Race Rock

Set adrift in the Pacific, just off Vancouver Island, it stands as an island apart—untouched, reserved, and alive with wild voices. Sea lions gather in roaring colonies, waves carve their rhythms into the stone, and seabirds circle above as if guarding the edge of the world. To step ashore here is not to claim space, but to borrow it briefly. Human presence is rare, allowed only in passing, because this is not our world—it belongs to the creatures who breed, hunt, and endure within its fragile balance.

Through my lens, Raise Rock becomes a portrait of power: the power of nature to hold its ground, the power of animals to thrive when left undisturbed, and the quiet power of restraint—knowing that sometimes the most profound human act is to watch, to listen, and to leave.