Each month or so, the Photowalk podcast has been choosing a single term to inspire photographers to consider when making images. The March term was “humanity”, and my submission follows.
Yonge & Gloucester, Toronto, 2025
Text for entry:
The image can be read as speaking to the stature of man, and the forces that rise above him spiritually and physically, while living a life of being downtrodden and isolated. In a well-populated urban capital our subject is left alone with himself, save for weather damaged urban art that gestures to imagined better times and the eyes of his transitory documentarian in front of him.
I’ve enjoyed a particularly productive photographic year during which I’ve (mostly) acclimated to the Leica Q2 and used it to shoot almost exclusively in black and white, and usually in the city of Toronto.
Narrowing everything down to 10 images was challenging given that I have gone out weekly throughout 2024 to make images and kept thousands of them. The images in this series hold up on their own while, also, developing a narrative when read beside one another.
Gerrard & Galt, Toronto, 2024
When was this photograph taken? 2024 or 1964?
The use of black and white has the effect of confusing the viewer of the image’s temporality. This is accentuated by the sign in the photograph being from another generation. Adding power to the image are the two figures who are wandering through the early January snow, with the young woman looking down and over to the city’s garbage, and the little boy looking up past the trash to the graffiti on the wall. This speaks to the hopes and ambitions of youth and the practicality of maturity, while they are both literally passing by the abandoned garbage of the day.
This was one of the first images that I made of 2024 and it remained amongst my favourites throughout the year.
Shuter & Yonge, Toronto, 2024
What is this woman so focused upon? How much has she seen during her lifetime and how shadowy are those memories?
Throughout the year I’ve spent time seeking out images that rely on reflections to strengthen the environment around the main subject(s) of photographs. The woman’s white hat and mask made her stand out through the windows, and then play nicely with the shadowy figures reflected in the glass. It’s this juxtaposition that brings the image to life in my eyes.
Crescent & Cluny, Toronto, 2024
What does it mean to be an inhabitant of a major city?
This photograph shows the city from a different perspective than is typical of Toronto street photographers who are making images in the core. Still, the image captures ever present aspects of city life: mass transit, rapid development, and the isolation and anonymity of the residents as they move through their day.
I’ve been coming to this particular subway stop to make this image for 5 years. After years of visiting the same location I finally got the light, subject, and subway where I wanted them at the same time.
Centre & Edward, Toronto, 2024
What did Toronto look like during its process of being built up in the contemporary era?
We are in a time of building but there are relatively few organic photographs that are deliberately capturing this development. Like images of old this photograph speaks to the relationship of people and the city that is growing (or metastasizing) around them.
Toronto is rapidly building density in its core. I’ve worked throughout the year to incorporate construction into my street images while, also, seeking elevated heights to capture the city’s transformation. The lines across the image draw the eye upwards and the construction worker on the railing serves to underscore the size of the development.
Yonge & Dundas, Toronto, 2024
Well hello, madame – what gave you your sense of style?
The Saint Patrick’s Day parade is a major event in Toronto. I’ve been photographing it for years and regularly march in it to make images of the crowds. I like how the woman in this photograph is almost posing in her winter jacket — it gives her a sense of elegance and self-importance — while, above her, the sign suggests that she is happy and ranked #1. But it’s the man who is looking on at the right-hand side of the frame adds a degree of electricity to the image with his dourness in contrast to the woman’s more positive energy.
College & Clinton, Toronto, 2024
Someday in the future will we be amazed at the low cost of a veal sandwich or beverage?
This is one of those images that works, in part, because the ordering of the image isn’t quite right: the subject is looking away from the rest of the signs, which encourages the reader of the image to go from left to right which isn’t typical in Western culture. I also like his expression and how the contrast in the image draws the eye through the items for sale at the festival.
Dundas & Dufferin, Toronto, 2024
What’s happening here? What do you feel when you’re so close to this slightly obscured woman and her side-eye staring companion?
