I've managed to spend a healthy portion of the last four Canadian winters in warmer, southern parts. There are many species of birds that fly south for a more comfortable experience, why not me? When the Canadian Geese silhouette themselves against the prairie skies in I dig out my passport and start googling; cheap, flight, warm... now. Traveling always requires a budget of sorts and if my bank account isn't flush VISA saves the day. Sometimes I'm fortunate enough that an organization or individual will fit the bill in exchange for moving/still images. I love the idea of a good ol' horse trade and I couldn't think of a better way to pay for new experiences in far away places.

Over the last 4 years I've been lucky enough to travel to Asia twice, Central America thrice, and now I'm south ofthe Equator in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.  I'm a volunteer photojournalist for CUSO-VSO photographing other volunteers in the field. My collogue, Lisa Gregoire is writing the stories and I'm providing images. We have been sent to Tanzania to collect volunteer stories  to help the organization fundraise and recruit. Exciting times ahead! *more blog posts*

After a great month in Mexico, and via a volcanic accent in Guatemala I arrived at my final destination, Nicaragua. Since its independence, Nicaragua has encountered several periods of political unrest and for over a hundred years has been a significant economic appendage to the United States. This made it a precarious place to be during the rise of socialist movements in the 20th century. Politics aside, Nicaragua is an amazing place to visit and I got to see it from the unique perspective of a volunteer cameraman for Edmonton based N.G.O, Change for Children.

Half my time in Nicaragua was spent gathering visual media for Change for Children and their partners, the other half I traveled. I tagged along on a dental/doctor brigade (photo to the left, dentist) in the northwest Bosawás region, home to the Miskito people (Miskito child pictured below). I also got to work with the youth of Estelí with the arts organization Funarte. It was my first experience working with a development organizations and won't be my last.

For my last week in Nicaragua I traveled to the Isle de Ometepe in Lago de Nicaragua. As soon as you leave the ferry terminal in San Jorge you see the unique profile of the island on the horizon. Ometepe is comprised of two volcanoes side-by-side that are fused together with lava to form one island. One of the volcanoes is dormant and the other is not. From the air the island looks like a figure eight, and you'll see the figure eight symbol incorporated in a lot of the local art.  The island is filled with crystal clear springs, waterfalls, and plantations.

On the ferry ride over I met a few backpackers and we soon discovered that we were all going to the same guesthouse/organic farm, Finca de Magdelina. We decided to share a cab for the two-hour ride and had no trouble finding a local with a 4X4 jeep to take us there. We watched the sunset 30 minutes into the jeep ride and then soon realized that the jeep's headlights were not functional. Our anxiety grew as the daylight dissolved into dusk but the driver didn't seem to have any problems navigating the narrow jungle roads. He stopped at one point and produced a 12-inch crescent wrench from beneath the drivers seat and popped the hood. We all looked at each other slightly satisfied. For the next 2 minutes or so we heard the driver smash metal on metal under his hood over and over again. The smashing didn't work; we had no headlights and now it was pitch black. We asked him to use the horn but he said that didn’t work either. The driver sensed our strife and said, "No problem, I live here for forty years." So on we went through the jungle in the darkness. My confidence began to grow in our driver's night vision as the light from the rising half moon gave shape to the road. Just after the driver told us we had one mile left to drive we came up behind a large industrial truck that was blocking the road 50 yards ahead of us on a hill. It looked like a dump truck but there were some people loading furniture into it. As soon as our driver turned off the engine the other driver quickly jumped in the truck and we saw the taillights light up. As soon as he got in the truck he hit the clutch and started to roll back. I thought to myself; great, he's moving so we can get around. I was wrong. The truck picked up momentum very quickly because of the slope of the road and was clearly coming right for us. Our driver started to bounce the side of his fist on the steering wheel in a futile attempt to beep his horn. The American guy that was sitting shotgun began to yell, "Hey! No! Heeey!  No! Nooooooooo!!!!!! A lot of thoughts went through my head as four tonnes of steel came straight at us. Time really started to slow down and I thought I could reach across Helen open the door, push her out and we can dramatically roll into the ditch to safety. Then I thought, who knows what the trajectory of all of this twisted metal is going to be and we could get squished in a minor fender bender. I'm safest here, but shit! I'm not wearing a seatbelt! Then I looked over at the American and thought, he sounds really funny when he's panicked. He was still screaming Noooooooo! The driver kept up his rhythmic back fist to the horn. Through the windshield I saw a Pepsi bumper sticker get larger by the millisecond, we all made helmets out of our arms and braced for impact. The truck smashed into our front, the jeep flew back 15 yards in an instant, and then rolled to a stop. After the initial shock wore off and we all exchanged a bunch of "are you OKs?" Nobody seemed hurt and we got out to assess the damage to the jeep. The front end of the jeep was smashed beyond repair. It was easy to see this in explicit detail because the headlights were now working perfectly. *more blog posts*

Oaxaca, pronounced Wah-hawk-ah is a colonial city in Southern Mexico that is the birthplace of the infamous sauce called mole. Oaxaca is also the name of the state and within its' borders you will find many merchants selling art sculpted from the unique black clay found in the region (pictured left). When I heard that Oaxaca had the best food in all of Mexico its geographic gravity grew to a point where I found myself on a bus, bound for Oaxaca.

