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Mindful photography is not just about what we see, but how we see. It’s a contemplative way of slowing down enough to experience presence.   From the NAUTICAL REFRACTIONS  series by Anna Wilson Sunlight danced across the worn hulls of fishing boats in Lake Bolsena’s harbour, catching ripples in the water and the textures of chipped paint. In that fleeting shimmer, the ordinary — the harbour, the boats, the gentle lapping of the lake — felt extraordinary. Photographing in that moment became meditation, a pause where noticing and presence converged. From the NAUTICAL REFRACTIONS series by Anna Wilson Mindful photography offers a way to return to a moment, discover inscape  rather than escape, and access creative flow through intentional observation. For anyone seeking a pause from the everyday, it provides a restorative path back to presence and creativity. My venture, Mindful Eye Photography, grew from this insight — and from a desire to create the kind of community I wanted to support my own practice. I am looking to create a space where photographers of all levels may explore, reflect, and create without pressure or comparison — nurturing clarity, fostering connections, and rediscovering inspiration. Mindful photography   draws from Zen and Tibetan dharma art traditions, where art is a form of direct experience and spiritual expression. One lineage, Nalanda Miksang, emphasizes practice over performance — creating from awareness, authenticity, and curiosity rather than ego or decoration. Each photograph becomes a meditation, a way to see deeply, fully, and honestly. From the RECONSTRUCTED series by Anna Wilson “The contemplative practice is to transform the obvious, ordinary experience into an appreciation of the ordinary as extraordinary — the appreciation of it for what it is, the ordinary magic of being alive.”  — McQuade & Hall, Looking and Seeing: Nalanda Miksang Contemplative Photography My photographic workshops, retreats, and journeys begin with stillness — breath work, meditation, connecting to the senses, or simply pausing to observe. The camera becomes a tool for reflection, a frame through which participants explore balance, light, texture, and nuance. Mindful observation turns distraction into focus, revealing patterns and surprises that bring both order and vitality to the photograph. “Anna’s program encouraged me to slow down, be present, and truly reconnect with who I am as a photographer.”  — Jo Gomes, past retreat participant Mindful photography naturally extends to photographing people. John Daido Loori, a Zen Buddhist monk and accomplished photographer, observes in The Zen of Creativity  that the image reveals as much about the photographer as it does about the subject. In street or portrait photography, participants ask: “Am I taking or witnessing?” They approach subjects with curiosity, openness, and ethical sensitivity, considering consent and context.  Costa Rica portrait by Anna Wilson “If your mind is cluttered, your images will be cluttered. If your heart is open, your work will be open." — John Daido Loori, The Zen of Creativity Approaching your subject with presence and respect allows moments to unfold naturally. Portraits and scenes become reflections of relationship, connection, and emotional depth — turning ordinary encounters into extraordinary expressions. Bringing my Mindful Eye Photography program into new landscapes felt like a natural evolution of my work — a way to unite mindfulness, creativity, and exploration. International journeys and retreats explore a variety of stimulating locations, offering opportunities for different types of photography while emphasizing presence, connection, and curiosity. Ordinary scenes — the play of sunlight on a harbour, the textures of a weathered street, or fleeting expressions in a crowd — can feel extraordinary when observed with attention and intention. From the SAN GEMINI series by Anna Wilson These experiences gently nudge photographers towards what heals and inspires, reminding us that noticing and creating are themselves restorative acts. Mindful photography weaves together structure and spontaneity, order and intuition, experientially demonstrating that both coexist beautifully. Whether capturing sunlight dancing on a lake, wildlife on safari, or moments in a bustling street, my goal remains the same: to move with presence, finding stillness in the act of creation. In a world that celebrates speed and productivity, perhaps the real art lies in the pause — in the space between breaths, where order meets chaos and meaning begins to take shape. From the SAN GEMINI series by Anna Wilson It is in these moments of presence that photography reflects not only what we see, but also the calm, clarity, and aliveness that emerge when we are fully present. Mindful photography shows us that even amidst life’s chaos, we can find order — and in that balance, beauty, surprise, and meaning emerge. Discover Mindful Eye Photography Join photographer and educator Anna Wilson  for immersive retreats and international journeys that blend photography, mindfulness, and creative flow. mindfuleye.ca  | @mindfuleye_photography

We’re Already Here   is a portrait series by Tilly Nelson that was developed during her 2024 artist residency at Langara College. The Langara College Photography Residency is a special program designed for experienced photographers looking to develop a personal portfolio project centred on social advocacy or broader humanitarian themes. Tilly was the first Photographer in Residence for the college, and her work there included mentoring students, studio work at the school, an exhibition, and a public lecture to share her experiences.  