that was nice, wasn't it?

I liked Vancouver.

I had a discussion with Kamal today about Vancouver. We both agreed that - in a city of such rich, high-cost of living, it's hard to understand why the people appear so calm and relaxed all the time. Personally, I thought Vancouver was very similar to Toronto, only if you wrapped Toronto around a very large lake and plopped some mountains on the horizon. Ey'gad!

This is Bryan. Bryan is a good friend of mine. One of those friends that you've known long enough to make fun of each others past haircuts, girlfriends, clothes, grades, and decisions. I stayed at his condo in Vancouver for a few days and, needless to say, the guy is one of the better hosts I've had the pleasure of knowing.

Despite the outrageous $1.52/L gas prices, Bry drove us around town for a couple hours, making note of some of the best areas, and worst, that Vancouver has to offer. Had I known that the tour would have been that good, I would have payed upfront, cash. Bryan, if you read this, I am now telling you the forecast of your future: VanTourism. Your slogan can be,

"Hop on the fucking sled pawtna! Indigo's in the back!"

Yes, I drank Pilsner. For those of you who've never seen Fubar, watch and learn.

Stanley Park ruled. I snapped this, again, while doing about 60. Out the window, out of focus, click.

I can't remember really what was going on during this photo. I look like I'm being sucked backwards in time, Bryan looks like he's about to commit the worst sucker-punch ever. Bike looks like a rat child.

I asked Bike to do his best Japanese impression. Seeing as he used to live there, I trust his depiction.

Lake Louise, just like I remember it. I really wanted to swim in that water.

After clicking off a few photos of the scenery, my attention (deficit) was drawn towards picture-takers. There's an incredible moment to be seen when witnessing a person having their picture taken. Every person who's had their photograph taken knows this. There is something about a shiny, reflective lens that makes people turn from a reality to a representation of themselves.
Even in this photo below, that girl is thinking to herself,

" Oh my god, I'm getting my photo taken. I'd better make it a good one because I drove a thousand fucking miles just to get some evidence that I was here, so I'd better look good. What pose should I go for? Hip lean? Arms in the air? Peace sign? Smile? No smile? Maybe a smile without teeth? I didn't brush this morning. How are you supposed to brush your teeth out here anyway? Fuck, I hate camping."
Click.

I have to admit to enjoying the Trans Canada highway a little too much. Not all for its beauty, but just for the unfathomable amount of work it must have taken. Try to imagine how much work it takes to make a flat highway for a thousand miles. Then, try to imagine constructing that same highway, only it now stretches across the Rockies. That's the kind of hard work that you have to respect. I mean, LOOK AT THAT.

If I had known that there are (seemingly) only two Starbucks between here and Vancouver, I wouldn't have come at all. That's not true, but holy hell was it frustrating. For a guy who has trouble starting his day without a long americano, it was torture. I'll be sure to write Howard a bit later today about that. Here, I am pictured, fully satisfied.

Calgary made me laugh. It was a really pretty, clean, and diverse city. Yet it was full of cowboys, and it seemed like this style was only cool in Calgary, because I didn't see any of that shit anywhere else along the way. Thank the lord I didn't buy any Stampede gear when I was there.

Am I floating in this picture? There's a weird shadow near my feet that gives off this hovering look.

1920 - part 2 - That Night in Brandon

Brandon, Manitoba is a party.

There's not many people there, and there isn't really anything to do, but it's just the most bad ass little town to be in on a nice night. We spent the night at the Midway Motel and decided to get crazy. Why? There is a simple equation, at least to a Schmidt.

Driving + No Sunlight + Setting up the tent + Cooking + Mosquitoes = Hard Work

Motel + Ice Machines + Continental Breakfast + Outlets + Room Service + TV + Beds = Crazytime

So, with more than enough reasons to party on, we began with a parking lot tailgate party. This was nice because we got to relax with our shitty little griller, some beers, while watching an epic storm brew right before our eyes. Nothingwrongwiththat. What started with beer turned into some sort of liquor, and with TraBK mixing, it's no wonder the night ended the way it did. UUuuu..