I'm on the fence when it comes to believing in the super-natural. The human imagination has endowed us with a plethora of fantastical characters and allegorical stories in the form of religion, myth, and folklore. The origins of our existence, and fate of our consciousness is a mystery and I'm perfectly fine with that. My position on the matter is I believe in more. ­That said I totally had an encounter with ghost in Oaxaca.

I had recently crossed the state border and I was in what I like to call a half-nap. A half-nap is where you're not sleeping but you're not fully awake. It’s the in-between stage. You can often step out of dream when your here and into the real world, and then return to your dream unblemished by the world of awake. That's where I was. Curled into a ball like a fetus on a reclined bus chair surfing a lucid half-nap dream. Now, it's difficult to convey the sensory filled dream world in the written format, but if I were to start I would say that I felt naked at this time. I was naked, curled into a ball like a fetus on a reclined bus chair.  I didn't feel anything. I didn't feel the vibration of the bus, the freezing cold air-conditioning (which prompted the fetus position), my clothes, or my skin. My awareness of my own skin had slipped away! My sense of touch was gone but I still had balance. I knew which way was up and which way was down. I felt that I was moving through space very quickly. I felt like I was flying. Actually surfing, because I felt like I was skimming across an imaginary surface and would often speed up or slow down. I couldn't ascend or descend but I had momentum. I surfed this tidal wave of random euphoria for what felt like 15 minutes before hitting the beach of reality, the Oaxaca bus terminal.

My friend Laura is from Oaxaca and I was going to stay with her but she was out of town so I took a taxi ride to a hostel I was recommended to stay at. I can't remember the name of the hostel and the name never stuck when I was there but I always new its geography related to Dominos pizza (which I was shocked could stay in business in Oaxaca, Mexico). The hostel's employees spoke less English then I spoke Spanish but I seemed to organize a room with no problem. My room was on the second floor and over looked the hostels courtyard. I would describe the hostel as rustic because it was built with a lot of corrugated iron, and rusted scrap metal. A large avocado tree was the only organic addition and grew out of the concrete in the middle of the courtyard. Despite the ruggedness I liked my new home for two nights and had a light dinner and went right to bed. I could tell by the youthful tenant's party vibe and my proximity to the road I was going to need earplugs. I jammed the foam buds an inch into my head and was fast asleep by 10pm. I slept undisturbed and awoke around 530 am to the muffled sound of crows but laid there in a half-sleep when I started to get that feeling again. I didn't loose my sense of touch but felt very lucid and drifted in an out of consciousness. This time I really was naked and I could feel the thin sheet across my body. That's when I started to feel a series of light tug on the sheets. I thought I was dreaming and immediately opened my eyes and looked down my body and out the window. The night sky was beginning to lighten and the crows were squawking so I knew that dawn was near and closed my eyes again. As soon as I closed my eyes it happened again, the sheets were slowly being pulled off of me. I jolted up and looked down the bed again and saw nothing. I pulled the sheets up to my shoulders and closed my eyes once again. As soon as I closed my eyes my sheets were pulled 6 inches off my body in one sudden movement and this time I was fully conscious for it. I jumped up grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my body and then went to the door. I turned around with my hand on the doorknob and stared at the room and all of its details. I wanted to look under the metal frame bed but didn't. I left the room had a shower and came back a bit later. By this time the sun was pouring in the windows and my room felt like a different space.

