Goodbye to a Friend

Just wanted to take this opportunity to say goodbye to my friend Jimm Barr. He joined my annual group golfing buddies three years ago and his presence immediately affected the group in the most positive and hilarious way.

When I first met Jimmy, he was confused whether I went by "Andy" or "Andrew", so I asked him to choose for me. He replied "I like Andrew. It's longer. It's a good name, so why shorten it?"

Jimm, among so many things, was once a sniper for the RCMP for numerous years, as well as a highway patrolman in the Northwest Territories, and an undercover detective in Vancouver's Lower East Side. The man was a walking, talking story. Upon hearing of his death I was greatly saddened. Our annual meeting was always something that I looked forward to.

 

All my best to his friends and family. 

Andrew.

somethin's fishy

I just recieved this message on Youtube while trying to watch something.

".....but, but I'm in Canda!"

always a good time.

This is what happens when my family gets together with a MacBook close by. This time we were in Jasper, AB.

From left to right: myself, Aunt Laura, Bike, and mom in the background.

Enjoy.

whoopdy woo

Sure, we won the Olympic gold medal in hockey.
Yet one thing struck me as I was walking the streets after the victory (I was on the bus for the last half of the game, so you can understand when I say I wasn't in the mood): on New Years Eve, everyone screams "Happy New Year!!", on Christmas morning everyone screams "Merry Christmas!", yet when Canada wins the goal - all we can do is stick our heads out the window and scream, which is something I've never really understood.

The Canadian hockey term certainly doesn't make me a proud Canadian, because that makes little to no sense when you think about it. The only reason people stick their heads out the window on those certain days is because they're merely excited they were born in the country that acquires men and women who skate well.

Being Canadian has nothing to do with people on ice.

As usual, to bring some more clarity to the situation, here's George:

startin fires tour

Show tonight in Kingston.
Yeah.

until then

I was listening to this song the other night and decided to bring it back to life by making a video for it. Seeing as I had a camera full of travel footage, I thought why not use it somehow? The thing I find kind of funny about the video is that it was entirely shot by myself, my dad, and my brother - something which I can guarantee you won't happen again for the rest of history: the Schmidt boys filming music videos.

Needless to say, here it is.



Aside from that, it may be worth watching on Youtube's site, seeing as the format of my blog cuts the sides off videos when viewed on certain screen sizes, like my own.

somebody give us some moneeeeyyy

It's simple: Canadian cinema has no money.

I'm pretty sure the biggest budget film of all time is still, get this, Porky's.

While aching and groaning in sickness, one of my favorite activities is to sit on the Apple site and watch movie trailers for about two hours. It's fun, and I know a lot who do the same thing.

However, I went back a few pages and noticed a trailer for a film called Bull that was originally posted over the summer. I'm almost certain this is the only Canadian film currently on the Apple Trailers website. And boy is it a sad one. After watching the trailer with a bit of neglect, I decided to share it with the rest of you just to exemplify how shitty the movie looks, which really doesn't have much to do with the cast or crew. It just looks terrible.

We see some garbage first-generation HD footage, some crappy sets, all the go-to Canadian actors (half of them have shows on CTV), terrible dialogue and even worse production value. But in actual fact, this all really just comes down to money - because our film industry has none.

Bull - The Trailer from Bull - The Movie on Vimeo.

Also, if you do decide to visit the films website for whatever reason, you'll notice the "Now Available on DVD" post-it in the lower corner, while it's still being advertised as a trailer. Ouch.

where the great plains began

I was sifting through my video camera the other night and completely forgot about this video.
It was originally shot for Dan, as we both share a love for the song, and for The Tragically Hip.
So, as I crossed the hundredth meridian over a year ago, this video was filmed.
Excuse the horrible singing, but if you knew how Gord Downie sang live, you'd understand.

Quik Note

scratch what I said earlier today about my phone.

she's been working like a dream since arriving at Signal Hill (no pun intended) here in St. Johns, Newfoundland.

Call and text away my pretties.

signed, east.

True Patriot Love

Happy Canada Day, my friends.

Having skimmed through my usual blog roll earlier this evening, I thought it necessary to at least brush upon the fact that it's Canada Day. The only thing I've missed mentioning while on tour is the passing of Michael Jackson, but that topic deserves some planning, which I'll get to.

But really, etiquette and tact aside: I love this fucking country.

For starters, I should mention that I've never really understood the large amount of pride that one puts into it's own nation. You'll never see me defending Canada in fatigues, nor will you see the red maple leaf stained permanently on my arm. I've always thought that priding oneself on the soil you were born on was more of an elementary idea, and that goes for every nation. There's not a country on this planet that I'd pronounce any pride from. However, I know that I enjoy living here.

I won't go on about how much I love the Rockies or Double-Double's, but rather what is contained within our borders, figuratively speaking. Our culture (and trust me, we have one) is such an incredibly fragile thing. It really only hangs by a few, strong threads. Our passive nature as a nation really allows us to legitimately lollygag around almost any situation, and I love that. The manners, the courtesy, the respect for one another: it's all quite remarkable.

