Feelings and inspiration

Thank you for coming here to read me…

The photographic results I’ll be sharing throughout the rest of the week began with a feeling that sometimes comes to visit me…

Sadness slips into my morning like a shadow that refuses to give in to the light. I keep reminding myself that although I suffer from loneliness, I am not alone, yet somehow, I still don’t seem to hear myself. Much like in our society, the loudest voices are not necessarily the ones most worthy of trust, but they can certainly give us the illusion that they are.

The solution… go outside.

There is something soothing and therapeutic about walking alone with a camera in your hands.

It’s 8 a.m., and Montréal is slowly waking up. The streets are still half-asleep, the light is finding its way between the buildings, and I’m walking without any real destination. I look.

The reflection of a stained-glass on the ground.

A silhouette crossing through the light.

The shadow of a building, or even the welcoming curve of a stairway railing.

Photography becomes a form of meditation.

I no longer think about what was, nor about what will come. I simply look for what exists now. My breathing slows. The noise of the world becomes secondary. Each image forces me to be present, to observe before I press the shutter.

Perhaps that’s what I love about photography.

It doesn’t ask me to escape solitude. It teaches me how to inhabit it.

With my Hasselblad, I’m no longer truly alone. I’m accompanied by my curiosity, by the light, by the city, and by all those little things we normally fail to notice. For a few hours, Montréal becomes my meditation ground.

I walk.

I observe.

I breathe.

I press the shutter.

Then I begin again.