Like many street photographers, I try to make use of graffiti and other temporary art in the city when making images. I like how this image somewhat conceals the look that the older woman is giving the viewer, at the same time as she is getting a side eye from her companion. The contrast through the image also serves to create an effect foreground, middle, and background.
Great Lakes Waterfront Trail, Toronto, 2024
So this is summer! Children playing in the mist while the city towers above them, and a bird flees the city towards some less inhabited region.
This image captures the idealized life of being in the city, where people come out from their ever-growing towers to relax and play together. It is also one that hides the actual subjects, themselves, and in so doing conceals the participants in this space. Is this a playground of the elite’s children or a communal space used by all inhabitants of the city? For those who live here the answer is apparent but otherwise a degree of mystery may remain concerning the socio-economics of the subjects.
Ontario & Princess, Toronto, 2024
Swings let us throw our hair back and play with our suspended bodies while soaring above the ground; we enjoy a kind of freedom that is in opposition to our normal land based experiences.
Every year I go to the CNE’s Exhibition and get a little more comfortable looking for scenes to make images. This year I spent a bunch of time at this ride, and I think that this image captures the carefree playfulness that’s associated with the summer fair.
Baldwin & Augusta, Toronto, 2024
What is it like to be alone in the city and reflect on what once was, and what could become?
Like the first image in the set, this photograph conveys a sense of solitude in Canada’s largest city while also hearkening to a time past. Because this image is monochromatic it establishes a degree of ambiguity as to when the image was made and thus provides a sense of balance to the collection of images.
All of my images are located by city cross-streets and are are lightly processed using Apple Photos. I post new images daily to Glass.
Artist’s Statement
Christopher Parsons an amateur Toronto-based documentary and street photographer, and has been making images for over a decade. His monochromatic photographs focus on little moments that happen on the streets and which record the ebb and flow of urban life over the course of years and decades.
His work often deliberately plays with the temporality of built environments and photographs themselves, and regularly uses temporal ambiguity to entice viewers into questioning what happened prior to, and following, the pressing of the shutter button.
Since 2006 Toronto has hosted Nuit Blanche, where selected artists are invited to set up art installations from sundown at 7pm until sunrise at 7am the following day. For the past decade or so I’ve tried to get out and enjoy the exhibits. I usually try to walking from 1am until 7am when the installations are taken down.
This year many of the installations took place around Toronto’s downtown waterfront. This had the effect of clustering people in a common part of the city and enhancing the sense of togetherness associated with the art exhibits; in past years I often felt like I alone was still out at 7am but not this year!
Bay & Queens Quay, Toronto, 2024
Each year there are food stall and trucks, and this year was no exception. Even at 1 in the morning there were crowds who were looking to have a quick bite to carry them through the evening. I’d just arrived and had yet to feel the bite of hunger or thirst.
Lower Sherbourne & Queens Quay, Toronto, 2024
One of the exhibits this year included a series of skeletal shacks. They stood above us and we looked at what may happen when civilization degrades and this is what we remain left with.
Great Lakes Waterfront & Queen Quay, Toronto, 2024
Of course walking around this late at night meant there were often strong contrasts between shadow and light. I’ve visited this area of Toronto regularly over the past decade and captured people huddled in the same spot, but never with such dynamic contrast between the lit structure and the rest of the environment. I liked how the subjects were huddled away from the darkness that was just beyond the lit structure. Isn’t this the nature of humans: huddling in the light while the darkness is kept at bay?.
Dockside & Knapp, Toronto, 2024
Each year there are some exhibits that are at least slightly interactive. Every person who attended a particular film screening was first asked to pick up a custom hanger and think about it during the performance. It wasn’t self-apparent how this hanger necessarily mapped to film.
Queens Quay & Freeland, Toronto, 2024
This was the only colour image I made through the night. The exhibit projected videos of people’s homes on a condo wall and, beside it, the artist had set up a tent to represent how many of Toronto’s least fortunate must live their nights. This was one of the more poignant exhibits I saw through the evening.
