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Northern BC has spoiled my wife with over 5000 kilometers of spectacular landscapes using ferries, paved highways, logging roads, and anywhere we could safely take our vehicle. Wildlife sightings were constant, sometimes closer than a zoo spectator, and bear encounters exceeded past twenty. Cooking roadside is the norm and always one of our favourite activities which usually included a view or trekking down a ditch to a mountain lake. It's not glamorous, or the most comfortable way of traveling and the weather brings its own set of unexpected challenges. However, rainfall on your tent while you sleep during the spring months is soul rewarding, and one-pot cooking really saves on the dishes. With five people photographed in May of 2016 who willingly shared their stories between Jasper and Stewart, I managed to meet one more person. That man is Dan Lewis. 

Dan was born in 1944 in the suburbs outside Oakland, California. Like some, Dan was born into a middle-class home and had horses growing up, and as time went by, the family seemed to be moving closer and closer to rural living. In 1971, Dan moved to the Kispiox valley on a piece of property where he still resides today. At the time of his arrival, the land needed maintenance and Dan started using draft horses to help with the heavy lifting. During this period, no one in the area was working with horses, and his interest in the animal got the best of him. It was an easy decision, and he enrolled himself in a course to become a farrier. 

Down a maze of backroads from which I had to stop and ask a stranger, confirming I was going the right way, we made the trip further into the Kispiox valley. We drove through a gate and were welcomed by a couple of energetic dogs, what looked like a newly built home tucked amongst the trees with a garden ready to feed a small village. Dan shortly meeting us as we stepped out of the vehicle. Dan's physical appearance exudes history of someone working on the land and with animals. His hands were the size of baseball mitts along with their worn leather exterior. His hair was unkempt with a beard to bring all my expectations together; gentle and kind but a human of few words. We were given the grand tour with the three of us happily walking amongst the property, spring in full bloom, the grass growing long, and flowers proudly displaying their colours. Dan brought us to a small log cabin on the property covered in overgrowth, that clearly was losing a battle with the outside elements. This was the first home he built along with his wife Mavis and their two kids. They lived a very simple life, growing their own food, tending to people's horses which included a regular hour and a half drive to Smithers. "I was never interested in office work and couldn't sit still"..." Sometimes, this job can be interesting, especially when you have a recalcitrant horse. There's always the possibility of being trampled, kicked, or your tools slicing you. At the end of the day, I have no regrets, and the job served me very well".

Dan was very comfortable having his portrait taken, and I decided to have him sit on the tailgate of his little pickup truck. His set-up was simple, a box of tools, an anvil, and a propane forge for heating the shoes and any alterations needed before fitting the horse. Each having its own spot with no need for big fancy equipment. I thought this was quite fitting given this type of work has been around for hundreds of years.

Now, Dan spends his time tending his garden, a steward to his land, floating down the river and hiking in the summer and trading his boots for cross-country skis come winter. "These days, I'm 95% retired, but I'll still do the odd trim".

I hope you've enjoyed reading these stories and appreciate all the kind words and support. If you or know anyone who lives in a small town or remote area anywhere in Canada, and I mean anywhere, I would love to hear from you. Feel free to reach out via the contact section.

As my wife and I drove to Bob’s home, we found ourselves counting the number of lefts out loud, with one failed attempt in the bag from Bob’s solid directions. We noticed a small break in the trees with only enough room for a single vehicle and drove down towards the river’s edge through dense forest that blanketed the property. Within seconds we saw grazing chickens, turkeys, and horses each with their own living quarters and pens. Their home was modest, practical with a sizeable Irish wolfhound half asleep on the wet deck from the light drizzle coming down. What I presumed was Bob’s shop, was only meters from the main home with logs stacked chest high outside the front door of the weathered structure that was the product of its own time outside. It all sat high on the banks of the Kispiox River with perfect views and natures sound. Bob and his wife Kathy greeted us with open arms and warm smiles when we pulled up to the house. After a few pleasantries, Bob and I departed into his shop where I could already hear the cackling laughter of Kathy and my wife in the distance making the best of a random encounter.

Bob is a rod maker and makes fly fishing rods, spey rods, and his material of choice being bamboo. It’s a type of rod that allows you to cast farther due to its size and flex compared to the more common fly rod. His workshop came with all the bells and whistles: dented weathered workbenches, machines of unfamiliarity, scrap and spare material in all corners, and the randomness that comes with shops organized chaos. Nothing special except the capacious aroma of the lingering mid-day spring shower.

I asked Bob not to break his habits or routine on account of me. I watched him work as I took some photos and asked the odd question. Ok, I asked a lot of questions and mostly just got in the way. He went on to explain his process, methods, and his love for labour and craft. “It’s a love-hate, and you soon find out your mistakes make good kindling.”

Before making rods, Bob and his wife guided for years before he sold his company and dedicated his time solely to making rods. They’ve been in the Kispiox since 1977, built the home they currently live in and what started as a hobby, turned into a living. They raised four children, and Bob shyly mentions, yet with pride, their love for the outdoors. After seeing his process, I set up my camera equipment and took his portrait. What followed was an invitation to join him and Kathy for lunch. I happily accepted.

I like to believe I’m a fly on the wall with all of my encounters, minus the assault with a roll of newsprint. It’s the invitation to observe, listen, ask, and this repeats over and over with each encounter. Bob and Kathy shared stories of past fishing trips, their children and their lives, building a home in the valley, and some of the highs and lows while living in the Kispiox Valley. We talked about the river systems, the surrounding communities, and how a vast majority of the population in Northern BC depend on the balance of Skeena watershed where there is a continued threat from the energy industry. “We have a special place here, and we must not upset the balance.”

Northern BC is nothing short of breathtaking where it’s hard to distinguish what fills the soul more, it’s people, or it’s the landscape of breathtaking mountains and the static hum of the river systems. I hope never to find the answer.

You can read more about Bob and see some of his beautiful work here: https://www.riverwatchrods.com

When I first arrived, on a whim, not knowing if Greggo would even be home from the information I received, I pulled into a tracked road where the only noticeable signs were callused impressions leading into the bush. I stopped the truck in a small clearing, two dogs cautiously greeting me with barks of insecurity. The property is surrounded by trees, along the banks of a river, humming loudly from the spring run-off. There are multiple structures on the property, Greggo’s main home, and a couple others, weathered, a decade or two away from nature claiming it as her own. It’s early morning and in plain view, I see a man walking across the property, a carefree strut to the beat of chirping birds and wind grazing the tops of the trees. We exchange hello’s, pleasantries, and I explain my intentions and reasons for the unannounced visit. Greggo looks at me for ten seconds, gauging my next move, neither cowboy draws, his response, “Well welcome. Are ya hungry? I have some beaver and beans on the stove”. It wasn’t a joke.

I ask him about his life growing up and when he answers, his response is a mix of outbursts, opinions, followed by nebulous mumbles as though a third imaginary person just joined the conversation with his gaze elsewhere. He continues without taking a single breath, hitting a range of octaves and facial expressions that would have Charlie Chaplin nodding in approval.

A man who quit school at 14, which was not uncommon in those days, Greggo was born in 1947, a trapper who still to this day runs a line far up the valley behind his property. He makes do with what he can, still earning an income from what he does catch; marten, mink, bear, and a few others. I ask the obvious question on how he stores the game when there is no electricity to power a fridge. “I put it in the river to keep things cold, sealed in buckets under the water about 10 feet”. I look over and the water is dangerously high and flowing strong. His abode is a log cabin with a couple of wood stoves to cook food and stop him from freezing in the winter. There is stuff that I find hard to focus on, but when I do, there is a couch, a bed, animal skins everywhere, storage in the rafters with a half-dozen feral cats coming in and out of the home's interior. We look through pictures from his past. Mostly friends on hunting trips into the backcountry, pitching canvas tents, using horses and donkeys to access difficult terrain. One story, in particular, made this place all the more wilder. Greggo was on a hunting trip with a friend. Their game of choice that day was grizzly. His friend managed to fire one shot at a bear they were stalking, however, it only injured the animal, suddenly the bear charged; mauling the man. Greggo, taking his chances to save his friend and his own, fired a shot while the bear was defending himself. The bear was killed. “My friend got hurt pretty bad and was lucky to live”.

I stumble upon a photo of his father and when I ask what his story was, he casually mentions he was a famous clown. I looked for any sign of sarcasm, there was none upon which he adds “His name was Zippo, Zippo the clown… you know like the lighter you use for a cigarette”. Greggo’s story just got more interesting. I ask him about his time in the bush, his family, and reasons to live out here. “I enjoy most of my time out here, thinking for myself and not anyone else. It’s freedom. I’ve learned to live without money. I don’t need a nine to five job with money in my pocket to buy things. To me this makes sense. A lot of people think money buys happiness, it can, but if you're upset about life, is it because you don’t have any money or is it because you’re not free? My dad had nothing and was so happy. All he had was a bicycle”. I didn’t say anything and waited for more. “Out here it’s freedom… Oh, look there’s my duck, Stephi”.

I hope you enjoyed this story and feel free to subscribe. I promise, you won’t be sold anything and posts range from 1-2 per month and only feature people like the one you just read about. Back To The Land is a self-funded project that features and tells the stories of those salt-of-the-earth folk from remote and small towns across this beautiful country we call home, Canada.

Cheers,

Jeremy

Recently I was put in contact with Everette, an ex-school teacher who at one point created his own skateboard class where he once taught. We met over coffee and I was curious about his story, possibly doing a photo project around skateboarding, and what he’s been doing since leaving the Calgary Board of Education. He then mentioned pro blind skateboarder, Dan Mancina. My eyes wide, then asking him to repeat and confirm that there are blind skateboarders. In hindsight, it was ignorant of me to even think that the visually impaired could not skate. Hell, there are blind photographers, so why not blind skateboarders? I asked if I could possibly photograph Dan when he came to Calgary in the coming months as he was scheduled to teach a skate workshop to a group of visually impaired youth.

Dan casually greeted his audience as he walked across the gymnasium floor with 50 or so elementary school kids curiously staring. He shared his story and offered some great words of wisdom to his audience. At the request of a teacher during the Q&A portion, he was asked to show the students a trick a which point did a kick-flip first try. Thunderous cheers and clapping followed. Dan lost his sight to a degenerative eye disease called Retinitis Pigmentosa; he was given the diagnosis at the age of 13 and was told over time, he would slowly lose his ability to see. I won’t attempt to tell his story as this video by RedBull will give you some great insight into his story and how he still skates without the use of his vision.

On the day of the shoot, I was lucky enough to see Dan work with the group of young visually impaired youth who have never stepped foot on a skateboard let alone even put their hands on one. Accompanying Dan were other volunteer skaters that were then each paired with a child with some form of visual impairment, helping them build their confidence to a point where some were able to stand on a board unassisted and a couple even brave enough to take their chances on a ramp. To see how it all went down, here is a great behind the scenes look how it all went down. Also, CityNews and CTV news covered the event too.

Ideally, I like to interview my subjects and have a conversation, however, on this day everyone asked for Dan's attention and I decided to back off with questions and let the guy do his thing; I could tell he just wanted to skate once the event wrapped up. Watching Dan navigate a skate park was humbling in itself. He would walk the perimeter of the park, waving his white cane on the ground from side-to-side, memorizing the layout in his head. He did several laps before settling on a starting point and getting on his board. After each trick which he attempted several times, Dan returned to his starting point with the help of his white cane, touching the wall ten feet to his right and where the ramp meets the pavement directly behind him. His accuracy was within six inches each time.

If you've never actually tried skateboarding, it’s not hard, it’s unbelievably hard, and seeing a group of people do this without the use of their sight was immensely humbling. Watching Dan and the rest of the kids gave me perspective. From the day I met Dan, there has not been a day since that I don’t think about my vision and what I would do if I lost it. I truly believe anyone regardless of impairment, physical disabilities or lack of confidence can skate. Come spring, this 35-year-old is going to be trying a new sport and it’s all because of Dan Mancina.

Hungry, my wife and I decided to grab a quick snack before setting up our tent as we arrived one early afternoon in New Hazelton. With food options and store hours always unpredictable in small rural Canadian towns, you can always expect to find at least one Chinese restaurant open. We walked in, “Table for two please” and were greeted by a young waitress. I can’t recall what I ordered as I had come to this town for one reason; to photograph salt-of-the-earth people. I asked the waitress about the area, its residents, and told her about my Back To The Land project I was doing; traveling across Canada photographing people from small towns and remote areas. Sensing hesitation in her voice, I pulled out my phone and showed her photographs of past subjects from other provinces. Reassured, she paused, cocked her head, then curiously said, “I know some interesting characters in town, but I don’t have any way of contacting them. But, my brother works in the logging industry and tree fells for a living”. My eyes widened. Intrigued, I had her explain more. By the time the food arrived, our helpful waitress called her brother and convinced him to come to the restaurant. Soon enough, Landon walks in. A medium built man with the looks and confidence of John Hamm from Mad Men. We shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, I explained my intentions and the cross-Canada project I was doing. He happily agreed to be photographed and the next morning I was to join him for a day of tree felling.

My wife and I woke up at the crack of dawn, I prepped the gear the night before as to save time in case of a delay, and drove using the directions Landon gave us which in my head translated to: find the makeshift road that you can barely see, no recognizable sign or landmarks, just make a sharp left when you hit roughly mile 30. I checked the speedometer with white knuckles on the steering wheel, both with stage fright and excitement.

We turned onto a road that looked as though a large boulder had rolled through the trees using it's weight by clearing a twenty-foot wide path up the mountain. I could feel the ground below my tires was soft from the mornings early May rain. It led to a small clearing, then immediately narrowed again, taking a sharp turn up the mountainside. Half-way up, we saw a logging truck descending towards us with no visible room to pass. Not wanting to reverse back the way we came, I looked out the passenger side window and with a nervous delight, a 30-degree slope into an abyss of debris and trees; my wife's eyes letting me know she was not sharing the same feelings. I pulled my little Tacoma truck over as far as I could without the possibility of losing traction, or worse, loose topsoil giving out. The semi-truck passed with a load of logs stacked three times the height of my vehicle. The driver delivered a carefree smile and with six inches of clearance, we ascended further where we are treated to a view of the entire valley, thick coastal like fog kissing the tops of the trees.

Big heavy equipment appeared in the distance, men resembling little lego men in comparison. I got out and approached, asking for Landon. The man saying nothing and points in the direction behind me. I see an enormous excavator with an oversized extended mechanical arm throwing trees around like their toothpicks. It stops and out steps Landon. He casually walks over and says, “Morning”. I try to pull myself together as the adrenaline and pressure start to build in excitement as we get started. The terrain out here is not forgiving and walking through all the debris, I realize my hips needed to be more mobile than they were. A simple mistake of foot placement could leave you with a sprain or worse, impalement by a tree branch. I like working in this type of environment. The mosquitos and flies didn’t help matters, but I spent the morning following Landon around on foot cutting trees where access for the large machinery was impossible. My wife, a trooper as always, right behind me with a smile just as big as mine. There is definitely a technique to this line of work, from selecting trees, to the direction of the fall, and where the fall happens to allow access for the heavy equipment. I still remember the sudden crack as Landon steps away from the tree, chainsaw in hand before the falling finale, it’s weight and gravity doing the rest with a crash that echoes for seconds through the valley. It felt like being a kid again, catching myself shouting, “Timberrrr”. Landon making a pleasant smirk. I ask him, “Does the fall of the tree ever get old?” He replies, “Never”.

Landon was born in New Hazelton and has lived here his entire life. “My childhood was always full of outdoor activities, from when I was six years old my dad took me on my first goat hunt up moonlight mountain up the Kispiox Valley. We got up the mountain on quads that took us most of the first day, we spent the nights just under a tarp and laying on balsam limbs for cushion and I remember dad telling me I wouldn’t let him sleep a whole lot that night and we stared at the stars and I had one million questions to ask”. Landon goes on to explain hunting moose as a child and at the age of thirteen bagged his first one. He grew up playing a lot of hockey and got quite good at it where he joined the “Under 16” team, allowing him to travel around British Columbia for two years playing hockey. “We had a small team and we all hung out after school and on weekends. All the visiting teams use to hate coming to our arena as it was always colder inside by at least 10 degrees. We had chicken wire in the corners of the ice instead of glass; The arena had always been called the barn”.

