The most ordinary sights have a habit of catching my attention, and of becoming meaningful for one reason or another.
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It was a sunny summer morning in the small town of Jüterbog in northern Germany. Out for a pre-breakfast stroll with two of my favorite people, our voices and footsteps broke the silence that reigned over the narrow cobblestone lanes. 

​When you have spent a healthy length of time with your camera, you have been trained to lift your eyes from your feet when you walk – to look up, around, through, and back.

An ordinary house and two ordinary windows. One shutter shut, the other wide open.

It was a fortuitous finding in itself, this subtle reminder that when one window of opportunity closes in life, another one opens.

Venice is moody – in the ebb and flow of her light, her tides, her seasons, her crowds…in that way only she can be resplendent and decaying in the very same moment.

And what I have noticed is that, by listening to her, truly letting her seep into you, Venice makes you moody too.

If you are in tune with Venice, her melancholy is contagious. Before you know it, you are carried into her rhythm and reverie. If you are alone with her, with no one by your side to drown out those sensations with conversations, it is all the more dramatic.

You breathe differently. Your pace changes. Your thoughts come from your heart. You may even feel wrapped in a dreamlike stupor as you walk, and walk, and walk, up bridges, down bridges, pausing, watching, feeling. Your senses are heightened and every slight occurrence has an effect on you, like it is with a person you are deeply infatuated with and feel deeply connected to.
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And what is it? It is beyond reason. It is melancholy. It is nostalgia. It is the effect of the lagoon air. It is special.

I have always preferred to be alone in Venice. It sounds extreme, but I feel as though no one can compare to her company. 

​She pulls you to unknown areas, quiet streets, obscure canals, uncrossed bridges. And you let her. You let her take your arm and pull. 

​And that is how you end up walking through parts of the city you’ve never walked through before – parts of the city you’re unsure to ever find again.

You walk for hours, not speaking for hours. Just looking, listening and feeling Venice’s mood on yours...

"Canarégio" available on canvas, metal, wood, acrylic or fine-art paper. 

The leaves may still be falling but the holidays are upon us. Shop displays have changed and we’ve already begun making mental notes of what we might enjoy giving (and receiving) as gifts this Christmas.

Nothing says holiday shopping like discovering what artisans have invented and crafted, both locally and internationally.
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Etsy is a wonderful platform to do your shopping – you’ll connect with a sea of passionate, committed artists who work hard to produce and ship their unique creations to your door. Through Etsy Local, you could also find out about art fairs and holiday markets taking place in your city. 

If you’re in Montreal, the press has already made your life simpler by writing up lists of not-to-miss markets happening in and around the city this season. For example, check out this comprehensive Baron Mag article for November and December markets, or this write-up by the Journal de Montréal.

​If you’d like to connect with me this holiday season and pick up your favorite items in person, you could find me at 2 holiday markets in December: 

• Etsy Holiday Market // Marché des Fêtes hosted by Etsy Montréal
• Foire d'hiver des lutins artisans hosted by Marché Artistique

I’ll be there with a vast selection of fine-art prints, metal prints, wood prints, magnets and more! 

Follow me on Instagram for sneak peeks at *new* products and behind the scenes action as I prep for these holiday markets!

In the meantime, you could find my Montreal prints at Affiche en Tête and Art des Artisans du Québec. Both those shops have amazing customer service and lots of great gift ideas.

​If you're not in Montreal, you could order directly from my web shop or from my Etsy shop. Just keep my delivery deadlines in mind!

​I’m super excited for this holiday season and I hope to see you at one of these markets!
Keep warm and spread the love. 

You’ve never been to London? How could that be?”

I can't even count the number of times I heard that question. That I had not been to London yet was so unfathomable to people who knew how much I loved to travel and where I had been in the world. The city became a dream for me, until the opportunity presented itself when I'd finally have a ticket to London in my name.
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I only had a handful of days in the city before travelling to Wales for a scientific conference. I was determined to see and feel as much as I could. I decided not to let myself be dismayed by the inclement weather or the astonishingly long distances between the areas I wanted to explore by foot. I recruited my galoshes and the tube onto my team and together we conquered the city. Well, as much as you can conquer a place as a first-time visitor. 

I was still growing as a photographer, alternating between the typical tourist and the inspired artist multiple times per minute. Once the traditional shots of the Big Ben and the Tower Bridge were out of the way, I began to experiment and let my eye wander.
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I remember that afternoon on the South Bank – a storm was brewing, and it was about time to find a cozy neighborhood away from the crowds to enjoy what promised to be a rainy afternoon. I looked up and immediately the pattern and mood caught my eye. I interrupted my travel companion in mid-sentence by plastering my lens to my face in the not-so-subtle way that photographers do, and I tried to recreate what I felt. 

It was that kind of photograph that immediately becomes your favorite, even when you look at it on your tiny LCD screen. It’s hard to explain exactly why your favorites are your favorites, but it has to do with an immediate, intuitive “YES!” reaction and a feeling bubbling in your heart.

I remember feeling like I had caught a firefly in my hand.

That feeling of having frozen something special in time and that desire to share it with other dreamers all over the world was the driving force behind creating Veni Etiam Photography.

In honor of that feeling and that moment, the silhouette of “London Bulbs” is actually the background of my business card. 

​​​From my heart to yours.

