Archive for the ‘Read’ Category

You Are Unlimited

November 15, 2011

Available now. Click cover for details/preview and to order online.

Since returning from Japan in May, I’ve kept only one goal in mind, and today I’m proud to announce the release of my first self-published photo book You Are Unlimited. The photos span Sept. 2007 to Sept. 2010, including 12 shots and one piece of writing that have never appeared on this site. While the pictures were taken all over North America, You Are Unlimited was mainly produced in Vancouver, Montreal, Philadelphia, and Niseko, and each place shaped the book in its own way.

I’ve been working on this project for nearly four years, and at times it seemed like the end was a horizon in perpetual retreat. Fortunately, instead of the pain of another unrealized idea, I have a book I photographed, wrote, designed, published and paid for myself. Undertaking this journey on my own was an invaluable learning process, but the end result would not be what it is without the help and guidance of some amazing people in my circle, to whom I am very grateful.

I’ve done my best to keep the book affordable and accessible to anyone interested. Thank you for your support, and thank you for believing in me. My only hope is that I will connect with you.

- dp

Details/Preview

Buy Online

Transcend

October 19, 2011

I wrote an introduction to Anthony Boronowski’s Transcend series for issue 5.1 of The Ski Journal, which is available now. It’s never easy to step between an artist and their audience, and witnessing Anthony’s state of mind while he was focusing on the paintings made my job a lot less difficult.

I was honoured when TSJ also asked me to submit a bio for their contributors section. Writing a bio about yourself is hard (try it), and like an amateur, I tried to get clever with my words. After passing through the hands of an well-intentioned editor, the piece states I learned to ski and write at 19-years-old, neither of which are true.

It’s a simple matter of pride, but I’d still like to clarify that I’ve been skiing for as long as I can remember, and only moved to Whistler when I was 19. Becoming a writer after remaining a functional illiterate into adulthood would be an impressive feat, but that is also not the case.

Lesson learned: Cleverness is the enemy of clarity.

We’re Here For The Riot

June 18, 2011

A tipping point. Photo: Mike Carlson-Reuters

Everyone knew this was a possibility. We joked about it for weeks. There were 100,000 fans in downtown Vancouver for Game 7. Lets admit some of them wanted to riot.

Even if we had won, a car would have burned, but positive energy would have easily snuffed out the negative. We lost. 95% of people went home. Everyone who stayed wanted a riot. They wanted an outlet for their negative energy, and swallowed anyone who intervened (Burn the truck!).

When there are 1000 cameras at the ready, there will always be 100 people willing to act. The roles were written in 1994, but now the audience is global. Welcome to the digital age, the digital stage. Don’t forget your mask.

With a few exceptions, the journalism has been embarrassing. I’m not sure what else I expected. At least there’s YouTube. It’s nothing more than an interesting side note, but I’m really thrown by the media’s steadfast refusal to acknowledge that there is pleasure to be found in destruction. (Or is that just me?) Click the photo, look at the crowd. Everyone is smiling. People were cheering then, and they were cheering hours later.

This was group of people with collective permission to take advantage of an opportunity. Once started, riots generate their own momentum. If there were anarchists involved, they knew this.

But really, anarchists? It was a sentence out of a dystopian novel. Don’t worry, you still have the option to blame the whole thing on your private fear of choice. What is the antithesis of the police? Anarchists. What is the antithesis of wealthy urbanites? Surrey kids. You can find out a lot about people from their demon of choice.

The city’s psychological reaction has been more violent than the riot itself.—Scramble to establish distance. Blame the other. Lust for punishment.—The rioters took glee in apolitical property destruction. Now we rush to inflict far more permanent damage on their lives. Not for breaking windows, but for shattering the holy grail, our city’s image and reputation.

Who is more guilty, the person who smashes a window, burns a car, or the people watching, encouraging with their cameras? The energetic outing of people you know to police via photos and video reeks of a guilty conscience. They are closer to us than we would like to admit, so as always, we rely on the police to distance us from our problems.

What’s done is done. If everyone had simply gone home, this wouldn’t have happened. Now we have a much more interesting situation, and a choice: Spread ignorance, paranoia, condescension, and condemnation. Forget the whole thing. Or take the opportunity to talk about what this failure says about us, our city and our culture. Like they say, “We are all Canucks.”

Roots Form Slowly

February 9, 2011

Sapporo.

“Whether you are on the move or in one place, in order to show a country or a situation, somehow you need to have established close working relationships, to be supported by a human community; living takes time, roots form slowly. Thus that fraction of a moment can be the fruit of a long acquaintance, or one of surprise.”

- Henri Cartier-Bresson

Bang Along

January 24, 2011

I was raised on libraries. From my first book to my first year of university, easily more than 95% of what I read was borrowed from a library. When I was young and things were simple, I didn’t understand why anyone would buy a book when they could read it for free. In high school, money was the issue. Why would I spend what little I earned on a book I could borrow, when I could buy clothes, weapons, paint and things that explode?

As my horizons broadened, money was still an issue, but better calibre libraries (and the Internet) also became available. From the VPL’s downtown coliseum to SFU’s seven floor fortress of stink[1], the range of books widened, and their magic held. I still have fond memories of finding the well-worn hardcover edition of The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test tucked deep in the stacks crowning Burnaby mountain.

When I moved on to real mountains, things changed. Like most other people I had a couple boxes of books. Mostly used, gifts, and a few I had never returned. Nothing special. At the time, Whistler’s library was shacked up in trailers, and let’s just say I had to start buying books. Which was fine. The idea of actually keeping books and building a little personal library had become very appealing. So with the help of the breezy village bookstore, and the dirt cheap prices at the greatest re-use-it store ever, that’s what happened. My attitude had gradually shifted from wondering why people bought books to discovering little I’d rather spend money on.

Then my humble collection united with D’s, and over a few years it became an unmatched force. But like the tower of Babel with it’s top in the heavens, it was eventually struck down. One half leaning on suddenly sparse shelves, and the other in a heap on the floor. Despite the split, our momentum carried, and to this day I know of few people our age in the same league.

People excepted, what I miss most often these days are my books. Sure I brought plenty to read, but hardly a day passes without the need to reference something I’ve read. From David Choe to Swami Sivanada Radha, my memory craves their exact wording and images[2]. Fortunately, travel is one of the best ways to add new dimensions to any collection, and I can’t wait to share what I’ve picked up. It’s easy to love what you have, but even easier to miss what haven’t found yet. Don’t let what you miss keep you from finding what you love.


[1] The smell aside, I’ve seen people cry over Arthur Erikson’s architecture. Some in awe, others in total despair. I’ve got a few choice words and general contempt for his work and the clowns who love it. On my best day I see him as someone who carried out bizarre experiments on humans while under the influence of the 80’s.

[2] I recognize that in this age of tablets and cloud storage, some techno-savages (not to be confused with technomads) would suggest I ditch the whole thing and make moving twice as easy for the rest of my life, but there are certain things I simply can’t replace.


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