“My dad was a faller and I would go out with him. I guess I really started logging when I was about sixteen, during summer holidays with my first logging job as a choker-man under a high lead tower. I guess I was always interested in logging as my dad was a logger for 30 years. As a child, it just looked interesting from falling trees to running big equipment”... “It’s a dangerous job and always gets my adrenaline rolling. The sounds you hear of falling trees is something that got me excited as a young kid, always carrying my dads' wedge pouch and axe. I have two children now, a son Lucas age ten and a daughter Lyra age seven. In my spare time, I will either be out hunting, fishing and doing the rodeo come spring and summer. If I can do anything outdoors I’m all there. Just something that relaxes me and I really enjoy”.

After a couple hours, we wrap up, not wanting to take any more of Landon's time and we go our separate ways. The generosity of Canadian’s still to this day shocks me sometimes. With this Back To The Land project, I have met so many interesting individuals from all walks of life. People who embrace a stranger and welcome them into their lives and sometimes, even their homes. Every time I pack the truck with a sleeping bag, a tent, my weight in trail mix, and a hundred pounds of camera gear, it’s the people that motivate me. The photographs are the result of the kindness of strangers.

Jackson started gymnastics at the age of six and was something he did a few hours a week. At the age of nine, he started competing in the national championship competitions, with the intention of using these opportunities to experience a new level of competition, rather than eyes on a podium finish. Jackson, even laughing, admitting a couple last-place finishes, but reassures me of the constant support from his parents, coaches, and self-perseverance. Still trying to find his feet in the sport, he was just like any other kid, playing soccer, basketball, and volleyball on the school teams. Jackson admits there were some tough times while training, “Between the ages of fourteen and sixteen were the toughest. I was growing, there were injuries, I was trying to focus, and balance school all at the same time. Plus the added pressure of transitioning into the high-performance side of the sport. That decision alone was tough. The pivot happened in the 2008 nationals when I was competing in the junior category. I won and that gave me a huge confidence booster. After, I took my training and the sport more seriously”.

The motion component was important with this portrait and I wanted to highlight one of Jackson's strongest events; the pommel horse. Once we set the lighting and everything was in place, I had him warm up as I didn’t want to be responsible for a pre-competition injury as he was scheduled to leave for The World Cup in Hungary in a few weeks time. Watching gymnastics on a screen is one thing, seeing it ten feet in front of you is a whole different experience. You can see years of intense training right before your eyes, the body intuitively flexing, twisting, moving together in a beautifully uniformed movement. The sound alone is something incredible. Palms confidently placed to a thrumming metronome rhythm. The subtle whisper of his body gliding through the air. His speed increasing while centrifugal force pulling his torso and legs more and more perpendicular to the apparatus.

With the Canadian National team, athletes residing in different cities across Canada, I was surprised to find out training together happened as often as six to seven times a year, with the majority of them regularly traveling as one pack. Jackson now is twenty-seven years old, married, and recently had a daughter, Joan. “I couldn’t be happier and the advantages obviously outweigh the disadvantages in the sense of trying to juggle it all together. For me, it’s a good stress and pressure, and I really like the motivation. Right now, I feel comfortable and confident". With four world cup competitions between now and the Olympic qualifiers, I’m excited, like many, to see what Jackson is capable of.

If you would like to support Jackson on his journey to the next Olympic games, head to his website to find out more: jacksonpayne.ca

Huge shout out to my assistant Mike Hopkins for moving copious amounts of gymnastics equipment and Caitlin Boyle for her wizard re-touching. Also, a huge thank-you to the Calgary Gymnastics Centre.

LAST YEARS (2017) HALLOWEEN CREATIVE

Now I know times have changed and I say this because we had only two kids come to our door last year. I don’t get it, what is better than getting dressed up, hanging out with friends, and having strangers give you free candy? Even at the age of 12, I guarded my candy with severe anxiety because I grew up in a house where this was the only time of year I got chocolate. I used to convince myself Baker's unsweetened chocolate was comparable to an Oh Henry bar, that’s how bad the situation was. So what do you do after you’ve done the Halloween pub crawls, house parties, more house parties, and the corporate office dress-up? Now that I’m an adult and my adult friends have children, they like to brag about raiding their kids' candy and I like the idea of doing that once I have one of my own, and this got me thinking.

So with that, I give you my version of Adult Halloween-ing and what would happen if they actually caught you.

Could not have done this without some pretty awesome people. Everyone gave so much and I’m grateful for their enthusiasm and helping make this come together.

Talent: The Leung family

Location: The Kenny family home

Concept/Art Direction: Mark Rowe & myself

Photographers assistant: Jesse Tamayo

Retouching: Kathleen Loski

Once all the details were hashed out and after a site visit, we decided on a size of 60”x90” (5’x7’) that would best to suit the space. Because of the size we would be printing, I decided to use a medium format digital camera (Phase IQ3 100mp) from my friends at Glean Productions, that way we had the dynamic range and file size so we knew this piece would print effortlessly compared to a DSLR sensor size.

The day we created the work was spent traveling through southern Alberta with my assistant Trevor LaLonde, shooting in several locations with a variety of trees and vegetation just so we had options. We started at 5am to catch morning light and shot for 13 hours to take advantage of the changing light throughout the summer's day.

When it came to delivering photographs to the client, sometimes I choose the final piece and other times the client likes to make the decision. For this piece, the client requested they chose and I delivered just over 50 selected photographs and from that group, I gave them my top five recommendations. It turns out the client did a team-building exercise with the selection process where employees voted on their favourite and even tried to guess on the price with the winner closest, taking home a nice bottle of wine. I really liked that they did that as everyone has their own opinion on what Art is and should be. This way, everyone had a chance to vote and from what I heard, the vote was unanimous.

The work was printed on dibond metal with a clear coat finish to protect it from the elements at the only place I trust, Resolve Photo. The goal now is to do more of this type of work as it’s a nice change of pace, the process is very different from the other work I do and I like the challenge of how many different ways you can photograph and capture something (this time it was trees). Also, let's be honest, who doesn't enjoy looking at artwork when it’s printed really really big?

I hope you enjoy the photos and behind the scenes (BTS) look at what went into the creation of this piece.

Mike has worked in advertising for 25 years and two months. He moved to Calgary on June 25, 1993, and landed his first job a week later at a local print shop called Metro graphics. His job? Tackling all aspects of production, sometimes illustrating by hand, darkroom work when customers asked for photography, and logo design. “We did it all, everything from A to Z”... “Working there helped me have an appreciation for design, I got to use my hands, and we even worked on some of Apple’s first computers before it was normal to have the latest and greatest software”. Mike grew up as most designers do, drawing at a young age, excelling in art, while loathing mathematics. “My father also loved to draw, he also painted and by trade was a cop, taking photographs for the forensics department”.

As I sat with mike over a coffee, he shared stories of his ever-growing tattoo collection, sidewalk chalk drawings with his daughter, the good and bad of his previous job, and how he navigated his way through the advertising world in the early stages of his career, applying for jobs with little or no knowledge of the title he was applying for. “I never knew what an art director was until I was hired as one. I usually applied not knowing what the job was, however, I assumed if you had a skill and could draw, you could apply anywhere”. Fast forward to 2016, Mike was at a top position for an international agency, doing big-budget work, winning national and international awards, and making a very good living financially. When I asked him were you happy during this period of your life, his answer was an immediate “No” and after a series of events, Mike decided he had enough and left the agency world, venturing out on his own.

Today, Mike runs his own company from home doing a variety of design work for his own clients. I asked him what that transition was like from years in the agencies to working from home: “It wasn’t difficult to move from the office to home. I do miss the people at the agencies and that’s the only thing I miss. My office now is 30 feet from the bedroom, I don't worry about traffic, all I need is my coffee machine and my mac, that’s it. I get to pick the music I want to listen to, there is cream in the fridge, I have a private bathroom, and I pick and choose what I want to work on. I think back 23 years ago and I never got to say no, because when you work for a big ad agency, it was always about pleasing the client and money. Being a business owner and decision maker now is important to me. Oh, and fuck I don’t miss pitching on work, sorry, I just wanted to say that. Don’t get me wrong some days it’s hard, but when you get in that zone and everything is flowing. I wouldn’t want it any other way”.

To see Mike’s work feel free to visit his website here -> mikemeadus.com

You can also find him on Instagram

As a young child, Amanda frequently visited her grandparents' farm on the outskirts of Abbotsford. Her grandparents' also owned a flower shop, were avid gardeners, and always surrounded by plants and nature. “I loved gardening from when I can first remember. My family and I have been doing it our whole lives and I’m always collecting what I find”. After high school, she knew she wanted to pursue a life as an artist and thought art school was the most reasonable choice to get there. “I went to ACAD (Alberta College of Art & Design) and hated it, went to Emily Carr and hated it less. I did love the fibre art classes and after graduating, unfortunately, I completely forgot about it all.”

After a couple of rough years of various jobs she hated, Amanda hit a breaking point where she couldn’t work for anyone but herself. She had a daughter named Maggie and one evening took an evening course on fibre. After the course, Amanda took her samples home and framed them and started making more adding extra elements and experimenting. “Maggie is the whole reason my work exists. She pushes me over the edge and forced me to pursue my craft and look after myself. Are you really helping your child if you don’t look after yourself first?”

She is now a full-time fibre artist using various types of materials; cotton, wool, silk and incorporates her own environmentally conscious processes. “Most are from my own backyard such as rose leaves. I also collect wild roses, moss, oak leaves, beats, marigolds, canola, and mushrooms. I need to be very cognizant of over picking. I do a lot of research before so as not to pick endangered or poisonous species.” She goes onto explain the process which is quite labour intensive and can take weeks from the foraging to a finished final piece.

When I ask Amanda about her goals she replies with this, “I dream of having my own solo exhibition in a commercial gallery and showing more at well-known markets and festivals”... “My husband and I are into old world traditions and using our hands and environment to sustain ourselves. The goal is to be simple, we are interested in living in a tiny house and are more conscious of having a simple life. We don’t need a million things, less shit, and connecting my work with my husbands some day. We like learning about old trades and we love to support local everything.”

To see a large variety of Amanda's work, visit her on Instagram 

You can also visit her website: roseandoakdesign.ca

A huge thank-you to the following people who helped me with this portrait.

Hair and make-up: Nikole Denovan

Assistant: Brendan Stephens

I found this interesting, but more so trying to imagine the amount of pressure and brain power to regurgitate over 100 ideas for one application. Ideas are hard enough to create, let alone good ones. Now throw in a seven day deadline (what, you don’t work weekends?), add the brief, then research, concept, to client approval, to revisions, to approval, more revisions, etc, then a final design, and if you're good at your job, you'll hopefully have a finished product that is worthy of public viewing where I dare say might have the intended effect. Think about the last time you had to come up with an idea. Ask yourself this with absolute honesty, was is it really that good or would the garbage even reject it? Now think about this, imagine doing this every day. I know the thought makes you cringe, my stomach dropped a little as well, but others thrive in this type of world, and I quote Mark himself, "Coming up with ideas is one of my favourite things in the world to do." However, this time I asked him to be my guinea pig and humour me in front of the camera. If I have learned one thing from Mark it’s this: exhaust all ideas, even if you think they’re shit.

I now give you the portrait titled The Art Director. The set was built at my studio, props sourced and rented, throw some hair and make-up in the mix, and 5275 sheets of hand crumpled paper; My assistant and I have the paper cuts to prove it. Once everything was photographed to create the scene, a little re-touching and voila, an idea.

Scroll down to see the final image and BTS (behind the scenes) video.

Enjoy!

A huge thank-you to everyone involved as this creative would not be possible without the support from these companies and individuals. You all rock and are legends.

Props and materials: Red Events

Camera rentals: The Camera Store

Re-touching: Kathleen Loski

Hair and make-up: Karen Malcolm

Photographers assistant: Quin Hauck

Talent: Mark Rowe

When we arrived, we established a camp at a local spot and decided to make dinner then explore the following day. I volunteered to set-up camp, Vitalia went into the bush and 15 minutes later emerged with fresh fiddleheads, nettle, and dandelion; It was for the soup she was making. Looking at her like she was some crazy witch, I was quickly reassured that I was not going to be poisoned. It was the best soup I’ve ever had camping. I still think if she wanted me dead this would be my demise; death by a witch. The next morning we went into the town, found a local spot to sit and enjoy a coffee, quietly observing and listening to the locals' gossip and exchange stories. 

One particular gentleman stood out in the bakery as he chatted the ear off anyone he made eye contact with. A quarter of the way through my coffee, I soon found that very same old man sitting at our table. His name was Kenneth Olson but known to everyone as Rooster. After pleasantries and small talk, the three of us soon found ourselves visiting his home, a small 1924 well-used sailboat, moored on the docks just outside of town. Rooster lives a very simple life and is always accompanied by his cat. His personality is infectious as much as his energy for enjoying the simple things in life. He took us to the dump to show us more black bears and It didn’t stop there. We then drove across the Canadian and United States border to the town of Hyder which was only two minutes outside of Stewart. On the U.S.A. side, we went on a nature walk, picked wild edibles, and made a stop at a derelict home that Rooster owned. The house was very much unlivable, which may be the cause due to a large number of cats that have claimed the dwelling as their own. Plus the region gets on average 25-30 feet of snow a year. I’m not going to lie, it was in bad shape and the smell was horrible and after minutes you could feel the ammonia in your lungs from all the animal feces that lived there. 

Regardless of the smell or the condition of the home, Rooster loved his cats and didn’t care what anyone thought. He was born on June 7, 1941, and has been all over the country, but it seems his love for the ocean is where his heart is. He definitely has not had the easiest life and shares a variety of stories of which I don’t know if they’re true or not, however, the tone in his voice and the softness in his eyes I couldn’t doubt him. His conspiracy stories I find hilarious, with no sign of sarcasm. He has bootlegged booze in most provinces, found himself in jail at 15, worked the mines in Ontario and Manitoba, and has sailed every inch of the Canadian west coast in his boat named the Pacific Foam. I asked if he had a crew on board, he said, “Yeah, but they were always female.” followed by a wink and a laugh. I then asked “Did you ever have any kids?”, his reply “... Probably.” Needless to say, we all laughed.

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I have been listening to Terry’s radio show Under The Influence for about six years now and I even remember the first time I started listening. I was driving downtown Calgary along the Bow River, scanning the airwaves, in no mood for music, just wanting to listen to some talk radio. I put the CBC on hoping for something other than another mid-day traffic report. To my surprise, a very distinct voice was playing and the urge to continue scanning vanished. I had no idea what I was listening to because it was mid-program, but I liked it. It was clever, interesting, and I soon found myself laughing out loud. I was hooked. Ironically the show is about marketing and advertising; well played Terry, well played.

I rarely miss an episode now and I find the research behind the program fascinating and it's one of the main reasons why I enjoy it so much. So when an opportunity presented itself to photograph Terry, I took it. The concept for the portrait is my own and is a tribute to the medium of radio where Terry started a very successful 30-year career in advertising. I knew I wanted the portrait to have some radio component, however, I also knew I didn’t want it to take place in a stale radio booth. I decided to focus on Terry's history in the medium of radio and use stereo equipment to create an interesting visual. I made a sketch, I then made a few phone calls and I found a variety of amplifiers, reel to reel machines, 80’s boom-boxes and even a couple ham radios. I then simply stacked them, plugged them in with no major electrical fires, and built a backdrop that had over 40 years of history.

On the day the shoot was scheduled, I had the pleasure of seeing Terry speak early in the morning at a conference called Social West. I then immediately cycled back to the studio to take care of any last minute details before he arrived on set. Terry gave me an hour and a half of his time and I think we managed to finish his portrait in about 40 minutes. I had a few people ask me about the experience, and I will say this with absolute truth, he was very giving with his time, incredibly humble, genuine and such kind man through and through. With some time left over, I was fortunate enough to ask him some personal questions about Under The Influence and the research involved, working with the CBC and future projects he's working on. I even got my book signed which was the icing on the cake.

I hope you enjoyed this and I encourage you to checkout Terrys radio show Under The Influence and if you’re a reader, also check out his most recent book here-> This I know; My favourite chapter is the one on customer service.

