Historian Stefanie Haire remembers the moment that sparked her doctoral thesis.

Haire, a historic preservationist for the state’s Southeast Tennessee Development District, was scrolling through social media one day a few years ago when she spotted an old photo of a Black mother and her child.

The photo had been shared by Picnooga (now called the Chattanooga Historical Society), an organization that collects and archives historic local images.

A single mother and doctoral candidate at Middle Tennessee State University, Haire said she immediately felt drawn to the photo and wanted to know more about the woman and child in the frame.

“The lighting was beautiful,” she remembers, and the last name of the photographer — Brazelton — was stamped at the bottom of the print.

After several years of careful research, Haire has pieced together the life and legacy of Horace Brazelton, the son of a former slave and Union Army soldier, whose legacy as an award-winning photographer and leader in Chattanooga’s Black community is showcased in a free exhibit now on display at Ruby Falls.

“(Brazelton’s) camera lens captured countless portraits of Black families and individuals, as well as Black church, professional and civic groups, during the era of Jim Crow laws in the South,” according to a news release about the exhibit, which will continue through mid-September at the Lookout Mountain attraction.

The two people in the photo, it turns out, were Horace Brazelton’s adopted daughter, Lucille Brazelton Jones, and her son, Leon Brazelton Jones Jr. Lucille died not long after the photo was taken, according to Haire’s research.

Despite his prominence here, Brazelton, who lived from 1877 to 1956, had largely been forgotten until Haire began to gather facts about his life from census data, old newspaper articles and photographs. Her doctoral thesis, which is still under construction, contains all the facts and insights she has gathered through years of “looking for breadcrumbs.”

A portrait emerges of a young man born in the town of New Market in Jefferson County, Tennessee, who briefly attended Maryville College before moving to Chattanooga and becoming a leader in the Black community. In 1903, he opened a grocery store on Grove Street here, but he soon switched careers and became a photographer, opening a studio on Ninth Street (now M.L. King Boulevard).

In a speech, Brazelton once said he had “no great talent” as a photographer, having only taken a few months of lessons in staging and lighting from a German lensman. However, records show Brazelton eventually won several regional and national awards for his photography work. An advertisement for his studio shows he sold photo packages for as little as $4. His portraits are formal, with subjects often posing unsmiling in their finest clothes.

Haire said Brazelton likely became well-known among middle-class Black residents because of his skills, but also because most white photographers in the first half of the 20th century did not accept Black clients. He became the first Black photographer to open a studio here.

In addition to documenting Black families, Brazelton also bought and sold real estate at a time when white bankers often avoided underwriting mortgages in Black neighborhoods. Ironically, though, Brazelton died a renter, Haire noted.

His leadership extended to Black empowerment.

“He helped educate the Black community on becoming registered voters,” Haire said in an interview.

Brazelton and his wife, Hetty, led active faith lives and were both leaders in their church.

“It is so humbling to be the vessel to get the word out about the Brazeltons,” Haire said. “None of this is my story. I’m just the lucky one who gets to put the breadcrumbs together.”

Life Stories is published on Mondays. Contact Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6645.

RIP Photography, 1839-2023.

After a solid run of nearly two whole centuries and countless brushes with death at the hands of new technologies over the years, photography has finally succumbed to injuries suffered with the emergence of AI-driven apps like Midjourney, and has been officially laid to rest. 

No services will be held.

All major camera manufacturers have responded to the news by shuttering their operations, effective immediately, in the anticipation that cameras will simply not be needed anymore. 

Ok, I’ve had my bit of fun. All jokes aside, though, I’m writing this opinion piece specifically because for the last six months or so, I can’t seem to get away from the incessant deluge of either panicked or gleeful declarations (depending on who is doing the declaring) that AI image generators have already all but rendered the need for photography obsolete.

Well, allow me to go on record with my own pronouncement: hogwash. AI image generation is not a threat to photography. Not today, not tomorrow, not in the next decade. I’ll even go so far as to say that AI image generation will never pose any kind of real threat to photography. Ever. I’ll even stake my reputation on it.

“But Colin,” you might say, “look at how far the technology has already come in just this short amount of time. Surely, you understand that this is just the beginning and that AI will very quickly be able to perfectly render any kind of image and be indistinguishable from an actual photograph. What then? Why would we need actual photography anymore?”

