As a maritime soul, it's no wonder that one of my favorite aspects of living in Montreal is my proximity to its Old Port. I love to go there to wander around, seamlessly blending in with the tourists as I point my camera in all directions.
I have recently noticed that I am especially drawn to the port when seasons change - I seem to go there most when autumn fades into winter, and winter fades into spring.
Last weekend, after making a fresh delivery of fine-art prints to ImpresArts near the Basilica, I decided to clear my agenda for the hours that followed, and simply walk, look, capture and enjoy.
I have recently noticed that I am especially drawn to the port when seasons change - I seem to go there most when autumn fades into winter, and winter fades into spring.
Last weekend, after making a fresh delivery of fine-art prints to ImpresArts near the Basilica, I decided to clear my agenda for the hours that followed, and simply walk, look, capture and enjoy.
It was raining when I first arrived, and the silhouette of the Notre-Dame Basilica masked with raindrops made me smile. The bells struck noon, and soon thereafter the skies cleared. A street musician started his soulful rendition of "Wicked Game", forcing me to sit down on a wet bench in the square to listen, as did dozens of others who were similarly entranced by his voice. It was fortuitous timing in every sense.
The air was thick and damp, almost visible. My curls flattened, as they do when I'm on my lagoon. Puddles and budding trees were welcome reminders that spring was in gear. There was a pleasant breeze, finally mild after a long winter, and although the skies were overcast, colors were saturated enough to contrast with one another.
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If you are familiar with some of my Old Port photographs from my Montreal collection, you know that my eye is usually drawn to moody urban scenes, architectural treasures, decay, textures, lines and symmetry. It's always a feast for the eyes when I stroll through Old Montreal, and last weekend was no exception.
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After a couple of hours of walking, I stopped into the beautiful Tommy Café to enjoy a tea. I sat at a table on a step, halfway between the main floor and the second floor, facing the big open doors that let in fresh air.
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I came back from the port relaxed and happy. I hadn't had such a relaxing Saturday in a while, as my last weekends had been devoted to shows and launch preparations. Once in a while, you do need to be a tourist in your own city to feel as though you are on vacation and to take in sights with a fresh perspective.
From my heart to yours.
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