Blossoms, Glitter, and Silver Thaw

BY Ingrid Percy

February 2018

While in residence at The Wells House, Joe Batt’s Arm, Fogo Island, I walk every day near The Witch’s Foot.

Tromping on snow shoes in a down parka, with camera (and keeping my eye on the running dog), is hard work.

I feel like a tourist but assure myself that, despite what this may look like to others, I’m not, because I live in Newfoundland.

I don’t quite convince myself.

I dismiss that thought and look back to this incredible place. The silence. The glare. The snow blinds me.

I stop and look upwards. I turn my camera sideways. The vertical format captures the relationship of the sky to the land.

Along with the Inn (houses, rocks, trees, SUVs, sheds, and people) I am clinging to the earth.

Fogo Island, Land, Sky, Shed. Ingrid Percy, 2017.

Fogo Island, Land, Sky, Ground. Ingrid Percy, 2017.

Fogo Island, Land, Sky, Long Studio. Ingrid Percy, 2017.

Fogo Island, Land, Sky, Twlight. Ingrid Percy, 2017.

Fogo Island, Land, Sky, Houses, Truck. Ingrid Percy, 2017.

Fogo Island, Land, Sky, Sunset. Ingrid Percy, 2017.

Non-Fiction

Making Album Rock

BY Matthew Hollett

You can find such surprising and funny things while digging through archives. The Pilote de Terre-Neuve, published in 1869, is full of dollhouse-like illustrations of Newfoundland’s coastline, complete with tiny ships and houses. I also came across a sea captain’s letter to his daughter, in which he describes “seven little gulls recently hatched” that he is attempting to raise.