My fellow struggling artists out there will understand the sinking feeling I get when I trudge up to the mailbox and find a manila envelope addressed to me in my own hand. Another politely worded rejection expressing regret that "due to the overwhelming number of submissions infinitely better than yours...." Anyway, every now and then a thin white envelope appears bearing good tidings. Yesterday I got word that my photograph "mccrae" was accepted into the Yukon permanent art collection.
When I was putting together the series last fall, I jotted down some reflections on my favourite roadside attraction:
I like how the lights of the gas station shine like beacons in the 4:30 p.m. darkness of a December afternoon. I look forward to the colourful Chinese new year calendars proffered by the cheerful restaurant owners. I appreciate the gruff but kind Petro-Can guys who always ignore my (half-hearted) protests at their help carrying my water jug to the car. If the unthinkable were to happen and McCrae was to suffer at the hands of progress, then surely the clattering hoofs of the four horsemen could not be far behind.
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