I was here.

Every summer a group of friends and I venture out for our annual backcountry photography retreat. It’s always a good time; between the inevitable mishaps and ensuing laughter, summits are reached, bonds are strengthened, and memories are made. Sometimes, we even take a few photos.

This year, due to various injuries and a desire for fun stuff like a kayak, we decided to take a heli into our spot outside Banff National Park on the eastern side of the Canadian Rockies. Not gonna lie - it’s way easier than hiking in with four days of supplies and camera gear.

I went into this trip hoping that, creatively, something would spark. It’s been a bit of a thing, a mind glitch almost, with Ephemerality receiving the attention it has, and I’ve been feeling unsure how to follow it up. I haven’t been stuck in an artistic slump; I simply know what it feels like to have a creative epiphany that grabs my attention, and I haven’t had one in a long time. I’ve been taking lots of photos, learning and enjoying my new Leica SL3 camera, but that crazy spark of knowing where to go with my next project was proving elusive. And to be honest, it didn’t happen on this trip either. (What did happen, you ask? Crazy wind that destroyed 5 out of 10 tents, snow, heat, smoke, hikes, remembrance of a dear friend who recently passed, and some alpine baseball.)

My friend Trixie Pacis (Figment Films is her production company) very kindly got some video footage from the heli flight into Ram Glacier and created a wee little thing for me, combining her video and a few of my images. I’ve posted the final version above, but after watching the first version, something happened - the spark ignited, the lock clicked, the lightning crashed, choose your preferred metaphor. I realized what I need to create next. It’s exciting, these early moments of unlimited possibilities with a project, the fun bits of creative brainstorming and researching techniques before the actual nitty gritty of making the work.

Truthfully, I find the whole process of creating a project interesting and exciting. It can be painful and crazy-making, but the exercise of the work is fascinating and holds as much value for me as the end results. Rubin’s words that I quote in the video: “Art is a reverberation of an impermanent life. I was here.” struck me because I can see that my efforts in photography, both the process and the finished pieces, are an affirmation of my own existence. I am here. I am here in the Rockies with my friends. I am here, at my computer, writing about my art, waiting for my daughters to get home from school. I am here on this earth, and the photos I create echo that.

Is this a tease? Yes, yes it is. My half-formed superstitions and lived experiences have taught me that sharing creative ideas too early leads to them getting trampled before they can grow to size. But, I’m all in on this one. And I’m excited to share the process and (hopefully!) the finished pieces here.

Also, if you have any questions about how to stay comfortable on your backcountry sleeping pad, directly on top of a glacial moraine, whilst supporting your tent with all four limbs so the howling winds don’t break it into pieces, I’m your woman.

Most who choose the artist’s path don’t have a choice… We follow this instinct. To deny it is dispiriting, as if we are in violation of nature. If we zoom out, we see this blind impulse is always there, guiding our aim beyond ourselves… This is the call to self-express, our creative purpose. It’s not necessarily to understand others or to be understood. We share our filter, our way of seeing, in order to spark an echo in others. Art is a reverberation of an impermanent life. I WAS HERE. - Rick Rubin