Sometimes, even in (or perhaps especially in) these hyper connected times, it’s still a little tough to stay connected.
I’m here in Montreal, Mother’s over there to the West, in Winnipeg. The phone is a pretty important piece of equipment. If only her phone, her PHONES, would cooperate.
After frustration and rage and laughter (but with an unfortunately shakey, focus-defeating hand), I decided to photograph the culprits.
So this is Bad Connection. And yeah, I probably owe you one.
– Denise Duguay
"Hang on. I think I'm losing you. ... Can you call me back?" I'm not a great fan of the telephone. Not that I don't like to talk, but I'm happier at a keyboard.
"Dear? Is that better? Say something ... Hello?" Except with Mother. We talk, more or less, daily, or rather nightly, usually after some show we're watching together, in Winnipeg and Montreal.
But in the last few months, things have gotten a little tangled.
"Dear? ... Damn this thing!" No matter what phone she tries, it's just a matter of time before the line starts fading. And at last count she was into the double digits of mobiles, landlines, old phones, new phones and new batteries, and some of which you see here.
"Hello?" Is her cozy little apartment some kind of ground zero of spectral interference? Is her kinetic, creative mind creating its own force field?
I'm sure there's a message here. Or a wiring problem there. Or a good old fashioned mystery. I'm going to call somebody.