Welcome to my new blog-zine (I might have just made that up). Right at the top of the page, you’ll see links to my bio, a way to contact me, and some info on re-using information from this site.
The galleries are really what this site is all about – a kind of portfolio of my work as a photographer. I am available for hire. 🙂
The idea for the rest of the site is to act as my social media channel. Newfoundland, photography, X-plane, beagles and espresso are all fair game. Yeah, it’s a bit random, but heck, this is a personal web site, and those are my jam.
It might be a little while before richb.ca is back in shape, but it’ll get there, and as I look through my hard drives, in particular for images for the galleries, I’m coming across some gems. Can’t wait to share them.
As I look through my drives for material that needs to go on this site (I accidentally deleted the old site before I was ready, forcing me into a time of renewal and remastering), I’m coming across some gems. Like this one. This is my beagle Jack, who passed away in April 2019 at around 15 or 16 years old. As a photographer, I strive to get sharp in focus images, but that’s just part of it, and this soft focused image shows that it’s not as important as capturing the moment. Here, Jack was just practicing for bed time (something he did a lot), on the sofa in our rec. room. Light is coming from a single stand lamp in the room, and that’s it. No moving stuff around, no posing. I just grabbed my camera and shot. A simple photograph of my boy.
We got Jack as a rescue from Beagle Paws in St. John’s, and he spent his last eight and a half years with us. In that time, he went from a shaking mess – scared of the sound of his own ID tag clinking on his food bowl and too scared to come in through the patio doors – to a real mellow guy. Quiet. Stoic (except when there was food around). And confident. A truly wonderful soul, who came to love human hugs (he was the softest teddy bear). Our vet found a fairly large tumour in January during a routine visit. At his advanced age, and with some residual issues giving us concern for his recovery from surgery, we decided to let him live out the rest of his life without surgery. He lived another four happy months before telling us that he’d had enough. As soon as he showed us pain, we said goodnight. I miss him every day.
If a friend tells you to cut down on your caffeine consumption, are they really your friend?