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Notes on the Arrival of Autumn

It starts with a deepening of shadows as the daily path of the sun passes closer and closer to the horizon. Vivid fall shades of gold-yellow and crimson start to appear at the edges of the green late-summer leavers.

Geese and gulls pass overhead well into the evening hours, calling to each other in the settling darkness with a cold northern wind at their backs.

The garden slows, enormous summer leaves of the rhubarb parting further with each frost, revealing bowed scarlet stems as they settle toward the waiting earth. Bulbs are planted beneath a blanket of fallen twigs and foliage. Flowers go to seed and the hibernating bees choose their dens for the winter.

Light reaches into the heart of the house, the low-sitting sun filtered through the shifting curtain of tree branches and leaves that shade the windows. Forgotten textures are revealed and even as the days shorten, there are more moments of golden-hour light to enjoy.

Sunsets soften and linger in the treetops, where the last bright green leaves flutter in a cool breeze. The tree canopy transforms into an almost architectural experience. Trunks and branches are revealed through colourful patches of thinning leaves, like stained glass suspended within the cathedral framework of urban forest arching overhead

All of the photos in this post were taking in September and October of 2022 for a personal project. As I followed the beautiful light and details through the autumn season, themes of transition, loss, and regeneration emerged. Portions of the work I created during this time have become a study of a particular kind of moody fall aesthetic.

This is a season as much about colourful leaves as it is a time of deep preparations; migrations or shifts to dormancy are measures taken to survive the coming winter, while the fallen leaves are beginning the process of decaying into nutrients needed for new spring growth. Without these changes and periods of hibernation, the raucous energy of spring would not be possible. Just as necessary is the abundance of summer, providing the raw materials of fall when it arrives again.

Subscribe to my newsletter to follow along with future personal work, as this seasonal study and many other projects continue to evolve.

Seymour Narrows & Ripple Rock | Travel Photography

On a warm May afternoon aboard a small ship I watched as deep, swirling currents formed whirlpools in the channel ahead. Little did I know, I was about to have an unforgettable Seymour Narrows travel experience.

We had been fighting the tide for a while and making slow progress. As we reached Seymour Narrows, where the current can reach 15 knots, conditions warranted a cautious approach. Our ship anchored in a sheltered cove and we went ashore for a safe view of the treacherous channel

Top: Maud Island Trail leads through dark forest to an overlook of Seymour Narrows
Bottom: Abstracted twater details of strong tidal currents

After a short zodiac trip to a small dock and a trailhead, we were welcomed by a bright grassy path leading toward a dark forest. The cool air of the shade on Maud Island Trail offered relief from the heat. As we hiked up the rocky path. a view of water gradually appeared through the trees. We had reached a mossy bluff overlooking Seymour Narrows below.

Forest trail and glimpse of Seymour Narrows, travel photography

View of strong currents in Seymour Narrows, travel photography — *Top: A mossy trail through the forest with a glimpse of Discovery Passage beyond*
*Bottom: Seymour Narrows and the surrounding mountain landscape*

Seymour Narrows & Ripple Rock History

These waterways and the surrounding landscape are the traditional territory of the Wei Wai Kum First Nation. It is noted in their background & historical information that “The regularly treacherous waterways and passages of places like Seymour Narrows, Race Point and Arran Rapids were utilized strategically in warfare to successfully defend against raids by northern tribes of the Haida and Bella Coola.” It has been fascinating to learn more about the rich regional history and modern-day presence of the Wei Wai Kum indigenous communities here.

Detail view of strong currents in Seymour Narrows, travel photography

Seymour Narrows is a short and powerful stretch of water in British Columbia, Canada. It is part of the Discovery Channel, along the Northeastern coast of Vancouver Island. Along with being an important shipping channel, it is known for being the site of an enormous man-made explosion. In 1958 the underwater mountain Ripple Rock was “moved” to make transiting the narrows safer. If you are curious, there is an excellent short film and more information about this bit of Ripple Rock history here.

Meditations on the Tide

We spent some time resting on cushions of deep moss along the top of the bluff, watching the rushing water below.