It's only when you step outside of this nation that you realize how unique our culture really is. And you need not travel too far: minutes south of any Canadian border lies an accent you'd swear was as foreign to you as China. Having traveled across this country many times, under very different circumstances, I can tell you that Canadian culture is not too hard to find. All you really need is an empty stomach (to crave the food), a vehicle and destination (for the sights), some knowledge of the French language (because you're supposed to), and an old couple to talk to (because that's where the straight Canadian goods lie, largely).

I could just as easily go on about how many problems we have in this country, but I'll leave that for another day. Because who likes to get shit on when it's their birthday?

And besides, I got to see Joel Plaskett play last night for free in St. Johns, New Brunswick, so how hard can life here be?

I really want to revise this, but I'm tired from driving across the country. I'm going to bed, and wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy Birthday Canada.

if you were a latino, I'd be fucked

There they are: the two official handsome chauffeurs of the Hue 2009 East Coast Tour.

I don't believe I've ever mentioned such things on this blog, but my band is touring the East coast of Canada starting next week (June 24th to July 25th to be exact). To be totally honest, I'm equally excited and uneasy. It's definitely not the most legit tour ever compiled. On top of slightly shotty tour dates, we're camping. How you like me now? It's going to get really, really greasy. But hey! That stuff is right up my alley.

I've been very fortunate to have seen the many corners of this country at such a young age. It's been some time since I've visited the East, which is nice because I have an altered appreciation for pretty much everything since last visiting when I was 13. Wow, a decade ago? Where does the time go. I still know the feeling of being nearly blown off my feet by the wind, atop a hill in St. Johns. I still remember the smell of the ocean, and I definitely still remember the smell of my No. 5 Dippity Doo hair gel I used at the time. That shit could impale.

Speaking of greasy travelling, Dan and I are no strangers to it. Him and I have traveled half-way around the world together and done some of the most despicable things you can think of, all in the name of survival. Sleeping in parks, eating out of the garbage, shitting in the outback, stealing hundreds worth of drinks, using other peoples towels (fuck), trying to catch food, chasing kangaroos - although I wouldn't call that survival, I just really wanted to box that mo-fo. He took it like a bitch.

Needless to say, we know what we're doing in the wild. We became men at a very young age. Some of that shit I can't even tell you about. Either way, for the tour I'm going to re-open the Spreken Ze Talk blog, just to extend my travel stories this summer.

And it's not even over yet!

The first week of August marks my fourth annual "Men With Clubs" tour. It's basically me and a bunch of retired teachers/principals golfing Northern Michigan for four days. It's really just beer, golf, dudes, and jokes. I love it.

I'll post again before we leave. Show tonight at the London Music Club (big hall), then tomorrow at Mitzi's Sister around 9, then Friday at Pogue Mahones in Sarnia. I have to put up some paintings at Vdara before then.

My life is a circus.

assault and pepper

Hey Friends!

I've not been a slack as of late. It was just old Ted Rogers holding our internet signal ransom for several days. Yet, a lot has happened.

I might as well start with last Thursdays show at Call The Office in London.

The night itself was an overall success. Seeing as I don't have Facebook, I never really know who's "attending" and who's not. I'd heard word that many old friends were confirmed guests, and nearly all of them showed! This made for some, well, I'll just say interesting events. Even great friend, past-bandmate, and wonderful human in general Nathan Albion made his appearance. Dan and I used to be in a band with Nathan called Gerald Pessy way back in the day. We also almost won our highschool Battle Of The Bands together after only two weeks of playing our instruments.


The show also went quite well. There's a young and shakey kid doing sound at CTO nowadays, which caused us a bit of sweat. Aparently the show sounded good from the croud. People seemed to respond well to the new material. Even the new-new material (a near remix of an untitled song that had been played at several shows) went off without a hitch. That new version is pretty awesome, and a lot more fun to play, even though I stole the beat from a Josh Ritter album.
I have to mention, the Call The Office stage has heat like no other club. I'd rather play in the desert than feel the lights of that place. I always bring a change of clothes to those shows because, combining the heat with the vigor I play with, always makes for a sweaty performance.

The next morning, after some delicious King's Inn Diner lunch, we made for the road. I drove. Upon arrival, we all split for a Triple S before the show. I got Chippy's, located directly across the steet. If you've never eaten there, and have an appreciation for fish & chips, boot your ass over there as soon as possible. We then showed up for sound check.


I'll be honest, and I've said before, Lee's Palace scares the shit out of me. It's a massive venue that has seen some of the best bands on the planet play since before you were born. The walls of the place just ache with history. Not only is it one of the most notorious, but the best sounding clubs in the city. So naturally it was a bit nerve-racking packing our gear in it's hollow state. All of the bands were cool, except the bill didn't have any flow whatsoever.

The order went as follows: college funk, hue, hip-hop, then metal. Goofy.

We were rushed going on, seeing as the previous band ran late. I was literally still tightening my stands while Darcy tinkered the opening chords of our set. A great amount of people showed up, except we didn't make any money because they were all on the guestlist haha. S'all good. We payed for our gas money the night before.