When commercial photographer Tilly Nelson moved to Vancouver, Canada, from London, England, she immediately noticed a gap, not in the city’s diversity, but in the lack of diversity represented in commercial advertising images. “There was this disconnect,” she says. “I noticed that the talent that was considered at castings for commercial advertising jobs was diverse in ethnicity and body shapes, but lacking in diversity when it came to visible disability.” Over the past decade, Tilly has built a commercial career in visual storytelling defined by empathy and connection. Her work is focused on themes of visibility, belonging, and the need for authentic representation. Her clients include BC Children’s Hospital, lululemon, and the Canucks Autism Network. She got her start as an assistant at one of London’s top photography studios, but early on realized that this line of work wasn’t a creatively sustainable approach for her. As she began prioritizing her passion for inclusion and advocating for diverse casting, she found herself welcomed into the disabled community and learning even more through connections and collaborations. “I have a lot of passion for justice and equality,” Tilly says, and it’s clear these ideas are at the heart of her work. Tilly’s project for Langara College was originally sparked by conversations with people in the local disabled community over a number of years. To build a foundation for the project, she began by surveying 50 people with various disabilities, asking open-ended questions, and listening to their responses with an open heart. She said she knew it was important to bring the voices of people with lived experience into the project’s planning stages and, as a person without a disability, she had to create this project very carefully. She challenged her own vision of what the project could be and let her subjects shape their own narratives. Tilly notes that the responses she received were “both overwhelming and beautiful at the same time.” The project resulted in eight portrait sessions and an exhibition of eight final images. Two voices from this project were of special note for Tilly. Breanna, who uses a wheelchair and is a makeup artist for M.A.C Cosmetics, shared an empowering moment with Tilly: “A little girl in a wheelchair with light-up wheels approached me with her mum, and she said, ‘Look, Mum, she works here. That means I can work here too.’ And that’s what made all the hard work worth it.” Robin, an opera singer, commented, “It’s isolating not to see yourself represented in the images around you. Many disabled singers think they are alone in this, but they’re not. We’re already here, and it’s time that you realized it. I’m here loudly and proudly disabled in the opera world, so that hopefully in the future others can be too.” Robin’s quote became the project’s title.  While the message behind We’re Already Here  is powerful, the images hold intentional subtleties. Tilly’s goal was not to spotlight disability as a difference, but to weave it into the visual narrative in a way that mirrors real life. She knew she wanted to create a series of portraits in work environments, but she wanted the viewer to see the person, not just their disability. Tilly describes one shoot featuring Zoe, a young girl who uses a wheelchair and wants to be a visual artist: “We created a scene where she was an artist in an art studio. I wanted the paintbrushes to sit perfectly so you could see only a small bit of the wheelchair.” Another image features Omar, an actor who has an autoimmune condition that causes the skin to lose its pigment. “I didn’t want his vitiligo to be the busiest part of the image,” says Tilly. So she crafted this image in layers, utilizing intentional foreground and background props and elements to craft a busy composition to create depth and blend him into the space naturally. When it came to the presentation of the images, Tilly felt it was important to share more information with viewers. She explains, “As I was creating this project without the lived experience of a person with disability, it was really important to give a voice to those involved so that it wasn’t solely my narrative or my words that were being presented. By including text panels next to the images, each person’s perspective could be best explained with their own words. We also presented letters from the parents of the kids involved to add another dimension. The text layered on the images was an opportunity for the people involved to share what they wanted to say without anyone else’s voice getting in the way. It felt important that these images had a powerful message built into them so that people would view the image, read the text, and then look at the image again. I wanted there to be a process and experience for viewers, and I wanted the message to be clear. It was about giving a voice to the disabled community.” Though Tilly is no stranger to both commercial and personal projects, working out exactly how she would produce this work and engage the student community was a challenge she warmly welcomed when her proposal was accepted following her application and interview with the college. Tilly knew it was important to allow herself the space to recognize the opportunity she had been given to use her creative talent to tell someone else’s story. She summarizes, “There’s power and beauty in working out the process.” Tilly said that the ability to produce a personal project with the school’s support was empowering. The stipend, access to facilities, and the community of students and faculty made this collaborative work possible. “I had a team of staff and professors encouraging me,” she notes. As much as she saw the residency as an opportunity to teach student photographers entering the industry about inclusion, their collaboration also helped to spark conversations that shaped her project. Tilly says she hopes the work “ignites conversations about inclusion, inspires people to think more inclusively about who they work with and who they hire, and challenges the meaning of belonging. Creating projects that are sensitive, authentic, and genuinely showcase the beauty and joy of disability is something that hasn’t been done enough yet.” “I want to be known for being a part of change that needs to happen,” says Tilly. “It might be uncomfortable at times, but we have to push for what we believe in.” It is the hope of the college and the photography department that they can create an ongoing relationship with each of the residency alumni, and that photographers like Tilly become valued ambassadors for this professional program and the community at large. This feature appeared in the MOVEMENT edition and was produced with the support of Langara College. Find out more about their photography program - HERE.

