I was raised in a family where horsemanship was a way of life, adventuring on horseback and exploring the foothills before I could walk. That early connection to the land, rural life and the character of the things around me continues to influence the way I see today.
Long before photography became my profession, I found myself immersed in disciplines that taught me to observe, understand and commit. I studied Karate and Taekwon Do, eventually operating my own school at seventeen. After moving to Calgary to study architecture, my practice shifted toward the traditional Japanese arts of the Samurai and Ninja. Bodybuilding became another important discipline during those years, eventually leading me to compete and place third in my weight class.
Different pursuits, but similar lessons: discipline, patience, attention, and the understanding that meaningful development comes from living something deeply.
Architecture gave me another way of seeing. Studying at SAIT taught me how light and shadow reveal structure, form and importance. Five years working with a high-end custom homebuilder further developed my appreciation for craftsmanship and design made to endure rather than simply follow trending fashion.
That understanding of light, structure and atmosphere eventually found its way into film and television, where I worked as a cinematographer and Director of Photography. I learned to think about a scene not simply as an image, but as a study in movement, scale, and mood. My cinematography work earned two nominations for Best Cinematographer at the AMPIA Awards.
My years with Canadian Pacific Railway brought another kind of knowledge. I already had an interest in its history before I hired on, but living in that world taught me things observation alone couldn't—its machinery, landscapes, movement and culture, learned firsthand. That lived experience still shapes how I interpret that history in my art.
Today, those experiences continue to inform my work as a photographic artist. The subjects that become my Artist Editions—railways, landscapes, wildlife, historic structures, machinery, automobiles, flora and rural places—are not simply things I search for. They are things I have known, experienced and lived with.
I think that is part of why they continue to draw me in.
I have always been taught to look for the good—not as something to be found or possessed, but as something to be recognized. I am drawn to things that embody qualities I already value: beauty, character, harmony, and quiet fulfillment.
Perhaps that is why the places, objects and experiences that become my work can feel so familiar. They feel like recognition, not nostalgia.
I don't create photographs to preserve the past. I create Artist Editions that celebrate the enduring beauty, character, and quiet fulfillment already present in the world around us today; a romance of the goodness to be found in our own era, to enjoy.
