void beyond
but for now there is nothing left
just you caressing this heart
and a spirit feeling this

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

my heart aches for you
your simple smile your delicate wit
your ways and your life living
i miss you terribly so
i am so sorry i did not do enough to save you
to help you in any way i could
to share everything i have with you
i never expected it would end so quick
what a fool i was in moments i could have done more
could have poured my heart unto you
given my every touch of love
i am so sorry, forgive me
nothing i can do now for you
i am lost at moments crushed with pain
devastated to my very being
like a boat without water
and a soul with out life
i am alone lost and numb

i see the road the way and the things to be done
i walk with one foot in the desert and the other on unknown land
i am a man stranded with no home no future no dream
i remember your breath searching for air and your heart for warmth
i walk i walk i keep walking
there are moments joy slips by and noise ceases
there are those that say too much and those that can’t listen
the ones with ideals overloaded and the ones crawling down the avenue
i miss your presence, the weight in your eyes
the truth your lips concealed
i miss you, your simple love
i miss you

i can never be free from you
you are a part of me
some of you is inside of me
and i shall die like that
you and me are a memory
that will be as long as forever is

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

little angel up-against the tomb
on a road red as heart
spirit fallen from the sky
with no clear answer why
and with tombstone tears
a wounded kachina cries
“for simple love i live and die”.

“i’ was much, much too young to die”
————————————————————————————————————

I wish i could say what can’t be said
and do what can’t be done
i wish i could do magic
and bring back what’s gone

i am loosing the words to say much or anything at all
now is not the time to

we all want to know what can’t be known
it is the nature of thought
we all want things we can’t get
we all want teachings that can’t be taught

there is no easy way
to heal a wounded heart

you can fly high and dig low
you can tell yourself sweet little lies
you can tear yourself apart
with things you wish you’d done
but there is only one thing that can really help
hidden deep within the heart

—————————————————————————————————

105 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/08

105 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/08 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘The Ghost of Mennonite Past’ – There is a graveyard i had found in Mennonite country north of Elmira On area that had a few acres of pre-engine farm equipment. At the time the owner, My Bauman, i believe, told me he serviced people as far a Belize whom still farmed the old ways. I would go there occasionally and photograph the dead and dying remains of an era slipping away. I asked him one time if i could photograph him but he was shy and i said don’t worry i’ll get you as you work, no posing. I got this ghost like image with my camera on a tripod and a slower shutter speed. A few months later i went back and by luck he was there and i presented him with the photo. He appreciated it but it was no bid deal for him. There are many other images in my archives. That’s the story for today. circa 80’s

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

103 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/06

103 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/06 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Annie Toman‘s niece…Ali Sage….we did a photo shoot in a graveyard for old cars that are now even much older than then, and she is too, somewhat i presume……The few acres of old cars were sold to some wrecker in the states i heard; long gone now……in Ayr On. late 70’s i think.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM
Patrick Wey

#100 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/03

#100 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/03 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I picked this shot to celebrate my ‘100th image/content of the day’ because these are the real un-named heroes of my collection. The ones in the streets with stories few have ears to hear. This guy hung around Kensington Market Toronto. He felt honoured to be a subject of my interest, at any rate, friendly and conducive to my swift professionalism. I don’t take long to grab a shot. I like to capture the essence as best as i can. He was crouched down so i did to and without hesitation flicked the shutter three or four times. I was prepared, i knew the shutter speed, Fstop for the conditions surrounding; no time to adjust gods main light, or rearrange the subject. You have to get what you can get with tools and material available.
I saw him numerous times and though i don’t know his real story; i felt he was an intelligent man that fell into some bad luck a little too deep to comfortably emerge from. We said a few words, i gave him some change and i parted. He didn’t want my pity and i didn’t give him any.

#99 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/02

#99 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/02 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
John Miniham is a famous photographer from Cork Area in Ireland. I had the pleasure to hang out with him in his home a few times and also went to a writers get together at Oscar Wiles home in Dublin and photographed numerous writers of the time as his guest. He respected my photographic ambitions and told me numerous stories about his ventures with Lady Diana, his close friend Van Morison and his encounters with Samual Beckett, William Burroughs, and more. He was extremely generous with his contacts and hospitality with him and his wife was simply ‘Irish’. A short Doc below with his Wikipedia link…….circa early 90’s
https://yt.ax/…/photographer-john-minihan-in-cork-for-the-…/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Minihan_(photographer)

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#97 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/31

#97 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/31 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Mel Brown husband of Angel Brown…..and certainly a Blues legend from KW to Texas….Leonardo Valvassori played base in Mel Brown and The Homewreckers… wikipedia article states the numerous people he played with….WOW…. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mel_Brown_(guitarist)…me and Mel went for a stroll one afternoon to take a few shots for some tabloid from town that i can’t remember the name of. I think it was on the front page. Everything turns into memory then fades away.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#96 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/30

