1. When my grandfather was still alive, the family visited the Shushawp. We couldn’t stop as often as would be ideal, I would take shots from his Buick Regal. They were similar to what I take photos of now: trains, rocks, interesting buildings, factories, and various water features.
2. Away at school, others used cameras. On parents’ day, samples and order sheets were distributed. The photos would be a combination of the spectacular (pine trees, lakes, mountains, rock-strewn summits) and the snapshot (eating, walking, campfires. Photos from canoes, buses, supply trucks, etc, were avoided. They weren’t butch enough.
3. When I came back from boarding school, my dad took me to Vancouver. I took photos with a drugstore camera. The sky train came from Buck Rogers, the rolls shot from it moving were interesting blurs. They could be as pretty as the well composed, photos from expensive cameras.
4. During high school, Packs of 6 disposable cameras would disappear into my backpack and I would derive. I would spend weekends taking photos from bus windows, as far south as Ellerslie and as far north as Castledowns. Shooting a roll of film, shooting a load of cum, relaxed me.
5. After high school, I spent time in London; my photos there were increasingly arty. One was a picture of Scotland, from the air. The purple ocean, green land worked as an abstracted pastoral. I realized later that Wolfgang Tillman’s airplane photos were better because they showed more of the airplane.
6. I didn’t take pictures for ages after London. Then I met Raymond. He invited me to come shoot trains. Their power was dangerous and the safety of encasement was absent. It reminded me of JG Ballard’s Crash which I re-read it a few weeks after my encounter with Raymond.
7. About this time, I attended a Canadian University Press conference; driving to the coast, I shot landscapes on piss breaks and from the car’s window. Another passenger was the paper’s photog, who mocked my not having an SLR. Through him I learnt why equipment meant both dick and camera.
8. During my second year of university, Raymond and I were roommates. We would trade shot for shot, then roll for roll, as our styles blended. We would drive around Edmonton, again way out west, up to Wainwright. Our shooting became a new way to think of bodies, vehicles and machines.
9. I flunked out of University and went south to Gethsamini Abbey. I left early, and riding in a mini van with a monk, I didn’t take photos of the interstate. Missing photos that promised food, booze, soul saving and Girls! Girls! Girls! matched my silence about God’s presence there.
10. A few weeks ago, a friend and I went from my house in the suburbs to Millwood’s. I took photos from his moving Honda. There is something important about traveling down highway 21, snapping photos quickly, and not caring about quality. I finally had enough confidence to keep going.