Vide, a working series
(En) This series is ever evolving as I set out to document the emptying of Montreal during the current global health crisis that is COVID-19. All photographs shown are in chronological order using yyyy-mm-dd hh:mm:ss, identify the location, and are done using Tilt-Shift photography. I hope this working series celebrates the unobstructed beauty that is Montreal and not the temporary and necessary void for the greater good.
(Fr) Cette série est en constante évolution alors que je documente le vidage de Montréal pendant la crise santé mondiale actuelle qu'est le COVID-19. Toutes les photos sont présentées par ordre chronologique en utilisant aaaa-mm-jj hh: mm: ss, sont identifiés par leur emplacement, et fait en utilisant la photographie Tilt-Shift. J'espère que cette série de travail célèbre la beauté dégagée de Montréal et non le vide temporaire et nécessaire pour le bien d'être de nous tous.


Nothing to see here, is what first crossed my mind. But, if that was the case, why did I think that? Why did I stop and ponder?
The obvious, an empty and somewhat dirty parking lot. Yet there is more, the stark contrast between an empty brick wall dwarfing a slender weathered 4 story walkup with windows and a patchwork of materials. Then the pièce de résistance, the warm orange tones of that massive wall placed front and centre by the sun reflecting off the surrounding neighbourhood. It almost acts like an abstract painting installed on a cold blue sky. If you close your eyes for just a moment, you can still sense the orange warm glow dance upon your eyelids.


I have been debating on whether I should post this photo or not since capturing it. It causes debate and conflict within me.
I love how the photograph puts front and centre the architectural lines and textures found within the urban environment. It also documents the effects of the current global crisis. I am so accustomed to working in the busy city, studying the terrain for spots that I can set up and become invisible. Waiting, waiting and waiting for that moment when it just clicks.
Now, when I set up, I can close my eyes and point to any spot. With that comes new dialogue. Should I be doing this? Why am I photographing the city while it is wounded? Am I selfish for practicing the only thing I know how to do? Yet, I venture out, keeping my distance from the odd sign of life. Searching for buildings that scream stop, asking me to document them within the void of foot traffic and parked vehicles.


I have been looking forward to sharing this service lane / alleyway photograph with you for some time.
I have always pondered the potential of such areas. I think that they are under-utilized and provide a stark contrast from the face the public sees. Could these lost spaces be the quiet indicator on the health of our cities / urban environments?
What if the spaces were opened up to all?
Would this allow a space for voices that are normally kept at bay to share?
Could this allow a building foot print to provide people a real 360 degree experience?
Would it give us just a peak into the variety story lines found within?
Could it transform the city so that it is something for everyone?
So many questions that drive me to continue documenting. Thank you for allowing me to share my questions, failures and passion for Montreal with you:)


Front and center in this photograph is the coloured glass wall of the extension of Montreal's Palais des congrès done between 1999 and 2002. Who knew then that this multicoloured display would be a collective symbol of support during the current global health crisis. It is so heartwarming to see residents around the world displaying colourful rainbows in their windows, reminding the empty streets that we are still eating, dancing and signing as one...BUT from a safe distance. 2 meters please and thank you!


We all have areas in our backyard that when seen during this current health crisis, render us shocked at just how silent things have become.
One spot for me is the Vendôme node that connects STM users, EXO users, motorists, pedestrians and cyclists to Montreal's downtown core, to the west end, to the MUHC hospital campus and to the many hidden gems littered through this diverse neighbourhood.
I felt it important to set out document the primary mode that tries buffer the silence, the reduced but critical fleet that is the city bus


Documenting the rendering between light and shadows along Montreal's Boulevard René-Lévesque. At the cuff end of what would be the evening rush hour, I could not help but lock eyes with the sole person standing at the bus stop. A spec of yellow within an urban sea.


Documenting the rendering between light and shadows along Montreal's Boulevard René-Lévesque. At the cuff end of what would be the evening rush hour, I could not help but lock eyes with the sole person standing at the bus stop. A spec of yellow within an urban sea.


As I pedal through the city, documenting the emptying, I noticed my movement patterns changing. As a commuter cyclist, I work hard to respect traffic laws. My bike is a tool to get me from point A to B safely and responsibly. No need to speed or rush as I love streamlining my time management skills. I abide by the directions, but in this case, I decided to navigate contrary to the posted direction via the empty street curb parking spots. My thoughts fell in love with this scene. Normally this is to my back, but in this one instance, it was front and center without obstruction. A point of view I neglected to appreciate in the past.


Time is ticking, I need to rush! I only have a small window to make my way to this abnormally quiet street corner in Old Montreal.
If I am late, I may miss my chance to observe the light narrate how Gabriel met Paul. I made this mistake the other day, arriving only to have the clouds drop the curtain. Today, I made it on time, a good thing as with each passing day, the scene shown is slowly disappearing.


I was not planning on sharing this photograph with you today, but at the very last minute I opted for a splash of light. This point of view is from rue Aylmer, in between rue Sherbrooke Ouest and avenue du Président-Kennedy.
Since beginning to photograph the city at the start of the lockdown, this street like many others has seen very little movement. I have passed it several times in my mission, making notes to return. Over the last few days, I realized that I needed to act quickly. My window to document this scene empty was showing signs of fading.


Good morning Montreal, today marks a first for the new phase in your life. Here is a photo of you last evening as you pondered at what lies ahead. I snapped it when you were not looking, I hope you like it. Your first day will not be easy! You may face a multitude of challenges. Your ability to overcome those hurdles will be deeply linked to us. Please be patient as we try to find a way to safely share your space. And remember, chi va piano, va sano e va lontano!