I spend a lot of time thinking about big data and its effects on our everyday lives. Outside of creating fine art photography, I work with spreadsheets in the field of database marketing. Unrelated to my creative photography work, I stumbled onto an Australian-born mathematician named Matt Parker. Matt is the Public Engagement in Mathematics Fellow at Queen Mary University of London who developed (or at least popularized) a script that converts each RGB pixel of an image into a cell in an Excel spreadsheet. After seeing his technique, I wanted to try it for myself. I was curious as to what the results of this script would look like printed. The idea of bothering to print something that may not be saleable intrigued me because I like to use my art as a vehicle to get more people contemplating the impact (both good and bad) of the constant data collection in our lives. My personal stance is that it is mostly bad for us as individuals; the more people talking and thinking about this issue, the better off everyone will be. When I first started experimenting with this idea, I found that if I had tried to print my initial attempts of working with this script, I would have ended up with an image over 23 metres wide. After several more attempts, I was able to adjust the image to a more reasonable size (1.55 m - 1.27 m) that my printer could handle. I experimented with several images and settled on a photograph I created at the Blue Lagoon in Iceland. The image evokes a sense of place, of being human, and of experiencing a moment in life. Even in these instances, when we are not conscious of it, data is captured about our lives, our physical location, and the people around us. Regardless of how remote Icelandic hot springs are, it has become increasingly difficult to distance ourselves from digital data. Timothy Starchuk is a practicing fine art photographer based in Edmonton, Alberta. He sits on the Board of The Works International Visual Arts Society and has exhibited work at galleries such as Latitude 53, Harcourt House, and Vacancy Hall. As a driving force in communicating his visual messages, he thoroughly enjoys pushing technical limits through experimentation, printing his work on different substrates such as large format printing on Baltic birch; playing with Polaroid prints; and through trying digital data challenges such as converting his images into Excel documents. Tim talks about data + marketing, how we balance modern convenience with how our private data is tracked - everywhere - we - go. Check out his video presentation from our Edmonton - PHOTO INSPIRATION NIGHT VIDEO - HERE . photoED Magazine featured Timothy Starchuk's story in print in our SOLD OUT, but... The digital replica is available on PRESS READER Enjoyed this free read?!  Consider supporting us! JOIN US AS A PATRON   • SUBSCRIBE FOR PRINT DELIVERY   • READ our digital editions   • Make a donation

Canadian photography educators Andrew Craig in Brampton, ON and Karen Stentaford in Sackville, NB have taken wild "new" approaches towards engaging their photography students in a mindful, meaningful way with impactful results. In a Western post-covid society most of what we learn and teach now comes through a screen. The volume of information and images we flick past is immeasurable. However, research clearly (and obviously) speaks to issues around information absorption from screens. Attention spans, mental health, cognitive overload, and in many more ways our brains are impacted by "life" online. Did you know... there is an organisation called, The Attention Council ? People paid to figure out what works for advertisers to effectively push out big brand messages , and it's not always things flashing at you on a screen. The UK's MAGNETIC provides stats around analog information absorption, specifically editorial content, sharing research and data around the efficacy of slowing down via analog experiences and information. Some of the research they share indicates information from printed sources is considered more trustworthy by readers, and 75% of people in one study said they find reading a print magazine "relaxing." If the idea of analog slow experiences/ information works for big brands aiming for a long game, could the same human behavioural research have a similar effect in classrooms as teachers navigate student attention spans? The approaches Andrew and Karen as educators take go against the pervasive digital grain, and mass-marketing / education trends, as they guide their learners towards more impactful alternatives of information sharing. Castlebrooke Secondary Grade 12 teacher Andrew Craig shared this independent assignment he does with his class. He says; There’s not much to it, but I’ve found that it’s been an effective approach to giving my grade 10 students a new entry point into learning about photography. It’s analog by design without digital distractions, which is why I love the print edition of your magazine so much. The Assignment Your Goal: We start each class session with10 minutes of independent reading about photography. You must select a choice from the options that are available in the classroom. We have a collection of magazines and books on photography. No technology use is permitted during this time. You must read a print publication of your choice. What You Will Submit: At the end of each month you will write a two paragraph (10 sentence) handwritten reflection to summarize the single most interesting idea that you have discovered. Your focus questions are: Why do the ideas in my chosen article resonate with me? (include a quote from the article, and a diagram to illustrate the idea.) How could I apply these ideas into my own creative work? Students: Azalfa, Gagan, Geethika, Subiksha & Simarpreet in Mr. Craig’s grade 12 photography class at Castlebrooke S.S. find inspiration with issues of photoEd magazine. Photo