My answer to that depends on the context, as well as the timeframe we’re talking about, but my thoughts go generally like this:

As of now, AI image generators simply are not capable of fully duplicating the aesthetics of actual photography. And no, it’s not even close. AI-generated images are illustrations, and they look like illustrations, even the ones sourced from actual photos. And yes, I’ve seen all the dreamy dramatic landscapes and cityscapes and the headshots of people who don’t exist. It really doesn’t take much to see that the images are not photos. The scenes are always a little too perfect. There’s always a glaring detail in the portrait that gives it away as an AI illustration. Seriously, I have not seen a single AI image that was not obvious. And I’ve seen enough.

But what about a little further out, when AI is capable of rendering images indistinguishable from actual photos? If anyone can just enter a prompt on their computer and within seconds have the photo they’re looking for, why would they hire a photographer? After all, photographers are expensive, people can be difficult to work with, and there is always the chance that a photographer won’t get it right.

Ok, let’s imagine a future where AI can make any kind of art, including convincingly realistic photographs. Presuming that, in this imagined future where computer algorithms are capable of fulfilling all of our artistic needs, the idea that people will have no interest in actual photography completely ignores one of the most fundamental purposes art, and by extension, photography, serves in our lives. Photography is a means to record and relate the human experience in an authentic way and through authentic human expression. AI cannot do that and will never be capable of doing that. Because AI will never be human. And before you say that AI is just doing what the person inputting the prompt tells it to do, and that human expression is still driving AI creativity, consider that once the prompt has been entered, what comes out is entirely outside of the control of the person who entered the prompt. 

Human expression is as much about the process of creation as it is the creation itself. Artists spend their entire lives developing and refining artistic processes to bring their vision to life, and the art that comes out of those processes cannot be divorced from them. Process is part of the language of art, and as such, is intrinsic to the value of art, and is why art speaks to us in the ways it does. To the extent that you remove human control from the process of art-making, you remove the actual humanity from the art itself. And AI art, by its very nature and purpose, removes most of the human control part of the process.

More than that, though, people just plain enjoy making photographs. Much like the invention of photography didn’t replace painting (even though there were plenty of people claiming it would), AI cannot and will not replace photography because it is not the same thing. AI art is closer to illustration than anything else, and so, it can be used in conjunction with photography, but it can’t replace it. Here’s a short list of other forms of art AI will not be replacing anytime soon: painting, drawing, sculpture, graphic design. Why? Because people actually enjoy doing those things and sharing their creations, and other people enjoy experiencing them. Of course, AI art creation is here to stay and has already become a part of many people’s artistic toolboxes, but in no way whatsoever will AI be replacing the other tools. And this includes photography.

As for context, one of the bigger and more consistent claims that I’ve heard is that AI is going to make any kind of commercial artists obsolete, including commercial, product and advertising photographers. I will concede one thing here. I do think AI will be used to replace the lowest level of commercial photography and that some lower-end companies will try to completely replace their advertising images with AI art. But, in the U.S. where I work at least, those jobs are already the worst in the industry and have been since basically the beginning. Nobody wants them, and these days, that kind of work tends to farmed out to interns, amateurs, and other unskilled people, if it’s even done here. 

But, to the idea that AI is going to be used to get rid of even relatively high-end commercial photography? Not a chance. I talk with art directors, creative directors, producers, and art buyers on a regular basis, and none of them are talking about replacing photographers with so-called “prompt engineers.” Nobody is even entertaining the idea, because, as I said already, they enjoy the process of making art and know its value. And yes, a lot of artistic expression goes into the advertising we all so desperately try to ignore. After all, where do you think all the art majors end up? Working on big ad campaigns, including the photoshoots is fun. Yes, it is also work for those of us who make our living doing them, but we chose that work because we love it. And we’re not about to give that up to AI.

So no, AI is not going to replace photographers. Ever. Not advertising photographers, not landscape photographers, not portrait photographers or event photographers, and certainly not photojournalists and documentary photographers. More than that, though, AI has no chance of replacing the enjoyment that people get from simply making art with photography or capturing memories and preserving life’s special moments. Those are things that belong to the camera and the camera alone. And if you need any more convincing, go ask the R&D folks at any of the major camera manufacturers. I guarantee they’re not at all worried about their jobs.

Understanding how different elements of the frame “rank” relative to each other is fundamental to creating balanced photos that draw the viewer’s attention in the right direction in a pleasing and intuitive manner. If you would like to improve your landscape photography, check out this fantastic video tutorial that discusses the idea of visual hierarchy in the genre and the different elements it includes. 

