I grew up in a pretty small town, and went to highschool in an even smaller town. My graduating class was maybe a hundred students. When the time came to go to CEGEP, I had the choice between a closer school, or a school all the way in the city, that took an hour and a half just to get there. I wanted to leave so bad, and get away from what was already so familiar. I took the opportunity, and have never regretted my choice to explore myself and new places. Still, there were periods of loneliness in my first year of CEGEP there, and this series is very much a reflection of that loneliness. Though it could be depressing at times, more often than not it led to new appreciation of sights and places I never gave a second thought to, and though I was alone, I didn’t always feel lonely. Seeing all the kinds of light as the towns sped by in the train car every day, the sights inspired me to build this collection of images for over two years. All the time I spent on public transit just travelling back and forth, and the car rides alone after getting my license, and the silent freedom of being an avid observer of your own town.

This particular series is about the late days, nights, and early mornings of my hometown. Over the past couple of years, I’ve chronicled scenes that capture the rural landscapes, artificially lit streets, and electrical wire ridden skies I left to study photography in downtown Montreal. Even before gaining the ability to drive myself around, these sights became much more frequent, and much more accessible as a result of my new lifestyle. Nights were a blur of orange lights and blue to black evening backdrops, often accompanied by the odd figure, and the cars that roamed the backstreets, only recognizable by the blinding headlights and the speeding silhouette that followed. The red streaks that faded into the distance were a stark reminder of the stillness between Six and Six. The peace in the time after the sun’s daily travels across the vast sky. I feel as though this notion is pretty common amongst younger adults, namely the sense of freedom a car ride at three in the morning gives. For me, the solitude in these nights is something incredibly special. It whisks me away and more often than not I am exploring for hours, and letting my eyes rest where they want to soak in the scenery before even picking up my camera.

To conclude, I hope this series is something whoever looks at it can appreciate if for nothing more than its aesthetic value; and for those that read this, to better understand the work as a whole, as an extension of myself, or as a relatable sense of being alone, and how it differs from loneliness.