Over the span of several weeks, I’ve been scrutinizing my entire body of work spanning the last ten years. It feels especially surreal looking at my work from my earliest days, as I rarely have the opportunity to do so. Over the years, whenever I’ve had the chance to revisit these images, my thoughts, feelings, and reflections change. As more time passes, what I remember solidifies into what has mattered most about my experiences.

Putting aside the task of selecting images for a portfolio, the photographs I often return to come from my first trip to Alberta. As a photographer barely a year into my creative journey, this trip was pivotal in learning about myself, my creative voice, and the wisdom I still carry with me today. This photo trip was no less than moving and, I would go so far as to say, an inner spiritual experience that transcended time and space. For me, witnessing the silent beauty of the mountains and the timelessness of nature’s power left a lasting impression.

Looking back again, I feel it’s a good time to speak about this part of my photographic journey and what I learned.

Where I Was

Less than six months into learning photography, my life and habits revolved around my love and passion for image-making. Through a community, I met several photographers, both professional and non-professional, who were eager to connect and share adventures. Creatively, I was deep into my architectural and big-city-buildings phase. Traveling back and forth from Winnipeg to Toronto, I enjoyed capturing my quiet observations and didn’t feel I had much yet to say, artistically. However, I began to feel a thirst for travel and new experiences, though capturing natural landscapes was a little far from my mind. Offered a ripe opportunity to travel to Banff and then on to Jasper, I was excited to experience new perspectives with my camera in tow.

A little nervous about capturing natural landscapes and my lack of experience in doing so, I sought the advice of one of my peers who had recently traveled to Alberta. I felt the pressure to produce images as beautiful as the mountains themselves. I wanted to take every opportunity to see and create great images while fully living in the experience.

The best advice I received was simple and meaningful: “You can’t screw up nature unless your photos are completely blurry or out of focus.”

She was absolutely right.

Life-long Lessons I Learned in Alberta

Lesson #1:

Learn to trust the workings of your inner compass & your inner creative voice

As a new photographer traveling with more experienced image-makers, I naturally looked to their style of working to guide me as an opportunity to learn. Observing and asking questions served me well in the early stages but became less helpful as time went on. Learning the fundamentals of concepts, technique, and technical skill was wonderful, but at a certain point (and it so happened a few days into this trip), I began to see that I no longer needed help or direction. External advice became distracting background noise that took me away from figuring out how to produce my best work and what I wanted to create. I began to trust myself and learn more about my own process. I started to observe my own interests in places and subjects. I became more attuned to what ignited emotion or inspiration within me and noticed which images felt flat and lifeless. I realized that the images that genuinely interested me held meaning and emotion—two aspects that guide my work today.

I’ve learned how unique and specific this journey is for each individual, even if you meet another artist with similar passions and interests. Part of the journey is finding your own inner compass to guide your work and trusting your own inner creative voice. No one person can speak to that. No one person is the authority on this for you. This is something you must find yourself. No two journeys are alike.

Lesson #2

If you take yourself too seriously, the work won’t be enjoyable (you stop learning when you stop having fun).

Part of the journey involves feeling the pressure to create and produce solid work, as it did for me on this trip. Whether that pressure is self-induced or external, it is part of the process. It is important to remember to give yourself space to learn, especially with perceived mistakes and failures. If you cannot find moments of freedom to play and have fun while creating, this journey will not be enjoyable.

I remember stopping the car by the roadside overlooking a mountain. I really didn’t know what to capture, while my peers took shot after shot. I wondered what they were seeing that was worth so many frames, as I didn’t. In that moment, I chose to stop overthinking and enjoy the experience. I began taking shots from different angles and perspectives, hoping to see something in the frame that would suddenly strike me (even though nothing did). One of my peers remarked on the oddity of my perspectives and technique, telling me that I wasn’t getting the right angles. I remember looking at him, shrugging, and then returning to taking shot after shot. In my mind, I honestly didn’t care. I was enjoying the experience so much that I wasn’t married to the results.

In retrospect, I needed to enjoy having absolute creative freedom to learn, expand, and play. Since then, I’ve carried this mindset with me. Especially at times of intense pressure to produce, I remain mindful to find aspects of enjoyment and play. I remember to take myself less seriously and breathe a little while accomplishing the work. There is something wonderful about creating space for expansion and play. It allows us the opportunity to continually learn, despite our many tries and failures.

Lesson #3

Documenting vs. Creating

Still in the early stages of finding my own unique voice and learning how to cultivate it, I didn’t know the difference between documenting and creating images. Like my trip to Alberta, my early works were part of a visual journal of people and experiences specific to that time in my life. Documenting life, travel, and experiences allowed me to remain focused on being present while working on technical skills. I didn’t have to overthink it or force myself to be creative. I could simply enjoy the moment while learning, with my camera in tow.

It didn’t take long to see, however, that shared experiences also resulted in similarly captured frames with other photographers. These images, as great as they were, often didn’t speak much to me creatively or artistically. Becoming more seasoned, I’ve learned that there is an enormous amount of space and fulfillment in my work to create images that speak more to me and about my own perspectives. I’ve learned how to bring forth images from deep within my imagination, especially in food and product photography.

This is not to say that photos based on lived experiences can’t be captured within one’s imagination or that they don’t speak to you creatively or artistically. For example, choosing a lakeside location to capture an image at sunset, waiting for the glow of golden light to touch everything it meets, while not knowing what it will look like but imagining what it will. Perhaps this location is meaningful to the photographer. Maybe the image-maker wants to capture a moment or a feeling. Image-making can be a simple or complex idea, both for the creator and for the viewer. There is no definitive answer here.

All of this is to say: explore what speaks to you. Learn to be curious about your work and your hows and whys. There is always space to expand. I promise you: you’ll become a better image-maker and artist for it.

Final Reflections

Although I’ve not yet returned to Alberta, I have traveled to many other places since. I continue to recognize how pivotal this experience remains in both my memory and my creative journey. This trip taught me invaluable lessons about trusting my inner voice, finding joy in the creative process, and understanding the balance between documenting and creating. These lessons have shaped me into the photographer I am today and continue to guide me as I explore new horizons. As I look back on this journey, I am grateful for the wisdom gained and the memories made, knowing that each experience contributes to the ever-evolving tapestry of my artistic life.