My Journey in Photography: Four Decades of Real, Authentic Work

I still remember unwrapping my first camera — a Kodak Instamatic X15. It was Christmas, I was twelve, and I had no idea that this little plastic camera would set the course of my life. At first, I was just a kid snapping family moments. But by high school, I was spending hours in the darkroom of the photography club, rolling film onto reels with nervous hands, watching prints appear in the developer tray as if by magic. Those moments hooked me. They weren’t just photos — they were revelations.

When I got my father’s Pentax 35mm, the game changed. Suddenly, I had aperture and shutter speed, a sense of control. That’s when photography stopped being a hobby and started becoming a craft. Later, I studied photography formally at Toronto’s Metropolitan University and was mentored by some of the top names in the field. They taught me to think in light, to wait for moments, to respect the frame. Those lessons dug deep.

But life pulled me in another direction. I built a career in IT consulting, which meant constant travel. What could have been just airports and boardrooms turned into my most incredible gift: the world itself became my studio. Over decades, I photographed more than 45 countries, walking cities until my legs gave out, chasing light through alleys, squares, deserts, and swamps. My formal training in economics and an MBA gave me another way of seeing cities, too — not just as skylines, but as living systems of trade, people, and culture. That analytical background quietly shaped how I read the urban world and how I photographed it.

Breaking Out of the Trap

Like many photographers, I spent years caught in the question: Will people like it? That mindset is a trap. It pushes you to copy what’s already popular, to chase trends instead of pursuing your own curiosity. I was guilty of it too.

The turning point came when I let go. I stopped trying to predict what would sell and started making work that I liked. Buildings on the edge of collapse, fog rolling through a swamp, strangers in a café — if it spoke to me, I photographed it. That shift changed everything.

“I create because I love it — and the reward comes when someone else loves it enough to hang it in their home.”

Ironically, once I stopped caring about chasing approval, people connected with the work more than ever. To date, I’ve sold thousands of different images. If I had chosen only my personal favourites, I’d have missed 95% of those sales. That taught me an important lesson: trust the work, not the market. A vast, diverse portfolio isn’t just a business advantage — it’s the byproduct of creating with honesty and passion.

Thousands of Hours, One Driving Passion

I’ve put thousands of hours into building one of the largest single-artist fine art photography portfolios online. Not because I set out to “be the biggest,” but because I can’t stop creating. For me, photography isn’t a side pursuit. It’s a lifelong obsession that has only grown stronger over the years.

People sometimes ask why I don’t just curate down to a neat little set of fifty “masterpieces.” The answer is simple: that’s not me. I don’t pigeonhole myself into one subject or style. Some artists build their careers on a niche; I build mine on curiosity. I want the freedom to photograph an abandoned farmhouse in Ontario one week and the reflections of Chengdu bridges the next. My portfolio is extensive because the world is vast — and I want to showcase as much of it as possible.

Why Authenticity Matters

In a world where AI can fabricate perfect skies and picture-perfect cities, my commitment is to reality. If you look through my portfolio, you’ll find breathtaking skies and plenty of subdued ones, too. That’s the truth of photography — not every day has drama, not every sunset explodes in colour. Some photographers replace skies. I don’t. I believe authenticity is worth more than perfection.

And the future will prove me right. The more flawless and fake images become, the more people will crave what’s real. Reputation matters. When you buy one of my prints, you know the scene existed. You know someone — me — was actually there, walking, waiting, working to capture it. That trust is everything.

Printing: Where It All Comes Together

Photography doesn’t end at the shutter. For me, it ends when the print is in my hands. I’ve spent years mastering the craft of fine art printing, using one of the best printers available and archival papers built to last generations. Every print gets my full attention. I sign each one personally, because it isn’t just ink on paper — it’s a commitment.

When you hold a print, you’re not just seeing a photo; you’re having a moment that I experienced. A piece of reality, preserved. That’s what I strive for: perfection in execution, authenticity in content.

Looking Forward

I’m in my early sixties now, and I still learn every day. I read, I experiment, I walk until my feet ache, and I write articles to share what I know. Teaching was part of my IT career, and it’s carried over naturally into my photography. My how-to guides and journal posts aren’t marketing — they’re me passing along what I’ve learned, just as others once did for me.

I’m not in this for profit. I sell prints because it means my work resonates — that something I saw and felt now hangs in someone else’s home. That’s the real reward. It’s also why my prints are priced to be affordable, so anyone who connects with my work can own a piece. For me, photography isn’t about exclusivity — it’s about sharing real moments as widely as possible.

“The reward isn’t exclusivity. It’s knowing my work lives on someone’s wall — and I keep my prints affordable so more people can share in that experience.”

The journey isn’t slowing down. I still chase light and shadow with the same hunger I had at fifteen—maybe more. The difference now is perspective. After forty years, I know my place: I’m here to record, not to fabricate. To explore, not to follow trends. To trust that authentic images still matter.

And if you’d like to explore how AI fits into this conversation — and why I believe authentic photography will always outlast it — you can read my article Is AI Killing Photography? The Truth Behind the Technology Revolution.