Tag Archives: baby

I’ll be selling at the annual Mommy and Baby Gear Sale

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This year it’s located on the Saint John Exhibition Grounds and runs from 11:00 to 2:00 only on May 10th, 2014. There are a tremendous amount of vendors and organized by Sue of Apple of Your Eye Doula services. There is an event created on Facebook too. Door entry is $2.00 and proceeds are in support of First Steps Housing.

I’ll have many children’s and nursery themed art on hand.

Hope to see you there!

And thanks to everyone who came out to the last weeks show. Above is a shot of last weeks show. My mom and daughter were there helping me out and will be there this week too.

About Dry Mounting Dead Baby Feet

I have custom picture framed many things in my life. From sew mounting a 24 by 36 inch Peruvian head dress to planning small multiple opening matted family photographs with frame I take care and pride in the work I do. More than that, people trust me with their precious items.

On occasion a *custom order stands out from the rest.

A woman recently came into the frame shop in search of a solution for framing ink prints of both hands and feet of her dead grand daughter. The black prints were on cotton. There was also an accompanying drop of blood on this white cotton. I suggested heat setting the prints, before she poured the planned thick coat of varnish over top of them in her shadow box collage, to set the ink in case it ran after the application of varnish. She left the store with the tiny 6 by 6 inch cotton and returned the following day with her shadow box. She showed me what she wanted to do. I said dry mounting to foam core would heat set the ink. I measured the inside of the shadow box at 12 by 12 inches. She placed the cotton and the other baby memorabilia where she wanted them, forming her collage and I punched those measurements into the framing computer system.

She paid for the mounting, gathered her shadow box, pictures and dried flowers then left. There was this smell. A smell I was unfamiliar with that came unbidden whenever the cotton was exposed… as though life or death was holding onto and surrounding the frame shop. I sandwiched these little feet, hands and blood into cardboard, numbered the bin and thought how sorry I was for this little still born soul. With the picture of the dead baby ringing clear in my mind from a few moments earlier I worked silently.

A couple of days ago I dry-mounted this order. Upon opening the cardboard the smell loomed. I cut the foamcore to 12 by 12 inches. I turned the dry mount machine on. I carefully placed the little hands, feet and blood stain a half inch from the bottom in the center on top of the foamcore. I tacked it on one corner with the heat gun adhering it to the board, lifted the seven foot long machine cover and placed this tiny order in the center. I closed the lid. I clasped the sides. Set the machine to three minutes and 150˚ Fahrenheit and hit start. I prayed.

It was quiet in the frame shop that Tuesday evening. The calm before the Christmas storm.

Three minutes later… beep. BEEP. BEEP…
I hit stop.
Time stopped.

Another 12 seconds pass as I wait for the machine to decompress. I open the lid and lift the light green protective covers revealing these perfect little black ink prints of both hands and feet with blood stain mounted to foamcore. The smell is gone. The cotton now smooth, flat and heat set. The water in my eyes dry and I breath in life again.

Her memory will forever live on now.

RIP

*The exact details of this custom order have been changed to protect the identity of all those involved save for myself.

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The Baby Story – dog farts and sperm banks

…for *wagonized 😉 xo

There were two times during my life where I found myself wanting to have babies. The first time was during the year 1999. The year before all was to end. The year we were all taught technology was destined to fail; all digital clocks would turn to 01/01/00 reverting back to the year 1900. How could we have been such suckers.

Did you have a Y2K plan? I had a plan. Go up north and live on the family plot of land. Why not, throw a baby into the migration to. I had been married one year. I had survived death two and a half years before. I felt positive. I felt happy. I had been lied to. In the fall of that year, I found the Y2K rumours at their nastiest.

I look to pass blame on people for things that were my choice to make as an adult. It began at 12 and continues on today albeit much milder in form. Maybe it means I’m growing up.

I wanted to have a baby. I was clean, not smoking cigarettes, married, and was calm most of the year leading up to autumn and generally stable, happy, off the birth control pill and waiting. **Dude just wanted to see it fly in the air. OK. There goes some blame. Seriously, it caused anger back then. I wanted a baby. Then I realized this was not going happen. Other interests and desires seemed more attainable. I was running a business with a fellow NBCCD graduate. We were doing well. We had items for sale in boutiques up and down the Eastern Coast of North America.

I look upon this time in my life as a happy memory. I’m writin’ these words and it’s like bubbles of past floating instantly popping. A whole decade has passed. I began smoking. I began having sex with multiple partners. Consensual and great! You see, these times were not only good, they were as real as any other human experience we all could live through.

I wanted to have a baby last year. Then I realized this was not going to happen. Do I want a baby right now? Certainly – I would have to visit a sperm bank in Canada.
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Abstracted sex is for sale now

hand_lowerleftSM.jpgWhy are you doing this? Being an artist is not unlike any other job or carreer path one chooses or is drawn to . Being financially secure and able to pay your rent or student loan debt is what many of us are faced with regardless of your trade or background. To be able to purchase necessities such as food, shelter, supplies for your trade and formost continue to create; utilizing your skills, talent and education to further understand human nature, technology, compassion and emotion culminates into what could be something that others find useful or needed or simply put, can add to and learn from also.

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Cans Spinach Baby

PopyePopeye the Sailorman sqeezed [tag]spinach[/tag] out of cans into his mouth swallowing the green processed goo. He had a Girlfriend named Olive Oyle and together they had a baby named Sweat Pea. Much of Popeye is Public Domain now.

It is rather odd that yesterday the words cans, spinach and baby could describe my day. Theses three words bring back fond memories of watching Robin Williams acting as Popeye and Shelly Duvall respectively as Olive Oyle in the 1980 Paramount Pictures and Walt Disney Production of Popeye. 26 years ago – Whoah. I watched it on TV so I must have seen it closer to 1986.

Cans
My friend Tomoko drove in from Port Kells to help me bring back four jumbo sized garbage bags of recyclables to the local redemption centre. Ninety percent of the content within these bags were cans of none other than my favourite soda pop, Pepsi. To make things worse the number of [tag]Pepsi[/tag] cans totaled 666. I am taking this as an omen to cut the Pepsi from my diet for good. All this addiction has done for me is add 30lbs to my body in three monthes. All in all I recieved $42.85 total by taking the cans and bottles back – not too bad.

Spinach
Spinach is good for you. As a child I believe I actually liked cooked spinach however to due fussiness or influence of popular culture I pretended I didn’t like it. Out on the deck Eric and I have planted spinach this year – we both love it cooked or uncooked and it’s grows like a weed even in a plastic container. Tomoko had also planted spinach in her garden. I had leftover from my planting and gave it to her.

We drove out to her house from East Vancouver and began working in her garden planting spinach and separating potted plants she had bought to put in the ground. How fun it is to get your hands and feet dirty! And what a treat to be outside of the city in the sun listening to nothing but tweeting birds, mooing cows and her dog barking at the goats, planting spinach.

Baby
What makes a [tag]baby[/tag] but sperm and an ovum. Tomoko is seven weeks [tag]pregnant[/tag]. I was like wow! I was wondering on the drive out why she was asking if I still plan not to take drugs and her telling me she had cut down on how much she smoked to only a few puffs a day. It didn’t kick in until she told me about the pregnancy.

This makes number two for new pregnancies in my circle. Just last week on Mothers Day Eric’s brother announced that his girlfriend is one month pregnant. I’m gonna be an auntie.

So this leaves me with a thought; can I concieve?

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