This year, 2010, marks the 100th anniversary of our family home in Woodlands.

Purchased by my parents in 1965, the house is situated on 320 acres (one half of a section) of bush, sloughs and numerous clearings. I lived there until I was 19. At that point, I knew it was time to leave. The lights of Winnipeg, reflected on the clouds to the south east signaled promise and opportunity.

Country life was great – don’t get me wrong. Many of my fondest memories are linked permanently to a childhood steeped in its aura: our border collie, Hamish, chasing thunder, certain it was a wild animal trying to attack; a large, bent maple tree, festooned with branches, draped with bedsheets, that served as my pirate ship sailing across the ocean lawn; the CN freight train lurching slowly northward at 10:30 each night (I knew then, I had stayed up too late); the richly sweet aroma of fermenting grain in late summer.

Though my parents left Woodlands several years ago for a less demanding, though no less fruitful lifestyle in Stonewall, the homestead remains in the family. My brother and his wife bought the farm – adding their own signature to the house and property.

How much longer will our family govern the Shoal Farm estate? Will it all be around 100 years from now?

I don’t think that’s as important as what I bring with me after growing up in such a special place.

Winnipeg filmmaker, Paula Kelly, has a script in development for a feature film entitled, Emily Blake. As a means of promoting the concept of the film project, I was asked to produce a website that outlines the story and look of the movie.

Using an assortment of photographs from the 19^th century as well as several digital reproductions of Vilhelm Hammershøi paintings, each page was given its own distinctive look within the overall visual design.

Flash® was used sparingly – simply fading text in and out on the home page. A very nice and simple string of JavaScript called, jQuery Panel Gallery Plugin 1.1, developed by a gentleman at Catch My Fame helped to display a selection of images that showcased the desired palette and artistic motif.

A considerable challenge and exercise in problem-solving occurred on the biography page. Even after revisions, Paula’s bio felt too long, at least visually. It pushed the other information on the page down below the fold. The viewer wouldn’t necessarily know to scroll further down the page to read any additional information. At first I thought of simply having a read more link that took the reader to a .pdf document with the expanded biography. That just seemed too cheap and easy. Then I considered two separate pages for each bio, but that seemed so unnecessary.

Thankfully I remembered how some websites show/hide portions of content to maximize real estate. After a lot of searching and disregarding bloated and overly complicated examples, I found this snippet that works really well. Now both bios appear immediately above the fold and, if desired, Paula’s can be expanded to reveal more of her credentials.

Over time, as the production gets further into development, more information can easily be added: cast, crew, productions stills, trailers, festival screenings, and reviews.

The last time I visited New York City, the only camera I brought was a cheap medium-format model with a Bakelite body, plastic lens and one shutter speed (1/60^th sec.). I think I bought it in a fifth-hand shop for a dollar. What it lacked in craftsmanship and technological wizardry was made up for with the ability to make wonderfully abstract images.

I went for a stroll after dinner one evening and ended up at Rockefeller Center. It was dark and both the statue of Atlas and the impressive skyscraper behind it were lit brilliantly from below.

Eschewing the need for a tripod (the camera doesn’t have a machined receptacle for one anyway) I had to place the camera against a concrete parapet for support and stability.

This type of instrument really forces you to harness and trust your photographic instincts.

Fortunately, I did have a light meter. It turned out I needed an exposure of at least 1/2 second. That translated into pressing and releasing the shutter 30 times – with as little unnecessary movement as possible – to get the shot.

Needless to say, the camera did shake slightly. But under the circumstances, I think that movement contributed to an appealing, painterly image.

I love my Canon 40D, but at that moment, I’m glad I didn’t have it with me.