by Sharan Karen-Stentaford - Tea making an 8x10 lumen print Mount AlLison University Educator Karen Stentaford created images reflecting her time with her students. Our teatime conversations echoed our course content – awareness of surroundings, being present, and slow photography. The Assignment TEATIME TUESDAY evolved from the desire to make time each week to slow down and have conversations with my students about work in progress, ideas, and checking in with each other. This time was about sharing and listening, free of screens and the usual busyness of class time. The tea was locally sourced and we had a local herbalist/farmer come in to talk about her love of making tea, her process, and her connection to the land. Lumen prints were a document of our time. Once the tea steeped, the ingredients were placed on a piece of photographic paper and left to expose for the duration of our class. Exposures ranged based on location, changing light as we moved to shorter days, and the length of our conversations. The first in the series is blank, as we did not begin making lumen prints until the second week, however it is important to reference the time we shared. Enjoyed this free read?!  why not support us? JOIN US AS A PATRON   • SUBSCRIBE FOR PRINT DELIVERY   • READ our digital editions   • Make a donation

The white cube gallery: Hanging work on its walls may be the hope of many photographic artists, but crossing its threshold can be intimidating to others. Some galleries and museums look for novel ways to entice new visitors inside the cube, but the SPAO Photographic Arts Centre — in partnership with Ottawa’s Preston Street BIA — has done something much bolder: It has taken the work of more than 30 photo-based artists into the street.   “A Slippery Place” by Seamus Gallagher. SPAO: Photographic Arts Centre. The SPAO Photo Walk invites the public to use their smartphones to play a kind of treasure hunt moving throughout Ottawa’s Little Italy neighbourhood. In this case, each of the treasures is a large-scale reproduction of a photographic artwork installed for all to see on the side of a building. The year-round display of photographs was selected by a jury following a nationwide open call, representing diverse talents from across Canada. “Carousel Venetian” by Ralph Nevins. Hare & Hound Barbershop. Photo by Rob Little.  Every installation features a QR code linked to contextual information about the artist and their work, as well as a digital map that uses a smartphone’s geo location software to identify the location of the next stop on the hunt. One of the benefits of following this loop is that walkers can join it at any point. You might choose to begin at SPAO (now celebrating 20 years as a photographic hub in Ottawa), but you might just as easily encounter a piece of art by chance and start your discoveries there. The presence of the works on the street invites a social angle that is not always practical in a gallery setting — a group activity that doesn’t need to worry about noise or decorum, taking in stimulating art with the occasional break in a café or pub to continue the conversation. “American Bachelorette” and “Canadian Bachelorette” by Diana Thorneycroft. The Adelaide. Photo by Rob Little. At times, the photographs turn the tables on viewers and question  them . Ann Thomas, former chief curator at the National Gallery of Canada and one of the Photo Walk’s jurors, underlines that “public art can have the power to engage people in space and perspective and can return the gaze instantly.” As an example of art returning gaze, explorers on the walk may come across Diana Thorneycroft’s “American Bachelorette” and “Canadian Bachelorette” on the side of the Adelaide apartment building. The diptych — one photograph featuring a diorama of plastic figurines from American pop culture alongside a similar photo containing Canadian figures — does two things at once: It comments cheekily on the differences between the two countries … and it separates its audience. Americans and tourists from other countries will likely know all or most of the U.S. cultural references, but only a Canadian is likely to get the references in both photographs. The art calls out its own public. Ann also points out that the presence of art in public places cannot help but make us more aware of the pervasive use of art in urban advertising, particularly on billboards and murals. As a juror, then, the competition for visual attention was a key consideration in her selections: “To me, the graphic element was important. You’ve got to stretch the imagination. And then stretch the scale, too, because you’re competing with big buildings and a lot of distractions. Bigger is better.” The Photo Walk is not just removed from the white cube, but it’s also located away from downtown Ottawa. “It’s well chosen,” says Ann. “Not only because SPAO is located here, but because the location is diverse. There are commercial establishments, restaurants, bars, office towers, and homes. So, you’ve got a nice mix of people.” That mix brings participants back to the social dimension again. While some might choose to explore the loop by themselves, there’s a good chance that many will opt to go with a partner, a friend, or even a group. Less precious than a gallery can be and much less frenetic than social media scrolling, the SPAO Photo Walk is a low-key way to democratize access to excellent photographic art. Artists from left to right, Paul Wong, Olivia Johnston, Shellie Zhang, Kali Spitzer. O-Train Line 2.  Photo by Rob Little. While every Canadian city can point to pieces of public art, these have often been commissioned specifically to fit a political or commercial purpose. By contrast, the Photo Walk’s contemporary works point to the interests of the artists who made them and, by extension, to the state of photographic art itself. Next time you are in the capital, bring a pair of comfortable walking shoes and make some time to experience an innovative and lively presentation of contemporary photography. Find out more about the SPAO photo walk at: spao.ca/photo-walk

