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James Wysotski
A Toronto suburbanite since birth, James Wysotski lives on nature’s doorstep. Nearby forests have always inspired him. While hiking them, James snaps abstract woodland images using intentional camera movements, a technique that lets him capture fleeting visions seen in motion. By embracing the blur, he takes pictures that are more about interpretation and expression than replication.
When not among the trees, James writes post-apocalyptic and sci-fi novels. He takes his Scotch neat and loves his weekend lattes.
Michéla Griffith
In 2012 I paused by my local river and everything changed. I’ve moved away from what many expect photographs to be; my images reflect the curiosity that water has inspired in my practice. The river has been my conduit: it has sharpened my vision, given me permission to experiment and continues to introduce me to new ways of seeing. Website
Where do we pick up the notion that we are ‘not creative’? For decades, James Wysotski believed the gene that ran through his artistic family had skipped him. Pursuing an academic path through journalism and corporate communications, photography was a tool for documentation, not art. The 2020 pandemic led to a career shift and facilitated an awakening through creative writing and, finally, photography. Only by flouting ‘the rules’ and embracing the freedom of Intentional Camera Movement (ICM) did James find resonance. Now nicknamed "that tree guy" by followers, he repeatedly walks the paths of Ontario’s Oak Ridges Moraine, evolving his personal technique to better represent the experience of moving through the woods that he calls home.
Would you like to start by telling readers a little about yourself, such as where you grew up and what your early interests were? You’ve mentioned family members being artistic. Were you encouraged to be creative at an early age, beyond being a restless child pivoting in the car seat, waiting for the trees to move?
My family has always been creative. Parents, cousins, brother, uncle—and now my wife and children. People painted, quilted, potted. One did taxidermy. Other hobbies included etching, macramé, and raku. I could go on. For the longest time, I’d thought that creative gene had skipped me. Sure, I had a vivid imagination. I built things with my Lego. Who didn’t? But I’d never envisioned being an artist. I was more of an academic; high marks always came easy. I think my father wanted me to become a lawyer. Still, one can’t help but learn to appreciate art in such an environment. I think it gave me a good understanding of composition. Alas, I never graduated past stick figures and M-shaped birds during childhood. I know that if I’d wanted to be an artist, my parents would have encouraged me, but I’d always seemed destined for a different route. Until I wasn’t.
Where did your imagination take you? What choices did you go on to make for education and career?
For the longest time, I believed in that lawyer route. I’d even switched high schools in Grade 13 just so that I could take a law class. But then I talked to people who’d already become one. Sure, they liked the money, but no one seemed to enjoy the profession. It didn’t seem like a good lifestyle for me. You’ve got to understand that my father was a teacher who enjoyed his summers off, and my mother’s jobs never interfered with raising their children. In other words, my parents were present. They made time for family. That was also important to me. So I scrapped my lawyer ambitions without a plan to replace them.
At university, I majored in English. Not exactly a clear career path. Determined to make use of it, I followed up my BAH with a degree in journalism. For decades, I worked as an editor or a corporate communicator. At the start of COVID, I lost my job. That’s when my creativity really kicked into high gear. All my life, I’d dreamed of writing a novel once retired. But why wait that long? Since then, I’ve self-published seven novels. At the same time, I renewed a lifelong passion for photography.