Photo by Matt West

I know, you have seen this photo. It is the typical “white people walking through the generic African slum holding the hands of the African children they are there to save” shot. I guess in a way it is true, wouldn’t it be great to have the ability to make this slum go away, to build proper structures and educate all the children who live in the area? In reality, we all want to believe that we can save people, that we can say “things will be OK” and believe they will be. But, sometimes we can’t do this. Beyond the obvious aspects of this photo, it is a sad portrayal of how people live. I don’t have to preach what reality is like for people living in these spaces because you have heard it before in the commercials that you see on TV – the whole living on less than a dollar a day idea. Which is great, it is good you have seen and heard this. The unfortunate thing is that reality is not understood until it is experienced. An experience gives you reference, it gives visuals, emotions, sights, smells, relationships – it makes a situation real. And that experience is happening in this photo.

Over the past seven years I have worked in, and walked through, many African slums and I can say that at most times I feel helpless, there is no way that I could tell the kids, the people, that things would be OK because I really did not know that they would be. They may be, but who knows? However, the reality of things not being OK was not real to me because things for me were always OK. I would leave that specific slum and go to my hotel room, eat my dinner, wake up, work, eventually fly home, meet my wife, buy groceries when I needed them, use my credit card when I couldn’t afford them – things were OK.

Recently this has changed. Things in my life, and in the life of my family, may not be OK and now I better understand what it feels like to not have the ability to believe in that phrase, in the word OK, and I can tell you that it is not the best feeling. It’s not that the final outcome is sure to be negative, but it may be. It is not that the next few months will suck, but they might. It’s not that tomorrow won’t be a good day, but it could very well be crappy. Things being OK is no longer my default; it is what I will strive for, it is what I will hope and pray for, it is how I will act in the face of the potential opposite, but there will always be that nagging dull spot in the back of my skull that will remind me that OK is no longer the assured outcome. And that, my friends, is where my new landscape begins.

Africa has been a more than significant in my life, it reset my compass and my own reality. But, it is only through the passing of time and the living of life that I can even slightly begin to comprehend what the people of that continent have to deal with on a daily basis. Of course, some are fine, some have great lives, some have extravagant lives, but many don’t, and even though they don’t they can still stretch their face into a smile.

Life has now changed, a lot, and a smile will be necessary, essential even. If they can do it, so can I.

It’s hard to not worry about work as a freelancer. Things come and go, opportunities are given and taken away from one day to the next, and, at times, jobs seem to dangle on a string that is just out of reach. The truth is, I have never had to try too hard to get work, well, that is somewhat of a lie. I have had to work hard to become good enough at what I do so that people would hire me, but once I got my head around what type of work I enjoyed, it seemed to flow in somewhat naturally. But, this natural inflow cannot last forever, at least, I don’t think it can – so I take my precautions and  do what I can to stay relevant. This means that I have spent a lot of money on school and camera equipment over the past several years.

I am by no means complaining about this situation, I love being in school, the people I meet are amazing! Furthermore, I love that my work has allowed me to see some amazing things and places, and be part of experiences that I never dreamt I would be a part of. Let’s go back to my 21 year-old self (I am sure you have done this at some point in your life, if you haven’t you should give it a try – time machines are sooo cheap these days) and say to that guy, “at the age of 32 you would have travelled here and done this, you would be working doing this, you would have lived there, and you would almost be done this level of education” (*see below) – my past self, him being somewhat embarrassing, would have laughed in my future/current selfs face. So, how did I get from there, to here? No idea really, and imagine what my future self will say to my current self when he takes his time machine back here to meet me now (I wonder how much my future self had to spend for his time machine…technology is only getting cheaper!).

I guess what I am saying is that my work has been an ongoing process. Without my past self being interested in the things he was interested in, I would not be here today. And although this, and by this I mean life and work, is all very stressful to me, it is also very fulfilling and allows me to write blog posts from Uganda while sitting on a patio looking at this…(see above, and below).

Ps. This post has a lot of directions for you to follow, hopefully it was not too tiring. Now, go talk to your 21 year-old self and laugh hysterically together.

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*I won’t list the things for fear of sounding…I dunno, righteous. Not that what I have done, or am doing, necessarily warrants any feelings of said righteousness, but, I don’t really enjoy listing my so called accomplishments, except on my C.V, or website, when I need to impress people to get work.

