As a fine art photographer with a passion for nature, I seek light, texture, and reflections. I appreciate the delicacy of lines and shadows, and images that last only a breath. My goal is to inspire contemplation of nature, and to cultivate a reverence for it.

The series aqua botanica honors the ephemeral offerings from the sea. Each photograph preserves seaweed washed up on the western shores of Newfoundland and attempts to capture both its essence and its dimensionality. This series also speaks to the capacity of photography to preserve, transform, and re-imagine found objects.

aqua botanica is in the tradition of objects trouvés (found objects), a French practice of turning things that are not normally art into art. When I visited Newfoundland, I collected dead seaweed off the beach, many pieces reminiscent of Celtic knots or garden labyrinths. In fact, everywhere I go, I pick up detritus: debris, remains, fragments, broken china and glass, tiny treasures.

I’m a dedicated forest-bather. Forest bathing (Shinrin-yoku 森林浴)—being in the presence of trees—originated in Japan in the early 1980s. In the presence of trees, we inhale negatively charged ions, beneficial bacteria, and plant-based essential oils called phytoncides that trees emit. Forest bathing improves immune, cardiovascular, and respiratory systems. It provides emotional healing, decreases blood pressure, enhances a person’s general sleep-wake cycle, and reduces stress and aggression. The trees heal us, secretly, silently. They instruct us, gently, generously. 

Acres of wilderness in northern Ontario near an old farmhouse I share with a group of women is a refuge from the city. Granite rock seamed with quartz, the cracks filled by lime-green moss, swamps, creeks, and many trees—cedar, white pine, birch, and oak. In the fall, the oak trees hold their leaves, curled and brittle. Tiny red wintergreen berries taste of pleasure. Sheltering cedar exude a sharp fresh scent. To walk in the forest is a calming, a relief. I breathe deeply. The forest stretches away, light filtering through the branches, treetops swaying in harmony with the wind. I absorb the skittering sounds of squirrels, and the leaves brushing against each other. 

I’m a word lover and a biophile: a person who cherishes nature. From the Greek, “philia” meaning “love of.” In the presence of nature, I experience wonder and awe: a stillness, often in motion; a calm quiet, often through sound. Nature is an invitation and an inspiration. Photographing nature is a delight.