I think my fascination with spaces stemmed from childhood when we used to steal wood from local construction sites and build tree forts in the apple orchard across the street. We’d find carpet remnants from garbage bins and other objects to decorate the interior of our play space. We made good use of our fathers’ left over roof shingles, paint, or whatever else was laying around. We’d bring our prized possesions, mine was a box of colorful beads to make friendship bracelets and my neighborhood friend had a box of cut outs from his father’s magazine collection (Playboy). We spent weeks hanging out in our tree space, playing cards, boardgames, amongst other monkey business. We even had one of our cats and her litter of kittens in there. It was OUR space away from the boring unimaginative adults.

As a teen, I would browse interior design books and magazines and try my best to recreate design trends that I liked in my bedroom. During my first trip to Europe in ’89, I stayed with relatives that lived in homes with high ceilings and large casement windows. The trend at that time seemed to be ‘everything white’. Black and white photographic art also seemed to be en vogue. When I returned to Canada, I was completely hooked on the idea of creating my own ‘white space’, a live work studio in my bedroom. I ripped out the broadloom (I had always detested) and a gorgeous hardwood floor was revealed. I painted my walls white along with most of my furniture. I pulled off the old fashioned curtains to leave the simple retractible blinds. I did as much as I could with zero budget. It was a small space, but it was mine. At 15 I had my own little photo studio, a Pentax K-1000 and access to my brother, my best friend, and my cat as ‘models’.

Four years later, I moved out from my parents’ home, and found myself ‘upgrading’ apartments almost every year after that. Almost always by choice, I loved the hunt of finding new spaces. Although I was focused on studies non-related to photography at the time (sometimes we veer off course), my living space was still something that needed to feel right. It needed to be bright and unique in design with my favorite colors and fabrics - as Feng Shui as possible. A personal oasis, as I would spend many hours at home during those years.

I bought my first townhome at age 26, and from there, bought and sold four more homes in Toronto, a stunning off-grid cabin in northern Ontario, a condo and warehouse studio loft in Chicago. All beautiful spaces designed with the same fervor from when I was a kid. It never occurred to me to take photos of the interiors of which I poured my heart into, though I did photograph the exterior of my cabin nestled amongst the trees on the hill by the lake. The cabin in Canada was my favorite holistic space - and the forest surrounding it was my sanctuary.

I’ve come a long way since the tree fort days. Here in Palm Springs, I’ve found myself among the most impressive architecture I’ve ever seen. Drawn to the vastness of the desert where minimalism seems to be the preferred style, light is abundant. vivid colors, hard lines from shadows compliment the rays of light that seep into these desert spaces. The cohesion of indoor and outdoor spaces. Mountains that can be seen from windows are like paintings within cotton candy skies. I’ve become hooked. A natural progression for me was to photograph these desert spaces that I adore. But what to do with these images? They most likely stay as digital files and used for real estate listings, magazines or in coffee table books. However, for the love of art - framed artwork - fine art hung on walls in the most perfect spaces, I plan to do something more. A natural progression, which I have envisioned for some time, creative environmental portraiture. People moments in personal spaces and sanctuaries. The use of this magnificent desert light and Palm Springs color palette. And pets, we can not forget the pets.

Palm Springs space - Architect A. Quincy Jones

My most current work can be seen on Instagram by clicking HERE.