THe Summer we gathered

Photographs and stories from a summer on the powwow trail

There is something about arriving at a powwow that stays with you long after the last drumbeat. Perhaps it's the sound of the singers carrying across the grounds before you've even found a place to park, the colour and movement of the regalia, or the smell of food cooking as families and friends gather for another day of dancing. There is laughter, conversation, children running between generations, and the unmistakable feeling of arriving somewhere people are genuinely happy to be together.

This was my first summer following the powwow trail in Alberta. I'm not new to powwow, but I am new to this part of Canada, and as a photographer, I've been fortunate to travel around the world witnessing celebrations, ceremonies, and traditions that tell us something about the places we call home. Yet there is something particularly meaningful about returning to a gathering circle, week after week, and beginning to recognize the people around you. Dancers you've photographed before, families gathered along the edges of the arena, and familiar faces that remind you how quickly a place can begin to feel less unfamiliar.

I found myself at the circle paying closer attention to the extraordinary details of the regalia, particularly the beadwork, the patterns, the colours, and the craftsmanship that deserve far more than a passing glance. Behind each piece are countless hours of work, often many hands, and generations of knowledge, creativity, and love. These are not simply beautiful garments to be photographed, but expressions of identity, family, culture, and stories that carry meaning well beyond what a camera can capture.

And then, of course, there are the little things that become part of the experience. The lemonade on a hot afternoon, remembering to bring sunscreen, finding a place to sit, and realizing that what you thought might be a few hours has somehow become an entire day. There is something wonderful about the pace of it all, about being present without needing to be anywhere else, and allowing the day to unfold around you.

It's easy to be captivated by the beauty of powwow, particularly through a camera lens, but the longer I spend at these gatherings, the more I appreciate that what happens in the circle is so much bigger than the photographs. There are competitions, certainly, with prizes, spectacular dancers, and moments of extraordinary athleticism and artistry. But there are also prayers, ceremony, remembrance, and gratitude. Families celebrate together, generations pass knowledge forward, and there are moments of healing and connection that may never be visible to someone simply passing through.

One of the things I have valued most about photographing powwow is the understanding that a powwow is not a photography event. No one is there for my camera. The dances have meaning beyond the images I make, the regalia carries stories that are not mine to tell without permission, and the people gathered have relationships, histories, and traditions that exist entirely independent of my presence. As a photographer, that is both a privilege and a responsibility. My role is to be present, to pay attention, to learn where and when it is appropriate to photograph, and to make images with care and respect.

Looking back on this summer, I am grateful for every invitation, every conversation, and every opportunity to learn. I came to these gatherings with my camera, curious about the communities and traditions of a province I am still getting to know, and I left with something that photographs alone cannot quite describe. A growing familiarity, a deeper appreciation, and the simple joy of returning to places where people come together to celebrate who they are.

Perhaps that is what I will remember most about the summer we gathered: not simply the photographs, but the feeling of being there.

Please note if you are an organizer or dancer at one of these events, I would love to gift you the images. If you reach out on our contact page, I will be sure to respond with the PIN to download.