Growing up, I used to spend a lot of time at my grandmother’s place. Whether my parents dropped me and my sister off there on their way to work, or whether we gathered there for suppers and occasions, her home was a warmly familiar place for me. I loved how big and bright her kitchen was, how her laundry room had a skylight and those octopus-like hanging dryers, and how her bathroom had two doors, so you could go in one and sneakily come out the other. I loved that I could play hockey in her hallway (surely to the dismay of the neighbors below) and how she would always let me participate in cooking whatever she was cooking, teaching my little hands her family secrets.

There were several objects I looked forward to seeing each time I went to my grandmother’s place: a tiny little Tonka truck that didn’t look like anything I played with at home, a family of wooden elephants from Africa that used to be lined up by size in her china cabinet, discolored pictures of my grandfather, my parents’ wedding day and of my grandparents as children that cluttered the shelves in the small office, and, finally, a full collection of Encyclopedia Americana books that I loved to pull out and look through. 

When I was in elementary school, I went through an astronomy phase. In fact, it was quite possibly the longest phase a child could go through, because it lasted up until college and was the reason I stayed in the natural science stream all through my education. These encyclopedias had a huge part to play in this phase. I would look up everything, from planets to Galileo, and would write down questions I had about the universe. I would even drag a volume to school in my backpack and ask the teacher permission to “do my research” when the class would be working on other activities. This “research” was me recopying or summarizing parts of the encyclopedias, flagging passages in the books and feeling proud that I was a scientist. Looking back, it makes me laugh to think that I knew from such a young age that I wanted to be an independent researcher. My parents would supplement this reading material with other CD-ROMs and books about astronomy, and would amusedly encourage me when I would tell them that I wrote to the author of a book to ask him some of my questions (e.g., if the sun is shining all the time in space, why does space always look dark in photographs?).  

These books are more than just the look, feel, smell and content of their pages. They represent my childhood, my passions, my vision for myself and my profound love for my family. When my grandmother moved to a smaller apartment two years ago, I asked her whether I could have the books, the Tonka truck, the elephants and a picture of my grandfather holding me in his arms when I was about a year old. 

It’s strange to think of our core personalities and passions as unchanging, even as we go through life and choose experiences for ourselves that we never knew existed. We fall into these new chapters, but we are still the writer. It’s comforting to think of our roots, our essence and our inspirations. 

In creating my workspace and my home, I have tried to stay true to these little elements that represent my journey. My eyes land on them frequently and I immediately smile. ​

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From my heart to yours.

I have always been a collector. I think this is partly because I am introspective and welcoming of the twists and turns of life, observant of how the crisscrossing of paths and the comings and goings of key people leave their stamp on us, molding us a little each time. Collectors collect for the good of the soul, because there is something strangely poetic and satisfying about surrounding yourself with tiny tokens that embody your experiences, travels, loves, dreams, inspirations, values and contemplations. In a way that is more biographic than materialistic, I have discovered great joy in expressing myself through a curated collection of items old and new. No matter where I have lived, for how short a while or in how small a space, what I loved most was creating a home that represented, inspired and uplifted me.

I haven't always been a photographer. Rather, I dreamt of being a writer and studied to be a scientific researcher. I wrote often and a lot - it was like thinking and breathing, but on paper. My writings have also been collections - non-linear and spontaneous, my pen itself unknowing of the words that flowed until the sentence received its period. I told my notebooks all my stories; neither lines nor margins mattered, nor the fact that I was actually starting to fill the back pages of my science notebooks, spilling closer and closer to the front, until the creative thoughts met the scientific thoughts somewhere in the middle. 

​I pursued part of my graduate studies in Europe, moving from country to country as part of an unconventional international program. It allowed me to travel, to discover new lifestyles and cultures and to continuously expand my personal collection - postcards and magnets, inspirational quotes and funky beer coasters, faded train tickets and other memorabilia - these arguably unsophisticated items happily mixed with more valuable ones: local art and ceramics, home design items and prints... What I loved, who I loved, where I loved and what I dreamed of encapsulated in a number of items that traveled with me like a growing circus, requiring the acquisition of a new suitcase with every leg of the journey. Those pivotal years also enabled me to write my heart out and to fall in love with a new form of storytelling and collecting -- photography. ​

Photographs are stories. They are collections of micromoments, places and people that touched us. Whether they are our own or another's, some photographs strike a chord in us, make us stare a little while longer. That is because they represent how we see the world, how we live, how we love and how we dream.

Through my love for collecting and storytelling, I developed my photography to the point where I became known for not even going to the grocery store without my camera. I shared them with friends and family, gradually expanding my audience. Like-minded people felt something when viewing them, and urged me time and time again to "do something with them". I launched my business with this passion at heart - the passion for stories, for travel, for that special way a place can play on your heartstrings, for the feeling that home is a sanctuary that should reflect and inspire you. 

I have created pre-made collections or sets of fine-art prints, based on places, color palettes and feelings that flow together. These collections are currently only available in my Etsy shop and can be shipped to you or picked up in person if you're in Montreal. In the spirit of collecting what represents YOU, you could also put together your own personal collection by ordering a custom set of prints. 

If you follow me along on this blog and Instagram, you'll get to know some of the stories behind these photographs. 

Which prints make you dream and reminisce? Is there a collection that fits with you and your home? Let me know what inspires you - I always like to know!