Coming to Mike Smith, this awesome video tutorial discusses the elements and management of visual hierarchy in landscape photography. One particularly salient point for me was the tendency for humans and human-made structures to supersede any other elements in the frame, regardless of their relative size. This is perhaps unsurprising; after all, our brains are wired to seek out other elements of humanity, but it is important to keep in mind. Even something like a small shed can draw all the attention in an image and entirely shift the balance, and when you are working with a vast scene, it can be easy to overlook something of that nature, so be sure to do a careful scan of the area. Check out the video above for the full rundown from Smith. 

And if you really want to dive into landscape photography, check out “Photographing The World 1: Landscape Photography and Post-Processing with Elia Locardi.” 

Tate Modern’s latest show opens with a king – the dein of Agbor in Delta State, Nigeria. Stately and handsome, he poses for his lifesize photograph in copious red robes that merge with his red velvet footstool and throne as if he were one with his royal role. In one hand he holds a pressed white handkerchief, as if against the heat (or the cares of office: this dein is known for settling disputes). The monarch in the next portrait sits upon a throne of stone, carved with long chains of cowrie shells. A third appears surrounded by gilded replicas of the Benin bronzes routinely displayed in European museums (give them back).

George Osodi’s dazzling photographs of Nigerian monarchs, of whom the west knows so little, were taken this century. When the British colonised parts of Africa in the Victorian era, hundreds of tribal kingdoms were merged to form the artificial boundaries of Nigeria. Yet the monarchs of these subsumed kingdoms continued to exist, as they do today. These portraits are a record of the present but also the past.

A World in Common: Contemporary African Photography presents Africa through its own lens. The art is exhilarating, dynamic, compelling, profound. It is a vital experience, just in terms of pure knowledge alone.

Here are girl biker gangs in Marrakech and gay picnics in South Africa, haunted Cameroonian landscapes and dense streets in the megacity of Kinshasa, Mauritanian migrants trying to reach the shores of the Mediterranean.

Lazhar Mansouri’s black-and-white photographs, taken in his village studio in north Algeria in the 50s and 60s, offer staggering glimpses of Bedouin and Berber sitters, some posing with radios, as well as villagers got up like Marlon Brando.

Given the population of Africa, now more than a billion, and the sheer number of images that might have been included, judicious selection was crucial. Some of the 36 artists in the show are justly famous – Samson Kambalu (last seen at Modern Art Oxford); Fabrice Monteiro, shortlisted for the Prix Pictet; the venerable James Barnor, whose joyous and uplifting studio photographs of post-independence Ghanaians were shown at the Serpentine Gallery in 2021. Others deserve to be far better known.

Angolan artist Edson Chagas’s fantastical photographs are posed exactly as if for a passport photo. But each sitter wears a highly expressive Bantu mask of the sort historically favoured by western collectors. Just to continue the point, Chagas devises a fictional name for each subject – Salvador Kimbangu, Pablo Mbela – European-African hybrids recalling Angola’s past as a Portuguese colony. Who is allowed to travel, these images appear to ask, compared to which favoured objects?

Chagas’s images are in a gallery devoted to masks, and what they mean in Africa as opposed to Europe. Zina Saro-Wiwa is showing a film alongside, in which she herself appears in a telling variety of masks that make her both more, and less, visible as a contemporary African woman. It ends with a phenomenal shock.

In Wura-Natasha Ogunji’s piercingly titled performance video – Will I still carry water when I am a dead woman? – a procession of masked women haul heavy water canisters along the ground through a district of Lagos. Men gape; women nod, taking photographs in recognition. At one point, in this unforgettable video, a local woman carrying an equally heavy load of liquid in the form of a basin of bottles balanced on her head, passes the procession without being able to turn for a second to look.

The show’s thematic groupings are always judicious. The spiritual section features Senegalese artist Maïmouna Guerresi’s marvellous five-panel polyptych showing an old man in a high black hat reading Sufi scriptures to four girls dressed in bright red, perched on black blocks round a table. They listen, but only while turning pensively towards the greater realities of existence conveyed through the shell case and the sinister petrol can lying on the table.

Cameroonian artist Em’kal Eyongakpa’s extraordinarily dark landscapes appear haunted by shadowy feet, ancient objects and even, in one shot, a spectral body: the traces of war lying in the land like smoke on water. And there are haunted photographs.