Fortunately for those of you reading, I haven't had time to edit any of these photos. So what you're looking at are the true colors from the trip (besides, I don't edit them that much anyway). The sky was unnaturally blue that night, and with all the nitrogen in the air, the grass doesn't get much greener than that. This is the stuff I'd think about while I sat in bed, dreaming of the prairies. It may have been the only vacation to memory where I prayed for bad weather. Because, really, who wants to see a landscape of a blue sky? NEXT!

"Oh, Picasa. You wait until this one gets imported!" I love this photo above.

TraBK is a hilarious photographer.

If he ever decided to pursue it, his craft would be out of focus shots, because I think he loves them.

Right about here, pictured above, is where the night began kicking serious ass. We fled the hotel at the sight of such clouds and headed for some farmers fields. I think when I get to heaven (knock knock), I'll be greeted by a very similar image. I get flashbacks of running full tilt towards a dark horizon, laughing so hard I can barely breathe, numb, careless to the fact that some things in life just don't go as planned. Near this exact moment, I recall being hit by the first drop of rain, which was quite possibly a gentle reminder that heaven can wait.

Speaking of things ending strangely, we'll discuss that night. I was running around in the rain for a while back at the motel; standing under the hotel water runoff, having a great time. I got so wet that the shirt I was wearing didn't completely dry until about a week later. And then, when back in the room, I barfed? What the hell? We can't help but laugh at the fact ever since. I was just so strange. We were talking, and then all of a sudden things were all "Oh, Andy's barfing..". That was weird. I still apologize for crashing the party. At least the continental breakfast was good.

1920 - part 1

Tarkins back.

What started as just an idea on paper and a desire to hit the road, turned into one of the summers biggest box-office excursions. I have recently returned from a 14 day journey across two countries, in an attempt to relax and do some research.

I look back on some wonderful memories, some of which I will go into further detail, right, about, now.

Ontario is a funny place. In fact, it's actually quite beautiful.

There's a heck of a lot more to it than some of the ugliest "cities" in the country. Did you know there are bears in this province, as well as moose? I didn't either, because only a fool would go around the Great Lakes, rather than under them. It took us over two days just to get out of the province, but I'd say it was worth it. I'd rather see some really defining Canadian landscape over advertisements for Michigan's own food chain, The Cracker Barrel. Although, it is that once you've seen ten kilometers of the shield, you've seen it all, and I was okay with that because I was looking at the sky most of the time.

I introduced TraBK to a theory of mine early on during the trip while driving, and that theory is that all bugs are girls, so don't crush them. This statement alone provided some of the funniest moments on the trip, mainly because we'd impersonate mosquito's as delicate females. Rathing than crushing them, we would provide a humorous narrative while insects were looking for a way out of the car. After laughing at eachothers depictions of dancing female bugs, we'd open a window and let her out. Think about it next time you feel like swatting that fly in your room: it's just a cute young lady looking for a way out.

Some sights, like the one pictured above, were hilariously identical to some of my work. Then and there, the entire purpose of the trip was fulfilled, and it had only been one day since leaving. Even TraBK was laughing at the similarities.
I wish I could bottle up that much inspiration and keep it on my shelves when I need it, because there was more than enough during times like that. A large goal I set out for myself was to not capture certain moments on film, but to place them into my head and let my imagination distort them in a way no camera ever could.