LIGHT IS THE BASIS FOR PHOTOGRAPHY. As photographers, our craft is about documenting it or manipulating it to shape a narrative. THIERRY Du BOIS • From the Edification of Light series OUR 70TH PRINT EDITION shares contemporary visual depictions of electromagnetic radiation and its unique qualities, opening our eyes to the power of light through a new lens. The LIGHT issue IN PRINT • Cover image by THIERRY Du BOIS • photo by Margaret Mulligan #MadeWithAffinity The artists in this issue work with light as the basis of their photography, taking their explorations to new levels. “In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary." — Aaron Rose Ann Piché crafts her images featuring light as her central subject; while Thierry du Bois creates abstract visions from the glow of urban architecture at night; and Vicki DaSilva uses light as a tool to create graffiti only visible with a camera. Ann Piché • fractured Vicki DaSilva • I am Malala • Light graffitti Meanwhile, Adam Swica, Rita Leistner and Don McKellar play with light to create visual narratives for viewers to question. “She Is Tangled In The Light" ©Rita Leistner and Don McKellar, courtesy of Stephen Bulger Gallery and FFOTO.com This issue features:        SCARBOROUGH MADE Community Spotlights By Sid Naidu RITA LEISTNER & DON MCKELLAR  Searching for light in dark times By Craig D’Arville THIERRY Du BOIS  Lit from within By Alan Bulley THE PHOTOGRAPHY OF ANN PICHÉ By Darren Pottie VICKI DA SILVA  Running with Light By Rita Godlevskis SOFT-FOCUS AND SERENDIPITY: PINHOLE PHOTOGRAPHY By Peppa Martin ADAM SWICA  Rendering Light By Corinna vanGerwen Minna Keene & Violet Keene Perinchief By Mina Markovic Chasing Light is Chasing Life By Rocio Graham This edition also features, our Books + Resource recommendations by Alan Bulley for further light-based photography explorations, and our PORTFOLIO featured artists: Henry VanderSpek Monica Rooney Amy Friend Grant Withers Nikki Baxendale Jennifer Gilbert Felicity Somerset Alan McCord Pablo Villegas A Canadian photo history highlight by the phsc.ca This feature originally appeared in THE LIGHT ISSUE is now SOLD OUT in print, but is available to read as a digital replica on Press Reader. Find our playlist of LIGHT inspiration tunes on SPOTIFY! Follow us on Patreon and Instagram , and sign up for our e-newsletter to keep up with all our adventures!

IN CONVERSATION WITH CRAIG D’ARVILLE “She Is Tangled In The Light" ©Rita Leistner andDon McKellar, courtesy of Stephen Bulger Gallery and FFOTO.com CAST YOUR MIND BACK TO 2020 and, if you dare, recollect how you spent your time during the lockdown days of the COVID-19 pandemic. Some artists chose to focus on studio-based practices, while more rebellious types, such as Rita Leistner, went out into the world, masked and under the cover of darkness, with camera in hand. Renowned for her work in photojournalism and projects such as Forest for the Trees , Toronto-based photographer Rita Leistner, succumbed to the restlessness of lockdown along with her friend and collaborator, filmmaker Don McKellar. Together they created an astonishing series of photographs that are in turns playful, poignant, nearly feral, and experimental. The result is Infinite Distance - Nocturnal Pandemic Urban Dreams. Curious to know more, I invited Rita to talk about these collaborative compositions. “They Reach Across An Infinite Distance" ©Rita Leistner and Don McKellar, courtesy of Stephen Bulger Gallery and FFOTO.com CRAIG: What was the genesis of Infinite Distance - Nocturnal Pandemic Urban Dreams that brought you and Don McKellar, a film director, screenwriter, and actor, together? RITA: We’d been friends for decades and we were neighbours at the time. It began with me bemoaning my purposelessness as a portrait artist in a world under lockdown where I wasn’t allowed to go near anyone with my camera. I was paying close attention to the photography being made in the early days of the pandemic. There were a lot of haunting photographs of abandoned public spaces around the world. But Don knew I wasn’t interested in wandering the city alone and (wanting to get in on the adventure) he volunteered to be my photographic subject. I thought over his proposition and called him the next day: “Sure, let’s do it, but guess what Don? I’m going to give you a camera too!” “He And She Run Up The Hill" ©Rita Leistner and Don McKellar, courtesy of Stephen Bulger Gallery and FFOTO.com CRAIG: There are expressionistic, cinematic elements and a ritualistic playfulness happening in these compositions, all complemented by long exposures and an experimental use of light. How did the conceptual approach you and Don came up with come about? RITA: At first, we went out at night to encounter fewer people, because we were afraid of contracting COVID-19. Later, it was for artistic reasons too. We could create a surreal, edgier, more apocalyptic world where we were the only two people left. Darkness was a condition for our lighting with flash and long exposures and the mysterious dream-like effects we sought to create for our fantastical worlds — magical spaces, underworlds, and mythological allusions (Orpheus and Eurydice), etc. — and painterly qualities — especially those associated with German Romanticism (“After Friedrich”) and depictions of saints and martyrs ( “After Sebastianus Patron Saint Of Plagues” ). It was also more fun and rebellious to be out at night: our private defiance against the virus. We shot in black and white because I couldn’t bring myself to think in colour, which I associated with my photography in the “before times.” Incidentally, I have not shot in colour since, despite being