Time belongs to no one.
We can’t control it. Hell, we barely notice it going by most days. And yet, if you choose to look closely enough, there are signs all around us that nothing stays the same for long. Not us. Not nature. Not any part of the world we belong to.
Along the wharf, time gathers in the rusted links of chains and in rope left out to fray, one fiber at a time. Metal rusts. Wood is softened and splintered from the tides and the weather, encrusted in layers of barnacles clinging desperately to whatever’s left behind. A snail crawls through a landscape changed by time – a race to seek shelter before the rising tide makes it way back to the shoreline.
It didn’t happen overnight.
The change of the wharf has taken place over years of movement and rhythm.
The tide rises, falls, and returns again. We rebuild. We adapt.
I’m drawn to all of these things that make up the waterfront. Things we might otherwise walk right past in a rush to look to the horizon. The future.
These elements carry their own record of the place. Time, after all, always leaves it’s mark.
I am a lifestyle documentary and landscape photographer based out of Montreal, Quebec in Canada.