I want to thank a few people for their help and support on this shoot as this would not be possible without these humans:

• Red Events (Stereo equipment) - http://www.redevents.com

• Hair & Make-Up by Vered - http://www.veredamir.com

• Re-touching by the very talented Kathleen Loski - http://www.kathleenloski.com/retouchingportfolio/

• My trusty assistant for the day, Kevin Kent - https://twitter.com/KnifeNerd

In a perfect world, I would like to say we show up on set, start taking pictures and go home without even breaking a sweat. This could not be further from the truth. There was a lot of planning that went into this shoot consisting of several logistical meetings months prior to production starting, shot-lists created, scouting, sourcing talent, contracting our production crew, and myself scheduling all parties involved making sure every detail was not overlooked. These sorts of things I like to do with the client, that way everyone is at the table, literally, and getting the same information. If problems arise, which they always will, they can be addressed immediately; we are problem solvers, not just picture takers.

The photo shoot happened over three days; one full day of scouting and two shooting. Each day started at 5am and usually didn’t wrap till 8pm that night. We had a variety of weather to contend with that included strong winds in the morning photographing the kayakers, rain for the cabin images which can always be daunting when on-site lighting is needed. For the landscapes, we had smoke that had been drifting in from the West for weeks due to the seasonal forest fires in the mountains. Mix all that with wonderful morning fog each day and you definitely get some conditions that are quite fun to shoot in.

All in all, it was a great shoot, with a happy client and one hell of a good team where none of this would be possible. Now do me a favour, get outside and enjoy some of the beautiful outdoors this province has to offer.

Watch the full behind the scenes video below.

Huge special thanks to the following:

Photo assistants: Brendan Stephens & Trevor LaLonde

Retouching wizard: Caitlin Boyle

Behind the scenes footage: Levi Howell

Behind the scenes footage editor: Ryan Hetherington

Liaison: Alyssa Berry & The Town of Drumheller.

Kayaking Outfit: Red Deer River Adventures.

The road immediately took a steep descent towards the valley floor with lush green trees surrounding us with its winding curves making it impossible to pull your attention to the mountains in the distance. We reached the bottom where we crossed the famous Fraser River and the afternoon sun warming the surrounding farmland with everything in full bloom. We followed the road slowly passing crops, animals, weathered country homes and a small rural school, stopping at a little building that looked as though could have been storage for small farm equipment. The sign above reading Dunster General Store. Upon entering, it was a place to find your last minute supplies when you can’t be bothered to make the hour-long drive to McBride. The shelves carried fresh vegetables, various household items along with some hand-made pottery that caught my wife’s eyes. I asked the cashier behind the counter about the area, the people, and if she knew anyone who might want to share their story. It turns out she mentioned someone and coincidentally it was potters work we were admiring moments earlier. Given this was a small town, the cashier said: "I’ll call her at home for you". Waiting for someone to answer on the other line, no one picked up. Five minutes later, a woman walks through the door which was the person we just tried calling. This woman's name is Steficia McLean and she is a potter from Dunster.

Steficia, or Stefi as she likes to be called, was born on Vancouver Island in 1945. She went to the University of British Columbia and received a degree in education. She taught in various schools and hospitals but quit suddenly as soon as she reached the five-year mark. Back in those days, they had teachers in children hospitals for patients that couldn’t attend school. “When Springtime arrived on the island, I always felt twitchy and I always had this urge to travel”. Sick of the city and after conversations with some friends, she packed her things into her van and decided to do her own Back To The Land inspired lifestyle. Stefi then found herself in Dunster and at the time, there was no telephone, only hydro, and water had to be fetched from the creek. Her home at the time consisted of a two-bedroom skid shack for $25 a month. “In Dunster, I feel solid, it’s home”… “Life out here has its challenges however we don’t have to worry about certain things like clean water, as it comes directly from the mountain behind us. It’s sweet and cold cold cold. We have enough room to grow food and we have peace and quiet. The other night Archie and I got up in the middle of the night, and we could see mars clear as day along with the bazillion stars that lit up the night sky”. Stefi met her husband Archie after he and a friend came over for supper after a long day of ski touring in the mountain range behind where they both live now. Stefi jokes that is must have been good soup because he kept coming back regularly. Three years later they moved in together. 

We spent that morning in Stephi’s studio where she showed me some of her work and how everything works. It’s a separate building behind the house amongst a beautiful garden that was just starting to explode with green growth and colour. As you enter the space, there is a small gallery where she exhibits her final pieces that are for sale for anyone stopping by. In the back is where the work is created and she gives my wife and I the grand tour showing us the clay she uses, the kilns, where she works and explains her process on a typical day. As I set up my gear we talk about her work, where she exhibits her pieces, and why she doesn’t have a website, upon which she explains it’s such a pain in the ass; we both laugh and I love her candidness and the no bull-shit attitude. When taking Stefi’s portrait her body language suddenly changes and she becomes a little self-conscious, however, I re-assure her to just relax, pull my eyes from behind the camera so she can meet mine, and we start a conversation, randomly taking the odd photograph. She starts to open up and the interaction becomes both instinctual and engaging for both of us. The portrait took 15 minutes but we continued to chat more about her life in Dunster and after, gave us a tour of her property that rests amongst some of the most beautiful landscapes in Canada I have seen to this day.

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We departed on my wife’s birthday and stopped in the town of Fernie for a quick lunch at the Lunch Box so we didn’t get the road-trip runs from some of the other highway options; rhymes with Schmack-nonalds. After a few hours with some stop-and-go road construction, the subtle changes of vegetation as we headed west, we finally landed in Creston and decided to spend the night as we had about an hour of light left in the day. With the fall harvest in full swing, a plethora of pumpkin varieties lined the roadside market stalls with incredible beautiful bright oranges, greens, yellows and tans. Our eyes wide and with just a look, words were not necessary as we already knew what the other was thinking; on the way home we’ll stock up. The orchard pickers were gone for the season and we asked a woman at a street stall where might be a good place to camp for the night. She mentioned a spot where the pickers set up shop during the summer months at Canyon Park. Located just outside of the main town, there was not a single vehicle or human around. Ecstatic we had the entire campground to ourselves, we set up for the night and made Kraft dinner in the dark with a nightcap of whiskey to celebrate the start of our little road trip through the Kootenays.

The next morning we grabbed a coffee and decided to explore Creston a little before hitting the road. We walked into King Fisher Used Books and were blown away by the selection. We spent about an hour there and had a great conversation with the owner and a few other customers with recommendations and spots to check out along the way including a broom maker in Crawford Bay.

As we headed north, this stretch of highway is nothing short of stunning giving you brief glimpses of Kootenay Lake between the trees as you drive past.  We stopped for lunch just in time as our hangries were borderline leading to a domestic. In the late afternoon, we pulled into the village of Crawford Bay with signs forcing you to slow down and I’m glad they did. Character shops and artisan studios refurbished out of older houses and barns line each side of the highway, doors open to the fresh mountain air as if inviting you in for a warm hug. We stopped and started to explore enjoying the last few hours of sun that warmed the valley. My wife noticing a store selling what looked like hand-made blankets, one of her guilty pleasures, she immediately set her course with a muffled “meet you in 20” seeing only the back of her head and halfway across the highway. Taking the advice from a customer in the bookstore in Creston, I noticed the North Woven Broom shop he had mentioned. A warm glow of the interior lights leaking to the outside, barn doors wide open, like a moth to a flame I couldn’t help myself. Immediately I was in another world. There were brooms of various shapes, sizes, and textures floor to ceiling; the urge to re-read the Harry Potter series suddenly came back. I noticed a tall individual with red hair and genuine smile helping other customers, so I took five minutes to look around taking in all the smells and textures. I approached the tall gentleman who was working away, building a broom with a foreign piece of machinery that looks as though was being powered by magic itself. I introduced myself as you do. The man’s name was Luke and I started asking questions which I’m sure were no different from every other third person who walks into his shop. Still intrigued and wanting to know more, I asked if he would sit for a portrait. Luckily he happily obliged and said “How about in an hour”? 

As Luke continued to work away on a broom he was fastening, I set-up my gear and tried to stay out of his way and not disrupt the last few customers of the evening before closing. The portrait took about 20 minutes and we talked about a lot of things in regards to his life and why brooms. The whole encounter left me elated with joy. How could you not enjoy the company of a man who loves what he does, see the value in craft and a genuinely kind person? I asked Luke if I could send him a list of questions to answer, that way I didn’t have to take any more of his time as he was in the final days of closing shop for the season and re-opening in the spring. This is what he had to say.

~

• Where are you from?

I was born here on Kootenay Lake but grew up in Ontario.

• What’s your background with regard to your life growing up?

My dad is a woodwork teacher, that meant I had a very hands-on childhood; I was always doing creative things. I wasn’t excluded from projects and encouraged to make things. My parents were sort of back to the landers, they both valued having tactile experience and believed it was important for me to have a rich aesthetic experience by doing things and spending time with natural materials. Wooden toys, bark, and natural objects were my main toys. I spent a good part of my formative years in an old farmhouse outside of Toronto which gave me a unique perspective between a rural and very urban place. In high school, I was very fortunate to attend a special art-focused high school that challenged me to translate my creative impulses and expressions. I moved on from that to achieve a degree in Environmental Studies at York University. I found a community of people that could more readily appreciate the fine balance that my life had been between closeness to the land, tradition, history and the hurricane of change and development that is urban life. Here at the broom shop, I live in a community of craftspeople working in one of the most beautiful parts of Canada.

• How did you come to Crawford Bay?

Crawford Bay is a very special place. The Artisans of Crawford Bay, of which I am a part, practice their crafts in studios open to the public and provide an opportunity for people to experience craftsmanship at its finest. But it doesn’t end there; there’s a natural beauty amongst the mountains and clear water of Kootenay Lake that is unequivocal. I spent many summers visiting Kootenay Lake and always knew it was a beautiful part of the world that I wanted to spend more time in. I started working in the Rockies for Jasper National Park when I was still in University in Ontario. I had a summer job that I kept doing for six seasons, continuing even after graduating and staying out west. I started really planning to move to The East Shore of Kootenay Lake before my last season working at Jasper when I first began working with my aunt and uncle here at North Woven Broom.

• How did you start making brooms?

I got into this craft because of my family. My aunt and uncle have made brooms in this small barn for over 20 years and as they began to think about retirement so I showed up with a keen interest in learning traditional skills and crafts. I grew up making things; I always worked with tools and art supplies. After finishing school in Ontario I had resolved that working with my hands was very important to me. My interest in brooms has grown as I spend time with the craft. Brooms have a rich and deep history that’s very easy to overlook. Some version of the broom was probably one of the first ways that people had for caring for a home and is still an everyday object in modern life. The first stage in our process that I began learning was the woodwork as we do all the finishing of our unique broom handles ourselves and I had previous woodworking experience. I worked with a carpenter in high school and had helped with a couple of timber framing projects shortly before getting into brooms.

• How long have you been making brooms?

I made my first broom in 2012 and have been making brooms ever since. I spent about three years learning the different stages and intricacies of the craft before taking over the business.

• What is the material called and where does it come from.

The material for our brushes is 100% natural broomcorn, which is also called sorghum vulgare. We use the immature flower tassel of the plant for the brush and the stem to weave the brush onto the handle. The broom corn we use is grown in northern Mexico which is now the nearest big producer. We use a variety of woods for our handles which I find and finish myself.

• With your machinery, can you provide a little insight into its history and origins?

I have several tools from different eras in broom making history. I use them all on a daily basis to produce my brooms. I have a hand winder that is a very old design, mine is from the 1940s and I have an electric winder from the 1930s; these two machines are used to build the broom onto the handle. I have a broom maker’s vice for stitching the brooms flat from the 1860s and a much more intricate mechanical broom stitcher from the turn of the 20th century. These machines I use to stitch the brush flat which is the modern standard style for corn brooms although we do build many that we leave with a round brush for an older style of broom. The mechanical stitcher is a very interesting and complex Lipe and Walrath machine from Syracuse, NY. These tools span pre-electric, steam and electric eras in industrial history.

• Do you see a shift in thinking where there is a greater demand in handmade/quality as opposed to mass-produced products? 

I think that for a while now there has been a growing interest for people to know more about what they buy and use in their lives. Industrialism has moved production and people apart. This has been a good and a bad thing. It’s added convenience but it’s also become rare to really know more than the most immediate facts of the everyday objects around us. When you can connect and understand the plants, the people and minerals that make many of our products and witness the production it becomes more meaningful. The demand for fair trade and organic reflects a greater interest in economic, social and environmental justice. I think there are a lot of externalized expenses that don’t sit well with people when they realize the “true cost” of things. This growing awareness is good for my business. We actually build our brooms from beginning to end right here in this tiny shop and are happy to have a conversation and meet people from all walks of life as we do it. Building our brooms by hand with our techniques and using our materials, we create a higher quality broom that feels better to use and lasts longer. 

• Can you describe the process of sourcing the wood for your more artisan broom handles?

I find most of the wood for my handles myself by hand (I do buy the straight dowel handles). I use a small handsaw to gather dead branches of various woods. My favourite is Manzanita, which I gather in the winter months in the southwest United States. It’s a very dense hardwood that grows very thick in areas to the point of being a fire hazard especially as the dead wood builds up. I have a unique perspective on the world now looking for interesting broom handles when I’m out and about. I also use some of our local woods like birch which I find right around Crawford Bay or make small excursions around the province for other woods.

• What is the length of your season when you’re in the broom shop?

We typically start up sometime in March and go into November. We stay open seven days a week when we’re open.

• When you’re not in the shop what are you doing in your spare time?

When I have free time I like to remember how lucky I am to be living in Crawford Bay, one of the most beautiful places in the world. I try to make time for hiking in the mountains and have been getting into mountain biking. There have been recent projects to develop and promote some beautiful local trails in our community. I am very passionate right now about mountain biking and seeing a friendly and sustainable outdoor culture being adopted. I also try to get out on the lake when I can. We are very lucky to live amongst so much natural beauty and such a deep clear lake. In the wintertime, I make a trip to the southwest States to explore a different landscape and collect the wood that I will finish and turn into brooms in the coming year.

• Can you tell us about one of the more exciting projects you’ve worked on when it comes to your brooms?

Our brooms have been used in quite a few very cool projects. Over the years there have been a number of brooms for movies, TV shows and, other stage productions. We still have many people visiting interested in our role with the publishers of the Harry Potter books. We made over 300 brooms that were used at the launch events for the last three books in the series. This is about as cool as it gets for a broom maker although I personally get excited about many of the brooms that I make on a daily basis. They can have a personality and character that is completely distinct and the odd phone call or email to make something special for a film/tv or stage production is just icing on the cake. I’m full of gratitude for the interest in my craft that people share with me every day.

~

If you’re ever exploring this part of the Kootenays, I encourage you to take the 3A north of Creston and make little stops along the way that suits your mood. Enjoy that time in the car and with the people you’re with or if you find yourself flying solo, this could be a time to sit and be a little more present. Regardless of the company, you can be sure you will find a friendly face, learn something new and have a new appreciation for the mountains and the people who reside in British Columbia’s Kootenays. Also don't forget to visit Luke in Crawford Bay and I can guarentee you won't miss his shop, North Woven Broom Co.

I find great pleasure to share these stories about the individuals I encounter during this project Back To The Land and honoured for the openness and hospitality I receive each time someone sits in front of the camera. When I have put time aside and set dates to hit the road, nothing makes me happier when I pack the truck with the bare essentials, camera gear, and a paper map and just start to drive.

If you have someone you think would be a good fit for this project in a town, village or hamlet ANYWHERE in Canada, I would love to hear from you. I’m looking for those salt of the earth individuals; the unsung heroes of Canada.

Amy’s studio is a visual experience all on its own. The entryway is aligned on either side with large vertical storage shelving that carries canvases as big as a human. The room opens unexpectedly where a fifteen-foot ceiling and large vertical windows stand tall, allowing beautiful north light to illuminate the space exposing the original brick walls and all its imperfections. The floor is covered in paint that can only be compared to a Jackson Pollock piece and there are paintings everywhere, randomly placed as if each one is fighting to be seen, if only for a second; you can almost smell the craft and process that hangs in the air. Amy apologizes for the mess but in my head, it’s a picture-perfect postcard of organized chaos, a space any artist dreams of. 