don't believe the rumors, canada is huge

Hello, hello, hello.
After nearly 4,000 kilometers of driving, I now sit in a sweaty apartment in downtown Vancouver. It has been a long, long, journey. A lot of driving, a lot of sites, and a lot of fun.
We basically started in Toronto and made our way above the Great Lakes. We took the Chee-Chee-Munch ferry to Manitoulin Island and continued towards Sault St. Marie. After a night of camping in Massey, we rose at 6am to hit the road. That day, we drove until 4:30 in the morning on one of the most dangerous highways in Canada. We literally had to drive directly behind a transport truck to avoid hitting a moose or deer, almost like a quarterback and a blocker in football. I know I don't drive the highway all that often, but I'm pretty sure that is something no driver should ever have to do.
We continued on to Manitoba. We stopped in Winnipeg for the afternoon. The two of us took a tour at the Royal Canadian Mint (where a brand new Talkin Schmidt was filmed), and visited some art galleries, stretched our legs, and bought some black stand up albums for the ride. Comedic cd's are something that I now consider to be a road trip necessity. Highly recommended, and the dirtier the better.
Then came time to rest for the night. We stopped in a little town called Brandon, Manitoba and booked a hotel. We barbecued in the parking lot and drank beer. There was also an incredible storm that night, which caused us to run around in farmers fields at top speeds, laughing and photographing the Prussian-blue clouds. I'll post some photos of that night at a later date. Brandon really knows how to party.
Then came the prairies. Awesome! The only disappointing thing about Saskatchewan is that you can drive across it in one day, and we did. We stopped numerous times to film, sketch, and absorb the ultimate flatness of the farmland. After only the third day, I uploaded my laptop (also known as the self-degrading camping device) with over 350 photos documenting clouds, ditches, fields, sunlight, gulches, crops, reflections, lakes, and rivers.
Later, we drove into Alberta, to the mountains! For those of you who haven't driven across Canada, the border of Alberta is lined with the Rockies, which looks strangley like a group of bullies trying to keep you out of Banff. We made our way to Banff, where Mike bought a classic new t-shirt, and I bought one with a wolf on it. We stayed at a friends place for the night and, again, got up early to hit the road to Vancouver.
So, there you have it. Sorry about the lack of photos in this post. I guarentee a motherload when it is time to come home. It's funny, really; this is easily the most technically-advanced road excursion I've ever witnessed: one b/w film camera, one digital slr, one ipod, one laptop, one digital video camera, one high-definition video camera, three tripods, one cellphone, and my trusty generator. Let's just say that no matter where we stop, something is being charged. I'll try to update again once we hit the states. Stick around! Andicles.

Favourite Food Network Personalities, Part 2

In Search of Perfection is an instant classic. The
premise alone is enough to make anyone watch:
some scientist chef, trying to perfect the most simple of dishes. Heston Blumenthal is a brilliant guy. He not only has the best restaurant in the world, but the craziest approaches to cuisine that I've ever seen. Every, single, ingredient is prepared perfectly with the use of everything from dry ice, to beakers, to torches, to pennies.
The only really annoying part about this show is that not only are the dishes perfect, but they're impossible to make at home. Common phrases from Blumenthal usually sound like this: (in British accent)

"Now take your pie crust and line it with cheese cloth, double layered, that has been chilled in the refrigerator for at least three hours. This will prevent the rare Venezuelan butters from drying out and separating the crust. Pour Canadian pennies into the cheese cloth and allow pie to rest at room temperature for about three days."

I wish I was joking.
Something else I can't forget to mention is the theme song. It's probably the only song I've ever heard that is permanently stuck in my head, and I'm not even mad about it. I want to hear it all the time. I want to wake up to it, shower to it, have sex to it, drive my car to it, and want it played at my funeral. Diggi ding'ding deng dung dun ding...Diggi ding'ding deng dung dun ding

Gordon Ramsay

Damn, this guy is cool. Without any hint of sarcasm, I look up to this guy.
I will admit, I don't like Hells Kitchen; I think it's just Fox exploiting Ramsay's somewhat temperamental behaviour and making him play into this lunatic character that Americans love so much. Kitchen Nightmares is awesome. Basically, Ramsay goes around to the worst restaurants in England, cuts them up for the first half of the show, then turns things around and uses his restaurateur skills to bring back some business. Aside from his tough-ass exterior, the guy is just hilarious. His British mannerisms kill me. If you can hear me howling when I'm watching tv, it's usually one of three things: Seinfeld, black stand up, or Ramsay.