A boat transiting Forest trail and Seymour Narrows, travel photography

Snowy mountain peaks rose in the distance as small boats rode the tide South through the channel. Whirlpools swirled across the glittering dark blue and silvery water. An especially frothy patch of water churned where Ripple Rock lurks beneath the waves.

Ripple Rock and Forest trail and Seymour Narrows, travel photography — *Strong tidal currents flow over the site of Ripple Rock*

Returning to the ship, our skipper decided that the timing was right to catch a sunset slack tide through the narrows. Our overnight anchorage was just a little further North at Deep Bay. By the time we entered Seymour Narrows the whirlpools and rapids had calmed. A cold wind swept down from the mountains. I particularly enjoy these moments on the bow, quiet and contemplative. I had read about Seymour Narrows, but experiencing it firsthand has put into perspective just how powerful the changing tides can be in this part of the world.

POV sunset view transiting by small ship, Seymour Narrows, travel photography

This was an especially memorable afternoon and a fun travel photography challenge, as the conditions changed quickly and often. Find my Maud Island/Seymour Narrows travel gallery here, and my full expedition story here. As of the writing of this post, I still have many more photos to edit and stories from this journey to assemble, so be sure to check back or even better, subscribe to my newsletter so you don’t miss future updates.

Growth Revealed | Still Life Photography

There comes a time in the deep cold of every Canadian prairie winter, when the need to be in the presence of new green growth becomes a necessity. Something fresh, urgent, reassuring in its promise that spring will eventually arrive.

Back in January, I happened to receive some bulbs for growing indoors – forcing – and had a few dozen of another variety in storage in the back of the fridge.

Recalling how my mother would use beautiful glass marbles when forcing bulbs, I decided to give it a try using my collection of sea glass. With a sunny south-facing windowsill available, I arranged the glass pieces in some small vases, set the bulbs on top, and added water.

It took a couple weeks to see many signs of life. First to appear were tiny roots, and as the days have ever so gradually gotten longer, so have the leaves, finally opening to flowers.

Still life photography of spring bulbs in sea glass

Over the years I have revisited various still life photography subjects and ideas.

A recent photo workshop introduced me to some new ways of looking at still life art. I have decided to make still life studies a larger part of my photographic practice. The process is enjoyable, as it requires that I spend time with the subject, paying attention to how I can shape the light and shadows and achieve a desired effect within the composition.

My goal in this still life arrangement was to explore contrasting materials. By using glass pieces to play with layered light and colour, I was able to create textural details that compliment the natural forms. I prefer to work with available light and found that this simple still life subject photographs well in small patches of winter sunlight. Once the green leaves emerged from the bulbs, I began documenting their progress.

Of particular interest were the white tendrils of roots, threading down through the sea-glass. I have more work to do in exploring their visual potential, particularly as abstracted elements in different kinds of light. These reaching forms, hidden then revealed by the glass, bring to mind the idea that some of the most important stages of growth happen unseen. This winter has been a season of quiet change as I have been integrating and internalizing the lessons of the past year. From processing tremendous loss to focusing on my creative growth, I have been sending out my own delicate roots and tapping into new possibilities through my personal work.

I have been hard at work updating my website, and you can find more of my still life photography here with a small selection of prints available in my shop.

Notes From a New Landscape

Big Souther Butte, Idaho — *Big Southern Butte rises 2,300 feet from the Snake River Plain, Idaho*

Last year’s marathon road-trip to California offered the welcome opportunity to experience some new atmospheric landscapes. The stark terrain of Idaho felt particularly surreal, after the rolling prairies of North Dakota and forested mountains of Montana. I have recently had a chance to sit down and edit my photos from Craters of the Moon National Monument.

Craters of the Moon National Monument & Preserve, Idaho — A small windblown juniper tree clings to a ridge of a lava flow,
at Craters of the Moon National Monument, Idaho

The geology of the Snake River Plain in Idaho includes a fascinating array of volcanic features, and photography at Craters of the Moon was full of inspiring details.

The calderas and lava flows are the result of a periodically active volcanic rift zone. The last eruption took place around 2,000 years ago, making this a relatively ‘young’ place. Only well-adapted species can survive in the harsh conditions of the region, and it is home to several distinct ecosystems rich in plant and animal diversity.