We start the conversation from the beginning and Amy describes her childhood with joy and candour, always having energy and the need to continually move her body taking up sports like soccer and track with a love for drawing. “My mom would cover the hallways in our home with newspaper and my sister and I would spend hours just sitting on the floor drawing, covering every part of the newsprint. She would also record us telling stories rather than reading them... I journaled quite a bit and I think this is where my love for storytelling came from. My journals and writings inform my paintings and really allow for a certain lyrical narrative to happen in the work.”

Her curiosity for space is something I find interesting as she mentions it several times throughout our conversation. “I was touring Western Canada High School

in Calgary with my dad and it was the arts program and the art room that drew me in.”… “ I loved that room because of its big ceilings and natural light. It was like any art room, chaotic and I loved it. I have always felt connected to the spaces I like being in from an early age. For me it’s very intuitive, a space needs to be the right fit. I love open spaces and I'm always drawn to the vastness of places like the Yukon and Scotland, then I want to fill them with stuff.” We continued our conversation talking about her time in Scotland where she lived in Glasgow for five months and went to the Glasgow School of Art. She spent two years in Sackville, New Brunswick at Mount Allison University getting her bachelors and she also shared stories of painting in various residencies across the globe with hopeful future plans for more. We then came to the question about process. Like any process in life, there are always highs and lows that come with the territory, especially anything creative. “Early on I didn't think I was going to make it. I wondered what it meant to be an artist for the first few years – how to survive financially, but also how to generate ideas, how to find community, endurance, infrastructure… I would call my dad when I was feeling upset and we’d go for lunch. The support from my family was great as I have a husband and parents that believe in me. Now painting is just part of my everyday life. In terms of my process, my father-in-law builds my amazing stretcher frames; then I stretch all of my canvas. After that, I start to draw, then layer paint on top of paint, all while letting each layer dry. Then I turn the canvas in a different direction and repeat the process. It’s very non-linear. It can be an almost random, free process - like riding a bike. No expectations as I don't know what or how it will turn out. I love the mix between order and chaos; I have a desire to tell stories and my painting becomes my voice. I hope to speak to people on an emotional level.”

You can see Amy’s work at her new solo show titled Stella Polaris (The North Star) at the Masters Gallery which takes place on November 3-17, 2017. The opening is on November 4th from 11am-4pm and an artist talk the same day @ 1pm.

If you would like to see the behind the scenes video, you can do so by watching below. And if you want to see more projects like this, feel free to subscribe as I'll be releasing them bi-monthly featuring some other projects that are currently in the works; I promise you'll only see the cool stuff.

Enjoy!

Initially I was hired by Lufthansa Magazine to provide some behind scenes images at Kenn Borek Air’s hangar along with a portrait of Wally to be featured in an article focussing on heroic stories, however, the magazine took a different route when they went to print choosing illustration over photography. Stuff like this happens all the time in the editorial world and regardless, it was a great day where I got to spend the afternoon with pilots, engineers and walk amongst airplanes; felt like being a kid again. To some, Calgary is this small city in Canada, known for its energy, mountains and dare I say stampede. As I continue to set roots here, I’m in awe of the people that I continually meet and the stories I come across. It’s sometimes very unexpected and when you hear about a small local airline rescuing people in Antartica because no one else can… in the world, this makes it even more inspiring and proud. You can read the editorial by Lufthansa HERE

I hope you enjoy the photo’s and if you want to stay in the loop about more stories like this and behind the scenes, feel free to follow along; I promise no spam and posts will be limited to 2-3 times a month.

Cheers,
Jeremy

There I was sitting in a cafe in Campbell River, sipping a freshly brewed coffee with the ocean no more than a stone's throw away. A paper map stretched over the table, eyes wide and looking for another small town to visit. That's when I noticed the name Zeballos in the middle of nowhere. At first glance, I assumed it was only accessed by boat given its location directly on the Islands North Western coast in a small inlet, looking closer there was some type of road giving me hope that it was accessible by car; still chuckling trying to pronounce the town phonetically as if learning to read for the first time. But the humour was short-lived due to the few random stares from other customers realizing the laughing was not in my head. I quickly flipped to another section of the map sipping my coffee in hopes of not attracting any more attention. Feeling good about this little find, I thought what the hell and decided on visiting "Ze-ball-loss", finishing my coffee, grabbing another for the road and getting behind the wheel.

I headed North on HWY 19 looking for any sign that would give me a reference as to where the possibility of the Zeballos turn-off might be. Two hours later, I noticed a small sign with an arrow turning left off the highway signaling Zeballos which brought me onto an active logging road. The moment the truck entered the trees, the forest growth was noticeably dense, the light faded and immediately the road went from fair to rough, however there were small stretches allowing the taco to reach a top speed of 60km for a few seconds then back to a 40km pace because of potholes that could easily eat a small Civic. After about 30 minutes I could see remnants of past logging sections with burn piles every five kilometers of various tree debris that reached 20-30 feet in height. The cliffs off the side of the road became steeper and you could sometimes catch a glimpse of the Spring run-off creating crystal clear turquoise pools on the valley floor. The view was short lived as your attention needed to be on the crater infested road or you were taking a nasty fall off the road.

An hour or so later I had finally made it to the small town Zeballos. There's not much to the town and quite similar to other remote towns from the prairie provinces I had visited earlier in this cross Canada project; one main street, two maybe three side streets and a couple other random roads that lead to dead ends. That's it. After doing a couple laps, I found the local campground along the rivers banks with nothing more than a couple outhouses, a large open area with no defined boundaries on where to camp, all surrounded by large trees that covered the few picnic tables and fire pits. There was no one in sight and this made me happy as long drives seem to create an appetite for peace and quiet. Since this was a coastal town I decided not to set-up the tent, instead, sleep on the therm-a-rest in the back of the truck. In my experience, rain has a funny way of showing up at the worse possible moments. Once settled, I made my way to the main street to see if I could get an insiders perspective and possibly meet someone. I walked into a building with a big sign overhead that read "Hotel", made my way through a dimly lit corridor and into a room that resembled any ordinary small town cafe'. Although, Instead of your typical acrylic painted mountain landscapes on the wall, this place had various types of Mexican artifacts that looked as though they were purchased at an airport at the end of a Riviera Mayan vacation. Within seconds a man sitting at a computer in the corner of the room turned around with a bright and curious smile and said "Hello.... you're not from around here are you?", My response was obviously "No". The friendly man's name is Wayne and after a brief introduction, we chatted as to why I was in Zeballos, his history with the town and we made small chat about the area and the people who lived here. I stayed for lunch and after, Wayne offered to introduce me to a few of the locals as well as the law enforcement. I took him up on his offer and off we went.

Wayne suggested I meet Thomas. We headed down one of the back roads, crossed a bridge and down a road I had not yet visited. We came upon a faded yellow mobile home that looked borderline inhabitable with chopped wood strewn amongst the property along with rusted vehicles, car parts, appliances and other random debris. At the front of the home, there was an open window and Wayne stood about 3 feet away and shouted "Hey Thomas, you awake?... hey Thomas you there pal, I have someone here who I want to introduce to you...?" a few seconds went by and then we both heard a bit of a forced grumbled "Ahhh yahhh... I'm a little hung over there Wayne. Was a late night.... come back around 4 pm."  Wayne and I both looked at each other and laughed slightly. Once 4 pm came around, I made my way over to Thomas's place again to see if he recovered from the previous nights' shenanigans. There he was out front, beer in hand and my first impression of Thomas was of curiosity and comical relief because he was so full of humour and joy even after the first hello. I introduced myself and right away he became very comfortable with the idea of having his photo taken. The more questions I asked, the more animated and honest he became. I like to believe he enjoyed the attention.

I took my time with Thomas and asked if I could record our conversation just so I had a reference for later, also I had a gut feeling we were going to have a lot of fun just shooting the shit with each other over a cold beer. Thomas grew up in Chilliwack, then moved to Blue River (North of Kamloops) and in 1979 moved to Zeballos and has not left since. I asked how he supports himself in such a small community and right away he went on to provide his very large list of skills which included block cutter, tree-faller, shingle sawyer, commercial fisherman, working in the mines, road blasting, heavy equipment operator, mechanic, surveyor and at one point even drove a taxi in Zeballos. "That's one of the reasons why I live out here, there's always work for me and I have not once been without any work in 15 years". This was, however, short-lived as Thomas got into a horrible work-related accident getting caught in some chains, crushed and then catapulted 15 feet in the air while tree falling. This nearly broke his back and left him in the hospital for weeks. From there, his ability to provide for himself and his kids suffered. He's now on disability but still seems to make light of a dire situation, supporting himself by cutting and delivering wood for locals, returning any recyclables he can get his hands on, paints when anyone in the towns needs it and any sort of random job that will help him earn a buck or two. The state of his home would make anyone gasp due to the living conditions, but not Thomas, he's optimistic and jokes with me that he sleeps with a family of squirrels, mice, and birds. "I had one squirrel, then this little critter showed up with his old lady and now there are two younger things running around, shit man I got FOUR squirrels now". With only a wood burning stove to stay warm in the winter, Thomas laughs and jokingly admits he's balancing on the poverty line and that things do get challenging, but immediately goes back to his glass-is-full attitude, "It works for me and I don't mind... want to see the go-cart I'm building?"

It turns out Martinus and Adrian grew up in Red Deer and during high school, Adrian already showed great interest in carpentry and after high school took a gap year and travelled to Australia. Martinus had other plans and went to film school in Vancouver but after struggling to break into the industry, he decided that wasn't for him and started his apprenticeship in carpentry as well; by this time Adrian was already in his 3rd year apprenticeship.

The two brothers soon found themselves working commercial construction but that too took the wind out of their sails as most days were spent sweeping floors and being the gopher on site; the shit jobs. However, on one particular day they decided to experiment and see what they could do with skateboards. The way Adrian and Martinus explain it, they had nothing better to do and jokingly admit "Why the hell not."  As time passed the two brothers dabbled into a bit of residential work and other side projects as well. Then in 2012, Adrian got his journeyman ticket but his boss at the time refused to pay a journeyman wage, so the two did what was necessary... they quit.

Since then the two have found their own voice and style and over the years they salvaged various construction sites, lining up at auctions and even dumpster diving to get their hands on all sorts of materials they could use to build furniture and other various objects. Martinus says "Some carpenters and trades don't get excited about buying or searching for unique material. If I see wood sticking out of a dumpster that looks promising, I'll pull over and immediately dive in. Adrian and I both really enjoy the search for materials and tools." 

Skateboards being their known trademark within their pieces has now set the tone of their approach by challenging the status quo. "It was very labour intensive starting with skateboards and I'm glad we did it because it forced us to think, be resourceful, use waste to build something else and approach it the opposite way; get the material then come up with an idea." The brothers now work with all sorts of materials such as hardwood flooring from past renovations, reclaimed bridge timbers, various hard woods and yes, they still use recycled skateboards. What they build out of these materials is nothing short of extraordinary. Everything from tables, retail displays, baseball bats, bowls, furniture, jewelry and more. Their client list includes Adidas, Teatro Group, Last Best Brewery and even retro-fitting a coffee machine for Made by Marcus ice cream at their 17ave location.

As always it's an honour and pleasure to meet people like Adrian and Martinus. If you get a chance, spend the time creeping them on Instagram and of course their website HERE. I hope you enjoy their work as much as I do. 

As I continue to catch up on blog posts from May of 2015 I leave you with a chance encounter from the British Columbia Kootenays. I met Raphael while taking a short pit stop in the town of Slocan which sits directly on the south end of Slocan Lake. If you ever get a chance to visit this part of Canada, I highly recommend driving HWY 6 between Upper Arrow Lake and Slocan Lake as the landscapes will leave you breathless. As I pulled into a gravel parking lot that sits on the towns lake front, I immediately noticed a young boy casually walking a goat in the adjacent tall grass under a large poplar tree. I assumed it was a large dog; it was the horns peaking over the tops of the grass that gave it away. Curious, I parked my truck and tried not to draw too much attention to my staring eyes as it's not everyday you see someone walking their goat with a leash. After about five minutes watching the two from the comfort of my vehicle, the boy than picked up the docile animal and placed it in the vehicle that was waiting than hopping into the passenger seat. My eyes met the woman driver and young boy as we simultaneously gave one another a casual wave followed by a friendly smile as they drove past. A little annoyed with myself for not asking about the goat let alone a chance to photograph each of them, I drank some water, admired the glass covered lake and was on my way.

Upon leaving Slocan I decided to cruise up and down a few of the towns empty streets taking in the surroundings and community. As I approached a four-way stop on one of the side streets, I immediately noticed the weathered pickup with the young boy  outside hanging freely upside down on the playground's monkey bars. I drove past and immediately pulled a u-turn as I took this as a second chance to ask about the goat. As I pulled over I introduced myself just like I would in any small town and soon enough the three of us found ourselves in a friendly conversation. It turns out the young boys name is Raphael Lajeunesse and the woman was his mother; Carmelle. The two are from the Slocan area with Raphael being born at home, in a bathtub and on a piece of land up a back road on the adjacent mountain; Carmelle was quite proud of this. The two have been travelling around the Kootenay area the last couple years "Wwoofing". Now I had never heard of this word or term before until then. Wwoof-ing stands for World Wide Opportunity on Organic Farms. In short you volunteer your time on any farm (commercial or residential) in trade for accommodation and food. Not a bad trade especially if you're looking to expand your knowledge when it comes to farming, construction, small production gardening or even horticulture. As I continued to ask questions about their lives and living situation I was starting to get a little resistance from Carmelle as I continued to ask more. I could sense from the start that she was hesitant the moment I started talking to her and I don't blame her, I would be a little stand offish as well if some random stranger started asking me questions about my life. To lighten the mood, I then focused the conversation towards Raphael and what he enjoyed doing in his spare time.

Raphael being 11 years old loves what any boy his age would; riding his bike, hiking, and learning how to make a proper bow and arrow. One thing that did surprise me was his love for spending time in the garden while looking after his goat along with other animals he has back home. The two live on a quarter section of land (160 acres) in the Slocan Valley that was currently being divided among a variety of families looking to buy and develop each parcel. Each party would receive 8-12 acres to develop  contributing a percentage of their harvest and skills to the community as a whole. If I'm not mistaken that sounds to me like a commune. I honestly didn't know communes still existed but hey what a cool way to live. Along with living off the land, Carmelle also home schools her son but Raphael was quick to comment his dislikes about certain subjects and that spending time outside was his priority.

When I asked about their plans for the future, Carmelle again was a little reluctant to say exactly "Oh... when Raphael turns 18 we have plans, but it's our little secret". I like to think they will find themselves in a remote mountain valley or in some homestead type cabin on the shores of a small glacier lake hidden away from any sort of human footprint, looking after each other and living off the land. Meeting people like Carmelle and Raphael is always an eye-opener, you may not agree with their lifestyle but I can sure respect it and apply some of their free thinking to my own life. I wish them both a very happy life's journey wherever their goat and a beat up pickup truck may take them.

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When you think of Canada you may think of hockey, cold winters, mountains, and really friendly people (or at least I do); you don’t think of surfing. Obviously Canada isn’t known for producing world-class surfers on the big stage, however our waves are starting to take notice especially in a places like Tofino. If you have ever visited Tofino I’m sure you’ve see the many surf shops that line the main road as you drive into this small island town. The place is a lot like Alberta's Canmore with beautiful shop facades, stunning homes, incredible scenery and good food. Instead of mountains you have incredible beaches, national parks, pristine coastline and islands that stretch for hundreds of miles; the traffic in high season however is very much the same.

On Vancouver Island there is a talented community of surfers and one of those talents is little grommet Mathea Olin. Mathea was once a resident of Canmore as her father guides for one of the bigger heli-skiing outfits, but with life, things change and the family moved to the island setting up shop in the heart of Tofino on the shores of Cox’s Bay.

I first found out about Mathea through the surf community as I was reaching out to various surfboard shapers and other craftsmen in the Tofino area. Curious to know more, I reached out to Mathea’s mom and she was thrilled once I told her about the project Back To The Land. Mathea is just like any other kid. She enjoys hanging out with friends, skateboarding, plays various instruments and participates in gymnastics and ballet. When I spoke with her in person, she was a bit shy just like any 12 year old, humble, but as soon as you mention the word surfing, her eyes lit up. When I asked her when she stared surfing, she said "I don’t really know exactly when, but by the time I was eight I was starting to surf beyond the break".

