Print
E-mail
Comment
Rate
Master photographer's talent creates timeless image record
One hundred years ago, Rod LeMay took a moment and looked at a camera from the lens side. He'd been painting a boat he had built. It didn't often happen that LeMay was captured on this side of the lens. He was usually the one taking the photograph. And now he stands looking out from a world he preserved in black and white.
LeMay's artistic talent and skill as a photographer turned the wilderness of Powell River into a timeless story, a permanent record of the growth of a community, and an opportunity to look into the lives and faces of those who made the community's history.
By Lee Mackenzie -- Peak Contributor
LeMay looks at his viewers calmly. He's holding a paintbrush in one hand, a can of paint or varnish in the other. There are basic building tools close at hand. The ground is littered with wood chips and shavings. The boat needs only his finishing touch.
"He looks clear-minded," said Teedie Kagume, coordinator of the Powell River Historical Museum and Archives Society. It's a very open face. And self-sufficient, to have come through tragedies and made a new life for himself here in what was, at the time, the middle of nowhere."
In 1907, LeMay arrived in Powell River. It was wilderness. Nothing more than a glorified logging camp. The story at the time was he was running away from heartbreak. His wife and infant child had died in Montreal in tragic circumstances of which he never spoke. LeMay kept his personal life private, never really leaning on his new community.
Rudolphe (Rod) LeMay was born in France. He studied art at the Academy of Rome. Eventually he came to Montreal, where he worked on the restoration of St. James Cathedral in old Montreal, later renamed Mary, Queen of the World Cathedral. LeMay sculpted the figures of the saints adorning the roofline.
When his world collapsed and he came west, he made his home in what was known as Lutzville. His cabin was in the area of the old Townsite golf course where the Knights of Columbus hall was later built.
Although he sculpted and painted, his main focus was photography. As the community grew, LeMay's little home became a favourite destination during a Sunday afternoon stroll. Visitors would stop in to see the photographs that lined his walls, or have their own pictures taken.
Wrestling the cumbersome equipment and technology of his time, LeMay hauled his cameras to every corner of the emerging town and the wilderness on his doorstep. With the eye of an artist, he saw value and beauty in everything, from the joyous ride of a water skier to the dignity of hardworking men, pausing to allow themselves to be recorded in images that were commonplace then, unforgettable now.
"Look at these men here," said Kagume. "They're building the penstock canal that will bring water to the mill generator." She studied the photograph, absorbing the details. "Here they're posing on the bucket of the steam shovel. And look at these ones. They're holding their shovels like soldiers at attention."
In order to take his photographs, LeMay had to persuade his subjects to stand still for the long exposure time needed by his camera equipment. "He had to get them to stop work," said Kagume. "He had to get their attention, get them to pose. The clouds were forming. The rain was pending. But they had respect for him, and so they had patience."
One of LeMay's earliest images is entitled View of Mountains on Powell Lake, BC, 1908. The lake is absolutely still. The mountains are reflected. It's easy to imagine a man born and raised in tamer landscapes having his breath taken away by the natural splendour in which he now found himself.
LeMay saw beauty in the outdoors, the stuff of everyday life, the men and the machinery.
The photograph entitled Generator Room, Powell River Paper Mills, shows the vast expanse of the mill room housing giant machinery. Two workers are standing in front of one generator. Another sits on top the other generator. They've stopped their work to let LeMay capture a few seconds from their lives.
Boy scouts, a baseball team, people posing in front of a steam locomotive, a picnic, a masquerade, all became lasting images from a man who could stop time.
"If he had all those people posing for him, he must have been really trustworthy, don't you think?" said Kagume. She smiled. "One of the things I'd like to know about him is was part of his charm that beautiful French accent?"
Looking again at the photograph of LeMay standing in the shed beside his boat, his face betrays nothing, and the fragments of his story are still all that remains.
"We know so little about him," said Kagume. "Did he keep in touch with his parents? Did he have siblings? We don't know. But we do know that he seemed to be well-loved by people. In all we read about him, I've never seen anything that wasn't positive. He garnered a lot of respect and good wishes."
During his time in Powell River, LeMay worked at the mill, drove taxi and worked with explosives. After taking hundreds and hundreds of images, LeMay sold his studio in the early 1920s and moved to Wildwood. He died in Vancouver in 1949.
No one knew why he gave up his photography. As he had all along, LeMay kept his personal life to himself.
The photograph of LeMay was taken in 1908. He was 33 years old. "He would be 133 years old now," said Kagume. "Where would we be if he hadn't come here? We're just so fortunate that he ended up in Powell River. Just so fortunate. And after all these years of being in obscurity, it's nice to know that he's being honoured."
 |
 |
|
| Restoration a privilege | Delay likely |
Article Rating
Reader Comments
The following are comments from online readers. In no way do they represent the views of Peak Publishing Ltd. To suggest removal of comments that violate the terms of use, please e-mail webmaster@prpeak.com.