I found the tenacious, twisted trees to be especially striking in the soft light of dusk. Surrounded by dark scree and rubble, the bristling green growth seems almost improbable. Yet trees, shrubs, grasses and lichen are everywhere, scattered sparsely across piles of basalt. These hardy species use what little soil their roots can find in the rocky ground, and over time can establish diverse communities in unlikely places.

The colour palette and texture of the volcanic environment shifted throughout the day. Golden grasses and blue-green sagebrush in contrast against lava flows. Fast-moving clouds in pearlescent shades of blue and pink, disappearing over distant mountains.

I have released some of these Craters of the Moon photos as prints. Find more atmospheric landscapes and travel photography at prints.apkphotography.com!

Holding Space, Looking for Light

“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.” – James Baldwin⁠

Fair warning, this is not a happy post, and beyond a shared mood, the text has very little to do with the image.

It has become increasingly difficult to focus on what is right in front of me. There is a deepening, bitter edge to each day, and I know the root of it is a pain which is being experienced at personal and collective levels everywhere. So many aspects of the social contract have been broken, or worse, are proving to have never existed at all.⁠
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The events of January 6th were unsurprising but still a shock; after an hour or so of live coverage, I felt my mind retreat, curled into the fetal position where I sat, and fell asleep. I take pride in not looking away from even the most jarring images, but I’d hit my limit. On so many levels, it was a day of terrifying white nationalism and grotesque systemic racism on full display. And we can expect more of the same because the hatred espoused by racists is rooted in fear and pain, which they will continue to avoid addressing.

I don’t know about you, but I find myself marvelling at layer upon layer of heartbreak and frustration. Are we still in the midst of a pandemic, bracing for the consequences of holiday gatherings and travel? Did my neighbours have yet another string of visitors every day this week, despite lockdown rules? Have members of my local government been taking tropical vacations while telling the rest of us to stay home, in the midst of a particularly dreary Canadian winter? Has the weather been unusually warm and dry, both here in Manitoba and back in California, indicating yet another record year as climate change grinds away like a foregone conclusion?

I look for the good news. The unassuming heroes and helpers, the small signs of progress. I know that there are reasons for cautious optimism, and I am doing my best to cling to hope instead of hate. Part of that process is to occasionally let the weight of everything fall out of focus and acknowledge the pain. We’re allowed to feel hurt and angry right now, so as to better regroup, refocus and move forward, because we have a long, long way to go.

Winter Light Photography | Personal Work & Studies

As winter settles in, the sun is slipping lower and lower across the sky. During the winter solstice here in Winnipeg, Manitoba the sun barely clears the treetops. Such low-angled rays of light are magical, and to celebrate the season I’ve gathered some winter light photography snapshots from recent years…

Abstract reflection of lights in a window, with a dark sunset in the distance

Soft light falling across a deep, smooth snowdrift

I find that winter light is particularly well-suited to capturing surreal window reflections, allowing for layers of light and colour to blend with abstracted patterns. When illuminated from a low angle, snow becomes a textural wonderland of sparkling deep drifts, painted with fading light and blue shadows.

Trees and winter light

Filtering the last rays of golden hour, or catching a gilded glow in their bare branches against blue skies. Such stark winter forms are welcome whether framing sunsets or arching above city streets, as they lend shape and contrast to the winter light all day long.

Winter sunset through trees at Riding Mountain National Park, Manitoba

Late afternoon light in tree branches on a cold winter day

Line of trees in snow at sunset, Manitoba

Sunset seen through a window, framed by snow and tree branches

Winter afternoon light and river, Winnipeg, Manitoba

Streetlamp illuminates trees in a park on a cold winter's night

Trees lend structure to the frosty winter air, and when they are illuminated just-so they compliment the bones of the landscape or urban environment, laid bare by the season.

Winter light photography and interior spaces

Casting soft, surreal shadows in unexpected places, light filtered through old glass windows is particularly irresistible to try and capture with the camera. Something as simple as an unintentional coffee cup still life might appear on a wall for a moment, painted in shadow and quick to disappear as the light shifts.

