My Photographic Journey
Capturing the lovely families living in a sugar plantation in the Dominican Republic. Jan 30, 2009.
I have always been artsy - painting and drawing, or making collages or some handicraft. But I’ll admit I completely lucked into photography.
Truth is I chose a random tech course in highschool that included video production, photography and computer design. All I wanted was an “easy” course to lighten my Calculus and pre-med science course load. But what I got was a love of the medium, hours on hours in the darkroom, and a giant binder of negatives.
My inability to throw out memories means binders of negatives.
I didn’t have my own camera so for the better part of two years I signed out an SLR from the tech lab every Friday. Over the weekend I would use it to shoot friends or family and only to sign it back into the school on Monday. By that time I had gotten a job in my hometown photolab, so I was learning photo processing which gave me lots of time to develop my own canisters.
I saved for months to buy my first SLR, which I still have in my studio. And like most aspiring photographers I reluctantly tried digital when it started, believing it wasn’t real photography. But at that time I was heading to South America to live and work, so digital became the key to being able to capture people while traveling without worrying about developing and managing film.
The OG camera that launched it all.
A young person behind the sugar we eat. Sugarcane plantation, Dominican Republic 2010
In all truth, I always get a bit jealous when I read the bios of great photographers. You’ll often hear them talk about a parent who was always taking pictures, or how their house was full of amazing cameras on the shelves or photographs on the walls. For many, photography is almost in their blood.
But not me. I didn’t grow up watching someone turn light into memories. I learned construction from my dad and crafts from my mom. And the first professional photographer I met was the man who took my graduation pictures at the end of University. He took one of my favourite pictures I have of me from that time. When he showed me the back of his camera I was truly shocked. He took the next 10 mins to explain to me how he created what he called Rembrandt's light, which meant nothing to me at the time. Still, it stuck with me.
The photo that introduced me to studio lighting. Halifax, 2009.
Years later, when I returned home from my fun travels, photography didn’t seem as exciting anymore. No exotic places to capture, no fun culture to show. Just small town, rural Canada, construction sites and mundane regular life. So my camera sat aside for a long time.
From Habitat for Humanity to rural Canada construction sites. May 2010.
I do think that every artist goes through periods of great inspiration and excitement, and then seasons of dull, boring lulls. It seems only natural.
Thankfully parenthood brings with it this unceasing desire to just bottle up moments. To never forget. To somehow make time stand still.
So out came the camera again. But this time I had years of work as a journalist under my belt and I saw the world differently than before. And I had a huge desire to document things - even the mundane lulls.
Police barricades in Mexico City on the day of President Trump’s first inauguration. January 20, 2017
Isn’t there beauty in the mundane? In the simple? I believe there is beauty even in sadness. Some of my favourite shoots have been documenting funerals because I consider it an incredible honour to show love at such depth.
I’ve told my husband that I’ll probably never be special enough for someone to write my biography, so that’s why I keep journals; to document my own life even if only a handful of people will ever read them.
It’s the same with images. I see and I want to remember. And that’s what makes me pick up my camera so much.