Queens Quay & York, Toronto, 2024
A set of screens were set up in Love Park and rotated the images in them through the night. The eyes that regularly cropped up were eerie at that time of the early morning.
Great Lakes Waterfront & Harbour, Toronto, 2024
Continuing the theme of eyes, this separate video display regularly had an image of an eyeball looking into the audience. When it isolated the older woman I knew I had to hold onto the moment.
Spadina & Queens Quay, Toronto, 2024
One of the marque exhibits of the year were glowing fish that were placed in the harbour. Here, I’ve captured their luminescent being alongside one of the tall ships that is always docked; the effect is spectral, to my eye, with the fish racing towards the ghost-boat.
Bathurst & Queens Quay, Toronto, 2024
Hosting a project that raised the issue of disability inside a basketball court forced audiences to confront the ableism that permeates our lives, and especially contemporary sport. The exhibit forced audiences to acknowledge that disabled athletes have led the way in more accessible design that is now the norm for all athletes, disabled or not. By this time it was about 5am and the crowds were dying down, though spectators and attendees to the festival were still around in smaller numbers.
Richmond & Spadina, Toronto, 2024
This was the last exhibit that I documented and left with an image I was satisfied with. The artists were lowering a multi-coloured spider web that had been elevated above the attendees, when a sole last participant walked through the exhibit despite the efforts to tear it down by sundown. The subject is reaper-like in their image and spoke to the end of the exhibit, and the end of Nuit Blanche for 2024.
Queen & Chestnut, Toronto, 2024
On my way to breakfast I captured this image of Toronto’s City Hall as the sun was just starting to rise. All was quiet, including the parking garages, though the city had begun coming back to life once I got home an hour or so later to crawl into bed before a short nap ahead of afternoon activities.
As part of my ongoing efforts to get more comfortable sharing my photographs with a wider audience I started to participate in photographic competitions last year. While I didn’t receive any awards the very act of submitting my work was the personal award that I took away.
This year, for the first time, I’m submitted to a contest with a small fee. I appreciate that many photographers take issue with the “pay to compete” models but this is normal, and I enjoy a level of disposable income that means I can afford to submit to a few contests a year. This post includes the images that I submitted to the Eyeshot 2024 competition, the descriptions I included with the images, and an artist’s statement.
Submitted Images
All of my images are part of a broader documentary project that traces how built environments that I inhabit develop and transform through the seasons, and across the years that I have been photographing my surroundings. As befits this objective, all of my images are titled by their rough location (based on major street intersections), geographic region or city, and the year made.
Great Lakes Waterfront Trail, Toronto, 2024
Toronto is home to a vast waterfront trail which was renovated in 2024 to include a large splash and mist park. On a swelteringly hot day I passed by after it had recently been re-opened and was delighted to see the silhouettes of people — mostly children — playing in the mist, while the looming under-construction condo towers of downtown Toronto provided a sense of youthfulness and activity to the cityscape itself. This photograph captures the youthful energy of Toronto as manifest in its residents and built infrastructures while simultaneously possessing a kind of timelessness as a result of capturing the moment in black and white.
Cumberland & Bellair, Toronto, 2024
One of Toronto’s most posh shopping areas is Yorkville, where the affluent come out to spend and be seen. I like how this monochromatic photograph results in the two women looking like they could have come from 40 or 60 years ago, while the reflection in the window reveals some of the built infrastructure surrounding them. It speaks to a timelessness that is specifically located to being within a large urban environment.
Yonge & Dundas, Toronto, 2024
The Saint Patrick’s Day parade is a major event in Toronto. I’ve been photographing it for years and always march in it to make images of the crowds. I like how the woman in this photograph is almost posing in her winter jacket — it gives her a sense of elegance and self-importance — while, above her, the sign suggests that she is happy we’ve ranked her #1. But in addition to her, the man who is looking on in the right-hand side of the frame adds a degree of electricity to the image with his dourness contrasting with the woman’s own more-positive energy.