Mathea was 12 years old when I took her photograph in May of 2015, she tries to surf everyday come rain, snow, or shine and with that level of commitment, it has paid off winning some major titles both on a national and international level. In the summer time she trains in California with her coach and team, and in the winter spends some of her time surfing with friends in Hawaii. She has already been recognized by companies such as Billabong and receives tremendous support from her local community including surfboard company Aftanas Surfboards. I have always wondered, is being a professional surfer unattainable for a young Canadian? You might not think so, but Canada has produced some pretty incredible surfers including Raph Bruhwiler and Canadian champion Peter Devries which I recommend you google because it's pretty inspiring what these guys have accomplished. With Mathea's ever-growing list of competition victories it turns out she has her eyes set on becoming a hopeful Olympian for the 2020 games. I didn't know this but the Tokyo Olympic Organizing Committee is proposing surfing along with baseball/softball, karate, skateboarding, and sport climbing for inclusion in the 2020 Games; they will have an answer by August 2016. There is even talk of her talent that could potentially reach a spot on the World Championship Tour. If this happens, Mathea would become the first Canadian female ever to accomplish this.

I got to spend an afternoon watching Mathea surf from the shoreline. Paddling out past the white water and losing sight of her amongst the break. It was only the turquoise coloured board that made her visible during brief glimpses on each wave she caught. It was absolutely incredible watching what this girl could do, performing cut back after cut back amongst the choppy swell. I look forward (as do many) on where this young athlete will be in five years. Either way her connection to the ocean on both an athletic and spiritual level is inspiring and I wish her all the best in life.

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I met Lyndon through Brian Henderson's son as he operates a tree-plating business working throughout the BC Kootenays. My intention was never to go tree-planting, it was more of an opportunity that presented itself while sharing stories over a meal with Brian and his wife. Then, in less than 36 hours I was up at 5am, following a small convoy of rusted pickup trucks down a busy highway, and turning off onto a hidden road that was only visible by a small gap of random trees that lined the highways ditch. After passing over a cattle guard and through a large gate, the road immediately became narrow, rough, and was evident could only be accessed with a 4x4. After 15 minutes of a gradual climb through deep rivets and around various debris, we stopped at a small clearing because the remainder of the logging road we were travelling on was impassable from a partially washed out road. The crew of guys both young and old prepared for the day as small saplings were arranged for each worker into neat piles next to the vehicles. To carry their cache of trees, each worker used a pouch that looks almost identical to a postman's harness but significantly more robust and pockets that could carry a large dog on either side.

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With shovels, camera gear, and trees in hand, we made our way down the rest of the logging road by foot. The trees suddenly opened up and there was nothing but debris and bush. Immediately the crew assembled, instructions were given and each worker was assigned a cleared area of land. Each worker then had to navigate themselves in a grid pattern making sure to plant trees in a way that was efficient, finishing each load of planting at the bottom of their slope section as to conserve energy and time; reloading their cache of saplings and ascending back into the bush; this step was repeated until each section was complete and all trees were in the ground. Tree-planters get paid by how many trees they pant and based on the area they are planting, trees need to have a certain concentration within a 6-10 foot circumference. The terrain itself is nothing short of unforgiving where you're constantly maneuvering your way over large tree trunks, through heavy dead brush, battling thousands of insects, and vegetation that seems to claw at your limbs stopping you in your tracks. Not to mention, based on how remote the location is, the increased chance of running into a family of bears which I was told happens more than you would think.

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Lyndon was one of the workers whom I started following into the bush, watching him navigate himself through the terrain like it was a walk in the park. It turns out Lyndon was born in 1968 in South Edmonton. His families were all farmers, however when he was four years old the family had to move back into the city. In 1993, he moved to the West Kootenays, got into tree-planting at the age of 22 and used it as a way to pursue a lifestyle living in the mountains and abandoning the rat race of the city. He ended up tree planting till he was 30, and then started again at the young age of 44; he was the first of his forefathers that didn't pursue a life of farming.

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When I asked Lyndon more about tree-planting he said " I generally enjoy work that has some adversity and physicality involved. Planting is something I only do two months of the year so it stays fresh to me and the income is pretty good in those couple of months. The rest of the year I do a ton of chainsaw and brush saw-work which I like more as it's easier, however less money. Saw-work is more like a regular outdoor job whereas planting feels like a sport where everyday is part of some epic multi-day event where your putting out 12000 calories in a single day".

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When I asked Lyndon of any memorable or crazy stories, he mentioned tree-planting is madness in itself and the crew he works with now is quite tame, but they are very good and efficient. He then went on to say "It's a formative experience that changes lives whether your young or old". Lyndon hopes to do this kind of work well into his 50's where his goal is to have everything paid off, becoming debt and mortgage free. "I have a family with kids who are 10 and 14. My wife works in Salmo as a coordinator for the community centre and Salmo is one of the last great places that hasn't been overrun and turned into a beer commercial. It gets made fun of a lot and locally many consider it with a patronizing attitude that it's a little place full of desperation etc... It's a great place and we are very proud of it".

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Apart from working in the forestry business, Lyndon also ski's a lot in the winter and coaches a the local kids ski racing team at the Salmo hill. He also plays the drums in a noisy space rock duo called Rainboard which can be found

here

. He is also involved with  BMX racing as an athlete, coach and founder/track operator of the new local sanctioned

track in Salmo.

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After my encounter with Lyndon and after spending the day with him, I see a man who is genuinely very happy and proud. A man who pursues a life of curiosity and not losing his ability to get outside, explore and just play.

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I hope you enjoyed this story and stay posted as I share another side of Canada that you may never knew existed; ... surfing!

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Blacksmiths has been around for hundreds of years, but have you ever seen anyone forge, bend, and form metal by hand with your own eyes? Neither have I until I met Patrick McIvor. I found this man through other locals while I was staying in the town of Ymir. I was asking around trying to find people who are devoted to a craft and creating a living from what they do. When I found out where Patrick's shop was, coincidently, I had a beer at a local pub in Salmo no more than a hundred feet from his studio two days prior. Also turns out we both share the same birth city of Calgary, Alberta.

I stopped by Patrick's studio sometime between eight and nine in the morning on no particular day, pulling up to a small building that looked like an abandoned mechanics garage. The exterior was weathered with paint peeling from the exterior stucco, small growth peaking through the concrete slabs out front, and various random small debris outside its open bay doors. As I approached, I saw a man meticulously working on a sheet of copper with a flat ended hammer. The man pulled back his safety glasses and asked "Jeremy?" I replied, "Patrick?". We both smiled and shook hands. Patrick's firm hand shake alone was enough to wake you from a night of heavy drinking, gripping my hand like a boa constrictor; sucking the life out of it, only for a brief second before casually letting go. Inside the shop there were pieces of steel and metal strewed throughout on various bench surfaces, which can only be described as organized chaos. The machines Patrick was using were almost a 100 years old along with various other hand tools that have been collected and never discarded; it was though I had stepped back in time.

I explained to Patrick about the project Back To The Land and how I was going to take his photo. I only asked for an hour or so of his time, so while I was setting up my gear, Patrick could continue to work on a copper hood fan he was making for a client of his. As I set up my photography gear I watched him meticulously heat the sheet of copper while gently hammering out small defects and dents in the metal so it all formed into one seamless piece. Growing frustrated on a particular section no larger than a square foot, he pulled it apart and started again from scratch cursing “If I can’t get it perfect the first time, what's the fucking point”. As the day went on, I asked Patrick more about his life and it turns out by the time he was eight, he already knew blacksmithing was what he wanted to pursue. His first experience working with metal although started in shop class during high school. The school had a forge and anvil which then led to the creation of his first set of knives and axes; this is all it took and he was hooked.

Patrick is a self-taught blacksmith and now resides in Salmo, BC., however before committing to the hammer and anvil life, he dabbled into other areas of work and trade that required some sort of technique, especially the attention blacksmithing required. These other trades included farming, fire fighting, and rock climbing instructor. When he was 29 years of age that's when the conscious decision was made to commit to the craft full-time. When I asked him if blacksmithing was a dying trade he responded with this. “Blacksmithing is having a resurgence with those who know, are interested and know where to look, but for the most part a large portion of society neither knows we exist or what we are capable of. As the population becomes more educated to whats possible and that we exist, the demand and interest grows daily”.

To see more of Patrick's work you can visit his website by clicking HERE.

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If you're in Banff between now and March 27th, you can see Patrick's portrait hanging on the walls at the Whyte Museum all in part of the Exposure Photography Festival.

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I randomly met Brian Henderson through a series of introductions that all started with the wonderful Michelle Colley (previous blog post). After one introduction after another, a domino effect occurred and within 24 hours of arriving in Ymir, I felt as though I already knew half the town. This is how I came to meet Brian Henderson and his wife Sharon; they live just behind the town off a steep back road that hugs the base of the forest-covered valley. Carla (a local) helped with many introductions within the town of Ymir and suggested a friendly surprise visit to their home would be a great idea. The sudden visit was very brief; Brian and Sharon were intrigued about my project Back To The Land and suggested I return the next day to chat more as they were pre-occupied teaching a group of local kids how to make garden ornaments. The next day, I pulled up to Brian and Sharon's home noticing my surroundings in more detail. Their home reminded me of something from a children's fairy tale, featuring a structure similar to a log cabin with colourful stain glass exterior windows. The property itself was quite substantial, surrounded by forest, boasting a large healthy garden out front, several mature apple orchard trees, chicken coop behind the home and a large workshop to the right of the house as you ascend the gravel driveway.

The time was around 4pm and when I arrived, Brian and Sharon were just finishing their day as I found them both under a tree, casually sipping a beer amongst the shade with their two dogs. I joined them and began finding out more about what they do, their story and their wonderful abode hidden in the Kootenays. The conversation with Brian and Sharon was easy and both were very open to answering anything I curiously asked. Brian went on to say "I also have fish". I was a little confused because gold-fish was the first thing that popped into my head thinking that was a random thing to say, he then added with a small chuckle " I farm fish". I enthusiastically asked if he could show me. Brian and Sharon then gave me the million dollar tour that started on a path disappearing into the thick of the forest behind their home. Once past the tree covered trail head, the forest and space within opened up and we continued towards the back portion of their property. That's when I noticed several ponds and in each pond were hundreds of fish of various lengths and sizes. The ponds ranged in size comparable to a backyard swimming pool, to another ten times its size. The water supply came from the Kootenay mountain runoff and it turns out Brian started this hobby of his since the 80's. It was quite the operation and something I have never seen before. The system itself looked flawless with a considerable amount of detail and careful planning into its design. Brian reassured me farming fish came with many challenges especially when he had to regularly chase bears and birds away as to not eat his healthy stock.

After the tour, Sharon graciously invited me over for dinner the following day and Brian even agreed to have his photo taken. Sharon expressed her excitement mentioning Brian was not the easiest to photograph given the very few photo's she or the family had of him. I re-assured them both this was not just going to be a quick photo, but definitely something they would enjoy.

The following night I arrived and immediately started setting up. While I was photographing Brian, Sharon was prepping dinner. Fifteen minutes before sitting down to eat, she handed me a fishing rod and said, "Ok now you need to go catch your fish". I thought she was joking until she said "No I'm serious and hurry up, dinner will get cold". With haste, Brian and I went to the backyard and caught six small trout from one of the smaller ponds and brought them to the back door of the home where we gutted, cleaned, and prepared the fish for the BBQ. That night we enjoyed some amazing home cooked food along with some incredible stories upon which I asked to record our conversation because the wine was getting to my head and was worried I wouldn't remember anything in the morning.

That night I heard stories that could not have been written by Hollywood's greatest imaginations. I would require hundreds of pages to give you just a taste of what kind of life Brian and his wife have experienced. Brian was born in Victoria, BC and just like any high school graduate couldn’t decide on anything let alone what he wanted to do with his life. With nothing to lose, he hitchhiked onto a freighter and traveled to Japan on a forged Norwegian ID, then sailed across the pacific and landed in Tokyo for what would be the start of many more adventures.

Throughout Brian’s life he has managed to hitchhike thousands of miles around the globe by car, boat, and plane spending several years abroad in his 20’s. He has been mistaken for Davy Jones from band “The Monkeys” which led to several Japanese woman violently fighting over him, to hitchhiking across Canada with a goat that needed to be delivered in the Maritimes. Upon marrying his now wife Sharon, the two hitchhiked from Ireland to Afghanistan (Pre-Russian invasion) and back to England with many stops along the way; working for as little as two dollars a day to help fund their free-spirited lifestyle. One particular story I loved was when the two were hitchhiking in France. One day as they were trying to flag down a ride, they were picked up by a man driving a large windowless van. Once the two hopped into the front seat, immediately they noticed an odour in the vehicles interior. Upon closer inspection, the two turned around and a couple feet in front of their faces was a male African lion with no cage separating them. It turns out the lion was sick, the driver worked for a zoo and was transporting the animal to get treated a few hundred kilometres away.

It was then in the mid 80’s they visited Ymir, fell in love with the place and luck would have it an opportunity arose where they were able to join and buy into a commune. Years later the commune dissolved due to other members leaving, so they bought their share of land out right and have been living off the land ever since.

Ymir is one of those places that finds you rather than you finding it; the locals here survive and thrive. The community is wonderful, supportive, and everyone I met had a story to tell. The town's energy is infectious and I hope it continues to be a place of community, discovery, and sustainability.

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If you're in Banff between now and March 27th, 2016, head on down to the Whyte Museum as you can see Brian's and many other portraits from my Back To The Land project exhibited on the walls.

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With the southern Saskatchewan stories wrapped up and a final blog post on Jim Commodore, I will have more adventures from southern British Columbia and Vancouver Island as I continue to photograph people from small town and remote areas across Canada. If this is your first time reading one of my posts on Back To The Land I'll give you a quick brief on how each trip starts. First, I do very little research on the places I visit and usually end up staying in towns based on intuition and nothing more. Prior to my departure for each segment of this project, I do a test pack a few days before, triple checking everything so not to forget items that could potentially hinder my progress or worse, force me to come home with my tail between my legs; like forgetting a light modifier or camera... it's happened. I do this also to keep my head clear and not scrambling the day I leave.

The BC portion of Back To The Land was a bit different from my Saskatchewan leg of the trip, outfitting the back of my tacoma with a basic backcountry mattress from MEC and strapping my photo gear along the inside rim of the trucks box with bungee chords as I spoon my equipment each night to replace my wife. I left on May 1st, 2015, glancing at google maps before leaving and picked a route on my paper map in hopes to find a few potential spots and seek out the people from rural Canada.

A friend of mine mentioned a town called Ymir which is located in the Kootenays just outside of Salmo and connected me with their friends that live there as potential contacts in the event I needed a little support and insight within the community. I left Calgary at 9:03am and headed down highway 3 (Crowsnest Highway) making a quick stop in Bellevue to see my fiancé (now wife), enjoying lunch with her and a friend at our favourite place in town; The Crowsnest Cafe and Fly Shop. The one thing I love when you cross provincial borders in Canada, especially Alberta into British Columbia is the recognizable change in people's homes. The best way I can describe it is houses start to resemble the Weasleys home from the Harry Potter movies. Now I'm not suggesting this is a bad thing, more of a playful observation that continues to make me laugh out loud each time I cross from Alberta into BC. If you have never taken highway 3 before I suggest try it as it's a refreshing change from the trans Canada, plus when you drive into Creston this time of year... HOLY S%$T the greenery is incredible. With a quick stop in Yahk and a friendly conversation from the owners of the Yahk Soap Company, I continued west until I finally made it to Ymir around 9:30pm pulling into the riverside campground that sits right off the main street. Happy and excited to stretch my legs, I found myself struggling to find the energy to set-up my trusty coleman stove, instead went to the Ymir hotel in hopes of finding something to satisfy my grumbling belly.

As I walked in I could not help notice the massive collection of mini statues and artifacts from either Africa or Central America along with a variety of impressionistic paintings. To say the walls were covered is an understatement as you could not even tell the walls existed as it looked as though the roof was supported by the art itself. I proceeded to the bar where I notice a man sitting there enjoying a drink and an older man half busy behind the bar. I asked if food was being served and unfortunately I just missed last call, but they did have some leftover pizza and I settled on that. I also ordered a beer which was a nice treat given the days drive. Satisfied with the homemade hotel pizza, I made small talk with the owner of the hotel; Hanz and the cook Monty. The two gave me a little history about the town, I payed my bill and made my way back to the campsite and excited to crawl into the back of my taco where my sleeping bag was waiting.