Sammy Baloji’s archival images of Congolese labourers, some of them chained, materialise within contemporary photographs of ruined mines; the industry now as dead as the forced labour. Angolan artist Délio Jasse’s eerie double exposures superimpose period bank and passport stamps, and government letters, over 60s photographs of a colonial Portuguese family. You search for some trace of Angola itself and find only one single black African face, inevitably that of a servant.

The show considers the camera as an imperial device throughout. I admired a strange conurbation spreading across the floor of a vast central gallery, composed entirely of dusty old box files. Grouped, stacked, felled, they form a low-lying cityscape, the architecture of modern Lagos. And one of these piles takes the shape of Independence House, commissioned by the British, and in which secret documents and photographs were concealed. Some of these boxes now lie open, revealing colonial photographs buried beneath the red and ochre soil of Nigeria. Ndidi Dike’s installation is mordantly titled A History of a City in a Box.

Photography is a means to so many different kinds of art at Tate Modern – massive Cibachrome prints, film installations, multimedia sculptures. A wonderful old-fashioned slide show, in the dark, sets up found photographs of 19th-century Africans in Victorian dress whose identity is sometimes hazy. Each is followed by a question. Are these really their names? What did they do for a living? What is the occasion? And, above all, are these portraits “evidence of mental colonisation” or did they challenge prevailing images of “the African” in the west?

Organised with so much insight, intelligence and sympathy by Osei Bonsu, Tate Modern’s curator of international art, this is a terrific exhibition. And what’s remarkable is the way that so many visions of such an unimaginably vast continent are united, here and there, in microcosmic detail. If only you look as closely as these photographic images encourage.

The woman carrying a great basin of drinks on her head reappears, in spirit, in emblem, more than once. And eventually in one of Andrew Esiebo’s colossal cityscapes of teeming Lagos, where pedestrians make their own walkways through the chaos, people park their cars on the highways and demolished buildings are propped up as shacks. There she is again, heroic, no longer just another figure in the crowd.

• A World in Common: Contemporary African Photography is at Tate Modern, London SE1, until 14 January

There’s been a toxic narrative about photography on Instagram for years now. Its algorithms inhibit forging meaningful connections around your own photography, and with those you might want to engage with. And this ‘photography app’ actually promotes video over photography – it’s a Reels and Stories playground, while photo galleries lurk in the shadows.

Twitter is no better than Instagram for photographers, and for different reasons other than its often negative culture and all-round recent unravelling. There are real limitations on how you can actually share your photos, and aggressive file compression prevents others from enjoying your photography in all its glory.

Enter Threads. 

If you’re not already familiar with Threads, we’ve got a guide to everything you need to know about Meta’s Twitter rival, plus supporting content including 7 things you need to know about Instagram’s Twitter killer. For photographers specifically, the new app combines the best of Instagram and Twitter – being directly linked to the former – and adds a little extra goodness into the mix. And it’s still in its honeymoon phase, so hopefully it will only get better.

The initial reaction from photographers to Threads has been largely glowing. Professional astro and landscape photographer @aaronjenkin reacted, “This is the new photo sharing app”, and he’s not alone in feeling this way. So let’s unpack why this could be true.

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Showing your photos how you want

Serious photographers who use social media platforms like Instagram and Twitter to grow their business are hamstrung for various reasons, and one of those surrounds the limitations the platforms impose on how photos are presented. 

Most pro camera sensors have a 3:2 aspect ratio which flipped to portrait format is 2:3. Twitter and Instagram cannot accommodate this format, being limited to a 3:4 aspect ratio. If you shoot in portrait format, you lose detail from the top or bottom of your photo. Third-party apps are a workaround, whereby you add a border to the sides of your 2:3 images to create a 3:4 ratio, or you can bite the bullet and crop into the top or bottom. 

Not so with Threads. I’ve seen 2:3 photos, and photo carousels in mixed aspect ratios, all displayed in full. Even 16:9 videos flipped to a portrait format 9:16 are displayed with no top / bottom crop, and no messing around with third-party apps. Threads is a no fuss photo sharing app right now.

Aggressive compression also limits viewers from enjoying images at their full resolution. Of course, looking at a photo on a smartphone isn’t the best way to enjoy photography at the best of times, but compression further reduces image sharpness. 