a “colour photographer” for most of my career. Lately, I’ve been sketching portraits in charcoal. “He Floats As An Apparition Above The Fire" ©Rita Leistner and Don McKellar, courtesy of Stephen Bulger Gallery and FFOTO.com CRAIG: How did you settle on the sites where you chose to make these photos? RITA: We made a list of locations that were iconic Toronto, but also where green intersected with concrete, the way nature was encroaching on built-up urban spaces. Among them were the Bloor Street Viaduct, St. James’ Cemetery and Crematorium, the Don River (not by accident, the principal settings of Michael Ondaatje’s In the Skin of a Lion), the railway tracks on Dupont, Ontario Place, and Toronto Island, which we especially loved because we were able to incorporate fires and canoeing in the canals into our narratives. CRAIG: In these photos, the two of you sometimes seem like a couple of naughty kids. Was it intentional to convey a sense of urgency and adventure through these compositions? RITA: This project would never have happened if Don and I didn’t really like hanging out and having fun together. We were trapped in the city, but at night we experienced this extraordinary freedom and feeling of lawlessness in the empty spaces we explored. We were seizing the day! We did feel a real sense of urgency as artmakers too, because it was important to us to make something of this historic time. As time went on, we got naughtier and darker. We took to calling our alter egos “He” and “She,” and “They.” Theirs is a complicated relationship and, yeah, They were definitely up to no good. “She Floats In The Leaves” ©Rita Leistner and Don McKellar, courtesy of Stephen Bulger Gallery and FFOTO.com CRAIG: Is this the first time you’ve collaborated with another artist? Moving forward, how do you think collaborative work will influence your practice? RITA: This was a unique situation created by the circumstances of the pandemic. Co-directing often doesn’t work, but with Don and me, we both enjoyed directing and being directed by each other. I think the success of Infinite Distance would be hard to repeat. Don was a fantastically cooperative muse and artistic partner in a sparse, depressing time. But in general, I’m not really drawn to collaboration. The lines of creation become too blurred. CRAIG: What’s next for you? RITA: Recently, my dad fell and hit his head on the sidewalk. He spent a month in the hospital, and I was there almost every night as part of his care team. He’s doing better today, but has a long, uncertain road of recovery ahead. My father’s accident changed my priorities, and it’s hard to think beyond the moment. But trauma is a catalyst for art. We never could have imagined Infinite Distance outside the pandemic. Likely, what’s next for me will be related to what I’m experiencing now. “They Are Divided By A Glow On TheWater” ©Rita Leistner and DonMcKellar, courtesy of Stephen Bulger Gallery and FFOTO.com This feature originally appeared in THE LIGHT ISSUE . This edition is now SOLD OUT in print, but is available to read as a digital replica on Press Reader. Craig D’Arville is co-owner, along with Stephen Bulger, of FFOTO.com , an online platform that offers photo-based works by established artists, and is an incubator for emerging talent. Rita Leistner is represented by Stephen Bulger Gallery, with select works available via FFOTO.com . Don McKellar is a Canadian film director, screenwriter, and actor. Enjoyed this free read?!  Consider supporting us! JOIN US AS A PATRON   • SUBSCRIBE FOR PRINT DELIVERY   • READ our digital editions • Make a donation

As a photographer, I consider myself a light-worker. photo by Rocio Graham I work to find the balance between light and the absence of it. My camera is a tool to capture, control, and manipulate the quality of light I need to craft my images. Shutter speed, ISO, and aperture have the sole purpose of controlling light.   Light is electromagnetic radiation from the sun. Only a small portion of light can be seen with the naked eye. As a child, I loved staring up at the sun because I was mesmerized by having something so potent above our heads each day (now I have cornea scarring from that practice). As a little girl I often talked to the sun. I knew this source of light and warmth was something beyond my comprehension. My connection to the sun has not faded. I often imagine what it would be like to float up to the sky to get closer to this ultimate source of light. Photographers are light chasers. We are attracted to it like moths. We often discuss the “chasing of light.” We wake up at 3 a.m. just to photograph the first glimpses of light caressing a mountain. We sacrifice sleep, chasing night sky and aurora borealis images. We endure body pain for the opportunity to create images that show light in unique ways.    The most impressive photographic works are crafted with specific attention to the balance of light and darkness. It is the tension created with light that invites us to get closer to the subject and enter a space created by the photographer, an alchemy of light and matter.   Through photography we conjure life that manifests through light. We cannot talk about life without talking about light. They are interconnected. Light interacting with matter gave shape to the universe as we know it. Light and warmth from the Sun allowed life on Earth to emerge. Life-sustaining processes such as photosynthesis centre on the transmutation and impact of light.  As a photographer and practitioner of Buddhism and Curanderismo (a Mesoamerican spiritual practice), I additionally occupy myself with philosophical questions about the meaning of life. The theme of light is prominent in these teachings and philosophies.   We often hear idioms such as “seeking the light,” “enlightened,” and “made of light” juxtaposed with “a shot in the dark,” “dark ages,” “living in darkness,” and “dark clouds.” Often these sayings are a codification of ancestral human knowledge and wisdom transmitted in mundane expressions.   