Niagara Totem Pole and Wood Carving Park

Creations by Frank Kim 

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

"Hey everyone.. check it out.. it's that pretty lady with the dalmations again. Wow she looks devastatingly gorgeous in that stole; I wonder if it's new? This is the third time she's been here this week; she must really like us. I just can't seem to tear my eyes away from her. Is she not a vision, fellas... fellas?"

"Don't distract me with your meagre infatuations. There is a vexatious child at six o'clock making faces at me who thinks he's particularly clever. Please. I've seen more complex tauntings coming from an oak tree. Yeah.. you think that's amusing, kid? Watch this!"

"Guys.. that tickle is still there....I... I have to sneeze again."

Distillery District - Toronto, ON

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I shot this on the night that I learned how to use my camera.

I didn't own a tripod at the time so most of the handheld pictures I took were, to be nice, technically inadequate... the lines almost indiscernible, splaying all over the image with a complete disregard for aesthetics and reason.... the lights erratically exploding and dominating the image, completely altering the mood it was intending to portray. However, I have retained all of the shots from that night, even the duds, because they illustrate my foray into night photography, documenting my attempts at better understanding aperture and shutter speed and the intimate relationship they share. I am finally able to absorb and manipulate what my light meter has always been trying to tell me instead of brazenly overlooking it yet again. I just hope that it can forgive me for ignoring it all of these years.

My love affair with light was intensely elevated on that night and I do believe that it marked the beginning of a exquisitely renewed and potentially fruitful relationship with my Nikon.

New York City Subway

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Having been raised in a cozy Northern Canadian town with barely a highway, let alone a sophisticated underground system such as this, I was always intimidated by the word "subway". Putting "New York City" in front of it made it seem downright terrifying to a sheltered child. Actually venture onto a NYC subway? You might as well have suggested we navigate the expanse of Saudi Arabia by harnessing the nearest camel. (wait a minute... I have ridden a camel.... at Busch Gardens, I believe...)

But this was the year that New York City was removed from my imagination. It is no longer a notion in my head or a situation on a movie screen, I have my own memories of exploring Manhattan, and they do happen to include braving the jungles that exist far beneath the ashphalt. It was not at all terrifying; it wasn't even difficult.. to navigate or even to decide to travel upon it. When the sun is yawning and you have to get from Canal Street to Times Square quickly or else you won't get to see it on this trip, it just seems like the sensible thing to do!

This photograph was taken during a different excursion to the city, while awaiting a train that would bring us to the Staten Island Ferry to begin our day. We sat among obviously seasoned New Yorkers and equally obvious fellow tourists... across from the girl with the gold bangles adorning her wrist as she held on for stability... a few rows down from the kid who was comfortable not holding onto anything, expertly shifting his weight to maintain his balance on the erratically jerking ride.

A friend of mine was approached by a fellow who asked him what time it was, and when he complied, was heartily corrected: "No it's not, it's Doo Wop Time!!!" and with that, about four guys began to sashay around the crowd, weaving their own acapella in and out of our ears as they grooved around with Mount Everest smiles on their faces. Stuff like that never happened en route to the shopping centre back home!!

Conception Bay South, Newfoundland

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I think that if I lived near the ocean, I would find resolution to the issues that sometimes occupy my mind. Really, just looking this photograph induces a sense of calm that encourages my thoughts to wander about aimlessly like driftwood..  (too often in my real world, they become stranded like this as well!!)

There is just something about sitting on this pebbled blanket, listening to the waves spread over the rocks, moistening them with a sheen that illuminates all of their smoothness, that lulls me into a sort of meditation. It's such a satisfying stimulation of the senses: the percussion of the rocks dancing against one another under the pull of the receding water and the the cadence of the seabirds as they spread their nautical gossip..... the therapeutic pressure of the stones underneath bare feet.....  the heady scent of the foamy salt water and swatches of seaweed....   spa day anyone??

GE Building "30 Rock"
Rockefeller Center
New York City - April 2010

It is almost 6pm in the Big Apple and Otis Pretorious springs out of one of Manhattan's many yellow taxi cabs, carrying a tidy white package. He secures it against his body, protecting it as he swiftly enters the lobby, saluting the doorman on the way in. He smiles warmly at the two immaculately tidy young women gracing the front desk.

"She's still here, Mr. Pretorious," the one with the red hair says with a magnetic grin. "You're not too late."

"Tremendous!" Otis beams back, and disappears behind the mirrored elevator doors.

The numbered button illuminates under the pressure of Otis' index finger, and as he leans back against the smooth metal wall and inhales deeply, he realises that he knows his elevator companion.