Gerrard & Galt, Toronto, 2024
When was this photograph taken? 2024 or 1964? The use of black and white has the effect of confusing the viewer as to when the photograph was made. This is accentuated by the sign in the photograph being from another generation. Adding power to the image are the two figures who are wandering through the early January snow, with the young woman looking down and over to the city’s garbage, and the little boy looking up past the trash to the graffiti on the wall. This speaks to the hopes and ambitions of youth and the practicality of maturity, while they are both literally passing by the abandoned garbage of the day.
Queen & Peter, Toronto, 2023
This photograph is only made possible because of the advertising-heavy urban landscapes in which we live. Taken in downtown Toronto, this photograph juxtaposes a question about one’s life with an idealised (and unrealistic) advertised imagination of excitement, along with a man contemplating his possible future. Him exiting the frame leaves us to wonder whether he will do something to change his life or if, instead, he will continue to live the same life that he always has. We are already left with some sense of his trajectory, however: his walking out to the left of the frame imposes on us a question of whether his movements will take him back to something he once enjoyed in life, or if his retreat through that side of the frame instead symbolises a staidness. Regardless, he will not be moving forward into the future — into the right of the frame — to see some change to his life.
Nathan Phillips Square, Toronto, 2023
Yonge and Dundas Square is Toronto’s imagined equivalent to Times Square. In this photograph we see it at peak energy: the two women hiding under a transparent umbrella are huddling together with somewhat shocked looks on their faces, while behind them a woman is running from something out of scene and a giant in white strolls behind them. Photographs like this capture the dynamism of our urban landscapes while, simultaneously, not explaining what is specifically occurring. Instead the viewer is merely left with an ever-growing cascade of questions: Why are the women drinking out of a pineapple in the rain? Why are they shocked? Who is chasing the woman in the background? Why is there a tall white giant wandering around? What is going on with the squatting man in the advertisement? These questions draw the viewer in and invite them to create their own stories of what was before, and followed, the 1/320s that this frame holds together.
Artist’s Statement
I’m an amateur Toronto-based documentary and street photographer, and have been making images for over a decade. I make monochromatic photographs that focus on little moments that happen on the streets and which document the ebb and flow of the city over the course of years and decades. My work often deliberately plays with the temporality of photographs and calls into question when images were made, and invites the viewer to ask what specifically happened immediately prior to and following the pressing of the shutter button.
In 2023, Andrea Bianco wrote a lovely long-form meditation on the difference in practice between excellent smart phone cameras (i.e., iPhone 11 Pro) and excellent compact cameras (i.e., Ricoh GR 2). I appreciated that it wasn’t a “smartphones bad and dedicated cameras good” (or the vice versa) kind of assessment. He, instead, considered the utility and capabilities of both classes of cameras. He often noted how phone cameras were best consumed on smaller screens but that their limitations became more apparent when viewed on larger screens.
His post reminded me of some longer-term considerations I’ve had for the past year about the screens on which we assess the images that we make.
Cherry & Polson, Toronto, 2024
Our camera’s screen size, or viewfinder resolution, has an effect on how we compose images. We may try to squeeze in (or exclude) content based on what we can see. However, the screen on which we edit images also affects how we perceive and present the images we have captured.
Editing on smaller screens, such as those used with phones, can lead to presenting images differently than when editing on a larger tablet or computer monitor screen. A figure that is apparent on a 12” or 24” display and is poignant to the photo editing process may functionally be a near-invisible dot on a 6” phone screen.
Eireann Quay & Queens Quay, Toronto, 2024
How we see when editing images, then, will often affect the images which are produced using dedicated cameras by merit of photographers often editing them on larger tablet or laptop screens. By editing on these larger screens we will often make very different editorial or cropping decisions based (in part) on the sheer size of the screen we are reviewing and editing photographs on. The size of the screen (and its quality) affects how we read and interpret our own photographs.