"Bloody hell", "Fuck sakes", "I bet the hole in my butt, big boy", he represents something I believe in: swearing is something that can be done well, tastefully, and with purpose. Fuck and shit, believe it or not, are two very versatile adjectives and nobody utilizes them better than Gordon. There's only a single downside to his shows: they always contain a short scene where he changes his shirts, revealing a bare-chested Ramsay, which is always awkward for the viewer. Regardless, I'm a fan of this guy. Bollocks!

License to Grill

I should mention, that I am a fairly new fan to the Food Network. So new, in fact, that I am still new to certain shows. License to Grill, being one of them.
It was love at first sight.
This guy is awesome, mostly due to his passion for grilling meat on barbeque's. He loves it. I don't blame him either; if I had my own show I'd be buying full cuts of Porterhouse and bags of clams too. He's got some really great grilling ideas and is a tonne of fun to watch, with more catch phrases than Groucho Marx.

Bob Blumer

Bob is the best. He's just one of those convincingly harmless guys. He drives a giant toaster and attempts near impossible challenges. I'll admit, he's not the most amazing chef ever. Surreal Gourmet was a bunch of thrifty weird dishes made from his toaster kitchen on wheels, most of which I don't think I'd ever try.
Glutton for Punishment is the newer, snazzier attempt at Camp Blumer. This show rules life. Crazy challenges, interesting people, great facts on intriguing foods, travel and always humorous. Plus, his hair is awesome. I try to copy it.

Guy's Big Bite

A lot of people hate Guy. Hell, even I hate Guy. Is it his Corey Feldman 'do, his sports-jock presence, his Gino tan, or his buddy friends on his show that try to look like they're having fun but they're not even friends with Guy and they're just there to get drunk off of Guy's martini's and get paid.
At the same time, I love Guy. He's got some tasty grilling methods and his flame-bowling shirts never fail to make me laugh. Guy's Big Bite is an admirable attempt at trying to get guys (of the macho variety) to watch the Food Network.
Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives is also a pretty good show. It's a lot like Alton Browns "tour-du-getting fat", only Southwest.

Above everything, if Guy came up to me and asked to be friends, I'd say yes, then drink his Martini's.

to be continued...

here goes something

It's about bloody time for another adventure.

I decided that now was the time to take some time off, away from the city, and venture somewhere into the woods. I asked my brother, Bike, if he wanted to join me on this expedition. This venture still makes me laugh at how hap-hazard the planning has been. We do, however, know where we're going, how we're getting there, and what we intend on doing with our time. Aside from an incredible amount of driving, we've got a couple tricks up our sleeves still.

Our route will take us north, around the great lakes towards Sault St. Marie, from there we'll venture up to Winnipeg, and make our way to the prairies of Saskatchewan, where my heart currently lies. From there I plan on making a few stops around Edmonton to see some friends, then continue on to visit more friends and some family in B.C. After that, we're venturing down into Seattle and the Pacific Northwest (something I've really wanted to see since watching Sunken Treasure with Jeff Tweedy). From there, it's off to Montana, South Dakota, Yellowstone National Park (psyched! Andy Adams, what), Devils Tower (close encounters of the third kind), Chicago, and hopefully the Museum of Motown in Detroit. It rounds off to about 8,500 k's; and with gas as high as it is, I'm sure to come home BROKEback Mountain.



I had this one wallpaper on my laptop almost the entire year that was a very simple image of the prairies at the break of dawn. Every night before I went to bed I would think about this place and strive to stand and breathe its air one day. I've got some sick obsession with deserted places, I think. I dream of the desert, constantly. This is probably why every landscape painting I've ever done (save for one portrait of Springbank Park), has a completely flat horizon line. Rural Canadian desert will do just fine. My plan is to wake up when the little hand on my watch points South, step out of whatever I may be sleeping in that night, hop a fence, and sit in some field when the air is still nice and cool and there's nothing breathing but myself for miles around.

