Private Story
East
I vaguely recall anything before the age of nine. I do remember an innocent curiosity about the everyday landscape that surrounded me, inorganic and mechanical, comprised of physical objects, a vernacular landscape.
Fast forward to 2023, intrigued by the everyday scenes and objects that define life in present-day Canada and inspired by a recent read of Travels with Charley, a travelogue by author John Steinbeck, I embarked on an impromptu road trip. I started my journey in Ontario, crowded with sprawling suburbs and towering skyscrapers. Driving east to Quebec City, I walked the winding streets and looked at the architecture while eating croissants from Paillard's Le café-Boulangerie.
I followed the St. Lawrence River and drove to Labrador City and back before taking the ferry to the Gaspé Peninsula. As I traveled farther east, space became less cluttered and more open.
In New Brunswick, I walked the rocky coastline and explored industrial complexes, backstreets, and life in small towns and, in Nova Scotia, fishing villages. I talked to a man standing in the rain. He was looking for rare seagulls that often fly into the bay. He told me about his diet of fresh fish most of his life, but lately, he had lost the taste for it. He was a deep-sea fisherman and had gone eighty-four days without taking a fish.
Next, an eight-hour ferry took me to Newfoundland and an old U.S. military base, exploring abandoned gas stations, airstrips, and hangars.
Finally, I reached Cape Spear, the easternmost point in Canada. I stood on the rugged cliffs of this remote corner of the continent and realized from this spontaneous beginning began a project that will no doubt last a decade.
Fast forward to 2023, intrigued by the everyday scenes and objects that define life in present-day Canada and inspired by a recent read of Travels with Charley, a travelogue by author John Steinbeck, I embarked on an impromptu road trip. I started my journey in Ontario, crowded with sprawling suburbs and towering skyscrapers. Driving east to Quebec City, I walked the winding streets and looked at the architecture while eating croissants from Paillard's Le café-Boulangerie.
I followed the St. Lawrence River and drove to Labrador City and back before taking the ferry to the Gaspé Peninsula. As I traveled farther east, space became less cluttered and more open.
In New Brunswick, I walked the rocky coastline and explored industrial complexes, backstreets, and life in small towns and, in Nova Scotia, fishing villages. I talked to a man standing in the rain. He was looking for rare seagulls that often fly into the bay. He told me about his diet of fresh fish most of his life, but lately, he had lost the taste for it. He was a deep-sea fisherman and had gone eighty-four days without taking a fish.
Next, an eight-hour ferry took me to Newfoundland and an old U.S. military base, exploring abandoned gas stations, airstrips, and hangars.
Finally, I reached Cape Spear, the easternmost point in Canada. I stood on the rugged cliffs of this remote corner of the continent and realized from this spontaneous beginning began a project that will no doubt last a decade.
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