1. You mention the Japanese concept of “Ma” and how the space around or between subjects impacts progress. Conversely, our environment shapes us, too. How did moving from the city to the country influence your work? How has it shaped you—how have you shaped your space?
I wasn’t an artist before moving to the country. I lived in Toronto for 20 years, and near the end of my time there, I picked up a camera and started taking macro photos, focusing on small details rather than wide scenes.
When my husband and I moved to the countryside I was initially intimidated by the vast empty space. But as I continued photography, I shifted from capturing small details to landscapes and, eventually, to storytelling within those landscapes. I also started incorporating models into my images, which not only added narrative depth, but also helped me feel more connected to my new environment. In many ways it caused me to have an artistic dialogue with the land.
Moving from the city to the countryside fundamentally changed my relationship with space—both physically and conceptually. In the city, space always felt constrained, layered, and dictated by movement and structure. But in the countryside, there is expansiveness, a stillness, and an interplay between presence and absence that mirrors the concept of Ma.
2. Who or what has influenced your work/style?
My influences are wide-ranging, but they always return to the intersection of literature, visual art, and philosophy. I’ve been inspired by the narrative depth of artists like Francesca Woodman and Gregory Crewdson, the painterly compositions of classical portraiture, and the stark minimalism of Japanese aesthetics. Literature has also played a significant role—writers like Virginia Woolf and Margaret Atwood have influenced my storytelling approach, while the existential themes of Samuel Beckett and Haruki Murakami echo through my work. Painters like René Magritte have had a major impact—his surreal approach to storytelling through imagery resonates with me. I’m also drawn to other painters who create atmosphere and mystery, like Andrew Wyeth and Caspar David Friedrich. Their ability to evoke emotion through landscape and composition has been a true inspiration in my own work.
My background in literature—having a Master’s in English—means that storytelling has always been part of my perspective. My art has been strongly influenced by so many writers and I often use poetry or quotes from fiction as inspiration for my work. I’ve always been drawn to the layered meanings in fairy tales as well—how they mix beauty with darkness, simplicity with deeper psychological undercurrents. That sense of narrative ambiguity is something I try to bring into my images.
I also find inspiration in film—the visual language of directors like Wes Anderson and Guillermo del Toro fascinates me. Music plays a role, too. Sometimes a lyric or melody will spark an idea, and I’ll jot it down as the seed for a future piece. Ultimately, I take in influences from many sources, but they all come together in the same way—helping me create images that feel like fragments of a larger, untold story.
Nature, too, is a primary influence. The landscapes around me—dense forests, open fields, misty mornings, and shifting seasons—provide inspiration for storytelling. I’m especially drawn to the moodiness of overcast skies, fog, and twilight, which add a sense of mystery and emotion to my images. I’m very interested in the cycles of growth and decay and metamorphosis and the way light moves and evolves through the seasons—these are all elements I try to capture and translate into my images and painting practice.
3. After we posted the cover reveal of the Winter issue on Instagram, you said about Exodus that “magic happens sometimes when you least expect it.” Your photography seems meticulously planned. Can you talk about preparation versus spontaneity?
Early in my photography journey, I didn’t put a great deal of planning into my photos. I would go out with my camera and shoot intuitively. There was a sense of freedom in that, and an openness to discovery. Over time, as I developed more thematic series, I found myself drawn to a more structured approach—outlining concepts beforehand, considering a theme, costume, props, and location. This shift allowed me to build narratives within my images, giving them a stronger sense of cohesion and depth.
That said, I always leave room for serendipitous discovery. No matter how much I plan, I never want to lose the magic of artistic spontaneity. Some of my favorite images have come from unexpected moments—when something unplanned happened, or when a small detail caught my attention and shifted the direction of the shoot.
Digital photography makes this balance between structure and improvisation possible. Because there’s no cost to taking extra shots, I can experiment freely, capturing hundreds of images and refining as I go. I let art lead me as I create a photo or a series and I believe that approach has the best potential for transformative and artistic magic.
4. In many of your pieces, the subject holds objects—horns, antlers, sunflowers, suitcases—some of which appear in multiple collections. Do these have special significance?
Not necessarily, but I’m drawn to objects that lend themselves to narrative. I often look for inspiration in antique stores, starting with a prop rather than an idea. For example, I once found a dollhouse—something I’d wanted to incorporate for a while—and immediately knew how I’d use it. The right object can spark an entire story.
I also love thrift shopping, especially around Halloween, when stores put out the most unusual dresses. The more unique, homemade, or ‘ugly’ a dress appears to be on the rack, the more visually striking it is in a photo.
5. What influenced the transition from English Literature to Fine Art?
The transition felt natural because both disciplines are about storytelling, just in different forms. Literature trained me to think narratively—to consider themes, character arcs, and emotional resonance. But at some point, I realized that I had a strong urge to create visually and that naturally lead to conceptual photography.
Even now, I think of my work as literary in structure—each image is a sentence, each series is a chapter, and together they form a larger narrative. The shift from words to images wasn’t so much a departure as it was an evolution in how I tell stories.
6. Regarding The Salvage Mission, you wrote that you wanted to give “new life and a final story” to abandoned cars, believing that “everything deserves a final story.” Do you think your background in English literature influences your artistic sensibilities? How does narrative shape your work?
Absolutely. I see storytelling in everything, even in forgotten objects like abandoned cars. When I discovered them, it felt as though they had unfinished stories waiting to be told—stories of movement, history, and memory. “The Salvage Mission” was about honouring the lives that those cars had once been part of and giving them a final chapter rather than leaving them to be forgotten. A swan song, really.
In all my work, I think narratively. There’s always an underlying story—sometimes explicit, sometimes ambiguous—but always present. I want my images to feel like fragments of a larger tale, inviting the viewer to piece together their own interpretations.
7. Are you working on any new projects?
I’m in a period of transition with my work, exploring new ideas and approaches that feel more aligned with where I am now. I’m focused on creating with more depth and intention, letting the work take shape before thinking too much about how to present it. There are a few projects on my mind, but right now, I’m letting the process guide me.
8. Do you have any upcoming events, shows, or exhibitions?
I just finished a month long solo show that included photography and painting, and I’m taking a moment to breathe from that before I start considering what to do next—so nothing is confirmed at the moment. I’ll be sharing updates on my website and social media as things develop.
Learn more at pattymaher.com.
