So, as my bio has stated all these years, I’ve always been fond of rust and scrap metal. Growing up in Windsor, Ontario, my father worked in the foundry at Ford Motor Company for 30 years. I loved visiting the plant, and in my teen years, I would start photographing it.
Almost every week, we would drive by the wrecking yard and I would stare longingly out the passenger window, wanting to be surrounded by the essence of these vehicles that held so many stories, so many memories.
And other than that, the only other thing there was to do in Windsor… was go to Detroit. I was fascinated by The Motor City. It felt so real and raw, perhaps a bit rough, but also challenging. The stories of arson, and violence filled the media while I was growing up, and I just found it riveting. I wanted to be a part of it somehow.

My father would accompany me on my photo expeditions to Detroit, to make sure I was safe. He would wait in the car, keep a watchful eye, follow me block by block while I kept discovering new photo ops around every corner. One day a rather menacing-looking fellow stopped me, but only to make sure I was ok because he noticed this guy “following” me in his car, not realizing it was my dad. ah, good times.
Detroit holds a very special place in my heart. I feel I did a lot of growing up there.











