seen and unseen

 

  

 I always get a sense when driving throughout Newfoundland that there is a secret on the edge of disclosure. It may be hidden inside a coastal house, or lingering like a spirit around a wharf at dusk. It's like that feeling you get as you approach a group of strangers and they become reticent. You sense they're protecting something. That's what I love about the place, you just know the story goes deeper than clapboard. This mindset invariably leads me to a visual event. It usually starts with something familiar; a house, a boat, or a road etc, and then I reinscribe it for something else... as one would reinscribe an object for further contemplation.

The road is the most tangible metaphor I can think of for exploration. As we drive the rules of the road influence what we see around us. However, between the rules there are no directions for us, other than our will to keep moving. We may only see an unromantic image of road and barrens viewed through a car window. When an object like a house or a boat suddenly appears in our way, we feel impeded for no sensible reason. It's a way of staging a disorientating encounter and to ask ourselves why is it there? Or why does it exist, or why is it still important – even culturally important?

I've learned over the years not to be spoon fed. Strip away the superficial associations that cling to certain objects like a weathered fishing shack or a boat, and new worlds appear. They exist and have etched their way into our east coast culture. And they will go on existing in our lexicon of symbols. To put it simply, the road is a stage, the objects are actors, and the composition conveys performance. I didn't write the play. I'm just a witness to it. I keep going back to that which is seen and unseen, not just looking for subject matter, but what embodies the subject.

Steven Rhude, Wolfville, NS