#96 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/30 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Pride Parade Toronto Circa 1990…A number of my images were published in a Scholarly Book Entitled ‘Queer’ from this event. I had the book but left it in Ontario with tons of other stuff when i downsized and moved out west. Some friends consider me weird but that is not the same as being queer. In the sixties when someone was called straight it meant ‘not hip’ (didn’t smoke weed), that changed with the times also. Now i tend to think everyone is somewhat peculiar, possibly queer, mostly straight and definitely weird.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM
Patrick Wey

#95 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/29

#95 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/29 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Carl was a gentleman, always respectful and gentle in his nature. He drank at the Station Hotel, the American and the Grand Union; the East End was too rough and the Walper too gay. I traveled about and drank cheap draft beer in my younger days when i lived in studio spaces downtown between my ramblin about the world. I liked these characters, all with a history more interesting and tragic then the folk in the suburbs. All these local hotels are gone, burned to the ground or face-lifted out of recognition. Those were the nights of hard philosophy, wasted dreams caressed with friends, a time when the future was friendly, moments of deep love in the heart of the metal jungle. Where is all that now, that which we thought would live on, if not in forgotten corners of melancholy memories and twisted terrains slowly rusting away. Love, love, love gets its way…..the american hotel circa 1978 taken with my Minox 35mm camera

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#94 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/28

#94 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/26 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Hello FaceBookFriends….I’ll be short! I am sorry if i have offended anyone especially with my lack of LIKES on your content. At my age i have taken on a lot more than i expected and now with a new unrelated career in the last year or so, i hope to possibly catchup financially, but have no time left for much else. I promised myself to eliminate Social Media for the most part, so i don’t get to see other content that can often take up more time than i can afford and consequently i miss viewing your content.
It has taken me years to collect images, develop negatives, contact and make prints; then i picked roughly 20K from 120k of colour and B/W’s and digitized them. That took years and each one still has to be adjusted and cleaned up to upload properly…..I know if i don’t expose them in the coming years i will die without having to share them with friends & humanity. Therefore i am determined to put up one image a day for an undetermined time period. I hope they are enjoyed. By the number of likes i get, i wonder at times but one must do what one feels appropriate for ones life and this is it for me, for now. So thanks to those that comment and ‘like’ these content/images and the effort it takes to make this happen…..cheers, meegwetch…….circa 1976 selfie

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#92 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/26

#92 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/26 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Ted Zawadzki‘s wife of past and friend Marianne. I was attempting some Rembrandt lighting for my portfolio in my very early years of portraiture. Hello Marianne wherever you are, we had many great talks together. This lighting technique is generally softer and gives a natural look with both eyes lit and easy to do with minimal equipment. Many variations with a triangle of light on the one side without a shadow of the nose alone. Rembrandt used this lighting in most of his paintings because of the superb way it exposes the softer beauty of the subject. In this case my friend without question is very beautiful.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#90 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/24

#90 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/24 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
BOB DYLAN MAY 24 1941
There are so many words well placed by this guy
for some people that have ears to hear
and here are but a few from ‘It’s Alright Ma’
on his 77th birthday…..
Wow, you lived a real sureal life Bob
thanks for describing my feelings so well
with every word, ‘like it was written in my soul’

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you’re the one
That can do what’s never been done
That can win what’s never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you
You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks they really found you
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to…..bDylan

I created this fake poster from one of my photographs;
just for the fun of it………patrickwey

Full version of ‘It’s Alright Ma’…. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYajHZ4QUVM

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#88 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/22

#88 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/22 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Hornby Island BC last Sunday exploring the amazing shore line with Heather and Doug Biggs. Yes, this is a puddle shot with an etched feather-like image of two trees. I am working on a series of trees reflected-painted-etched by Mother Gaia water-coloured puddle images. Ultimately, i prefer the image to dance on its own as with this beauty, but occasionally photoshop lends a hand.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#87 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/21

#87 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/21 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Sasha Alexandra Zaichanka dancing across a puddle of an image from my mind on beautiful Hornby Island BC yesterday exploring the amazing shore line with Heather and Doug Biggs. The sandstone sculptures lace the waters edge like a terrain from a sacred space rarely imagined.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#85 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/19

#85 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/19 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Rain came pouring down, i was someone else, could have been a dream, not sure, so real, maybe another life time. I was traveling home down slippery streets, it was late in the afternoon, my brother behind heading from a church service in Heidelberg. I made it i recall from the memories left inside my head but my brother didn’t. I wrote these few thoughts down and scrambled onto something new, left that dream behind. Next day reading a local newspaper there hidden down in section two a short paragraph describing a mennonite man disappeared returning home from a church service with a broken photograph hanging from the text like a dream does when it makes no sense. It is all so surreal i thought this life and all its dreams…..the photograph was a peculiar shot, didn’t even look like me………could have been the late 1800’s, i was thinking to myself……….

