Speaking at the Canadian Imaging Conference… and a night in Saskatoon I won’t forget
Wow! What a weekend at the Canadian Imaging Conference & Expo.
CICE is Canada’s largest annual photography conference, hosted by the Professional Photographers of Canada. This year, Saskatoon welcomed photographers from across the country, all gathering to learn from a diverse group of industry leaders and educators under one shared theme: Finding Your Niche.
I was honoured to be part of the program, presenting Travel Photography: Secrets to Award-Winning Photos.
I’ve done many speaking engagements, but this one felt different.
I spent months building this presentation from scratch, knowing I wasn’t just speaking to PPOC members, which would have been more than enough. I was speaking to photographers who had traveled in as finalists for the Gala Awards that same evening… the best of the best.
In many ways, I was preaching to the choir. And I knew I had to show up at the top of my game.
Showtime.
The house lights dimmed. The title screen lit up the room with “Light Will Find a Way” glowing yellow across the full house. My conference host delivered a generous introduction, my 90-second backstory video rolled… then I stepped up to the podium.
Off to the races.
Or so I thought.
I came in prepared, rehearsed, excited, confident… proud.
Then I looked out at the room.
And a wave hit me: What am I doing here?
It felt just like the time I was performing the opening bars of a song at my first showcase for a record label as a teenager. The room spun and for a couple of minutes, I got wobbly.
I hadn’t felt that again in my entire adult life!
But something shifted.
Instead of pushing it away, I recognized it for what it was. Not doubt. Not fear. Just the gravity of the moment settling into present reality.
As soon as I grounded myself, everything changed. I stopped presenting to an audience and started speaking with people. I made eye contact. I connected. I spoke the same way I would to friends I genuinely want to help… and that’s exactly what it became: sharing what I’m most passionate about with new and old friends.
From there, the room came alive.
Nods. Notes. Screenshots.
The laughs landed. The questions emerged. The conversations carried on. And to those of you reading who were in attendance: thank you for that! :D
I couldn’t have asked for a better audience.
The Gala
That evening, the Gala Awards began.
Early in the program, my name was called to the stage as anticipated to receive my Master of Photographic Arts designation from the Professional Photographers of Canada.
It was a moment I was incredibly proud of.
4 years of photo competitions, 5 accreditations, education, and service, all recognized in a ceremony that felt gratifying as the goal I’d aimed for and fulfilled.
And in that moment, I remember thinking: “This is it! My part in the conference is done!”
I was content to return to my seat, settle in, and allow myself to simply enjoy the evening. To watch, to celebrate, and applaud the incredible work being recognized from across the country. Canada’s best photographers and their finest images of the year, all in one room.
My part in this year’s conference, as far as I was concerned, was gratifyingly over.
Or so I thought.
Towards the final award categories of the night, the energy in the room began building with tabletop drum rolls preceding the reveal of each winner,
Then came the grand finale: the Photographer of the Year Awards. Finalists had gathered from across Canada to witness with bated breath as their POY category was called: Commercial Photographer of the Year, Portrait Photographer of the Year, Wedding Photographer of the Year, and the immensely popular: Photographic Artist of the Year.
Coincidentally, Photographic Artist of the Year was the only award I was named on with long list of worthy finalists. 15 names graced the screen for this award, one at a time, some past winners, and many multi-finalists like me, each accompanied by their remarkable collection of work that earned them this year’s finalist position. I held my phone camera in the air to grab video of my work as it was featured on the screen with the “Finalist” title beside my name to save next to the same accolade I’d enjoyed each of the two years before.
But then after my Finalist screen was revealed, I kept the video going after all. I thought I’d record the winner’s reveal to offer as a momento to them, since I’ve known probably half of them personally through this annual conference and other shared adventures. Once the last finalist was revealed, the drum roll began… and kept going… and going… the MC consciously concealing the result purposely to agonizingly drag it out… and then this…
Photographic Artist of the Year!
A category I’d been chasing for four years.
Finalist the last three years in a row.
And truthfully, I had already made peace with that. I was pleased to be a multi-year-finalist in the company of our finest photographic artists.
That peace is what made this win so unexpected as you can tell from my expression when my name was read.
And now, as the 2026 Photographic Artist of the Year, I feel humbled… and encouraged to create even more!
Of course, I’ve never had, and never will have control over what judges think or feel about my images, but when one lands in the winner’s circle, I always go back and look at what’s actually in the frame… and review why I chose to put it forward in the first place.
Interestingly, the same core ideas tend to show up again and again… regardless of subject.
“Light Will Find a Way”
This one comes back to something I talked about during my presentation:
being fully present in the environment.
Nothing about this scene was expected. It had been dark and gloomy this entire late- afternoon. But then slivers of light cut though tiny breaches in the darkness, and within minutes, had fully penetrated the cloud deck to reveal this magnificent valley of rice terraces and the homes of the proud people who created them.
I could have been dismissive of the entire scene if left to first glance, but when you slow down and stay aware, you start to recognize when something is about to happen… and position yourself there before it does.
“Watch Me Dance”
This one is all about recognizing personality and timing in wildlife.
Technically, it’s a simple scene. Clean background. Clear subject.
But what makes it work is the moment. That one gesture that turns documentation into something expressive… something relatable.
These moments aren’t entirely captured by luck. They come from waiting long enough for the right moment to come along.
“Hitchin’ a Ride”
Speaking of waiting for the right moment… this is one you anticipate.
Airshows move fast. You don’t get second chances.
But when you pay attention to the rhythm of what’s happening, you start to predict the alignment, the spacing… and that brief instant when it all lines up perfectly.
Like this moment, where one Pitts biplane appears to sit perfectly on top of another. Miss it by a fraction of a second, and the image disappears.
“Crimson and Clover”
This image brings together several intentional elements at once: a compelling subject, signs of life, timelessness, and repeating shapes, all in soft early morning light… but one stands above the rest:
storytelling.
Whether it’s a person, a foreground element, or a compositional choice like this reflection, which adds both visual balance and confirms that no branches were harmed in the creation of this image… something has to invite the viewer in and give them a reason to stay.
In this case, our model, adorned in a timeless and striking red dress, becomes that anchor. A point of connection within an otherwise expansive scene… and one whose story you might not fully appreciate without her.
She doesn’t just complete the frame… she gives it meaning.
And the more I reflect on images like this, the more I’m reminded that they’re never accidental.
They come from intention. From choosing where to be… when to be there… and being ready for what unfolds.
And that’s exactly what I try to build into the places I go… and the experiences I create for other photographers.
What You Can Take From This
If you take anything from these images, let it be this:
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Be present enough to recognize when something is about to happen
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Don’t settle for the obvious shot. Work the scene
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Look for something that invites the viewer in and makes them stay
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Great images come from intention, not luck
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