Driven by a fascination with history and the traces it leaves behind—fading signs, boarded structures, idle train lines, and roadside oddities scattered along a remote interior corridor of British Columbia. These images are quiet observations of places shaped by industry, movement, and time.
Weathered materials, architectural remnants, and forgotten objects suggest narratives without revealing them. Each scene holds a tension between past and present, permanence and decay.
The work considers the uncertainty that time imposes on these places—how once-purposeful spaces slip into ambiguity, and how the landscape quietly absorbs the weight of what once was. It is a meditation on transience, stillness, and the subtle endurance of history.
"The river banks were lined with tents and makeshift cabins, each a fleeting testament to the hopes of men seeking fortune. As we journeyed further, the landscape shifted from dense forests to open plains, the signs of human endeavor marking the land. Yet, with each passing day, the impermanence of these settlements became evident, as nature began reclaiming what was once hastily constructed."
- Excerpt from Stephen Chapin’s journal, 1858