The next morning I woke and decided to do a little exploring and also reach out to the couple whose contact information I received through my friends in Calgary. Their names were Jay and Michelle and as I made my way to their home, I found Michelle working in her garden. Their property consisted of a small cabin on the side of a slight embankment and the house was accompanied by various planters, small trees out front, and two smaller shed like structures; one near the back of the house and another to the side with a small rectangular garden. Michelle and Jay greeted me with genuine kindness that you can only find in small towns. After pleasantries, I told them what I was doing, what I planned to do and any help reaching out in the community would be greatly appreciated. Michelle immediately dropped her shovel and said "Well lets go meet Carla, she lives just down the road and she know's everyone".

Within five minutes and a quick walk down the street, we knocked, and the door immediately opened with a enthusiastic "Hello" and energy that could lift you up on the darkest of rainy days. Carla was a short woman with dark hair and two long french braids with subtle streaks of grey that came over her shoulders and down to her waist. She immediately wanted to know more about the project, I told her, she was excited and said lets do a tour of the town. Right from the start how could you not like this woman. Michelle left as she wanted to get back to her gardening and left me and Carla to explore. We jumped into my truck and she proceeded to take me everywhere pointing out the historic buildings, checking out the natural spring that supplied the towns water supply, stopping into local businesses with introductions, and even heading into the far back roads where more of the towns people live. After about an hour or so of driving from location to location and a variety of names and phone numbers, I had a growing list of people to search out and possibly photograph as well. I went back to my campsite excited and anxious to start.

I never intended to photograph Michelle, however after hearing her playfully inspiring story the fist day we met, I asked and she willingly accepted. Michelle was born in Kelowna, B.C. and upon graduating high school she moved to Calgary and attended the University of Calgary studying Environmental Science. Once she graduated and still having an urge for adventure, she moved back to Kelowna to be a ski bum at Big White Mountain Resort, but instead of operating the lifts, she randomly managed to become a carpenters helper. Michelle has always been around tools thanks to her father and has enjoyed the process of using her hands to create and fix things. After one year of carpentry in Big White, her and her husband Jay left for New Zealand, travelling for a year with only the their bicycles as a means of getting around.

With their return from Kiwi land and realizing Kelowna was too chaotic and not close enough to the mountains, Michelle and her husband headed for the Kootenay’s. With a small stint in Nelson, the stars aligning, Michelle and Jay both received carpentry jobs from a custom home builder and a day later purchasing a fixer-upper in Ymir. Now Michelle teaches and programs the woman’s only carpentry course at the Selkirk College in Nelson, she also does custom carpentry for people in the community and surrounding towns, Ski tours in the winter, runs policy development and waste management for the “Tiny Light Festival”... AND is pursing a passion for painting. Oh and she taught herself how to play the violin. One can only feel inspired when encountering such a wonderful human being.

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Val Marie is gem of a town that lies on the borders of the Grasslands Nations Park surrounded by some of the most stunning prairie landscapes with incredible morning and evening light I have never witnessed. I suggest if you're looking to explore some of Canada's unknown or less listed parks, this would be at the top of my list as it boasts wild roaming bison, camping, backcountry camping, hiking, informative seminars on the grasslands ecology, tours and is within a half days drive of the more popular Cypress hills.

Throughout my travels I have noticed where there are beautiful landscapes there are always beautiful people. During my stay in Val Marie I was welcomed with open arms and support even when I did not ask for it. The day I spent with Wes Olson the bison rancher, he immediately recommend I try and contact Jim Commodore.

With every great man there is an even greater woman and that's when I met Carol Masecar, Jim's Wife in the local coffee shop. Carol was so friendly and full of so much joy. She even convinced Jim to meet with me, as it turns out he is quite shy and doesn't like to be interviewed let alone photographed. I mentioned to Wes I was heading to see Jim one day and he immediately asked if he could join me as he wanted the pleasure of introducing the two of us including a possible photo-op of the two of them together.

Jim was born in 1941 during a time when the Canadian prairies were drastically affected by serious drought from the dirty 30's. People had no money and relied heavily on the land and animals they raised. Being born during this time moulded you into something more than just a farmer, you were a survivor. In 1935 the PFRA (Prairie Farm Rehabilitation Administration) program was created to help save drought affected areas with community pastures and to keep the ecology from collapsing. This continued for 80 years.

The day Jim and I met he was 74 years of age. His body looked frail at face value but what he lacked in physical size he made up for in experience and miles. I watched him handle a horse better than any young cowboy half his age. Jim is a man of little words when it comes to talking about himself or his life, and that made getting an intimate interview with him quite difficult. Frustrating at first, however, I have come to realize that isn't such a bad thing with a man like Jim. I like to believe he is an actions speak louder than words kinda guy. And for him to allow me to witness his day to day activities on his farm, I believe, that was his way of trusting me with his story and leaving the unknown for my imagination.

I spent the day watching Jim closely with his animals, feeding them, calling them, reacting to their presence and periodically taking a knee to roll the occasional cigarette. I was also lucky enough to see him care for a horse with a limp and upon closer inspection it looked like some type of infection with a mysterious black goop coming out from the animals sole. To anyone who owns horses this may not be anything even worth mentioning, but to an outsider like myself, it wasn't just the act alone, it was witnessing something greater. Whenever the name Jim Commodore is mentioned in conversation throughout the community and surrounding towns, the name was soon followed by words like legend and prolific. I wish I knew more about this man of few words but I am honoured he picked me, a stranger to take his picture, and to see a brief glimpse into the life and eyes of what a real cowboy is and stands for.

If you enjoyed this story and others in my blog, feel free to join me at the Whyte Museum, in Banff as I will be featuring the start of my project "Back To The Land" in part with Exposure Photography Festival. The event is free and feel free to bring your family and friends. Also if you have any questions please do not hesitate to contact me.

Exhibition: January 30th - March 27th, 2016

Opening Reception: January 30th 7pm-10pm

Address: Whyte Museum - 111 Bear Street, Banff, AB.

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When I first came up with the project "Back To The Land", I wanted to create a short trailer to help tell the story of the people I have photographed thus far throughout Saskatchewan, Alberta, and British Columbia. So I hired Chantelle Kolesnik from DDG (Deluxe Design Group) to work with me and create the trailer for "Back To The Land". I wanted to give the audience a better visual of the project that showed the process of traveling from town to town while inspiring a desire to explore the unknown and celebrate that connection to Canada for those who call this country home. For the human element of the trailer, we needed to find someone who not only fit the project scope and vision but also someone who was comfortable in front of the lens. That's where Susan Murray (Suzie) came on my radar and who I also wanted to photograph for this project. After a little convincing and once Suzie agreed, the next thing was to decide on a location to tell her story. I started to scout around the Crowsnest Pass and for those that do not know, it is made up of five small towns; Bellevue, Hillcrest, Frank, Blairmore, and Coleman. Having access to such an array of communities, this gave Chantelle and I a huge variety of material to work with. From small towns, open fields, Rocky Mountains, rivers, and more, Chantelle and I spent two weekends out in the Crowsnest Pass filming 14 hours a day and driving as far as Brocket and Fernie to get the shots we needed to bring the whole trailer together.

After the trailer was launched and photographs edited, I recently sat down with Suzie to find out more of her life story. Suzie was born in Kingston Ontario then moved briefly to the UK and then back to Canada where she received a BA in Philosophy. From there she spent the next 10 years travelling all over the world as far as India, South East Asia, Australia, New Zealand and Nepal. With her love for travelling she would return back to Canada every so often working in Banff in order to fund the next adventure halfway around the globe. When I asked Suzie about each of these places she visited, she had few words but looking into her eyes I could see the memories flash with expressions of joy and subtle smiles that revealed everything that words could not express. Speaking from experience and when you actively travel and live in another country, it's hard to find the words as most people who travel will tell you it's one of those things that you do, live, and experience. Suzie did however say "I don't think I'll ever return to Europe".

With all the traveling Suzie did your probably wondering how and when she made The Crowsnest Pass her home. Suzie did visit the Crowsnest Pass when she was 29 meeting a guy which ended up becoming her husband Al, however her first impression of the area was far from sublime and I quote "Why would anyone live in this god forsaken town". Marrying her husband Al and finding a love for fly fishing, she soon feel in love with the area and fast forward to 1998 when Suzie decided to open up The Crowsnest Cafe' in Blairmore. Then in 2003 she moved the cafe' to Coleman inside a tiny little house neighbouring the 7-Eleven on highway 3. Then again in 2004 took on a small demolition, knocked down some walls and added a fly shop which is now the Crowsnest Cafe' and fly Shop. Along with serving up homemade and organic food, she and her husband also guide on the river systems that surround the area sharing the world-class fly-fishing the Crowsnest Pass has to offer. Most of Suzies clients come from Southern Alberta and BC, but regularly guides for people from Montana, Washington, California, Texas, and occasionally visitors as far as Italy and Germany. If your ever in the Crowsnest Pass area and your hungry, you need to try her homemade soups and pie... it's out of this world delicious. Plus if you gassing up at the 7-Eleven next door save yourself from buying that processed packaged sandwich as The Crowsnest Cafe' and Fly Shop will not disappoint as everything is made from scratch. Plus you can always count on a friendly chat and expect no shortage of other fisherman in the store to geek out on some fly fishing.

Enjoy~

Jeremy

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On my first few days in Val Maire, Saskatchewan my days were spent visiting the cafe's and the local hangouts introducing myself to locals, getting a good feel of the surrounding landscape and deciding on who I could potentially photograph. One thing I find interesting about this Back To The Land project is each place I visit for any period of time, I know immediately if I'll be staying for five minutes or five days. This is purely based on intuition and gut feelings. I have always wondered where does this gut feeling come from and why does it happen? I do sometimes think about what might have transpired in life if I ever chose to ignore that little voice that sits at the bottom of my stomach. Would I be living in Canada, would I have found photography, where would I be mentally and physically? Myself and I'm sure many others as well have ignored that "gut feeling" at least once in their life and in my own personal experience, nine times out of ten that decision was always met with regret. From these regrettable decisions in the past, I now listen to that voice regardless of the severity of the decision, even if the outcome that I hoped for does not show itself immediately, however in the end it always works out and for the better.

One morning as I was staying in Rockglen, Saskatchewan, Neil Jones, Jan, Leary and I met up for coffee at the local diner Burning Hills Cafe and we started talking about other people who they might know and would possibly be a good fit for my Canada project. Neil mentioned I should check out a place call Big Beaver, Saskatchewan. I stopped him in mid-sentence asking him to repeat the name of the town as I thought I was hearing things. Neil laughed and reassured me the town was called "Big Beaver". The four of us all must have laughed for a minute or two all while repeating the name several times just cause it was fun to say. Neil said there was a general store in the small town where you could buy anything from a box of Cheerios to gun ammunition. Still trying not to laugh, Neil went on to explain a gentleman named Ron Aust owned and operated the store and it was called "Austs General Store" with a slogan that made the store quite famous and could have not been more perfect. "If we don't have it, you don't need it".

After hearing this my gut was screaming to check this place out from which I immediately jumped into my taco and headed east. The drive itself to Big Beaver was beautiful, passing through a couple other small towns along the way all while taking in the beautiful prairies of Saskatchewan. The town is located just off highway 18 and you have to keep your eyes open as there is only one small green sign that marks the turn off a couple hundred meters before you head North 1 km into the town. Once I arrived I was shocked on how remote and small this little town was. There are only a couple of streets and avenues with an array of random houses on each of them. You can't miss the Aust General Store as you pull into town and as I parked out front, there were already a couple of families loading supplies into their trucks. As I walked into the store, it was quite the scene where I had to adjust my eyes and take a few minutes of what I was witnessing. There was canned fruit, toilet seats, knick-knacks, clothing, hunting gear, kitchen utensils and everything in between stacked floor to ceiling high. The store was by no means messy but very organized with every item having its own intended space and position. I spent a good 20 minutes carefully looking at everything on each shelf down each corridor and isle making a few laps just so I didn't miss anything.

As I made my way back to the entrance, I noticed a man working the front and asked him where I could find Ron Aust. The gentleman said "Yah I'm Ron, how can I help you". I proceeded to tell him why I was in town, my project, and if he would be willing to sit for a portrait. Ron happily agreed and I told him I just needed 15 minutes to set up. Ron went about his business helping other customers until I was ready to take his photograph. Once I had my lights set-up which was quite a challenge given the very limited real estate in the shop, I called Ron over and as I was taking some test shots I asked him a little about the store and its history. It turns out his parents owned it before passing it down to him and has been in the family now for 56 years. Even parts of the building date back to 1928 as the store now spans across the neighboring buildings to house all the supplies and inventory.

Along with all the merchandise Ron also shared his guestbook which hundreds of visitors have signed over the years along with personal messages from all across North America and even some parts of the world. It was an honour and pleasure to photograph Ron one place I will never forget and hope to visit again very soon.

I hope you enjoy the photographs and if you want to see more, feel free to subscribe to the blog at the top of the screen

Enjoy!

On my first few days in Val Maire, Saskatchewan I continued my pursuit in finding people with interesting stories. I managed to find Wes Olson randomly by one of the ladies that runs the coffee shop at the local museum just off the main highway as you pull into Val Marie. Usually when I decide to stay in a town for an extended period of time, I usually hit up the local spots getting a good feel for the area and the people who call each town home. As I ordered just a drip coffee from the lady at the counter, I also asked her about various people in the town and if she knew anyone that stuck out in her mind within the community who had an interesting story to tell. She immediately mentioned two men, Wes Olson and Jim Commodore - I'll get to Jim in a later blog. She gave me Wes's phone number and once I finished my coffee I immediately gave him a call. We spoke on the phone briefly, I told him what I was doing, my intentions and if he was willing to have his photograph taken. Wes was intrigued and we made arrangements to meet at his home to talk about it more which was just down the street. When I first met Wes I was quite surprised how tall he was as I'm sure most people are. He had a gentle face with the most amazing cowboy moustache you have ever seen. I also met his wife Johanne who was very kind and made me tea as the three of us talked more about my Back To The Land project.

It turns out Wes Olson is quite the "go to guy" when it comes to anything Bison. Already retired, he has worked with bison for over 30 years which has taken him across the country and globe working with various species of Bison. This knowledge that Wes has gained started by growing up in and around the outdoors his entire life. He worked as a wildlife technician for the Yukon government for several years, then in 1981 worked for Parks Canada as a National Park Warden in Banff, Waterton Lakes, Elk Island, Prince Albert and Grasslands National Parks retiring in 2012. On top of all this, Wes is also an incredible artist with his inspiration coming from the natural world that has surrounded him his whole life. If you want to see more of Wes Olsen's work you can visit his website here.

When Wes happily agreed to be part of my project, I could have not been more thrilled and when I told him what I had in mind for a photograph he assured me he knew exactly where to take me to scout the location. Wes having been a park warden for the Grasslands National Park, he had access and knowledge of every square inch of the park which was a huge bonus for me because I could explain exactly what I wanted and Wes calmly would say with a subtle head nod "Yes... I can find you that". When we headed out to take his portrait, we stopped at one particular spot that I thought was ideal. The sun was in the best possible position, the plains looked beautiful, and the sky was flawless. Wes however had a different opinion and immediately spoke up "I don't like it" he said with intent. I was a little confused and when I cautiously asked his reasons why, he said "I refuse to have my picture taken with a species of plant that is not native to the grasslands" as he pointed to a bunch of yellow sweet clover. I was humbled and so proud by his response as it clearly showed his love for this landscape which he himself helped maintain over the years. We proceeded down the gravel road, Wes re-assuring me he as he did with a chuckle that he knew a spot where all the surrounding plant life were native to the land.

We arrived at our location and it was beautiful. We also brought along a bison skull to add another element to the photograph. I took a few photo's with just natural light and a bunch using my portable studio light. In the end we only spent 20 minutes taking photo's and once I was happy with the results we packed up and headed back to Val Marie. The drive back was actually one of my favourite moments with Wes. I asked him questions about his experience with bison, his life as a warden and after every passing minute he seemed to open up more and more. I found Wes to be one of calmest people I know. Saying only what needed to be said but leaving you wanting to know more about his past. He went on to explain his experiences living in the bush, setting up a bison breeding program in Siberia and his love for travelling with his wife Johanne, who turns out is also a photographer. To this day I still wish I asked Wes more questions and had the opportunity to pick his brain for weeks, I enjoyed the time spent with him and is one that I will always cherish.

