the Case of the Cursed Calendar

I was born in the 80s, so it’s safe to say that I have a soft spot for the tangible over the digital. Last year, I tried to share my love of physical art by producing my first-ever wildlife photography calendar. This is the dark tale of that calendar, a story about dreams becoming nightmares, and nightmares becoming…something else entirely.

Even as a kid, I loved art and photography and, outside of plastering my walls with a variety of posters and magazine cutouts, one of the artistic expressions I most looked forward to each year was picking out a new calendar. I loved the idea of having a 12-month gallery of creative beauty hanging on my wall and genuinely kept old calendars for years. I even had a personal rule that I couldn’t look at the art for a new month before that month had started, or it was bad luck. I loved pop-culture calendars and bank calendars alike, and I would often contemplate the time and effort that went into each month’s chosen image.

Fast forward to the launch of The Dusty Unknown, and one of the first quests I embarked on, as a new business owner, was having my work featured in local community calendars printed by various financial institutions. I was lucky enough to have an image chosen for three different 2023 calendars, including Ducks Unlimited. Knowing my work would appear in various homes and businesses across the province was incredible, but for 2024 I wanted to push myself even further…and that’s when the trouble began.

Before landing on the idea of producing my own wildlife calendar, I approached several other photographers in the hopes of creating a Photographers of Westman calendar to support local artists and business. While there was some interest, the project ultimately failed, and I was left to contemplate the pros and cons of printing a calendar for myself instead. I polled friends, family and followers, and the consensus was that the desire for photography calendars was alive and well. So, after much discussion with my wife—who volunteered to design the calendar from scratch—I set about creating a monthly showcase of the last several years of my photography journey.

Alright, here’s where things get spicy, so I would like to preface the next part of this sordid tale by saying that I print on many different mediums, including birch, greeting cards, archival paper, soft-touch postcards, metal, etc., so I know that the world of printing can be an adventure in colour and quality. Secondly, I do not believe that anyone involved in the calendar printing process was actively trying to take years off my life via stress and anxiety, but alas.

The 2025 calendar was the I had ever printed, and putting it together was a joy. I was able to search though some of my favourite photos and work with my wife to craft something we were both really proud of. We did a ton of research and found a printer we thought we could rely on, and our pre-order numbers were unexpectedly high. Everything looked to be coming together…until the calendars arrived.

The first batch of calendars we received were a mess. Not only were the edges jagged and damaged, but the hanging holes were also shredded through by what looked like the world’s angriest worm. The cardboard inserts we had ordered—so we could hand shrink-wrap each calendar—were also the wrong size. We contacted the printing company and were assured that the order was an unprecedented comedy of errors and that we could expect to see new calendars promptly.

When the second batch of calendars arrived, all the errors from the last batch had been fixed. The “problem” was that, in the time it took for two batches of calendars to arrive, our pre-orders had out-sold even our most generous estimates, and I already didn’t have enough calendars in stock. We immediately went to the printer’s website and placed a second order of even more calendars, and then we waited…and waited…and waited. Turns out that the day before a country-wide postal strike, the calendar company decided to ship our order via Canada Post in the hopes of beating the strike. Needless to say, the calendars didn’t arrive until the following year, and when we asked the company if they would re-print the calendars and ship them properly, we were told that “that would not be economical for them” and that we would have to look elsewhere for a printer. Ummm…what?

Thus began the search for a second printer to fulfil the growing calendar orders. A search that proved more difficult than expected. The issue wasn’t just finding a new printer (that would have been as easy as following good reviews and chatting with other photographers). The challenge was that we created an oversized custom calendar from scratch that worked within the dimensions set by our original printer. After weeks of searching, and through a series of somewhat serendipitous circumstances, we finally found a printer in my hometown who was able to meet our needs. Thank goodness!

Strapped for time, with pre-orders and market requests pilling up, Liz and I worked frantically with the new printer to come up with paper stock and a finish that was a close as possible to the original calendars that had already been sent out. Satisfied that we had reached a solution, we ordered a test of the new calendar…and it was magenta. The grizzly was magenta, the porcupine was magenta, even my face on the back cover was magenta. Not just a little pinky-red either: full on MAGENTA.

Obviously, magenta wildlife wouldn’t do, so we asked the printer to recalibrate and try again. They did and the calendar turned out…magenta, and magenta again, and again, and again. When the printer tried to tell me that a magenta hue over everything was as good as they could get, I even reverse engineered the colour issue via Photoshop and sent them the specs. Using my fix, the printer was finally able to change the colours…to bright green. Frustrated beyond belief, I wanted to just walk away from the whole thing, but orders had already been placed, and people were expecting the calendar for Christmas. As a compromise, after almost a dozen drafts, we were able to print the calendars, with as little magenta as possible, and finally had a new stack of calendars to sell. Of course, Canada Post was still on strike, so I ended hand delivering all of my orders across the province, including to customers in and around Winnipeg during a snowstorm. Thankfully, that was over. Or was it?

Before I had even hit the edge of the Winnipeg on my way back home after making the deliveries, my phone was ringing. Multiple people were contacting me to say that the calendars I had just handed them were falling apart in their hands. The staples hadn’t gone through all of the pages. Un-be-lievable! I pulled over, right then and there, and called the printer. They apologized profusely and agreed to reprint the calendars yet again. I was furious. Thankfully, they managed to print the books somewhat quickly and even agreed to pay for shipping to out of town customers. Crisis averted, I thought, but the cursed calendar had one last trick up its sleeve.

So, remember how I mentioned that my wife was designing the calendar? Well, what I didn’t mention was that she was also in the middle of cancer treatment and her master’s degree. And returning to work after 18 months away on medical leave. And, while she was doing that, I was in the middle of a market season consisting of a dozen different shows. To say we were dealing with a lot, is a bit of an understatement but, truth be told, we thought creating a calendar would be much, MUCH, easier. After the binding debacle, however, we were finally able to catch our collective breath and take a moment to wind down. Until a little boy had a project that involved learning the days of the months.

Turns out, in the chaos of cancer, school projects, market deadlines and printing issues, no one had taken the time to look through the calendar with a fine-toothed comb. I thought Elizabeth had, she thought I had, and The Dusty Unknown had not one, not two, but three incorrect months—including this upcoming December. I don’t know that I had ever truly felt my heart sink until that moment, and it led to some tough mental health days but, in the end, Liz and I managed to find a THIRD printer, in Canada, that was able to do a custom print order, with thicker paper stock, correct dates, and NO MAGENTA!

All in all, the dream of my first calendar turned into a wee bit of a nightmare, ending with me hand delivering the final batch of calendars one last time. Lessons were learned, tears were cried, and I swore, SWORE, I would never, EVER, make another calendar. What a fool I was.

Not only did I create a new calendar, but pre-orders go live today! The Dusty Unknown 2026 Wildlife Calendar is bigger, better, and focuses more on photography than last year. The calendar is 9”x18” with thirteen months and includes two images that haven’t been printed before. To change things up even further, the calendar features all vertical images of Canadian wildlife but sells for the same price as last year—$30! If you are interested in giving The Dusty Unknown another chance at calendar creation, head over here to place an order. Stock will be limited, and we will not be doing a second printing this year, so act fast! Also, if you purchased a calendar last year, and somehow didn’t get a replacement, I still have some in stock and can deliver them free of charge—just reach out!

Anyway, now that the curse is over, I can’t wait to get my newest calendar into your hands. Let’s just hope there isn’t another Canada Post strike…