When we say things like “we are in a dark place” and “shot in the dark,” we are expressing a lack of clarity or vision, the unknown we face. “Seeing the light” or “being enlightened” refers to a state of consciousness, a state of knowing that allows us to see what there is, to understand truth; it is clarity embodied.   Perhaps for us as photographers, the attraction to working with light stems from a desire to chase life and meaning. I wonder if within the secret parts of photographers live philosophers that seek deeper explanations. Does what we photograph matter? Do we matter? What should matter?    I imagine many can relate to the experience of being stopped in your tracks while meandering in a forest and being overwhelmed by the beauty of sun beams peeking through tree branches. The ecstasy we feel when we observe light reflected on a river shimmering like dancing diamonds. Those are moments that incite us to capture them with our cameras. We distill those fleeting profound experiences and make them into documents. Perhaps we create images because we want to create meaning and share our human experiences in the most intimate way. Perhaps it is all in the pursuit of connection and assurance that we are not alone; that life matters, that we matter. Light is a conduit.   As photographers, when we chase light we chase life. Light is life. This feature originally appeared in THE LIGHT ISSUE . This edition is now SOLD OUT in print, but is available to read as a digital replica on Press Reader. Rocio Graham is a m ultidisciplinary #canadianartist🇨🇦 and the driving force behind @santa.rosa.arts.and.healing We also featured Rocio's work, Tendering to the Garden, HERE. Enjoyed this free read?!  Consider supporting us! JOIN US AS A PATRON   • SUBSCRIBE FOR PRINT DELIVERY   • READ our digital editions • Make a donation

Xavi Bou, “Ornithography #08” Seagulls cross the sky just after sunset. PHOTOGRAPHS CAPTURE A MOMENT IN TIME, an instant frozen in perpetuity. “Still life,” if you will. Movement is only ever implied. Take, for example, a blur indicating the path an object has travelled, like an indistinct figure crossing a room. Or a composition that directs your eye to follow a trajectory, like triangles converging on the horizon. In many cases, our lived experiences inform our perception of motion — when we see an image of the ocean, we can sense it undulating and crashing against rocks. However, there are two artists who go beyond typical methods of showing movement within photography — Xavi Bou and nicholas x bent. For them, movement is both the content and the method. Xavi Bou, “Ornithography #238” Starlings being attacked by a peregrine falcon. When in danger of an attack, starlings compress their flight formation as a defence mechanism. The Suspended Birds of Xavi Bou A large black cloud creeps in from the top right of Xavi Bou’s “Ornithography #238.” It appears as layers of graphite scribbles, but beneath the bulbous mass, a curious subtle wave ascends from left to right, resembling more measured mark making.  These are not pencil drawings at all, but photographs of birds in flight. Each line is composed from hundreds of stills of a single feathered flyer, following its trajectory through the air. The ominous cloud is the overlapping routes of a murmuration of starlings as they compress their group formation in defence from the peregrine falcon attacking from below, as shown in the wavy line. Using a 4K cinema camera, Xavi records birds in slow motion to make this and other images in his Ornithographies  series. Each frame of the video is a still shot, which the Spanish photographer layers digitally to create his compositions. “I’m not discovering new species,” he says, “I’m showing common species in a new way.” Xavi Bou, “Ornithography #151” Starlings murmuration. The bodies of the birds reflects the colour from the light. Xavi often doesn’t realize the colour of the print until the final output. In “Ornithography #151,” you get a similar graphite-like cloud of starlings, this one with the frenzied energy of a tornado. “Ornithography #08” is more calm, with four softly curving waves — akin to the falcon’s pathway — suspended against a soft blue-and-yellow sunset sky. In Ornithographies #194 and #243, the flight paths are more ribbon-like, floating among the clouds. Each frame captures the bird, frozen, suspended in the sky, and when multiples are compiled into a single image, there’s no blur. Each wing position is there, each point along the flight path plotted out. It’s not what we’re used to seeing in avian photography. “Why is wildlife always represented in the same way?” asks Xavi, referring to the vibrant, highly detailed and technical nature photography that’s more typical. “In the arts, it’s common to ask about how we represent society, people, gender — how we represent many things. But I haven’t seen another way to represent nature in photography.” His approach is highly technical and scientific, yet in stitching together multiple images into one, Xavi’s birds become lyrical and expressive. “It’s reality — I’m just changing the perception of time,” he says. It captures the unseen geometry of movement in nature. nicholas x bent, “3” from the MARGINALIA series. The Haunting Trees of nicolas x bent nicholas x bent, on the other hand, uses movement in nature to explore psychological and emotional turbulence. In his work, twisted branches and blurred leaves in black and white evoke chaos and fear. Your eyes struggle to bring into focus the trees and landscapes that he photographs, creating disorientation and discomfort. “These things are living, breathing entities,” says nicholas. “When you diffuse them in this fashion, they become something different. You feel