Days Like This
Every one of my photos accompanies a memory. The ones that make it to the website are more than just a place I saw or a neat composition to entice a purchase. They are passages to a moment only I can return to. For "Days Like This" the moment remains one that I often visit, and lately I've been wishing I'd
never left.
The photograph was taken in the middle of nowhere Ontario, from the dock on a lake with no roads leading to it and just three cabins disrupt the pristine wilderness. A sea plane delivered two rounds worth of guests for the week, a bunch of rough handed, blue collared, Midwestern fishermen and two wide eyed, naive teenagers.
I spent a week in a 14 foot aluminum boat with my best friend Nate, only coming off the water to eat and sleep. Every morning our boat motor was the first to rev up and the last one to dock for the night. We spent the days reeling in endless fish while the loons bobbed nearby. Between casts we conspired dreams and spoke nonsense, telling jokes and singing songs, just happy to be alive. All sense of the real world lost in the dense woods surrounding Lake Abamassagi.
Midweek I stood on the dock looking out at the vast lake settling for the night, stomach full of fresh caught walleye, watching the night consume the sky. In a summer of transition that would end with my parents dropping me off in a terrifying new chapter of my life, college, I watched a full moon rise over the lake in a state of absolute bliss. Eventually, I would pull my camera out of the cabin before the last glow of light diminished and capture the moment.
"Days Like This" remains my favorite shot to this day. It was a rare moment in my life, free of stress. A trip that provided an escape from a time full of change and anxiety. This photograph triggers a montage of memories while sending a wave of relief through my body. A week boiled down to basics, no screens or service, just time with a close friend doing what we loved most in this world.
That's what "Days Like This" meant to me, until recently. This past September, Nate passed away. Having moved to Colorado, our fishing trips had been few and far between. Over the years we had made the pilgrimage to Canada three times, including a return trip to Lake Abamassagi. The last trip was planned shortly after I relocated to Denver. Without hesitation, I agreed to drive 18 hours solo to be a part of it. Of all my travels, fishing in Canada with Nate will forever rank at the top for me. Every trip was a way to escape the pressures of life but never as much as that night on the dock.
Chronologically, "Days Like This" is the oldest photograph on the website. It was captured long before my feet landed on this path to become an artist, before I had any idea what I was capturing in those exposures. That moment didn't last long. Tired eyes and the chill of the night would put me to bed as the sky dimmed to black. I would be up again before the sun touched the horizon for another day of fishing, laughing and peace.
never left.
The photograph was taken in the middle of nowhere Ontario, from the dock on a lake with no roads leading to it and just three cabins disrupt the pristine wilderness. A sea plane delivered two rounds worth of guests for the week, a bunch of rough handed, blue collared, Midwestern fishermen and two wide eyed, naive teenagers.
I spent a week in a 14 foot aluminum boat with my best friend Nate, only coming off the water to eat and sleep. Every morning our boat motor was the first to rev up and the last one to dock for the night. We spent the days reeling in endless fish while the loons bobbed nearby. Between casts we conspired dreams and spoke nonsense, telling jokes and singing songs, just happy to be alive. All sense of the real world lost in the dense woods surrounding Lake Abamassagi.
Midweek I stood on the dock looking out at the vast lake settling for the night, stomach full of fresh caught walleye, watching the night consume the sky. In a summer of transition that would end with my parents dropping me off in a terrifying new chapter of my life, college, I watched a full moon rise over the lake in a state of absolute bliss. Eventually, I would pull my camera out of the cabin before the last glow of light diminished and capture the moment.
"Days Like This" remains my favorite shot to this day. It was a rare moment in my life, free of stress. A trip that provided an escape from a time full of change and anxiety. This photograph triggers a montage of memories while sending a wave of relief through my body. A week boiled down to basics, no screens or service, just time with a close friend doing what we loved most in this world.
That's what "Days Like This" meant to me, until recently. This past September, Nate passed away. Having moved to Colorado, our fishing trips had been few and far between. Over the years we had made the pilgrimage to Canada three times, including a return trip to Lake Abamassagi. The last trip was planned shortly after I relocated to Denver. Without hesitation, I agreed to drive 18 hours solo to be a part of it. Of all my travels, fishing in Canada with Nate will forever rank at the top for me. Every trip was a way to escape the pressures of life but never as much as that night on the dock.
Chronologically, "Days Like This" is the oldest photograph on the website. It was captured long before my feet landed on this path to become an artist, before I had any idea what I was capturing in those exposures. That moment didn't last long. Tired eyes and the chill of the night would put me to bed as the sky dimmed to black. I would be up again before the sun touched the horizon for another day of fishing, laughing and peace.
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