Just so you all know, I had written a post about how much I dislike Christmas, I chose the photos and planned it all out and…I decided not to post it. That was two weeks ago. I deleted it because I think my words had too much ego in them, I thought I was different in my thinking. I thought I was one of a few people in this area of Toronto where I live that did not like the ridiculousness (is that a word?) of Christmas. But, whenever I said “I don’t like Christmas” and expected some sort of retort, people were in agreement with me. The responses were something like “ya, it’s not so great but it is what it is.” This was unfortunate for me on several accounts: 1. I did not run into anyone who was such an advocate of Christmas and disagreed with me so much that I could drop a world of argument on their plate. I was prepared and that preparation went unresolved 2. I am not as different as I thought I was, and 3. I had to erase my blog post because who wants to hear my thoughts on Christmas when they are probably much their own.

So, here I am, talking about Christmas in my post that was not supposed to be about that very thing.

Let me switch to the new year. This is what my new years brought to a close. My wife’s year-long maternity leave, my daughters first year of life, my passport that I have been travelling on for 5 years and is full of really cool VISAs from around the world, and sugar (my wife is trying not to eat it). What does the new year bring? The things I know about are the final year of my post-grad, and a new, blank, passport. I guess what is most exciting are the things that I don’t know about, the things that when January 1st comes around next year I will think “crazy…didn’t see that coming…”

To celebrate the new year here are some photos I took on new years day of some good friends with a overly-friendly, and very cool bird. These are some of the guys I would usually argue with, who, this year, gave me no such fodder for venting my frustrations. Oh well, maybe next year. Thanks for reading, and enjoy the next 363 days.

(Yes, I am a kind of sad the end-of-year-season is over – somehow, this year was much better than most.)

Also within the magazine are some photos I took of Jian Ghomeshi, from CBC’s Q radio show, in Philippines. I went to the Philippines with Jian and Lights, a Canadian musician and recording artist, in August of last year and the videos and images we got have been used quite regularly.

Check out some of the links and, once again, thanks for reading.

Some of you may or may not know that I was in Mexico last week. This was not a vacation as many people thought when I said that I was going to Mexico, this was work, and it was with the World Wildlife Fund. This is my first time working with WWF and when I was asked to go on this trip I was quite happy to say ‘yes’. So, what would I be photographing, polar bears in the Arctic? Whales off the coast of British Columbia? Sharks off the coast of Nova Scotia? Nope to all – I would be photographing Monarch Butterflies in Mexico…oh!? OK.

At first the allure of photographing butterflies did not have the kick that the other options had, even though they were not options at all since I had not been asked to photograph these things (I think my mind was taking its own photography trip). However, upon arrival in Zitacuaro, Mexico, and being told what to expect, my excitement grew. Soon we were driving on old logging roads and marvelling at the amount of Monarch Butterflies that were flying around. After the logging road was the hike through a forest where the trees towered above us and marvelling, once again, at the amount of Monarch Butterflies that were now not only flying around us, but were also on us, and on the ground drinking water from the puddles. We would have to stop at every puddle to shoo them away which created a cloud of orange. My camera was working furiously.

But, in the end, nothing could prepare me for what I was to see at the end of our hike, which was a feat in itself. We entered a space that is restricted to tourists and as I looked up I saw what I was told were millions of Monarch Butterflies (around 200 million) but, to me, looked like billions. Even though I cannot fathom such a number, the amount of butterflies I was seeing could be nothing less. This was one of the several resting spots for the Monarch Butterflies after their long migration across North America, some coming from as far as Edmonton, Canada. The butterflies were clumped in the trees in numbers that made the branches sag under their weight, a slight scare or disturbance would cause an explosion of orange and black wings that blasted into the sky and gave some idea of the amount of Monarchs on that one branch. Their wings were so loud as a collective that I could hear them as they fluttered above me, and by the end of our time in this first sanctuary, I was covered in butterfly wing dust.

This was an unbelievable experience and I was more than happy that I was asked to go. Never again will I allow my mind to go on its own photography trip…its too judgemental.

