I’ve seen fire, and I’ve seen rain. Post-storm drama. Prelude Lake, Yellowknife, NT.
A conceptual image that I’ve been working on for some time that may evolve into a series down the road.
Model: The incredible Francko Edge
Assisted by: My participants in my Ottawa Creative Portraiture workshop
Tiger stand-in: The incredible Chris Fox
Re-touch critique: The incredible Renee Robyn
A different sort of landscape image from me; photographed in the subtle light of a rising moon after dark last evening on the shores of Lac-Temiscouata in Quebec.
IS0 500, f/18, 30-second exposure.
"Singing With Silence"
One of the things I love most about heading out into the outdoor world for photography in either pre-dawn or dusk is that you seemingly have the entire world to yourself. It’s these moments of silence and solitude that I find my religion - that I hear my song.
Lac-Temiscouata, Quebec. Parc national du Lac-Temiscouata
When I talked over the past year about doing this current cross-country tour, I can’t count how many people looked at me with surprise, and then asked the question, cautiously, “are you nuts?”
Two straight months on the road with three little children (ages 2, 4, and 7), living in a modest camper trailer. I’ll admit, at times, that I had a little fear. What if we, well, hated it? It sounded romantic, but what if day in, day out we hated the long drives (or worse, our children hated the long drives and made us hate the road as a result?)
We’re now at the one-month stage of our trip - which in itself blows my mind - and here’s my honest thoughts on this trip, whether or not we’re loving it or hating it, and whether I’d do it again:
This has been the single greatest summer of my life.
If you ever want to get to know your children, spend a whole bunch of 12-hour driving days in a confined space. It sounds like it could be torture but I find I’ve caught myself bursting out laughing, or grinning ear-to-ear, almost hourly, due to the words and the observations they make.
If you ever want to have fun, spend time camping with them. Playing catch. Watching them ride their bicycles. Playing with abandon. Marshmallows. Campfires. Swimming. Dirt. Mosquitos. Potty humour.
If you ever want to beam with pride, wake up and watch your children, one-by-one as they wake up, climb into your bed. The feeling you have when you know they’re content to snuggle under a few layers of blankets for thirty extra minutes and share laughs before heading outside to greet the morning sun.
If you ever want to learn about your country, hit the road and see it. Talk to people in each place. Watch the sun rise and set and rise and set. Then watch the stars. Drink a local beer. Find the place that sells the amazing perogies.
I’m technically “working” this summer. A lot, to be truthful. This is a family trip, a fun trip, but we have a schedule and city after city, I’m teaching, we (my wife and I) are working out logistics, and I have a responsibility to the people who have paid their hard-earned money to give them the best possible experience. But as many hours as I’ve worked this month so far, lack of sleep aside, not a minute has felt like work.
We’re born for the road, and the only sadness I feel is that this has to come to an end about a month from now. But that really just means that we’ll go home, and stop, and try to figure out how we can do this again. And again.
The Morning Sound.
Pre-dawn light starts to blanket the shores of Georgian Bay in beautiful Awenda Provincial Park near Penetanguishene, Ontario. A great sky for a great morning with a great bunch of people as part of my Planet of Light landscape workshop tour.
Mussie Tekle. Student and aspiring world-changer. Shot as a lighting demo as part of my Winnipeg portrait workshop.