like limbs are going to reach towards you.” These are the trees of nightmares. To achieve his emotive, charcoal-sketch–like photographs, nicholas relies on long exposures and in-camera movement (ICM). Keeping his subject within his viewfinder as he leaves the shutter open, he moves around it, sometimes on foot and sometimes in a car, on skis, or riding a snowmobile. “I’m able to hold the subject and deform the subject at the same time,” he says. “It gives that same emotional, visual connection that I had as a child looking at the old trees on the islands in Georgian Bay.” Growing up in Northern Ontario during an era of intense mining, nicholas is attuned to the loss of nature to industry, and it underlies much of his work. His Ex Cathedra  series addresses micro logging, for example, while his Marginalia  series tackles industrial farming. Yet for nicholas, these questions of land use parallel questions of humanity and how we treat each other. Marginalia’ s gnarled trees sit along the borders of industrial farm fields — small pieces of wild left on the sidelines to make way for profits. Just as the trees are pushed into ever-smaller areas to make way for homogenized landscapes, there is little room left for people’s individualism within current systems. “The more you marginalize anything, the more abstract they’ll become,” says nicholas. “Boundaries are being forced upon them.” The movement in nicholas’ photographs conveys anguish and loss. nicholas x bent, “6” from the MARGINALIA series. The Emotion of Movement Both Xavi and nicholas challenge traditional still photography by focusing on movement — but their visions couldn’t be more different. Technique is central to their work but doesn’t define it. Through movement, they introduce us to a new way to look at and understand our world. While the two artists manipulate time and space, Xavi seeks harmony in motion, and nicholas confronts its chaos. Together, their work reveals the power of photography to visualize time through motion, not as a frozen instant, but as a dynamic and deeply expressive force. This feature was produced with the support of The Cardinal Gallery, and premiered in 2025 in issue #75, The MOVEMENT edition. The Cardinal Gallery is a creative exhibition space with a focus on showing fine art photography as well as providing an inviting event venue for the arts community. thecardinalgallery.ca IG: @thecardinalgallery

Journeys to other worlds in Adam Makarenko’s Toronto workshop There is a box under the worktable in Adam Makarenko's Toronto studio. Like the rubbish bin of some unhinged god, it contains hundreds of planets, each about the size of a fist. This is Adam's sculptural library of imagined exoplanets. His works are modelled on real worlds that orbit stars light-years away. Each of his creations - rocky surfaces streaked with blue, gas giants with swirls of white and red - draws on the sparse data astronomers have collected, combined with the principles of planetary composition we have learned from our own solar system. When these exoplanets are photographed against a dark backdrop, or juxtaposed against an elaborate set seething with lava or coated in crystalline spires, the images look as though they were beamed from another part of the Milky Way. In reality, each exoplanet is made of plaster or Styrofoam that has been covered in glue or paint to add texture and colour. Adam's work shows us that advanced technology isn't always enough to bring humans to other worlds - exploring the galaxy requires imagination, too. In an essay for Atlas Obscura about the history of "space art," author George Pendle observes that, while photography usurped illustration in a number of scientific disciplines throughout the nineteenth century, outer space remained an area "too far away to be photographed yet too thrilling to be left undocumented." Art and science have a symbiotic relationship: art inspires new generations of researchers, while new discoveries inspire more artists. Take, for example, one of the first detailed artistic creations of these faraway worlds: the cover of The Conquest of Space (1949), illustrated by American painter Chesley Bonestell. The picture shows a rocket perched on a shadowy, mountainous moonscape. In the foreground, suited figures assemble a scientific instrument. The image helped popularize the idea of manned space travel - even rocket pioneer Wernher von Braun was a fan of Bonestell's work. At the time Bonestell was drawing these scenes, the idea of humans going to the stars was regarded with scepticism (NASA launched its second monkey into space that same year; it did not survive). Only 20 years later, the first astronauts touched down on our moon. There are simpler, and more realistic, ways to show distant objects than by creating intricate miniatures. Computers have become the standard method (the producers of 2014's Interstellar hired a physicist to help create the film's CGI black hole). And the James Webb Space Telescope - a more powerful successor to the Hubble - will launch in 2018, giving scientists the ability to directly examine hitherto unseen exoplanets. Adam believes that his sculptures, physical planets that can be moved and touched, provide something equally important. "There is something tangible about the miniature versus something that is made on the computer - not necessarily better, but different," he writes. "It makes these far-off places appear to be more real for me, because they are sculptural forms. Thee images are literally transporting the viewer to a physical place." adammakarenko.com This article originally appeared in The Walrus Magazine. It has been reproduced with permission. Find this story and more in our STUDIO MAGIC: BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE - ISSUE #54 (print copies have SOLD OUT - but you can access the edition as a digital replica on Press Reader)