Morning is my favorite time of day and it didn't take long for me to forget about my encounter over a stiff coffee and wi-fi at a near by cafe. I found out then that Laura would be back in town the next day and I thought about checking out of the haunted hostel and into somewhere different, but I didn't. There was a part of me that enjoyed the experience and wanted to experience it again. Don't get me wrong, I was scared earlier but looking back I never felt like I was going to die or be harmed. It was chilling not threatening. So I stayed another night and by 10pm I felt very tired and went to my room to go to sleep. I thought I would have a hard time sleeping but I don't remember taking 3 breaths before I was out cold. My earplugs had fallen out in the night and I awoke to what sounded like a murder of squawking crows outside my room. I had also felt like I sunk into the bed a lot further then the night before. The mattress was somewhat wrapping itself around me like a hotdog bun and then I got that half-sleep feeling again. I was conscious but my eyes were closed, partially frightened, partially curious. I started wondering if the sheets were going to be pulled off and waited with anticipation but then my awareness went to the mattress. It was heavy on my sides and I started to feel the pressure increase on one side and then on the next. It felt like someone was standing above me straddling my body and shifting their weight from foot to foot. It continued slowly from side to side, and I remained still and experienced it for no more then 15 seconds. The crows began squawking so loud that if the bed was making any noise I wouldn't have been able to hear it, and then I felt it. A cold breeze on my neck like someone was blowing on it with ice in their mouth. In less then 2 seconds I was out the door with a towel around my body. A group of crows perched on the railing outside my room flew away squawking as exploded out of my room towards the shower. Laura came by later that day and I checked out of the hostel. The next week I ate many great meals, met amazing people, went hiking, and celebrated my 32nd birthday. *more blog posts*

Art, Food, Art, Food, Art, Food, Art, Food, Art, Food, Art, Food, Art, Food, Art, Food, Art, Food, Art, Food, Art, Food, Art, Food. And not necessarily in that order. This encompasses my trip to Mexico. That and a couple of reunions with new Mexican friendships forged earlier in the year at the Banff Centre for the Arts. I met many artists from Mexico in 2010. They threw the best parties, had interesting stories to tell, and we shared a profound appreciation for Banff's Rocky Mountain setting.

When I went to Mexico I reunited with my friend Miguel who lives in the museum rich Megalopolis, Mexico City. I spent many hours and walked many miles through Mexico City's many museums. To name a few of my favorite; the Museo Nacional de Antropologia, and Museo del Palacio de Bellas Artes where I saw the infamous Man, Controller of the Universe mural by Diego Rivera.

Below is a photograph of Cai Guo-Qiang's instaltion at the Museo Universitario Arte Contemporáneo. The gallery floor was covered with volcanic pebbles surrounding a pond shaped like Texcoco Lake, and filled with 10,000 litres of mescal (a sort-of tequila). Covering the gallery walls are 14 gunpowder drawings depicting the Mexican landscape and cultural motifs. *more blog posts*

In the summer of 2010 I participated in a six month self directed residency at the Banff Centre. I got to work with some amazing talents in an amazing facility. Needless to say the experience was nothing short of amazing. Here is a nimble nugget of a video covering my environmental tests, storyboard development, and other activities at the centre. Thanks to all at the Banff Centre that helped me out with this project. Special thanks to artists Matt Walker who consulted me through my first pupppet mold, Price Morgan for all of your 3D and compositing work, and Sebastian Butt for Papier-mâché-ing with me. *more blog posts

Here are a couple of deleted scenes from Midnight Matinee with a little voice over.  In the first version of Midnight Matinee the camera character was inspired to make a film by a painting not music. I was going to have it paint a scene and the film would magically take place in another dimension inside the painting.  I later scrapped the idea because that kind of Mary Poppin' magic was a technical monster. The second clip (on the bridge), was a disastrous but halirious good time that did not fit but made me laugh so I decided to include it in this short video segment.   *more blog posts*

Four days of fine food, fine people, and fines for parking.
In the spring of 2010 the National Film Board of Canada sponsored a stop-motion animation research trip for me to Los Angeles, California.  My new film Ethos (old title Eirene) caught the NFB's attention and they agreed to send me to L.A to discuss Ethos's process with a range of experienced stop-mo talents ranging from Cal Arts students, commercial animation producers and veteran stop-motion animator Anthony Scott (Coraline). At Cal Arts I got to meet up with the lovely Kirsten Lepore who I was first introduced to in 2009 when I stumbled upon her stop-mo delight "Sweet Dreams". After getting back from California I was so inspired to animate I started testing one of my smaller armatures. Here is an animation test I did for funzies with my newly purchsed Dragon Stop-motion. Maybe one day I'll figure out what to do with the blue. *more blog posts*

Myself and designer Sheldon Woloshyn built a ball and socket armature with robotic head in his garage. This little 2 minute video covers the 2 month process. At the end of the vignette there is a clip of the animatronic head.  *more blog posts*

I returned to India for the forth time in 2009 to lens the Indian segment of the documentary Sacred Cinema for filmmaker Mark Power. We interviewed some exciting and famous "filmies" (what Indians call film industry people) such as Three Idiots bollywood director Rajkumar Hirani and independent film director Onir. I spent a lot of time on passenger trains. This particular time I was holding a camera.  *more blog posts*

Photo credit: Mark Power