Secondly, a quick story. I sat down this morning after returning home from another trip I took last week to Edmonton with Robin Hood Technology to photograph for a website they are creating. I sat down to check my usual websites, which, like the rest of North America, includes facebook. While spying on all my friends I looked to the side bar of ads and noticed a photo of mine. I was not sure at first because the tiny photo in the ad for Samaritan Magazine was severely cropped. But, I clicked anyway, and sure enough it was a shot I took of the musician, Lights (whose new album, Siberia, is really good), and CBC radio host, Jian Ghomeshi, in the Philippines last year on a World Vision trip. You can check out some of the videos that were done on that trip here. It’s always nice to see my photos being used, even if I did not get credit for it (that’s me being slightly bitter).

I will have a proper blog up soon about my trip to Mexico, but in the meantime check out one or two of the many links on this page. I am sure you will find a few interesting things.

It is strange being back in Canada. Since May I have been going non-stop – travelling, working, travelling and working, and a bit of educating happening as well. It is nice to have a job that allows me to see such amazing places around the globe and I do my best to never take it for granted because, really, I could lose it all so easily. It seems so fragile. I will spare you the details of how this can happen, but believe me, this is something I think about often. Because of this, I take pretty much every job that comes my way, which at times (like this summer) makes me exceptionally busy, but at other times gives me just enough to buy groceries. Somehow it’s a fine balance I have not mastered yet.

“So”, you ask (maybe), “what do you do in Toronto?” I wonder the same thing, I am not really sure what I do. I don’t get a lot of work here in this lovely country – sometimes I help friends with their work, be it painting or framing houses, or home renovations. Sometimes I get work designing brochures or posters. If I am not working, I spend time with my family or friends, or go to U of T to find a quiet place to do homework. I guess that is pretty normal, but I am not sure? To tell you the truth, I get somewhat uncomfortable here. What am I doing that makes a difference? When I am travelling in these developing countries I see struggle and resistance, I see hurt and acts of love all in the same day. I have a sense of purpose every time I click my shutter. Maybe I am selfish, but it is hard to find that sense of purpose here – especially in my work.

Every summer I get a job that requires me to fly over the GTA and take photos of land that is in one of three stages of development: to be developed, in development, or developed. These spaces are accommodating, or will be accommodating a subdivision, a mega mall or a strip mall. During this time I marvel at the view of the city from 2000ft above the ground. I hang out my open window and enjoy looking at our city from a different vantage point. But, when I think about the work I am doing at that moment I get agitated – I am not really helping anyone who needs it, I am not making a positive difference; really, I am contributing to the destruction of farmland to make way for more houses and malls – that’s not what I want. All I am doing is working to make money – which, is not a bad thing, we all need it, it’s the way of the world. But when I compare it to my work in developing countries, I feel as if I am a sell-out.

I guess we all have to be part of the “rat-race”, we all need to make money to pay for life’s essentials. When it comes down to it, I enjoy being in that plane and taking photos of our world, and I need the money that this work provides. But, I think that there must be a space where these things intersect in a positive way, Maybe I am not looking hard enough. But when it comes down to it, even sell-outs need to buy groceries.

Addition to this post:
This thought came to my mind today while not writing this post: Even my work in developing countries loses it’s purpose and its reason at times, and it too comes down to just the need for money. Maybe it is just the desire to accomplish more with what I have and I have learned that gets mistaken for the feelings of lack in purpose. I guess purpose is in the eye of the beholder…

It seems historically unfair and somewhat humorous that the Dutch, after hundreds of years of being a major player and dominant force in the colonial misadventures of the past, have been relegated to a small portion of Northern Europe that is technically underwater. Whatever the reason this situation has come to pass, of which I am sure there are many, it is where my family lives and has a lot of bikes.

I did not carry my camera around much while in Holland, actually, when I did it felt like a weight that I wanted to do away with. I was tired thinking, I was tired of being focused and focusing, and I just wanted to enjoy what I went to the country for; to visit with family and walk around Delft, a place that I have come to realize is the cottage I never had. This city brings back memories of young grandparents, old houses, good times with family and sadness when leaving. With these memories comes a certain amount of familiarity which you might think is a perfect opportunity to photograph – but, I could not make it happen.