Initial signs with Threads suggest that less compression is being applied to photos than on Twitter – you can pinch zoom and there’s still plenty of sharp detail there. 

There are early image limitations in Threads, however, like how landscape photos don’t rotate when you turn your phone horizontal. I’d expect something like that to be fixed, but it’s worth flagging. No auto-rotate aside, though, it’s so far, so good, and Threads is already going some way to appeasing serious photographers.

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A fresh chance for meaningful engagement

Beyond the capacity to showcase your photos adequately, it’s become increasingly harder to engage in meaningful conversations around photography on Instagram, and even Twitter.

Instagram is pushing ads, which are nowhere to be found on Threads… for now. There are workarounds to help you curate what you see in Insta, but it’s another process to deploy. It’s also a shared feeling among many photographers and users in general that too much engagement on Twitter is… well let’s just call it unwholesome.  

The following may sound corny, even lofty, but Threads is a chance to start again. Be who you want to be. Engage with who you want to engage with. Share what you want to share. Curate your connections, and let real conversations begin. It’s early days, and I’m interested to see how this will play out, but I want to be optimistic. 

How long will Threads stay this way?

I was an early adopter of Instagram – it was the first real outlet for me to share photos, and gave extra meaning to my creative endeavors. 

But as the Instagram app evolved I became less involved. After its Meta-fication, human engagement decreased, and ads appeared, uninvited. The waters muddied a long time ago, and TechRadar published an article exploring why Instagram is broken for photographers back in 2021. As for Twitter, I’ve never really used it for sharing photos; there are too many limitations, plus, I wasn’t engaged in photo communities in the same way as on Insta.  

Threads feels like a fresh start; new connections and communities are being formed, and I can share photos how I want. I like Threads now, though I’m cautious as to how long it will stay this way: it took Instagram many years to unravel for photographers, and Threads piggybacks Insta, and its growth curve is already rapid, and that’s potentially bad news – it could be like milk left out in the sun. 

Right now, I want to spend time in Threads in a way that I don’t with its sister app – a so-called ‘photography’ app, as I’ve mentioned – or with Twitter. This new app is actually a genius move on Meta’s part and it’s now clear: Instagram is for video, Threads is for photography. For now, at least…

Sergio Castiglione

Award-winning Argentinian photographer Sergio Castiglione has visited cities all over the world, capturing architectural and urban images. A qualified architect, his understanding of urban structures and visual components translates to his work.

What skills have you developed to adapt quickly to new environments?

Ever since I got my degree as an architect, more than 30 years ago, I have not stopped travelling. Partly it was for pleasure or vacation and, at other times, it was for work or studies. With that experience, I have developed the ability to easily adapt to the idiosyncrasies and the way of life in each city I visit. From Oslo, Marrakesh and Cape Town to Venice, Rio de Janeiro, Dubai or Istanbul, upon arrival in the city, I try to find the spirit and energy that guides it. The most exciting part about my job is searching for the ‘soul’ of each city. Not only what makes interesting images, but also its smells and its street sounds.

How do you explore new concepts in photography?

I work as an archaeologist of time – studying the moments of the day and valuing them as aesthetic elements that could lead to a refinement of the power of observation. I start with the idea that a city cannot be fully seen if it is separated from the passage of time. In my project called ‘segMOments: Effigies of Time’, I proposed a reflection on the city and the current ways of contemplating it. This is a contemporary portrait of the city that does not show a static profile, but that acquires dynamism and allows us to see a different picture from second to second. 

Space and time are formal axes of this photographic production, to which I include an architectural and urban perspective. I question myself and also the viewer about how a city should be observed, what would be the correct way? Under the sunlight?
At night? Or is it through a combination of all ways? It is a continuous project I’ve been working on for the past eight years and I have already photographed 35 cities in more than 20 countries.

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What advice would you give to stop photographers from being visually overwhelmed by their first impressions of an unknown city?

First of all, do it alone and have plenty of time to avoid external pressure. Contain your anxiety and walk aimlessly – let the city surprise you with what it has to show.

Reflections have always been an expressive element in both art and photography. What do you think that fascination is all about and how do you involve reflections in your work?

I believe that cities are actually mirrors in themselves and I start from this premise in my work. What do we see when we look at a strange city? What do we actually see when we walk through the streets? Is there another way to grasp things? My aim is to show the city from an atypical perspective – to show things that we see every day but never really pay attention to.

