Background information

I was born in Holland in 1947 and came to Canada six years later. We lived in Sudbury, Ontario (Canada) until I was 15, when we moved to Toronto. Those childhood years in the nickel capital of the world were very influential in making me a “weather nut” along with an airplane trip to Europe at nine years of age. That flight took me into the sky, amidst the clouds. In the following years I was reminded every day that weather has a direct effect on our lives because the huge Copper Cliff smelter smokestack, plainly visible to the west, would indicate each day’s winds, both direction and strength. When the wind was westerly, the plume of sulfur dioxide wafted overhead and we all spat out acid saliva in response. Sudbury also had four very distinct seasons and I learned to read the sky to anticipate daily weather changes. On lazy, sunny days I would climb up to the top of one of the many rock hills in the city and watch cloud shadows drift across the landscape for hours. On cloudy days with storms in the forecast, I would sit and wait patiently for that first faint flash, indicating that a distant thunderstorm had finally emerged from the greyness to stir my excitement.

My interest in weather dominated in school, too. In grade five, my class was assigned a project to log the weather for a month using symbols. I kept that one going for five years and still have those scribblers to this day, filled with little trees for wind, umbrellas for rain, etc. plus various other symbols I added for my own pleasure. Classmates found my obsession a source of curiosity and amusement, prompting occasional mild ridicule. Teachers spent too much time trying to stop me from looking out the window, to no avail. I’ve often said that those moments of idle skygazing were my salvation as a Spiritual being. Weather set my heart, mind and soul on fire with a love for nature, science, and being alive.

The only time of my life when weather took a back seat was in High school. There, the distractions of homework, peer activities and girls left little time for dreaming. The fires of passion for sky were subdued but not doused. A serious accident and near-death experience in 1969 gave me time to reconsider values and priorities, and naturally my “first love” for weather reemerged. I soon bought my first Nikon camera and began shooting the sky in earnest on any travel opportunities. It was a gradual growth process as I mastered photography and learned to blend an artistic eye with a scientific mind.

The accident left me physically disabled, with one leg and one hand plus legally blind vision at around 10% in one eye only. I prefer not to mention these details in interviews because they distort an understanding of me as a person. The media is always eager to exploit such situations and focus on the “struggle” of a disability rather than see the person inside the body. My likes, dislikes, talents and achievements are all part of who I am, regardless of the limitations. It is certainly true that a physical disability changes how you live and cope, but it does not govern your essential being. I think of it as a constraint and occasional nuisance which fades into the background in the face of living a challenging, invigorating existence. Life is a great gift and adventure and that easily trumps any conflicts or hurdles one has to face daily.

I went back to university in honours physics for awhile but eventually quit. My original goal was to become a meteorologist and work for Environment Canada. But as the years passed, I came to the realization that such a move would result in disappointment. My idealized view of weather office employees was that they were all keenly interested in weather, as I was. When I realized that it was only a job for most of them, I sensed that my enthusiasm might well die in an office environment, detached from the world of sky outside.

I continued shooting cloud formations and began to travel on purpose just to experience variety in the sky. In 1979, Skyart was founded to formalize the handling of an increasing number of requests for the photos. In the years 1980-83, several large Canada Council grants allowed me to plan sky photography expeditions across North America and the Skyart Collection was underway.

I met Jerrine in 1983 and saw in her the soul mate I had sought so many years. She was the right balance of intelligence, compassion and integrity to complement my intense, sometimes obsessive personality. She had the patience and steadfastness to allow me to grow into a relationship while I slowly let go of a stubbornness borne out of being single for decades. The first year put us both to the test but ever since we have grown into a lifelong love and commitment to each other. We married the following year and I acquired an instant family with two young daughters!

My mother once told my stepfather “Marry me and you’re also marrying my son.“ and I felt the same way about my “child”, the weather. Jerrine was, in effect, marrying into my relationship with weather, sky and clouds. We became a sky chasing team even before the wedding when we travelled to the western U.S. for six weeks on our first photography trip in 1984. In the years that followed, we travelled regularly to different parts of North America, adding to our Skyart Collection and expanding our knowledge of clouds. We wrote a variety of articles, attended conferences and created a few products from the work but the 80s were mostly a time for family engagement.

In 1989 we bought our first house together and moved away from the urban sprawl of Niagara to the wilds of Grey County, Ontario. The area was like a breath of fresh air (literally, too) and we found ourselves surrounded by a varied landscape of rolling hills, fields, forest and wetlands with few people in the heart of the snowbelt, where “winter” still existed in force. With four very distinct seasons and a great view, I was all set to enjoy skywatching to the fullest. Although it wasn’t western Saskatchewan for absolute open skies and mental space, it was the best that the east had to offer, and kept us within a reasonable distance of family. We’ve lived here since, amid a growing alternative community of artists, organic farming, and city escapees with a vision for a better world.