Artist Statement 

When I first considered the word neighborly, images from classic television series such as Road to Avonlea and Home improvement came to mind, scenes of communities coming together in times of strife, of advice shared over a fence line, of silly arguments over property boundaries, but on a deeper level these scenes feel like a fantasy.

When I examined my own connection to the word neighborly and what it means to me, those images from classic television series felt distorted slightly, a bit dystopian even, for when I envision modern neighborhoods it feels suffocating. A once wild and rugged landscape now fully transformed by the human hand, cut nicely into boundaries that create streets, intersections, houses with mostly manicured lawns, some that even have fences, parking lots and commercial spaces that house stores and other places of business. 

Living in that sensation of suffocation is an emptiness, a hollow sense of grief and loss, that something that once was no longer is. In the busyness of the world this feeling can often be overlooked, but if you quiet your mind and look around it’s there. For living unnoticed often only seen in the shadow of a deep and quiet night lives our quietest and most often forgotten neighbours, whose presence we sometimes call a beautiful and cherished experience other times a nuisance and a threat to our existence. Before humans, cultivation and capitalism our neighbourhoods were home to wildlife, to all varieties of animals from the largest moose to the smallest mice.

Long past are the days when one could look out over the land and lakes, hearing nothing but the call of the birds or seeing the great consuming expanse of a dark night. Now, when I look around, I see new homes, new lives, new vacation spots, and new businesses. Each time a new development sets down roots the landscape changes , adapting to the new buildings put upon it. New homes and businesses signify growth, but also serve as a bright and glaring reminder of the silent disappearance of the wild things that once existed here.

In our world driven by modernism and progress these are good things, signs that our community grows and thrives, but when I look upon rows and rows of new buildings and people I feel a sense of loss. A loss of the serenity those long ago rough and untamed landscapes provided, a sense of stillness not easily found, and I feel the incessant urge to run, to escape.

Over the past few decades I’ve watched my small hometown here in Muskoka change from a tiny tourism and logging town on the edge of two of Ontario’s most beautiful provincial parks, to a much larger town that’s become a favorite destination for tourists worldwide and has become a place to call home to many. As I’ve watched these changes and our community thrive I do see that every time something new gets built we trade away more and more of the wildness. I feel a sense of sadness when I walk outside on a warm spring evening and the deafening sounds of the spring peepers are replaced by the sounds of passing vehicles, as it becomes more and more difficult to find untouched land and as wildlife becomes rarer, I come back to that rising urge to run, to seek out the wild things and wild places.

So I invite you to join me on this visual journey, My Journey for Solitude, in search of our largest and most often overlooked neighbour, the untamed wild Muskoka.

With these thoughts in mind, I’d love to share some background details of how this series came to be, along with a deeper reflection on each image

This series was originally created for a juried exhibition submission through a local gallery here in Muskoka and though I wasn’t selected I still wanted to share this series. The goal was to visually explore the word “neighbourly” and what it means to us. When exploring the theme, I decided to adopt a more abstract perspective than the more traditional examples that may appear on a Google search, and focus on the subjects nearest to my heart: the small, wild, and untamed parts of Muskoka.

The natural world, large and small, is an important component of my work, and I make it a priority to incorporate natural elements into every shoot, encouraging sessions outdoors whenever possible. 

When considering how I wanted to approach this series, I decided to focus on the smaller flora and fauna within Muskoka by mixing my larger landscapes with macro-environmental portraits of the wildlife I came across in my search. 

My reasoning for choosing macro-environmental portraits as opposed to larger environmental portraits of moose, fox, or bears is that they are already well represented, and my goal was to document the smallest parts of the natural world, the important parts of our ecosystem that we don’t think of often. 

I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey so far. I’d love to invite you now into a closer look at each image I’ve created, for a deeper dive into the beautiful moments, tiny details, and quiet presences that shaped this series.

Image 1:  For me, this first image is a perfect start to any Ontario journey. Once you leave the cities and towns and head into Ontario’s vast wilderness, cliffs of bedrock overlooking a valley full of dense, seemingly endless forests are a common sight. The valley of trees and hidden natural wonders are just out there waiting for the viewer to explore. When I stand on the edge of these cliffs and look out, I imagine everything that’s out there waiting to be discovered: little creeks, ponds, small lakes, and an abundance of flora and fauna, all still mostly untouched by modern life.

Image 2:  I chose this image of a stable fly sitting on a mossy log. While it’s considered a pest to humans and animals, it still plays a role in the ecosystem. This image made me realize the importance of slowing down and taking the time to notice the nature around us. Truthfully, I didn’t even see the fly until I had the image open in Photoshop. I was originally intrigued by the vibrant, textured green hues of the moss, and how it contrasts with the warm tones in the log. It really amazes me how full of life our world is. Even when I’m focused on the small details, there’s always something more hidden to discover.

Image  3: This next image features two yellow navel mushrooms with a carpenter ant walking towards the mushroom. These ants can be found everywhere throughout Ontario. while these ants are often known for being destructive, they play an important part in the ecosystem breaking down plant matter and aerating soil. A fun fact is that both the mushrooms and the ant are tiny, the mushrooms are only less than half an inch across and very easy to miss if you’re not looking.

Image 4:  This next image features a small river in a sunlit forest. This little river and surrounding forest are home to many species of plants and animals such as the ones featured throughout this series. It’s another quiet reminder of a small part of the wild places that are often lost when humans need the land for new homes or commercial spaces.

Image 5: This next image features a small American Toad sitting in a field, gazing toward the sunlight off to the right of the frame. About an inch in diameter, its size and coloring allow it to blend seamlessly into the background. For me, this toad served as a powerful reminder to slow down and really look around—it’s amazing what you can notice when you take the time.

Image 6: This image of a green frog perfectly symbolizes perseverance. Like many frog species, including the toad in the previous image, these frogs begin life as eggs laid in jelly-like clusters alongside hundreds of siblings in shallow waters such as ponds, small creeks, or even roadside runoff ditches. These small creatures face numerous challenges from natural predators and changing weather to the direct impacts of human activity. Water pollution, construction and landscaping, and the dangers of crossing roads are some of the most common threats frogs encounter because of us.

Image 7: . Lastly, this image feels like a quiet summary of the entire series and its theme of journeying into solitude. This dirt road winding through the forest invites reflection and stillness, a reminder of how vast and undisturbed the land can feel when you leave the noise behind. When I look at this scene, I think of the quiet possibilities that come from being alone in nature—a sense of wonder, discovery, and connection that only reveals itself when we slow down and walk these quieter paths.