I hope you enjoy the photo's and feel free to subscribe to this blog if you want to see more from this project "Back To The Land".

Wes Olson from Val Marie, Saskatchewan

Wes Olson from Val Marie, Saskatchewan

Wes Olson from Val Marie, Saskatchewan

Wes Olson from Val Marie, Saskatchewan

Having only spent less than a week on the road, I am still in awe of the endless skies and rolling hills that meet the horizon in the province of Saskatchewan. It’s wave like grasslands and wheat fields dance in the wind reminding me of coral reefs swaying in unison among the ocean currents that bring them to life. When venturing off any major highway or road, you can find this authentic quiet that is true to the Canadian prairies among its natural beauty and vast landscapes.

With Canada's authentic landscapes comes authentic residents. One resident that comes to mind is self-taught artist Neil Jones. I met Neil in the Val Marie campground during my stay while photographing John Reynolds family honey farm. On one afternoon when I was not shooting other residents of Val Marie, I noticed a couple pulled into the campground towing a beautiful Boler camper; imagine Dr Seuss and Ikea get together, drink way to many beers and decide to break into the RV market. After a few days I made my way over to my campground neighbours to introduce myself. Neil and Jan had two lovely dogs and immediately we started chatting about where each of us were from exchanging stories and reasons for visiting Val Marie. Both Neil and Jan were so kind and I was curious about their Boler camper, so I asked if they could give me a quick tour. Both laughing at my curiosity, they opened the door and I was shocked on how much room this fibreglass pod could hold. There was a double bed, room for a fridge, it had a stove, and more than enough storage for a never-ending road trip. Plus it was under 500lbs, enough for a Scandinavian athlete to pull on his 10 speed bicycle.

Within the first hour of our conversation, Neil and Jan had already offered an open invitation to visit the two of them at their home in Rockglen, Saskatchewan with the possibility of introducing me to other individuals they knew who might be willing to share their story for the Back To The Land project. I told Neil and Jan coincidentally my plans were to keep driving east in hopes of finding more towns along the way and that a short visit in Rockglen would be wonderful. Through-out the week we managed to hang out a few more times and right before they were leaving Val Marie for good, I asked Neil if he would be willing to sit for a portrait and without hesitation Neil happily said yes. I took 20 minutes of Neils time, set up a couple of lights and took a few photographs. It turns out Neil is from Saskatchewan and from Welsh decent. I asked Neil to describe his work and he said "My work brings history to the canvas focusing on first nations, their life as great people and the land they call home". Neil loves the natural world and does so by portraying it as best he can while working in Oil paint to accomplish this. To see more of Neil Jones incredible art work please visit his website by clicking here.

Once I have finished taking a bunch of frames, Neil and I exchanged contact info and Jan made it quite clear that if and when I was in Rockglen to give them a call. The story however does not end here. After I finished spending 9 days in Val Marie I did manage to make my way East and took Jan and Neil up on their invitation to stay in Rockglen. Fast forward one week and I was on the front steps of Neil and Jan's home. Rockglen itself is a beautiful little town with one main street surrounded by gorgeous prairie landscapes filled with coulees and rolling hills that create the perfect backdrop for Neil's work and inspiration. It was also great to see where the two of them lived, including Neil's gallery and studio which occupies the front foyer of their home where Neil paints and exhibits his work to the public. They also host bands from across the country using their home as a venue for live music, where people come from surrounding small towns and communities to see various musicians play in their living room as most music venues in small towns tend to be at the local hotel's, pubs, or nothing at all. Neil and Jan also invited me to have dinner with one of their friends Leary Mulvena who owned a ranch in the middle of no-where where one evening we had a steak dinner, went for a drive through some of the back roads and ended the evening with a scramble up to a look out where you could see the Montana border followed by a beautiful sunset. It was a great day filled with new friends and a side of Canada I can not wait to return too.

Unfortunately I was not able to find anyone else to photograph in Rockglen, Saskatchewan, however Neil mentioned a gentleman who owned a convenience store in a small remote town called Big Beaver, Saskatchewan... I know what your thinking and I still laugh out loud knowing there is a town called "Big Beaver".

I will leave it at that, I hope you enjoy the photographs, and stay tuned for more stories from both Val Marie and Big Beaver, Saskatchewan.

-If you know of someone who has led an interesting life and lives in a small or remote town (Under 500) somewhere... or anywhere in Canada, feel free to send me an email and let me know.

Feel free to subscribe as well as there will be a blog post 2-3 times per month.

Cheers,

After photographing Arthur James in Orkney, Saskatchewan and thrilled having found my first subject for my “Back To The Land” project, I continued East and headed towards Val Marie, which lies on the borders of Grasslands National Park. As I pulled off the highway, I made my way down centre street and within 100 meters I managed to spot the post office, the local grocer, a cafe’ and a couple buildings that were either in the early stages of a renovation or demolition.With my appetite starting to grow into a serious case of the "hangry's", I pulled into the cute little cafe' called The Harvest Moon Cafe. I walked in and I could not help but notice the large photographs displayed on the wall showcasing the majestic grasslands and the Bison that call these grasslands home. I wasn’t the only person in the cafe as there was a family enjoying their lunch as well. Making small chat with the waitress and having troubles deciding what to order, I went with her suggestion and proceeded to chat with the family sitting across the restaurant from me. They shared some info about the park, where they were from, and we exchanged our reasons why each of us were visiting Val Marie and also getting the run down of accommodations in the area. After an awesome sandwich and salad lunch, I decided to check out Val Marie's own campground that was just around the corner from the cafe' in hopes of setting up shop for an undetermined amount of time.

The campsite was nothing more than a large rectangular patch of roughly landscaped grass about 200’ x 250’  with large poplar trees that surrounded the perimeter of the property. There were no noticeable markers or signs distinguishing each site, just random picnic tables scattered around the campsite. I assumed you just parked under or next to a tree and that was your spot... as far as I was concerned this was perfect. I found my spot underneath one of the larger poplars with low hanging branches to hide my truck from the hot Saskatchewan sun. I then set-up my tent, moved a picnic table closer to my truck, and settled in. From there I decided to go for a walk and check out the parks office and the museum and coffee shop just off the highway. I made my way into the museum and was greeted by a very friendly woman. I ordered a coffee and asked her if she knew anyone in the town that had an interesting story. She proceeded to tell me about Wes Olson and Jim Commodore. She gave me each of their contact information and continued to tell me about the area and the people that call Val Marie home. I finished my coffee and went back to the campsite to make some phone calls and explore the rest of the town. The next morning I woke up early, had eggs for breakfast on my trusty coleman stove and decided to return to the Harvest Moon Cafe’ for some coffee, as I forgot my bodum press back in Calgary, and yes it's the one luxury I take with me on the road, that and a good bottle of scotch for after those long days of shooting.

As I sat drinking my coffee, I began chatting with the local waitress asking her about the area and the people in the town. I proceeded to tell her about my photography project and if she knew anybody that stuck out in her mind that I might be able to potentially photograph, mentioning my general list of hopeful subjects; farmers, artists, bee-keepers, etc. And as soon as I said the word "Bee-keeper". She said "YES... and I know just the person". She gave me a name and number and told me to give them a call.

The phone started to ring and the other line picked up

"Hello?"

Me: "Is John Reynolds there?"...

"Are you looking for John Sr. or John Jr?".

Not knowing there were two John's in the house hold, I went out on a limb and asked for John Senior, which turned out was the man who answered the phone. I began to tell John Senior who I was and my reasons for calling which he then calmly started telling me that he had a freak accident and broke his neck three days prior to my call. Still in a wheel chair and brace he mentioned his grandson might be better off helping me with my project and from there he passed the line over to his grandson John Junior. John junior answered the phone with such enthusiasm and small town hospitality that can only be expected from rural Canada. After telling him about my reasons for calling, it turns out he had relocated him and his family to Val Marie to keep the Triple R Honey Ranch on track as John Senior did most of the labour prior to his horrible fall that almost left him a paraplegic. The good news was the doctors expected a full recovery. I asked John if it's possible to meet up and find out more of what goes into the day and life of a bee keeper, possibly meet his grandfather, and find out more info about the family honey farm and the production behind it. He happily agreed and in two days I was on Johns door step.

Before I could even knock John opened the door and I could not believe my eyes, there in front of me stood the most incredible character that certainly did not fit the description I had pictured in my mind; a timid young farmer with levi 501 jeans and a plaid shirt to finish. Instead, stood this 185lb thick tattoo covered friendly giant with an orange beard that would make any biker jealous. His physical appearance was something out of a Mad Max movie and would catch anyone off guard if it wasn't for Johns genuine and welcoming smile. Immediately after introducing ourselves I could help not notice John's positive gentle nature and enthusiasm in welcoming me to his home and town. He immediately shook my hand firmly and introduced me to his lovely wife Carly and their two beautiful energetic children Wyatt and Olivia who immediately invited me to jump on the trampoline. I sat down with the family and talked more about my Canada project, my intentions, what I was hoping to achieve and also wanting to know more about the history of their family. Once John and Carly gave me the thumbs up to document their honey operation and their day to day life as bee-keepers, I could have not been more honoured, humbled and above all excited to photograph such wonderful people.

That night they decided to give me a little taste of what I was in for over the next 9 days which at that time was not what I had planned. I only kept postponing my departure from Val Marie because I was having way too much fun both with bee-keeping and meeting other people (More to come on that). That evening we drove through some of the towns backroads visiting two out of the five honey yards they owned that were in various locations, checking to see how the bees were doing and the progress of the honey which would soon be harvested in the coming days. The first thing I immediately noticed was the constant humming in the air as hundreds of bees surrounded you, approaching each yard that consisted of several hives. I wore a face shield but John reassured me I didn't need one at that time nor needed gloves as we were just checking the hive and wouldn't be disturbing the bees that much. Skeptical as I was, I trusted him (only with the gloves) and within a span of an hour never once did a bee sting John, Carly or myself. I also noticed the bees were quite calm as John and Carly checked each hive being careful not to aggravate any of the bees that were within inches from their bare skin. John reiterated that when they started to harvest the honey and break down each hive, the situation will change drastically and when that happens we will be forced to wear face shields and gloves.

The first few days of the harvest started with John and Carly showing me their hives by separating each crate that were stacked 5 feet high. From there they were able to show me the general production on how bees make honey, what makes up the hive, and the different types of bees and their purposes within the colony. ON one occasion we were even able to find the queen in one of the hives. By the time we had the first few crates of our first hive, the bees at this point were in  survival mode and the air was covered in tens of thousands of bees. I can still hear the constant buzz that was almost deafening as it could also be heard from hundreds of feet away. The one thing I loved about watching Carly and John work was their attention to detail, putting as little stress on the bees as possible which was just as important as the quality of their honey, making sure bee casualties were at a minimum. After all the crates were separated and placed on the ground from each hive, we now had to let them rest for six hours, allowing the bees to calm down before our return in the evening to load the crates onto the truck and drive them back to the processing room back in Val Marie. This whole process took a few days and there was one thing that I still found fascinating but caught me off guard when it happened; One evening John asked me to help load crates with him and I jumped at the opportunity, eagerly picking up my first one not before nearly giving myself a hernia. The thing must of weighed over 100lbs. Now lifting 100lbs is not hard, but you never expect honey to have that much weight especially out of a 24"x 20"x 12" crate. It's the added +30 degree weather, wearing thick clothing head to toe, and the added pressure of wanting to perform and not disappoint John and Carly. On one of the nights we ended up working late into the night and my over confident bragging caught up with me as I still had bragging rights because I had not been stung yet. Being stung by a bee or wasp is not a big deal, it's happened to all of us, and it's not the worst thing that can happen. It only sucks when it happens again, then again, then again, and again. This is what happened to me and and when it did, I was losing my mind wondering what the hell was going on as I kept frantically looking over body for any signs that bees were able to penetrate. Then there's that feeling of insects crawling up your leg and for that split second you think to your self "This is not good". That's when I noticed I had a small hole in the bottom of my pants. There was nothing really I could do except say, "Oh Shit" and cover the hole and kill anything that was moving inside my pants. I briefly thought about running away to take my pants off, however that was not an option as there was too much work to be done. John came over and quickly rubbed my leg which ended up leaving me with a few more stings from the remainder of the bees in my pants. By this time it was getting very late, we were all exhausted and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Once we finished loading all the crates onto the back of the truck with no shortage of a few more swear words and grunts, we packed everything up and headed back to Val Marie. As I arrived back at my campsite, I immediately went right for the public shower eager to get out of my sticky sweaty clothing. The pants were the first to come off and I quickly noticed about 20 stings on my right leg which by now was 30% larger than my left. I was too tired to treat it with anything, instead I took a long hot shower, made my way across the camp-ground half naked in a towel, and crawled into my coffin of a tent and immediately fell asleep. The next morning I woke up and felt a little stiff, shrugging it off as normal body aches from the past few days in the fields, until I stepped out of my tent and fell flat on my face. I couldn't bend my right leg or kneel down without having significant pain. The swelling had increased over night and my joints were starting to seize. John assured me the swelling would go down and not to worry. He was right, but holy shit is it uncomfortable and my walking didn't return to normal until seven days later. My advice to anyone wanting to work around bees, wear the gear and make sure you have no holes in your clothing. Oh and bring duct tape... lots of it.

It was a fantastic experience and one I would recommend anyone do. The photographs below will provide better visuals and give you a taste into what I would consider one of the best chance encounters I have ever had the honour of experiencing.

Enjoy!

If you have any questions or know someone in a small town (Less than 500) that has led an interesting life that should be told, send me a message.

~Jeremy

I have just woken up in Consul, Saskatchewan and my night was nothing short of interrupted. I wasn't thinking first when I pitched my tent on the outskirts of town as it was under a flood light from a nearby property leaving this orange haze that left little chance of a dark slumber. Not to mention waking up to a group of drunken teenagers coming from what I can only imagen being a barn party that went late into the night. Ahhh at that age... drunk, stumbling home through fields and hopping barbed-wire fences. Actually I'm a little jealous. When I woke it was around 6am and the light was starting to coat the surrounding fields. I wanted to get a nice early start to the day and I diligently packed my tent in a record three minutes and scarfed down a bowl of Weetabix in two minutes. I Brushed my teeth, splashed my face with some cold water, and I was on the road in less than eight. I headed east and made my way towards the Red Coat Trail (Hwy 13). From there, I stayed on this road for about 5 km before coming to Hwy 18 where the little town of Robsart marked the junction. I decided to take a little look through the town and was amazed at the condition of everything. There were abandoned buildings everywhere and some looked as though you could not quite tell if they were being occupied or not. I noticed a larger house at the end of the main road and saw a woman sipping her morning coffee on the front porch. The sun was already up but the morning dew had not yet disappeared. She was wrapped in a blanket and staring out into the distant prairies. It did cross my mind to stop and ask her about the town and surrounding area, however I decided not to, as she looked as though this was her morning ritual, enjoying her hot morning beverage in the morning light. No distractions and only a blanket. I made the transition onto Hwy 18 and headed South towards the US border. The road eventually veers East but not after about 26 km of gravel road.  This single stretch of road is by far one of my more favourite drives and for one reason. It's nothing but seclusion as far as the eye can see. As soon as the road starts transitioning East you start getting a real sense of just how big this country Canada really is OR how small we really are. I stopped the vehicle as mother nature was calling and after, I just stood there for 15 minutes taking in the scenery and outside air. No cars, no farm equipment, no cows, barely even a breath of wind. I kept imagining a vehicle breaking down out here in the middle of winter, and if that were to happen, no one is coming to get you within 60-80km radius. There was barely even a bar of cell service. I have never experienced baron landscape like that in my own country until that day and when that happened, I felt very insignificant knowing that this particular environment at certain times of the year would not be forgiving. I kept driving and reached a little bit of civilization making brief stops in the towns of Frontier and the cleverly named town of Climax. Climax had no real affect on me except it boasts a very phallic grain silo with the towns name on it at the end of main street. And a sign that reads "Come again soon" when you leave. Gotta love small town humour and let's be honest, who's mind wouldn't be in the gutter when your going to "Climax".