Afterward we all hit Dance Cave and danced uncontrollably. Kevin Black and I jammed so fucking hard to Arcade Fire. I'm pretty sure we created our own dance circle in the middle of the floor just because nobody wanted to be hit by our flailing limbs. Atta boy. Another story that deserves some attention is actually quite funny. Minutes before we left after packing our gear, a fight broke out only a few feet from us. The cops showed up, and one of the guys who sucker-punched another dude approached us and told him to take his wallet. We said no, so he kicked it under our van. All I did for the next ten minutes was stare at the guy while he was being questioned by the cops. But why would he do this? It's simple really. The oldest in the book.

See, when a cop questions you for something illegal, all you really need to do is chuck your wallet away. That way, upon questioning, you can make up any address you feel like and the cops would be none the wiser. You'll never recieve a ticket and never pay a fine.

The punchers girlfriend noticed me eyeing him up and pleeded with me to not rat him out. To be honest, the only reason I didn't was because Darcy was driving and didn't want to get involved. Lucky him, because I was drunk and wanted justice. The most funny part is, she was pleeding with me as I was sitting in a van full of people, and after I continued to shove everything she said to the ground, my only reply to her was:

"Na na na na na na na na, BATMAN!!!"

We all had a good laugh at her expense right then and there.

I went home after that and slept. Then! Just when life couldn't get any better! I awoke to tickets to that afternoons Jays game against the Kansas City Royals! My good friend Andrew Siu and his lovely girlfriend treated Blair and I to some free tickets behind the plate. That was fucking awesome. I don't really have any good stories about that, except that I would shout any obscenity Andrew asked me to, including telling Vernon Wells to "EARN THAT 20 MILL!!!" when he was up to bat. He then struck out.

A week later, Darcy and I attended the annual Alzheimer's Tournament at The Highland in London. This was our fourth year playing, and easily the most hilarious yet. I won't go into too much detail, because I have a tonne of pics and video from that day, which I will post hopefully as soon as my sister sends them. You're in for some hilarity.

That same night a whole whack of us went out to Raygun and party-hardy'd, until we eventually ended up at Caitlin's place, free-styling and putting back drinks until the sun came up. Those freestyle tapes exist somewhere and I'll see what I can do to retrieve them.


Nowadays I've just been working, doing laundry, rehearsing, recording, painting, photographing, working on a website, Luminato, watching playoff basketball with K, walking, organizing, and enjoying what has been one of the best summers in years. My life seems to be one hectic, fantastic moment after another.

give a fuck? me neither

Tomorrow I am taking part in Del's 13th Annual group exibition.

It's in Scarborough. The ultimate success will be me not getting mugged.

If you really, really feel like coming, the show is located at 275 Bangurgh Circle, Scarborough Ontario. I'm bringing my best friend to help set up and drink coffee together. Other than that, it's just an opportunity for me to kiss babies and sling bullshit.

similarryties

Today I realized that the apples truly don't fall far from the trees. 

My dad and I make this pilgrimage to Oakville every few months to pick up oversized canvas from the gigantic DeSerres outlet store. I'm pretty sure the prices are the same as the one here downtown, but it's kind of fun to make the journey and we get a chance to catch up. 

So today we made that same trip. It went pretty much exactly the same as it usually does: we drove through shit weather, talked about bad drivers/the economy/work/family/the weather/sports (I pretend and nod a lot at that), we drank tim hortons, got off at the wrong exits and laughed at each others stank farts. It was business as usual. 

Once we got back to my studio, we cracked down on some manly shit. To be more specific, we drilled holes in the walls and used ladders. At around this point, I quickly became aware of how similar my dad and I really are. Once my dad uttered "Hey And, you got anything I can piss into?", I laughed and handed him my usual piss bucket and left him to do his business. 

The funny thing about that instance is that every time I've ever mentioned to someone that I have a piss bucket, they cringe and make a stupid face. My dad? We both understand that taking a piss is simply taking a piss, and there's nothing around it. Who cares that there's a jug of warm piss in the room? I just dump it into the drain outside my door. Be a man and get dirty for once you over-sanitized, kleenex-havin' baby! 

The next similarity came when he noticed my wagon wheel. Yes, I have a single authentic wagon wheel downstairs which I swiped from a leather ranch that had gone out of business. It was a hasslehoff to carry home, but I knew I'd use it for something eventually. He replied,

" Aw, sweet wagon wheel! You could turn that into a coffee table!", and that was my exact intention on having it. Because, the fact is, my dad would have grabbed that wheel off the street even faster than I did. We just both have an eye for useful junk. 

We continued to drill more holes (which will be used for hanging wet canvas instead of leaning them against the wall), crack jokes, and jam out to The Temptations. I explained the motion sensor problems I have and he told me of a friend who could remedy that problem. Excuse me? Where has this person been for the past three years while I've been doing stupid fucking jumping jacks all afternoon to keep the lights on? Needless to say, this person is coming over one day to hook me up, figuratively speaking. 

And to top off this story, he gave me a brand new step ladder! I am officially a man now, because I have my own ladder. All I need now is a truck, some more plaid, a baby, and over $50 in Canadian Tire money and I'm in the club. 

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.

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.