This is the tale of how I came to live in a Halifax shed for two weeks, and survived.

Strangely enough, the tale begins beneath a giant Spider in Ottawa.

It was there, at the Ottawa Film Festival that Heather Harkins, said "Y'know, we've gotta find an excuse to get you out to Halifax for a bit!" "Sure," said I. Heather's a charming young animator, and she knows how to get people "on side". Not hard, in my case. A little flattery goes a long way....

Months later, Montreal in winter....

...I got an e-mail from Heather, with the suggestion that I apply for the residency program at this place....

Surprisingly, the place was known to me; their Zine Library already had several Ashcan Alley Comic Books. The deal was: Live in their garden shed for two weeks, and create a work of art. The local film society would set up a screening for my films, and it would also be an excuse to hang out with some Haligonians. Could be fun. And in mid-winter Montreal, anything that isn't Montreal Winter seems fun. And so, around the end of June, I drove off (2.5 days of driving) to Halifax.

(Note: on the way I stopped off at the Pioneer Cemetery; that's in another essay.)

In Halifax I found the Community Center and the Shed in which I was to live (below).

Below, going into my hotel room in three pictures....

Below, some pix of the exterior of the Roberts Street Centre: The front steps...

The gate...

There was a gardening committee, although I never saw a garden... ..perhaps it was this....

Or this.....

When I first arrived, there was a strange performance piece going on in the "garden". During my stay, I created several pages of what became Ashcan Alley #9. This page was based on the performance....

Here's what the Centre looked like inside... ...a room for silk screening....

The library...

The couch...

The unused loo....

The room I worked in...

The usable loo had an installation by a previous artist, called "Genderpoo"

The entire time I stayed there, it was cold and damp despite being July. The accomodations were a bit sparse. There was a firestation around the corner, and screaming fire-engines went by often in the night. Screaming drug addicts, too, right by my head. But I survived, had a nice public screening, and returned home in one piece, with 7 pages of Ashcan Alley artwork. For weeks afterwards I would wake up in the night and wonder if I was still in.....

THE SHED!!!!