Bookmark — Apples On A Windowsill

Essays, photos by Edmonton's Shawna Lemay

by

apples on a windowsill lemay.jpeg

Apples on a Windowsill

Shawna Lemay

Palimpsest Press

Art & Architecture

January 2024

978-1-990293-66-5

At a time when Canada’s sovereignty is under threat, imperialism is on the rise, and the rule of law is crumbling, do books about still lives really matter?

Before reading Apples on a Windowsill, I would have answered with an unequivocal no. But Shawna Lemay’s reflections on the ordinary moments of beauty that surround us changed my mind. She has convinced me that the poetry of everyday objects — a steaming mug of tea backlit by the morning sun or the gleam of dirty dishes on a kitchen table — may be the very salve many of us seek.

Lemay knows whereof she speaks. Her life could be measured in still lifes — a theme woven through more than two decades of writing. Her husband, Robert Lemay, paints luminous florals in their basement studio, sending his work to galleries across the world while she both writes and photographs staged assemblages that she posts onto her blog Transactions with Beauty. As she puts it, her family has been “saved” — both creatively and financially — by flowers.

Lemay’s serene yet profound meditations unfold against a backdrop of chaos and crisis. Much of her book was written during Trump’s first presidency and was completed at the height of the pandemic. 

In the face of uncertainty, photographing still-lifes became her refuge and a revelation—a way to unearth the hidden splendour of daily life amidst disaster.

Her photographs recall the Flemish still-life genre, which flourished in the wake of the Reformation’s upheaval. Like these 17th-century works, Lemay’s images feature vivid bursts of oranges, reds, and greens—fruits, flowers, and twisted lemon peels set against an infinite black space. Both are rich in memento mori symbolism, but Lemay introduces an unexpected twist.

In a deliberate nod to the Trump presidency and his fondness for fast food — as well as commentary on consumer culture — she introduces bags of Cheetos, Diet Cokes, and Big Mac combos amidst the expected Flemish still-life objects.

Gazing at Lemay’s untitled series of photographs and reading this book feels almost prophetic. Things haven’t changed; in fact, the world seems even scarier and more fragile. But, as Lemay points out, amidst the chaos, there is an oasis of calm: a beam of light shining through the curtains, the texture of bread on an old cutting board, or the scent of muddy soil in the spring air. Poetry is always there for us. ■

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