Queen & Bay, Toronto, 2019
The effects of screen size then expand, further, when we consider what screens we use to view other photographers’ work, and correspondingly lead to very different perceptions of work that photographers are digitally displaying. If a photographer edits all their work on a display of 11” or greater, should we not view it with the same size screen to truly read what they are communicating? And, by way of contrast, if a photographer’s photos are all edited on a smartphone then should we view them primarily at the size of a phone? And either way, shouldn’t we view other photographers’ work at peak screen brightness?
Of course we will all use a variety of different screens, of different sizes and luminosity and quality, to look at one another’s work. But because we are both unaware of one another’s editing and viewing defaults it is imperative to think carefully when looking at photographers’ works and ask ourselves: “Do I have the same equipment as they do, to approximate an attempt to see the photograph and scene as they intended for it to be viewed?”
Note: Updated to correctly refer to Andrea’s gender. Apologies!
Like many other photographers I regularly share my images through a social media platform. I also sometimes post them on this website. And that’s fine and good. And because it’s so normalized it feels very safe; while I might get positive comments from other users it’s the not the same as sharing my work where it might be assessed or publicly reviewed by people who are far more experienced by me, and where those considerations might she shared with a very large set of viewers.
Over the past year I’ve tried to push myself out of my comfort zone. I’ve been more active in thinking about street photography and sharing it with a part of the photographic community — the Photowalk Show — and then sometimes having those thoughts shared with Neale James’ other listeners. I submitted a few photos to a competition for the first time. I described for the first time the motivations and philosophy that underlie my street photography to a (friendly) group of strangers while also sharing an associated sequence of my photographs. I’ve had one of my photos highlighted in a roundup by Glass. And so on.
The White House, Washington, DC, 2023
But the scariest thing has been associated with my postcards project. To be clear, actually printing those postcards wasn’t scary at all! But actually sending them to people — with the prospect they would look at a cohesive bit of my work and then offer commentary to potentially hundreds or thousands of people — has been intimidating because it constitutes an exposure of my amateur photography to an otherwise unknown set of publics.
Crescent & Cluny, Toronto, 2024
I’m not afraid of publicity or engaging with publics. I’ve been very involved in public life for the past 15 years, and am as comfortable speaking with leaders of government or other senior leaders as I am appearing on television and speaking to tens or hundreds of thousands of people. But the sharing of my photographic hobby is different because it isn’t a domain where I’m a well-credentialed expert: I’m very much a learning amateur when it comes to photography. While I take my hobby very seriously I don’t have the skills or experience that parallel those of a more seasoned or professional photographer.
Yonge & Dundas, Toronto, 2024
I recognize that sharing my work, be it with NealeJamesandhisPhotowalkPodcast, or with Ted Forbes and his Art of Photography YouTube channel, has been a real step for me. It represents my ever deepening appreciation for the art form and my starting to explore ways of more broadly sharing my work, as well as developing increasing confidence in what I’m making. I’ve got an long way to go in deepening my expertise in making the kinds of photos I want to make but I feel more confident in what I’m doing, today, than I did even a year ago.
This is one of my 12 preferred landscape/cityscape images from 2023, which I created (but didn’t print) alongside my 2023 Postcard project.
The photograph has a few things happening to my eyes: there’s the wildness in the foreground and a bit of roughness with the graffiti, that then passes into the rustic fortress that defended Toronto over a century ago, and then the new/under construction parts of Toronto. While it formally lacks any humans in the scene it radiates humanity in each gradation of the image, while also communicating a kind of evolution of Toronto’s emergence over time.
Each month Glass has a different featured photographic category. In March, a photograph I took of College Park was amongst the many excellent images that photographers published to the platform throughout the month in the ‘Urban’ category.
