Found Fields refers to my approach when taking photos: scenes found in my field of vision. I’ve always been a gatherer rather than a hunter. That is, finding scenes (by chance) rather than intentionally hunting them down. Many of my photos are taken during my daily routine, or just going somewhere. As with many photographers, I’m attracted to the newness of things–going to new places, and seeing new things. But, I’m also attracted to seeing familiar scenes, places that I have photographed many times before. It seems that a particular scene never looks the same way twice.
American photo master Lee Friedlander said it best, “I’m not a premeditative photographer. I see a picture and I make it. You don’t have to go looking for pictures. The material is generous. You go out and the pictures are staring at you.”
There are interesting photo possibilities everywhere. The trick is, always carrying a camera, and taking the time to observe the world around you. Over the years I’ve been refining my vision and technique and am striving for themes and images that have a deeper meaning, (for me, at least.)
I’m currently working on a photo book with the “Found Fields” theme. Stay tuned!
Recently 700 of my photos (digital images) were added to the City of Toronto Archives. It’s a real honour, and a good feeling, knowing that my 1980s street photos will be kept for future generations. Many thanks to Michele Dale, the supervisor of collection management and standards at the City of Toronto Archives, for seeing the merit in my work.
The above photo is one of my favourites from the archives collection.
In those days I worked near Queen and River. I’d ride my bicycle home along Queen Street and sometimes stop in at Tower Records, put on the headphones and listen to Summer Side of Life by Gordon Lightfoot. I’d be transported into a beautiful musical world.
When look at this photo, I think about light, and life, and the miracle of just being alive and being able to experiencing things. I also think about Toronto music: “Lost Together” by Blue Rodeo, “Spirit of Radio” by Rush, “Lovers In A Dangerous Time” by Bruce Cockburn, “Bobcaygeon” by The Tragically Hip; songs by Gordon Lightfoot, Joni Mitchell, or Neil Young. These are songs that run through my mind when I look at this photo and think about that time in my life. I’m nostalgic for those Toronto days.
Here is a link to the collection. (Fonds 620; Avard Woolaver fonds) Scroll down and click: “browse,” and you can see the photos. I think they represent my strongest work, and there are several that have never been published previously. Hope you enjoy them!
This photo, taken outside the Sears Warehouse in Toronto in 1980, brings to mind the song “Working Man” by Rush and the wonderful work of American photographer Harry Callahan.
The Sears Warehouse, located near Church and Dundas, was converted into lofts in the late 1990s and is now called the Merchandise Building. The original building was built in various stages from 1910 to 1949 for the Simpson’s department store, and was later owned by Sears Canada. It is an example of the Chicago School style of architecture.
Back when I was growing up in the 1970s my grandfather George Mason used to wear a dress hat on special occasions, or when he went into town. I always thought they looked cool, and probably tried them on from time to time. When I moved to Toronto in 1980, I noticed that older men were still wearing these hats. Perhaps took note of them and photographed them because of my grandfather.
I always assumed men wore dress hats, or “business hats” to hide balding heads, or to protect them from the elements. But it seems, in history, hats were a thing for other reasons. According to Deborah Henderson, a costume designer and the author of four books about men’s headwear, “Throughout history, people wore hats to indicate their social position in the world. Any trade—postman, engineer, pilot—had its own cap. Even lawyers, in the ’50s, all wore fedoras.”
Why did men stop wearing dress hats? An article from Esquire magazine suggests that nobody has pinpointed one sole reason why men stopped wearing hats. One reason could be the rise in automobile use. “With low roofs meaning you couldn’t wear a hat while driving and generally had no need to cover your head anyway, personal transport often negated the need for headwear.”
Another reason could be the stigma associated with WWII. “Another theory posited suggests that the hat suffered a serious decline after the end of World War II because it was an unwelcome reminder of the time people had spent in uniform. Men who fought did not want to wear hats with civilian clothes after the war.”
Benjamin Leszcz writes in Canadian Business, “A potent social signifier, hats identified a man’s role in society. (Hence the idiom of “putting one’s [insert profession] hat on.”) Little surprise, then, that the individualism of the ’60s and ’70s rejected the rule-bound world of hats, embracing anti-establishment afros, flowing locks and blow-dryer-enabled atrocities. By the late ’80s, the hat stigma faded, and every couple of years since, fashion journalists proclaim the hat’s comeback. Today, hats are runway stalwarts, and classic brands—like Borsalino, Stetson and Biltmore, which until recently was based in Guelph, Ont.—are holding steady. But hats will never entirely come back. The shift is decisive: historically, men wore hats to fit in; today, men wear hats to stand out.”
These days when I visit Toronto the people I see wearing dress hats are thirty-something hipsters going for that vintage look.
A lot of my photographic approach boils down to noticing details. (And having a receptive mind, and a camera in hand.) Pretty much everything in the world can be explained by science and mathematics, but when it comes to art, all bets are off. There is a sense of mystery in the world that the artistic side of our minds seek to expose and illuminate.
The Brian Eno song “Sky Saw” offers an insight on this topic:
All the clouds turn to words All the words float in sequence No one knows what they mean Everyone just ignores them
