These past two years have felt like one difficult thing after another, but not so much on a personal scale. Other than our beloved cat Archie dying in November, which broke our hearts, my loved ones and I have been relatively safe and sound with pleasures and privileges galore. 

I’m speaking more in terms of the state of the world beyond my doorstep.

As if the threat of environmental collapse wasn’t enough along came: the pandemic and all its baggage; the racial reckoning of the black & indigenous lives matter movement; and (recently) my city’s three-week occupation by anti-government protesters.

We also bear witness horrendous things happening all over the world in other people’s lives. Like in Ukraine but not only in Ukraine. I useless but also that I have a moral obligation to react.

‘Don’t let the outside world bother you,’ someone advised me when I told her I was feeling rattled, stressed and constantly clenching my jaw. I knew what she meant but I thought to myself, easier said than done!

Donating to causes that work to remedy the world's woes and reaching out with support to those who suffer helps me feel a little more useful but it’s never enough to settle my soul.

I read somewhere that in times of difficulty, hold something beautiful in your heart. Thankfully, photography helps me to do that. It keeps me from attending to anxieties and fears, and focused on the beauty right before my eyes - the vibrant green bok choy that caught my eye when I opened the fridge, my collection of shells or the cookies just pulled from the oven.

It sounds silly but I even view these personal photography projects as political acts.

Still life photographs of seashells and cookies may seem like shallow subject matter in light of the serious matters going on in the world. My photos don't do anything to help refugees or create conditions that can prevent war. But for me these photos represent the opposite of violence. I oppose destruction and these photos are my contribution to the collective spirit of beauty and creation.