A Camp in August

My in-laws do this every summer, gathering as many of us as they can for a weekend of makeshift camping at their home in the country. We all bring food and beer, pitch our tents wherever we can and catch up. The kids run and scream...and scream and run and scream some more—until fireworks and roasted marshmallows settle everyone down.

And the night comes.
And the winds howl.
And sleep dissolves our tired souls.


Shot with the X-Pro2 and XF 35mm f/1.4 R


Heatstroke

It's fairly common for tourists visiting this city to be blindsided by the weather: Montreal can get very hot during the summer months. And as soon as the temperatures rise, the humidity usually settles in as well, creating what can quickly become a pretty awful mix of radiated heat vs heavy/damp conditions.

I was giving two workshops last week, both to photographers visiting the country. Very enjoyable few days with great conversations and street shooting but man...it got tough. On Tuesday, with Chris, we ended up walking over 20k before the day was done and already the conditions were hard to endure. But it was still somewhat dry and there was a mild breeze providing some comfort. On Thursday however...broiled and grilled. My client that day—Rafael—was in town from Mexico and the sheer intensity of the heat left him more than a little surprised. We should've been drinking Sangria on a terrasse in the shade...not walking around with cameras dangling around our increasingly sunburnt necks (well, mine anyway).

It's better now. Still feels like summer but a bit less killer.
A few frames below to keep those warm memories alive...


Shot with the X100T and the X-Pro2 with XF 35mm f/2 R WR


Days in the Capital P1 | GEOMETRY


Shot with the X-Pro2 and XF 35mm f/2 R WR


Now she reads...

"Argh...I can't read on my own!" We knew she could. She was already there, already deciphering every sign or panel or label around us. She was just being stubborn, a bit of a drama queen too…wonder who she got that from. 

Now she won’t stop, just like her brother and sister. We sit on the deck and she goes through a book or two while I write. That door will never close.

Oh and yes: that’s X-Pro1 not 2. Nostalgia.


Shot with the X-Pro1 and XF 35mm f/2 R WR


This photo essay contains no images.

Call this a post for the imagination...photography without images. I'm coming back from a shoot hours away from home, driving through a small rural town north of Montreal. Beautiful spot. I see an old man ahead of me, slowly walking up his driveway. The house is a small bungalow, painted baby blue and white; the man is wearing clothes that match perfectly—not in colour but in tone. I see this and I know...I KNOW there's a perfect image about to happen. I can feel it in my bones. As I drive past this totally random scene I quickly turn my head: and there it is. The man framed by his front door, his body still and crouched as if expecting the world to end, the house filling the entire background. A Christopher Pratt painting in every detail, from the subject's demeanour to the mood and the hues.

Of course it only lasts a second. Just enough time to realize what I've missed, what every single human being on the planet has missed along with me—unknowingly. A fragile moment recorded to nothing but my own imperfect memory, one of millions of masterpieces created only to be instantly destroyed.

We can never capture everything. But seeing at all times, under any circumstances, is entirely up to us. And for this we don't need the best camera money can buy or the most expensive lens on the market...we just need awareness.

Our eyes open to beauty in the making.