Often the swaying of winter branches will make these patches of light dance and shift, like light through moving water as seen at the bottom of a pool.

Varied views of the same cityscape

Downtown Winnipeg features a mix of old and new buildings. As their facades catch and reflect the winter light throughout the day, the mood and feel of the cityscape changes too. With the early sunset, lights in windows twinkle while the dusky sky still holds onto the last of the sunlight. The moon rises over the city with its glow softened by the icy atmosphere.

Winter light in downtown Winnipeg, Manitoba

Early evening moon over downtown Winnipeg, Manitoba

Winter reflection and light in downtown Winnipeg, Manitoba

The golden glow of the winter light is especially beautiful contrasted with the blue shadows and snow of the cityscape, and I couldn’t resist the reflection of a sunlit building in the sideview mirror on a winter’s afternoon.

Windows become magical glittering surfaces

Frosted with ice crystals or illuminated by gently shifting shadows. Abstract layers of light are caught and transformed inside and out, and even though the daylight hours are short, there seems to be no end to the beauty that winter can conjure with a bit of moisture or moving light on glass surfaces.

Winter light and glass block wall abstract

Light and shadow falling across a window screen

Iced-over windows of an old door, interior

Winter colours through fluted-glass window

The two images at the bottom left of these wintery window scenes are actually shots of frost accumulation on the inside of an old set of windows. The two images in the bottom right are of the same perspective through fluted glass at different times of day.

Of course a winter landscape is made even more beautiful by the light

Rippling sheets of icy clouds and endless shades of blue. Sunsets last longer, and the blushing glow of their colours is reflected in the snow and ice. Often the sky looks like mother-of-pearl, iridescent and luminous.

Winter clouds over a snowy prairie landscape, Manitoba, Canada

Winter sunset over bridge and water, Vancouver, Canada

Vivid winter sunset on the Canadian highway, across the prairie of Manitoba and Saskatchewan

Pink winter sunset clouds over the Manitoba prairie, Canada

I love how the winter landscape is often a study in subtlety, with fence-lines and horizons blurred by blowing snow, and the sky a soft gradient veiled in lacy clouds. When the sunsets are colourful, it is always in shades made more vivid by the coolness of the surrounding scene.

Little details of domestic life are illuminated in beautiful light and shadow, turning the long winter months of staying mostly indoors into magical journeys through familiar spaces.

Something as simple as a tissue or glass of water can be transformed by the winter light. Of course the dog loves the winter sunlight too, and can often be found basking in the glow of those fleeting, low-angled rays of warmth.

Kitchen shadows, self-portrait in winter light

Simple wooden dinosaur blocks, winter light and shadowplay

Glass jars on wooden surface, winter light shadowplay

Warm winter light on a wall, red shelf and yellow bird

Yellow stool shadowplay, winter light across a wall

Warm winter sunset light filters into a quiet bedroom

All of the photos in this post are from various phone cameras. I find that winter light photography inspires snapshots as it is such a fleeting and beautiful part of every day. To see new snapshots as I share them, just head over to @photoapk on Instagram and follow me there!

Vivid yellow Protea | Floral Photography

When I travel I am often closely observing the botanical elements of a place, as they often form an interesting and informative backdrop in the wider local scene. Floral photography fits in well with the idea of looking for local colour. From recent travels to California, these vivid yellow pincushion protea flowers stood in bright contrast to their dark green foliage. Spotted while on a waterfront walk in Monterey, with blustery spring showers and fast-moving clouds overhead, these fresh blooms were a welcome colourful reminder that spring is just around the corner.

Fine art floral photography image of pincushion-shaped protea flowers with bright yellow petals and stamens bloom against a backdrop of dark freen leaves.

Protea flowers symbolize hope and transformation, and these golden arching forms of the stamen catch the light beautifully on a dark, moody day. It seems that most of my flo wer photos lean toward textural compositions, full of deep contrast and vivid colour.

Prints available here, find my full portfolio of moody and magical floral photography here.

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Notes on the Arrival of Autumn

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