Field Notes (Series)

Gathered over three weeks at a farmstead outside Riceton, Saskatchewan, these photographs trace the residual textures of a place shaped by generations of quiet labour — hand tools hung on the same nails for decades, grain dust settled into every surface, calendars frozen mid-month. The series moves through interiors, outbuildings, and the surrounding fields, attending to the slow processes by which a built environment absorbs the rhythms of its inhabitants.

A network of surveillance cameras, installed to guard against rural theft, also runs continuously across the property. The feeds reach me in Montréal — a live, unedited image of a place I cannot tend in person. What began as security becomes something else: a way of watching time pass across a landscape that is no longer fully inhabited, a record that accumulates without intention.

These cameras do not compose; they simply run. In this way they produce a different kind of field note — one that asks what it means to witness a place from the distance of a screen, and whether the act of watching, however passive, constitutes a form of care.

What remains when a family archive is not a collection of documents but the land itself, its structures, its arrangements of light and disrepair?