When travelling around cities, we normally perceive the urban space that is at the same level as our eyes, or even lower. We rarely look up, but by not doing so, we lose the chance to create new perspectives that have the potential to be unique. I want to show and explore the city that is above us and, strangely, one of the best ways I found that I could do that was by looking down.

Sometimes you have to try contradictory approaches to achieve your visual goal in a new way. In my work ‘Urban Mirrors’, I decided to capture the image of significant buildings through reflections on water surfaces. The resulting images show a perspective of the urban area that we would otherwise never be able to discover. It is an interplay of both visual and contextual aspects that interact in an inspiring way.

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What are the most difficult technical challenges when capturing photographs?

In one shoot, I took the same panoramic photograph over several hours so I could later compose a single work from multiple shots. In this case, my most difficult challenge was to anticipate nature. Also, when I was in New York, I wanted to take a shot of the sun setting between two towers. It was my last night in the city, which meant I only had one chance to get the shot right. Fortunately, with the help of my phone’s compass, I was able to position myself in the right place and take the exact shot I had in mind.

Breaking out of familiar creative patterns can be difficult. What are your tips for bringing in new perspectives?

I consider myself quite anti-routine. That helps in my work as a photographer to avoid common places and escape from my comfort zone. For me, photography is more like a game. When I am with my camera, I once again become that child who began to take his first photos with the Kodak Instamatic with film cartridge that my father gave me when I was 10 years old.

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In the introduction to her project Experimental Relationship, the New York-based photographer Pixy Liao writes: “As a woman brought up in China, I used to think I could only love someone who is older and more mature than me, who can be my protector and mentor. Then I met my current boyfriend, Moro. Since he is five years younger than me, I felt that the whole concept of relationships changed, all the way around. I became a person who has more authority and power. One of my male friends even questioned how I could choose a boyfriend the way a man would choose a girlfriend. And I thought: ‘Damn right. That’s exactly what I’m doing, and why not!’”

Experimental Relationship is a deadpan examination of that perceived reversal of power. Liao creates situations in which Moro appears passive or submissive to her whims in order to “explore the alternative possibilities of heterosexual relationships”. The series has fun with the expectations of the male gaze. Sometimes, Liao is clothed in the portraits and Moro is naked. She carries him over her shoulder in a fireman’s lift, or eats her breakfast off his unclothed body, or stares uncompromisingly into the camera while he places his head, childlike, on her shoulder, or tweaks his nipple. The pictures are more comical than coercive. Here, Moro seems to be getting the wrong end of the candy floss, while Liao enjoys his slight discomfort. The picture is included in a new guide to portrait photography, The Portrait Photographer’s Manual, in the “Family and Friends” section.

Liao met Moro on their first day at art school in Memphis. She began taking the pictures after they had been dating for a year; she got the idea from the reaction of Chinese friends and family to her having a younger boyfriend. She and Moro now live together. The project is continuing.

The BC SPCA has announced the winners of its 15th annual Wildlife-in-Focus Photography contest, with a third-place finish going to Squamish’s Sebastien Nadeau.

The contest had two categories plus a People’s Choice Award. The categories this year were ‘Backyard Habitats’ and ‘Wild Settings.’ Nadeau earned third place in the ‘Wild Settings’ category with an up-close view of a grizzly bear.

“With more than 500 photos submitted, choosing the top picks was a challenge for the contest judges,” said Andrea Wallace, the BC SPCA’s manager of wild animal welfare, in a news release sent out July 7.

“We want to thank all the participants for sharing their amazing photos of B.C.’s diverse wildlife and helping to raise $10,981 to help BC SPCA’s Wild Animal Rehabilitation Centre care for injured and orphaned wild animals.”

The winners, their origin, and the animal they captured, are listed below.

Backyard Habitats:

• First: Andrew Harnden (North Vancouver) – raccoon
• Second: Kailey Jorgensen (Burnaby) – red squirrel
• Third: Greg Peterson (Burnaby) – robin

Wild Settings:

• First: June Szasz (Vancouver) – snow geese
• Second: Mark Coupe (Kamloops) – short-eared owl
• Third: Sebastien Nadeau (Squamish) – grizzly bear

People’s Choice Award:

• Anabelle Wee (Richmond) – short-eared owl

The contest for 2024 will open in May. View more honourable mentions of submitted photographs at spca.bc.ca/wildlife-in-focus.