A feature of my street photography is to showcase lone humans in busy metropolitan areas. For context, College Park is surrounded by condos and rental apartments, and is located by a major subway stop; I suspect it’s amongst the denser parts of the city. Nevertheless I was able to catch this lone figure and the ever-present pigeons when I was running to a grocery store to get a few things.
I don’t know that I, personally, consider this to be the best image I made in March. But it definitely is very reflective of the types of images I’ve been making and so is representative of a particular body of work that I continue to develop.
For those interested, this was made using a Ricoh GR iiix. I use a custom monochrome jpeg simulation, applied minor edits in Apple Photos, and cropped the image slightly so it is 20 megapixels as displayed.
Toronto is a city of destruction and construction: destruction of the previous era’s architecture (and often industrial buildings) and the construction of housing or glass office towers in their stead. This image by Tecumseth & Niagara shows the destruction of an abattoir that was removed to make room for condos, and the buildings in the background are new rentals in Toronto’s Liberty Village. When I landed in Toronto, in Liberty Village over a decade ago, the land those rentals are on were home to a few artist spaces where the big Toronto samba schools practiced and massive parade puppets were made. Nothing has replaced those artist spaces, to the detriment of artists across the city.
Weirdly I have very intimate memories of the abattoir. Toronto hosts an annual sunset-to-sunrise art festival, Nuit Blanche, and a couple interesting art exhibits were hosted at the abattoir over the years, and I have photos of them that I regularly return to re-experience. After the buildings were designated for destruction a number of community vegetable gardens were maintained on the outside lots. It was always a striking place to come and make images, and was a reminder of the Toronto-that-once-was and was yet-to-become.
For many street photographers, we take images and it is decades later that ‘difference’ is registered because many cities take a long time for major changes to become visible. It’s part of why the habits of the population —what people are wearing, holding, or driving — resonate so strongly with viewers; people and culture change while the built environment persists.
Toronto, by way of contrast, is in a moment of hyper-growth and so an attentive and active street photographer can document things today that may literally be different tomorrow. It turns the street photographer, almost by default, into an urban documentarian. And, also, is one of the many reasons why I think that Toronto offers a subset of street photographers a real opportunity to do novel and rapidly impactful work, as compared to those working in cities that aren’t undergoing the same tempo of destruction and re-construction.
In the late fall of 2022 I decided that I’d turn one of my street photographs into a postcard for each month of 2023. I just received my proofs for 2023 this week and I’m happy with them; the full order will be made in the next week or two.
I also, however, will be posting the preceding year’s images to Excited Pixels. So, this January I’m posting the January 2023 photograph, in February I’ll post the February photograph from February 2023, and so on.
In addition to the street photograph that was made into a postcard I’ll also be publishing my favourite landscape/streetscape from that month. Despite making a reasonable number of landscapes/streetscapes, this will be the first time that I regularly publish some of them.
January 2023: Streetscape
University of Toronto , Toronto, 2023
I made this image of an under-construction part of the University of Toronto in my last few weeks employed with the institution. It is, in many ways, a deeply personal photo that reflected my passage to a new space. The tape and barriers being knocked over was figurative, in the sense that what once was a warning to keep me away was now a path to follow out of frame, and into new experiences and adventures after working with the same employer for almost a decade.
January 2023: Street Photograph
Richmond & Bay, Toronto, 2023
This photo was made January 1, 2023 and it remains one of my favourites. The emotion in the subjects’ face draws me in and the steam and garbage lends this part of the city (home to the country’s largest banks, stock exchange, and other financial and legal institutions) a kind of grittiness that belies its proximity to wealth and power. The photograph, also, speaks of how you can build a story in a frame that might look one way, but which doubles in meaning and context once grounded in the space and time wherein it was made.
I kept coming back to Bay and Richmond throughout the year and was regularly rewarded with rich images. The fluidity of the location, with updates to the built infrastructure in the form of temporary construction scaffolding, and the steam emerging from vents in this party of the city, just made it fun to keep coming back to.
Excited Pixels 