I stopped in Bracken and managed to visit the local corner store and had a nice chat with the fellow that worked there. As I kept heading east I came upon the little town of Orkney, Saskatchewan. I pulled into Orkney and at first glance had little hope that I would find anything. I drove through the town, parked my truck and started venturing though some of the abandoned buildings. Satisfied, I got in my truck and as I was about to hit the highway, a tractor came up the main street towards me. I flagged down the man driving and he stopped, got out of his tractor and started walking towards my driver side window. I could not help but notice the size of this mans hands comparing them to a callised catchers mitt and the calm carefree expression. His shirt was untucked showing a bit of his belly, his collar popped, and a truckers cap that I can only assume left the comfort of his own head only when lying down to sleep at night due to his wife making him remove it. I introduced myself, we exchanged names, and I proceeded to ask him about the town. He responded with "I know so much about this town" in a high pitch almost cartoon bugs bunny voice "what do you want to know?". With that, I had the pleasure of meeting my first subject for the "Back To The Land" project and his name was Arthur James.

Arthur proceeded to tell me about Orkney in the 50's and the town dances that used to take place every weekend where the surrounding towns came to enjoy the entertainment. He told me about the fall of the railroad which eventually forced Orkney to be nothing more than the remains of what still stands today.  Arthur proceeded to point out each abandoned and derelict structure and what once stood 50 years ago: "There is the old liquor store, but was later destroyed by a fire... Over there was the post office, but then was decommissioned once the railway stopped coming through Orkney". Arthur had such a passion for his little town and it turns out his son including his family are the only people currently living in Orkney. Why was Arthur there on that particular day? Well he was stealing hay from his sons fields to feed his own horses 15 km away.

Arthur still works his own farm to this day, he is 74 years old, and was more then gracious enough to be photographed. To say I was surprised... not really. Small town people have this incredible way of making you feel welcome and always willing to share a story or two. All you have to do is ask.

I hope you enjoyed this post and feel free to comment, share, or even email me if you have any questions. I have also supplied a "Google Maps" View of the barn he was standing in front of just for fun.

Cheers,

Jeremy

Only in small town Saskatchewan can you get a club house, a full tank of gas, and a brand new 2015 f-150 with zero percent financing within ten feet of one another. Ok... you could probably do the same in other parts of Canada I just thought it was funny when I stopped in Kindersley. I'm in Kindersley sitting at a diner called the Coliseum Restaurant which is attached to the Esso station and next door to the Ford dealership. I arrived around 2pm and needed a little break to plan my next course of action as I could not decide on two possible options. Either I head directly North to where the roads eventually are non-existent, or head south as close to the US border as I can get without actually arriving at the border. That is always the tough decision when you go on a trip with no real set plan, sometimes everything just works out in your favour, and sometimes you make a small mistake such as missing turn-off and before you know it, you have lost two days worth of driving. One thing I have always told myself is to never force a decision when your blinded by your preconceived notions of the possible out-come. ALWAYS and I mean always trust your gut and let instinct be your guide. The rest will fall into place. Well that's my approach, philosophy, whatever you want to call it.

As I sat in a booth for six, quietly sipping my un-seasoned coffee, struggling to finish my club house, I curiously started looking at a detailed map of Saskatchewan to get a better sense of where my I might want to go.  I didn't know this but Saskatchewan has over 100,000 lakes and I found this very hard to believe at first, however after looking at that map, the province is covered in them. After about 45 minutes I payed for my food, thanked the waitress for the service, and started my truck. I pulled out of Kindersley feeling refreshed and excited to hit the highway. By now I made my decision and that was to head South on Hwy 21 where the road transitions veering west turning into Hwy 44, and then veering back into Hwy 21 just as you pass a small town called Eatonia. From there it continues South all the way to the Cypress Hills. As I started driving the sun was high, it was hot, not a breath of wind, and the odd puff of cloud offering little hope of shade for anyone working outside. I had the music playing and was really enjoying the scenery. As I was on Hwy 44 I noticed a couple grain elevators a half km or so off the highway to the south and thought why not check it out. I pulled down a gravel road and as I started to get closer, I realized these two grain elevators were in amazing condition given on how old they looked. Once I stopped my truck within 50 feet of the structures, I noticed two other men loading  a big engine looking object on to a loading trailer. I approached and asked if they knew any history about the elevators. Turns out the land was sold to the Hutterites and the generator that these two men were loading up was the last of the agreement in the property deal. The two men were very friendly and said the elevators dated back to the early 1900's. Once they left I decided to have a look around myself. Walking through the tall grass, it was like being a kid again and discovering a place that was nothing short of incredible given the size of the structures, the condition the two elevators were in, and not a single person, car, or other building in site. I'll let the video do the talking (The sound is a bit terrible for the first 15 seconds but significant;y improves once I'm out of the wind).

Now you're probably wondering why this post is called "Hashtag Highway" well there are not enough #hashtags to describe this stretch of road from Kindersley, over the Trans Canada, and past the Cypress Hills. Hwy 21 South was nothing short of breathtaking with countless abandon houses to explore where I imagined myself spending weeks exploring every homestead. And this is only what I saw from the highway. The road itself turned and twisted like you were on a kids roller-coaster never wanting it to end. As soon as I crossed over the Trans Canada (HWY 1) the scenery just kept rewarding me. The sun was setting showering the wheat fields with the most amazing golden light I have ever seen. Large hills and gully's engulfed the surrounding environment with endless skies and cricket sounds that could drown out the noisiest of vehicles. The light is different in Saskatchewan and I encourage anyone to drive early in the morning or two hours before sunset. Some people ask why I don't take pictures at these particular moments. My answer to them is the camera is a great tool for documenting and creating, but it can sometimes be distracting and when it becomes distracting, I like to enjoy these moments for myself.

I ended day two of "Back To The Land" in Consul pulling my truck onto a patch of grass on the outskirts of town, pitching my one man tent before calling it a night.

If you have any questions feel free to email me or post a comment below. And I mentioned in my previous post... Day three of "Back To The Land" will have a portrait... I promise.

Stay tuned & Cheers!

Jeremy

https://vimeo.com/123797430

After a crazy morning of torrential rain (See prior Post with video) I pulled out of Hanna, Alberta at around 6:15am and headed East on Highway 9 towards the Saskatchewan border. With the rain still coming down hard, I made my way into the towns of Stanmore and Chinook that were just within view from the side of the highway, only making brief visits driving at a walking pace up the few streets that make up these small towns. With the rain still coming down and not a single person in sight I decided to keep driving.  As soon as I pulled into Cereal,  the rain was only spitting, my stomach was growling and given the irony, I decided to enjoy a bowl of cereal in Cereal... get it? cereal in Cereal??... Never mind.  Now if you have ever travelled on your own and on a budget, eating out can add up and take a huge chunk out of your food budget (Unless you travel Asia... because all street food is pretty much a $1). So what I like to do is pull the tail gate down on my trusty 97 Taco (Tacoma for the non-Toyota fans) and stock a cooler with eggs, cereal, fruit, nuts, and of course peanut M&M's. I also carry a four gallon water jug and a dual element portable coleman stove that is almost as indestructible as my Taco. This allows me to pull over anywhere my vehicle has access to, make something hot or cold, sit with my feet up, take in a view, and pack up and put more pavement behind me. After breakfast I continued East and as soon as you cross the Alberta and Saskatchewan border, the highway immediately changes from highway 9 into highway 7. The moment you are on the Saskatchewan side of the border there is a town on the right called Alsask. I decided to take a look and see if I could make any headway to possibly get some history about the town from a local or even better, a portrait of a local. As I turned right off HWY 7 down the access road heading south, I immediately noticed and what looked like an abandon compound with rows of industrial style buildings that had been taken right out of the Twilight Zone. I wanted to see the town first before making my way back to this crazy looking compound. Within 500m I made a right down the main street of Alsask and just like every other town I visited, there was not a soul in sight and blinds closed on all the 40 or so houses that made up the town. After 20 minutes of just driving up and down the streets at a snails pace, I came upon an abandon school and decided what the hell it's better to take some photos than no photos.

Once I had snapped a few frames of the school I made my way back to the strange looking compound to see what I could find and possibly figure out what this place was. There were about ten or so structures that ranged in various sizes. Some were long and skinny that looked like barracks or single story dorm apartments joined together, one of the buildings looked like a large workshop from the outside, and another of the largest buildings had a sign on the outside that read "Swimming Pool". I drove around each of the structures and did not see anyone except just a couple derelict cars, a few broken windows, and random debris scattered here and there. After doing a little research about Alsask the name of the town could not be more original as it is a combination of Al-berta and Sask-atchewan, the compound part of the town turns out was used for military purposes and was part of the RCAF. It was opened in 1963 as part of the Pinetree Line of NORAD radar stations. The station was later renamed Canadian Forces Detachment of Alsask when the military branches were merged. The station was disbanded in 1987 and has been taken over by the village. The station property became part of the Rural Municipality of Milton when the village of Alsask was dissolved in 2009.

With no one in sight... again, I continued east on HWY 7 making various stops in Marengo, random dirt roads and farmers fields to photograph a bit of the landscape due to the lack of people I was not able to find. By mid-day I had arrived in Kindersley and decided to fuel up and plan my next course of action at one of the local diners. I will leave it here for now and in the mean time enjoy some of the photo's and video and I promise there are portraits of locals coming... just sit tight, be patient and I promise it will be worth it.

Thanks for reading and feel free to comment or drop me a line if you have any questions.

Cheers - Jeremy

https://vimeo.com/122649987

One of the abandon schools in Alsask, Saskatchewan.

The road on which the town of Alsask, Saskatchewan lies on (The town is just behind me on my right).

Another abandon structure just off the side of highway 7 on the Alberta, Saskatchewan border.

A couple of railway cars in Alsask, Saskatchewan.

  A road that goes through a farmers field just outside of Alsask, Saskatchewan.

Well it's been a while since I have written anything on this blog and I can honestly say its feels good to write something down and I promise to be more diligent making blog posts a weekly part of my schedule. So much is going on and I am stoked to share with you some amazing stories and new exciting projects that are in the works. First and foremost the updates- I have started a new photography project (which we will get to shortly), I have become recently engaged, launched my first published book "The Human Connection", and spent this last month (January) in Australia standing next to my little brother as he got married. I will try my hardest to keep you from falling sleep due to shear boredom, so lets get to it and we can start with the NEW photography project as I will post more about the book in the coming weeks. For those that are familiar with my work, the last major photography project took place in Bangladesh and Nepal back in 2011-2012 and in that time I have discovered many things about myself, my photography, and where I plan to take myself in this crazy world of picture taking. Having travelled to a lot interesting places it was back in 2012 that I discovered a whole different side of Calgary let alone Canada that I never noticed before. Most people including myself tend to leave their own country or escape the familiar in search of adventure, inspiration, and or just for the hell of getting outside and out of the house. My situation is no different and I have decided to take the same approach and process from my travels abroad to my newest project which involves a very large portion of Canada and the inspiration I found within this incredible country I call home. My plan is to travel across Canada and visit all ten provinces and three territories over the span of five years photographing the residents from small towns and remote areas. As of right now the project is still quite new and I'm sure it will evolve over the the five years and possibly more. In the coming weeks I will be posting photographs from Alberta and Saskatchewan including stories of the people I met and photographed thus far. Also I have teamed up with the very talented Chantelle Kolesnik using her creative direction, video skills, and talent where we have created a small trailer of this new Canada project. All I ask is that you be patient and stay tuned as we are just in the final phases of editing the footage and adding the final tweaks.

So before you leave to check your Instagram feed, I am proud and a little nervous to present the official START of ... Drum roll please... "Back To The Land"

August 1st, 2014 was the big day I decided to spend a couple weeks on the road  starting with the province of Saskatchewan (only on the basis because it was close)as I had no specific route planned except a quick look at google maps the night before. I woke the next morning with my equipment pretty much packed from the previous day, I left my home in Calgary at 10am driving North on highway 2 (QE2) through central Alberta. Call me crazy but when you plan to set out on any adventure that has a significant set of challenges, obstacles and not to mention the unknown, you expect when that day comes it is going to be this surreal magical moment. For me that morning felt like any other morning and the feeling could of easily been equal to a cappuccino at my favourite coffee shop. After locking up the house, loading the back of my 97' Tacoma with a tent, coleman stove, a cooler with some food (mostly trail mix, fruit, eggs, and cereal), camera equipment and a change of clothes, I was on the road but not before hitting my favourite coffee spot for a cappuccino to go.

As I made my way out of the city on highway 2, I veered East on highway 582 which turns into highway 27 (Junction 21) and then makes another change into Highway 9 (junction 56) from there highway 9 continues without change until you hit the Sasakatchewan border. As I drove down highway 582 that surreal sense that was non-existent when I walked out the front door suddenly arrived the moment I ventured off the main highway. The feeling was incredible and I loved that I did not have a schedule, I had no expectations for myself or anyone else, the freedom of just driving searching for small towns, and the anticipation of photographing the people that call these soon to be discovered places home. Before setting up camp for the first night, I managed to visit quite a few little towns which included Craigmyle, Morrin, Munson, and Delia. Before I stopped into my first town, I had this preconceived notion that I was going to see some cowboy sitting on a stool spitting his chew into the street outside of a saloon or bar and the main street showcasing the odd rusted old 70's ford pick-up. Well possibly 40 years ago you might have seen such a sight, however the saloon still stands, but it's now the post office and the guy spitting is just another employee for which-ever favourable oil company that is currently drilling in the area. The towns were either overtaken by big trucks sporting every major oil company's logo OR nothing at all where the town was almost abandoned. Once I noticed this I knew this was going to be a tough project and that finding people with that Canadian distinctive feel that I had envisioned in my mind was going to be nothing short of difficult.

At around 7:30pm the sun was slowly starting to creep closer and closer towards the horizon with nothing more than that beautiful golden prairie light and for those of you that love to drive across the prairies you know what I'm talking about. I rolled into Hanna, Alberta... YES the very same Hanna where the ever so popular Nickelback band is from. By this point I had already put more than 250km of road behind me and the first place I stopped was a small RV/Gravel lot. I parked my truck and went directly to the RV office. I was greeted by a pleasant lady and told her I needed a spot for one night, she said fine and asked if I needed any services to hook up my RV too. I laughed and said "no need as I'm just pitching a tent". The lady just looked at me a little confused and said "I'm sorry but we don't allow tents". At this point I was now confused and I asked "why"?, she said it was a company policy and she could not give me an answer or reason as to why. I thought she was joking but there was no laughing after she said "No... I'm really serious". She mentioned there was a small lake 5 km away that allowed tents. I thanked her for her time and went to this small lake on the outskirts of town. As I pulled up and drove around the camp-ground all I could see were motor homes with families watching TV through their half opened windows to escape the summer heat, and once I managed to find a spot right next to the lake, I realized I was the only person with a tent. I found the Camp Office which was an RV and paid my one day fee. As I was in the final stages of setting up my one man coffin, a little girl came over to me. As I glanced towards her, she could not have been no more than five or six years old. Hammering in my last tent peg in case the wind picked up, the little girl curiously asked me "Where is your motor home?" I replied and said "I don't have one. I have a tent instead". She then says "Oh...... that's nice, but where are you going to sleep?" I reply "In this tent". She paused again for a few more moments and says "Oh... ok, I've never seen one of those before." With all the RV's in the area I can see why. I felt like my tent was a MacDonald's Big Mac in a Michelin Star restaurant. It did not fit especially given a few blank stares amongst the other RV'ers next to me.

It was a good first day as the weather was blue bird perfect and I was excited to spend my first night on the road. When ever I travel I usually finish my day off with a book. This time I had a beautiful lake, a chair, and the sun setting over the lakes horizon.The very next morning I woke to some extremely loud thunder at 5:30am and forced myself to get out of bed as I had a bad feeling and could smell the moisture in the air. That gut feeling was right and I scrambled as fast as I could to strike the tent and get in the truck before the rain came. The moment I slammed the truck door shut I kid you not all hell broke lose and I will let the video at the end of the post give you the full depth of that morning.

Stay tuned for more updates on "Back To The Land" as I will be posting more video and of course portraits of my encounters across Canada. If you have any comments, questions, or just want to say "Hi" please do not hesitate to write them in the "Comment Section" or send me an email through the contact form.

Have an awesome day!!

https://vimeo.com/119178838