This is where most of my inspiration lies and lives, and what I consider to be something close to heaven which, according to some (below), is a place I won't get to anytime soon!

(pictured: Han Solo and Iron Chef Bobby Flay, jumping on a bed)

Another big plan for this journey includes a documentary. Bike is an aspiring filmmaker, and I approached him about making a film that documents me documenting. It's kind of like a documentary, squared.
The main premise has two parts to it: one part studying the landscape through paintings, drawings, photographs, etc, and the second part being the actual production of the work, in which case I will lock myself in a concrete room for at least 5 days with no sense of time and no electricity. The two premises, in the film, will intermingle - showing from start to finish how my work is done. On top of everything else, I plan on writing the musical soundtrack for the film, possibly with the help of a few talented musicians. The film would be shown with the work, once exhibited. This is something I've wanted to do for a while now and am very, very excited for. It's a lot of work, but that's what the summer is for.

Needless to say, I'm pumped and am starting to get that "night-before-Christmas" vibe in my stomach when I sleep. Wish us a safe journey, in the Millennium Falcon.

Favourite Food Network Personalities, Part 1

Mario Batali

What's not to love about Mario Batali? He's big, he's funny, he's an unbelievable chef, he kind of looks like a pedophile he's really calm, and he somehow is really Italian but has red hair. He's got my vote. You'd better expect a true challenge when facing this crocs-donning kitchen warrior in Kitchen Stadium. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever witnessed a loss.

Jamie Oliver

Not only is his rustic approach to English and French cooking out of sight, but his show is truly brilliant. Jamie at Home is on the top of my list for box set buys, if possible. The show is basically Jamie preparing simple, but gorgeous dishes from one of his thousand kitchens / makeshift kitchens that he builds in his backyard. He picks all the ingredients from his backyard with the help of his own personal gardener, what!
Jamie, to me, has something close to what I imagine the ideal life being. A beautiful home, a job where he can create and make jokes on, a backyard that is seemingly endless, he's probably got a babe wife and couple kids, cool clothes, and his own theme song. The guy looks intensely happy most of the time, because he probably is, you bugger.

Robert Irvin

Easily one of my favourite Food Network shows Dinner: Impossible, is one part stress, one part craftiness, one part improv, one part humor, one part cooking. Is this hard to understand why I love this show? Robert Irvin is the host and does an incredible job. Every episode, Robert is assigned nearly impossible tasks of cooking insanity, given limited time and extremely limited supplies. Yet, every episode, Irvin can turn the crappiest pile of food into over a dozen beauty dishes.

Unfortunately, due to a few conflicts with Irvin's supposed resume, the Food Network has canned Robert and replaced him with the new Iron Chef, Michael Symon. I honestly still think he was written that way and can hardly believe he would go out of his way to make up a bunch of crap about cooking for the president, but who knows really.

Giada De Laurentiis

Okay, I have a few things to say about Giada. The bottom line is,
Giada is about as Italian as I am. She even has her own show called Everyday Italian, which I still believe to be a scam. She has, by far, the most potent American accent I've heard, until she pronounces words like "prosciutto" "bruschetta", and even "spaghetti", that she decides to whip out her mama-mia-i'm-so-italian-fake-accent. Not falling for it Giada. I'm also convinced that her producers make her wear low-cut sweaters. You have nice boobs Giada, I'll give you that.

Alton Brown

Alton, I know you and I have our differences, but you've done a tonne of good work so I'm here to give you some recognition. For starters, your knowledge of food makes you an incredible reporter and host of Iron Chef America. I honestly don't know how you do it. Secondly, Feasting on Asphalt was one of the better Food Network shows of the summer, even if it was just you driving around with your friends eating the fattiest shit in America. It was real, it looked great, and I learned a few things to boot.