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#83 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/17

#83 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/17 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
A great wedding indeed Paddy Gillard-Bentley and Cas….26 years ago just yesterday.
I remember i was dressed like some weird traveller from a far off land like Mexico surrounded by a medieval wedding celebration in Europe somewhere. It was, yes, one of the most unique weddings ever. Take us back…..if only for a few long moments.

Patrick Wey
PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#82 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/16

#82 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/16 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I am afraid Vernon Harper never got to see many of these images, but many he did and i am sure he remembered the numerous moments we wandered around town together as i photographed him under so many circumstances. The only person i had documented so thorough in my life was my daughter Sierra Kachina whom passed away three years ago and also never got to see many of the photographs i took of her. Vern said, ‘often in life, you don’t get a second chance’. I had the strong urge to call Vern a month ago, and minutes turned into weeks and again a wake-up-call now lies sad in my heart. I have often thought of a book to find a home for many of these images but time and money has not allowed this to come together….perhaps now i can attempt to make this happen, if the ‘mystery be willing.’ Vern definitely did ‘live before he died’.
circa late 80’s early 90’s off spadina ave, toronto.

Patrick Wey
PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#81 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/15

#81 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/15 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

The original poem i wrote just after Bill died and before the funeral, is in the blog linked above. It was recited by my Jesuit priest friend John Veltri who encouraged this exposure (not of my premeditated thoughts) while my close friend Bruce Gremo played classical guitar. Many had attended and were sitting on the floor, standing to any corner left inside the room. Bill had a lot of friends, he was just thirty when he died of cancer in 1976, May 15. He used to joke with our sister Carolyn Roche that life begins at 40 and he let go of his pain that night on her 40th birthday. She is 82 today. Bill left behind a son Chris Smith whom he loved very much and often talked of him privately with me. Bill was my best friend, my big brother, three years older than myself with my brother Allyn in between whom also is extremely close. Lindsay Stewart ink sketched this picture from a photograph superbly and i thank him for that. The family had so few photographs of Bill. I was just beginning my life in photography that year therefore i have no images of Bill at all. I miss Bill often and i suppose i will till i’m also dispersed into the great mystery. If we’re lucky we have a special person in our lives to help us up when life gets us down; we did that for each other, and nobody has quite replaced him in that way since. His life in death has taught me many lessons. It never ends…….not yet! …….. remembering you today and sharing for the ones that might care….happy birthday Carolyn.

Patrick Wey
PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

 

IN MEMORIAM

As he lies there
slowly turning to ashes
And time, past and future
all hurled into one
pointing our lives
to this tormenting moment
This shock of death
piercing its way
to our very souls
leaving – no escape
only tears dripping from eyes
hoping our pale cheeks
can absorb and calm the pain
This passing
completely unknown – to all here
right out of our hands
it has its say
without so much as a whisper
from our dampened lips
Tho, the fact
black as coal
still – leaves us uneasy
The glass of life
smashed
crumbled to bits
and remaining
only fragments to cherish
to linger indefinitely

Silently, the memories will come
and they will come
and come easy
for this man was a good man
a good, good man
like the rustling of the leaves
of some forgotten autumn night
and, lonesome of this world
it’s then, he’ll reappear
as the true friend he is.
the very image of his honest eyes
will say more
than a million written words
and to those who knew him
your memories will ring true
with the lessons
he has given
to his dying breath.

the pain we share
to see his vacant presence
there, in that form once his
can’t compare
to the suffering
in his long – last days
his eyes, truly in agony
his body, tormented to the marrow
now – in rest
slowly turning back
to whence it came

I pressed him, gently
with my hands
as his last breath
eased from his lips
and faded, slowly
to the heavens
and i felt deep, within my heart
the miracle of love
It would be Bills wish
to turn our pain – now
and forever
to the warm glowing love
let it be done

And may God
through brothers like Bill
make pure – all our souls.

GOD BLESS YOU BILL

your kid brother, pat

#79 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/13

#79 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/13 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Vernon Harper I remember so many moments with Vern. We travelled to sweats in the prisons, across canada and the states. I spend one full day a week with him in Toronto for years when he worked for the Native Legal system and we’d go to healing circles, asian lunch on Spadina, pick up a boxing mag in a little store on Bathurst, be together and talk about everything under the sun, many personal conversations about his past and struggles within the dominant society’s ways. Vern was a very sincere man and though i have not been with him for years he has been in my heart since the day we met. He encouraged me to document that past of his live through-out the late 80’s and and 90’s. The original of this image was taken in his sweat lodge. It feels appropriate now knowing he’ll be conducting sweats on the plains of the spirit world and enter our minds for many years to come. My heart feels for his family and the inner and outer circles of his life. Vern has brought peace to many a weary heart.

Patrick Wey
PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM