Clips
“It’s the steady calm of the island air whistling through the birch trees. It’s the burst of plover, finches, and jays that begin their daylight calling at 4:30am, beckoning us to do the milking… I am sitting on the front stairs of the Highlands main house. Here four crooked trees congregate like an outer hearth. The twisting white-worn branches are the sort you’d find in the Haunted Wood of Anne of Green Gables’ imagination.
The beaked chirps, caws and whistles blend into a symphony of spring. Behind me seven girls chatter on around the breakfast table: preserves, balkan yogurt, fresh-baked muffins, boiled eggs, brimming between. In the old adjacent dance hall Sabrina [Ward Harrison], dressed in a vintage polkadot dress, is readying for the day’s making.
- UPPERCASE magazine, Watchful Reverence
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“I love everything that’s old: old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine.” You’ll find Oliver Goldsmith’s words chalked on a coffee-of-the-day board steps away from the Regional Assembly of Text — a small paper emporium that would make Ned Ludd proud. Here co-owners Rebecca Dolen and Brandy Fedoruk, grads of Emily Carr University of Art + Design, stand behind the counter of their store, a wall of cast-off industrial filing cabinets behind, assembling cards and packages with meticulous care. Their space is notably lacking a piece of computer technology, or even a phone. Orders are written up by hand on rubber-stamped receipts. It’s a stark contrast to Vancouver’s noon-day bustle streaming by outside, moments from the corporate homes of Electronic Arts and Lululemon, and mindfully so. Quiet spaces like these are becoming increasingly popular, a refuge from our perpetual state of information overload.
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“I climb into the shell, white. Grab my lifejacket, my paddle. Dip the spade in water cold and take my first thrusts out into the lodge-side waters. My destination: the waterfall across the slow ten-minute glide. I pass a yurt, deer, moss, rock. Back in the lodge breakfast is readying. A smorgasbord of balkan yogurt, homemade granola, egg bake, french toast, and bacon by the pound. And I push harder from the nestle of shore to the heart of this mountain cup, and feel the centre of its mouth. After breakfast I will climb these mountains.
- Arts & Cultural Guide to British Columbia
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“There is a dress I’d like to make. But first I have to find some fabric, a zipper, a few buttons. Then I’ll have to borrow a sewing machine, thread, needle, and a serger. I’ll need to measure my arms, waist, and chest. I’ll need a measuring tape. I’ll also have to get a good pair of scissors, and some chalk, I think, to mark the measurements. And then, of course, I’ll have to learn to sew.
Clothing comes from somewhere. Someone made all of the layers you’re wearing, and chances are good it wasn’t you. A person wove the fabric, harvested the cotton, beat the leather. A person chose the colours, the fit, and the inseam. A person sourced the clothing, stocked the shelves, and manned the cashier at the department store.
You’re wearing someone else’s story.
- Comment Magazine, Storytelling Clothes
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“My eyes are bright with readiness.
I hoist myself upon the metal frame, balancing as I locate the pedals beneath my feet, readying for the open road.
I’ve waited for this ride for days years. It’s forever been a dream of
mine to pedal a basket-adorned bicycle down a long country road and
today is the culmination of this small, yet urgent dream.
- Conversantlife, In the Slow Lane