Thirdly, I must mention that Good Eats is still, to date, the dumbest show that ever hit the Food Network. Brutal quality, dumb ideas, droning facts about useless properties of food, awful jokes and a very budget appearance. I'll leave that show for Dan, although I don't know how he can watch it.
Keep it up Alton; you're smart enough that something good will come along again eventually.

Jesus Freaks, Out in the Streets

Today was an interesting day. After spending a beautiful afternoon in Little Italy, I came home to watch the news - only to see that I'd forgotten about the outdoor market in Dundas Square. I quickly grabbed some music, my camera, and a Tall Sidamo and was on my way.
The market was fantastic, as usual. A plethora of culture, diversity, and some of the best ethnic foods found in one square block. She was a bit too crowded for me, so I thought I'd leave and check out the rest of Yonge St. while the sun was still out. Until I stumbled upon something, conflicting.
There was a young man named Sean. He is pictured here holding a bible. This boy travelled all the way from Hamilton to preach the word of God, quite possibly in the most agressive way possible. Sean donned a plastic sandwich sign that, more or less, threatened nearly everyday passerby, that they were going to Hell. Drunks, masterbaters, gamblers, cursers, rapists, Muslims, catholics, money lovers, sports fanatics, liars, homos, adulterers, sodomists, skimpy dressers, pot smokers, drinkers, and overall Sinners, were all condemmed to Hell. Take a good look at that list again. I'm almost certain I accomplished half of that list before lunch today.

This man stood on his stool, answering questions, and defending Jesus Christ to the fullest. To be honest, I've never seen an individual with more cajones than this one. With one of the biggest multi-cultural festivals only feet away from him, with "sins" such as Muslim and "homo" written on the board, I wouldn't be surprised if Sean was pronounced dead by now. When I first approached the scene, I saw maybe two dozen people surrounding him, which later escalated to over one hundred angry sinners. One teenager even went out of his way to unconver the preachers name, only to reply, "I'm coming back with a sign that says 'Sean is a fucking asshole.'"

To put the situation into perspective: imagine three people surrounding a person that loves what they're doing and another hundred who hate what you're doing - kind of like Bush. Blacks, whites, muslims, sluts, gamberls, jews, and everything in between looked upon this man with a hate that I can never comprehend. Questions, questions, questions. Every question was answered with a direct psalm from the bible, completely ignorant to the feelings of those around him. Not only was he offensive to the eyes, but ignorant to the fact that a group of Muslim followers had set up a booth only feet from his presentation. I stayed for nearly two hours watching this guy. This guy had John Wayne's balls, if John wore a crucifix around his dick. There was always a feeling present that all hell was about to break loose, and just as one girl cussed this man out after being told she was dressed premiscuously, I left, fearing for this guys life. Imagine, being a Muslim and having a single individual tell you that you are going to Hell. John Wayne's crucified balls alright. RIP SEAN.

all photos by Andy

Recent Work and a Sketchbook Peepshow

Lately, I've been dabbling in other areas of landscape portraiture. I'm not sure what caused this transition; whether it be a feeling of progression or a discovery of the new medium itself, but it has been a lot of fun so far. I have, however, been working a lot more in my sketchbook. This has really allowed me to expand and realize what I do and do not look for in a successful landscape piece.
I still continue to follow the main aspects of my past work: flat horizon, large scale, simple palette, symmetrical, geometric and fantastical. The only real differences, besides being strictly black and white is the tone, texture, and how much more relaxed and inaccurate I've allowed these pieces to become. A true inspiration for these works came from gestural life drawings, made from similar materials. These paintings, or drawings (pawings? draintings?) are done quite quickly as well; usually in a matter of days.
I have completed two full sized works on canvas and I'll try to get photos up as soon as possible.
We'll see how far I take these. In honesty, the only thing holding me back from producing dozens of these is how costly the canvases can be, especially since most push six feet in length.

The writing on the left is pretty nonsensical. If you have trouble reading the scratchy font, it usually reads how I feel about certain ideas, such as how I find birds cliche and how elderly women love corn row fields.