We traveled quite a bit and went from the north to the south. We stayed in a castle for three nights, we slept in a loft above my uncles room which is in a closet. We were awoken most mornings by a church clock tower and could bike anywhere and everywhere with the comfort that we had the right-of-way. We rode on cobblestone streets that have their unique cobblestone texture, we walked through underground caves and sat in churches that are a feat of medieval engineering. These are only a few of the memories I have from this trip, and each time I think of one or several of these moments, the experience comes back and my short history in these places is remembered. It seems that these memories act as the photos I was not taking – which, I could argue, are more relevant, or effective, than any photograph I can show you. Your experiences, my experiences, can’t be fully explained with a photo, which means a photo is lacking something important. And whatever the photo is missing is unique to itself, and is known only by you.

My suggestion – put down your camera and let your mind take some photos.

At the core of my being I am a person who likes solitude. It is when I am surrounded by anonymous people that I get uncomfortable and shaky and constantly on the lookout for ways to exit the conversation I am in because I am not sure how it is going to end. It gets awkward and I hope someone can come and save me from my situation. Of course, It is not like this with all people, there are many people who exist outside of this awkwardness, sometimes they exist outside of it very quickly after I meet them, other times it takes time. But, in the end, I am sure it is my fault they stay within it.

So it goes with my photography. It may be the reason I do what I do. I am freelance, I do what I do in solitude, maybe not physical solitude, but each photo is taken because of my own thoughts on the situation in front of me. There are no meetings about how that specific photo needs to be portrayed, or how the subject needs to look, it is me and them – they act, I react, and a photo is taken.

This past week we were in a village in Greece. It is small, it is on the side of a mountain, the streets are barely wide enough for a car to pass through, there are less and less people living there, there are funny birds sitting on random wires, and it won’t be the last time I go because it is where my wife grew up and the house will be there for a long time. I did not understand a word anyone was saying unless my wife translated it for me, people who tried to talk to me were given a blank stare while I waited for Marie to come and save me, the only person I had to talk to was our little one – who also does not understand me. I sat, I raked leaves, I wrote an essay, I drank ouzo, and I took photos. It was a sort of solitude that allowed me to be alone enough to enjoy the village life.

At the core of my being,  I am a villager. But here I am talking to whoever will listen on the internet and displaying my photos, which I hope you enjoy.

These were taken in the village, I have relegated myself to use only one lens – my 50mm 1.4. It is a great lens, I need to use it a lot more!

I guess I should start by saying that the last time I was on a trip and had a desire to photograph as a tourist would be ten years ago when I had just graduated from photography school and did the ever popular six-week tour of Europe. Back then I thought that taking photos of buildings and old ancient, broken down structures was going to be my way of standing out from the rest of the photography crowd – “I have traveled” is what I was trying to say. This assumption may have been wrong, it may have been right, either way what I now realize is that the trip was not so much about the photos as it was about the travel. When I came home from that trip I never wanted to leave Canada again. While standing under the Eiffel tower, or walking the streets of St. Tropez, or standing at the centre of the coliseum in Rome, I could think of nothing other than coming home – it’s funny how things change.

What it comes down to is that the things I see here are amazing and exotic and naturally wonderful and ever-unchanging for lifetimes on end. But, that is just it, they are ever-unchanging, and therefore the photos I took of these places ten years ago look the same as the ones that I am taking now, only now I have a digital camera, some great lenses, and fancy computer software. So, what is different about now and then other than quality – well, it is me. My eye has changed, my experiences leading up to now are influencing how I see and what I see and therefore what I want to take photos of, even if it is nothing spectacular. I do want to see things differently than all the other people who take the photos because, as a photographer, that is what I should be doing, isn’t it?

As a tourist you are relegated to one space, the space that you are allowed to go by the people in charge. There are ropes you are not allowed to cross and paths that you have to follow, so that is where I find myself, beside all the other gawking tourists taking the same photos as them. In this moment I ask myself; “how can I make this space look different, how can I show it in a new way, what is it that stands out that shows the true reality of what I am seeing”. Whether or not these internal questions work or not I don’t know? The photos may be successful they may not – I guess you are the judge. I will admit that many of the photos I take look very similar to the posters I see for sale in the curio shops.

Either way the things I am photographing are definitely old and amazing, which is a good enough reason to click the shutter.