"Otis Pretorious!" greets the stout, wire-bearded man heartily, extending his well-manicured hand. "How are things? I hope you're about to tell me that you had as good a day as I did!"

"Oh, I'm certain that's the case," Otis replies enthusiastically, accepting the handshake. "It's always a good day in this city. And it's about to get better!" He gently taps the parcel that he's been cradling in his hands.

"Of course it is," the man agrees. "But before you start celebrating, why don't you swing by my office so I can show you the most recent pictures of the grandkids?"

"You know I would love to, sir," Otis begins, "but I am already a little later than I'd promised I would be. Perhaps I could come visit you on another day?"

"Certainly!" the man exclaims. They continue to exchange regards as the elevator soars higher and higher. When they arrive at Otis' floor, the two men share another handshake and Otis exits, leaving the man to ascend to his office just a little higher up.

Otis walks through the orderly office, past the rows of quiet cubicles, having been deserted for the evening. He pauses and then takes a few steps backwards to align himself with the back of the tall brunette occupying the last cubicle in the row. She revolves her chair and smiles at her visitor.

"How are you Otis?" she asks.

"I'm doing well, thank you," Otis replies. "Things have been busy out west but I am very much enjoying the challenge."

"I know you will do great things," the girl responds. She pauses a moment, then asks, "Are you here to see Emily?"

Snapping back to reality, Otis firms up his grip on the box in his hands, and answers that he is. "I'm actually running late. Maybe we can have lunch sometime; I am in town for a week."

"Maybe we can," she nods. "Enjoy your evening, Otis."

Otis lingers for just another moment before heading toward the office adjacent to the cubicles. He peers in at the well dressed woman seated at the desk inside and taps softly on the door jamb.

Emily spins around, her face lighting up. "Otis! It's so good to see you!!" She rises from her chair and rushes to embrace him.

"Hey sis," he beams. "Great to see you too!" He surrounds her with his arms and then goes to open the box he'd been carrying, revealing a neatly decorated cake and proclaims, "Here's to our birthday!"

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

In Quidi Vidi Village by the seashore quite content a wooden box nestled in the green grass is painted red. The latch hook, archaic in its simply molded naked form was quite effective keeping out an errant hand or winter storm. I'd no idea what might be stored behind its weather-softened lid, but something useful judging from the marks the latch left when it slid. I don't recall exactly what this box was for or where it sat, I only know my thinking was I gotta take a pic of that.

Inniskillin Winery
Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario

Had I been aware of the charms that exist neatly tucked into your typical run-of-the-mill Niagara winery, I would have become a patron years ago!

Of course I am fully aware that there is no such thing as "typical" when it comes to the birthplace and residence of such a sophisticated passion as an estate's wine. They all have their own sultry nuances and historical flair, an eclectic indulgence that delights the eye as much as the palate.

It is almost too intimidating for me to write about, being a novice taster and all.

But hey.. it's my blog right?

So.. first of all, there is the beverage. That luscious, earthy, complex collaboration of flavours and sensory personalities that arouses your sense of smell and instigates revelry in your tastebuds. Thanks to enthusiastic winery tour guides, I am learning more and more about tasting techniques.. I now understand the benefit of swirling the wine in the glass before breathing it in before sipping it and swishing it around in your mouth before swallowing it... it's all about intensifying and recognising and savouring all the layers of flavour. Plus it's just plain fun!

And then there is the visual stimulation frequently in abundance at wineries.... lush parallel rows of green (or as is the case this time of year: yellow), rustic, etched wine barrels and gnarly, weathered vines. Upon arrival the eye is instantly greeted with a harmonious mix of the planned orderly and the naturally occuring.. eliciting deep satisfying breaths and long luxurious pauses that we may not permit ourselves to take during our daily routines... oh.. and I just "happen" to have had my camera with me...

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Docks at the Staten Island Ferry Port - New York City

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

All of the inhabitants of Manhattan are not hurriedly weaving around the avenues and streets, intermittently disappearing behind retail mazes and occasionally becoming one with the subway poles. Some of them, like the four shown here, are quite stationary, standing strong regardless of the weather or the waves to which they are constantly exposed. They reliably endure the largest storm of all which happens to occur regularly throughout the day, five days a week: the daily commute! After all these years they probably recognise the regulars, gingerly toting their laptops and their lattes while navigating the sea of suits, providing a constant stream of entertainment and gossip material. They bear their scars proudly, evidence of years of occupational abuse as they are scraped by the orange ferries upon every return to port. A tenacious greeting of wood and steel and fading yellow paint at the end of the day.