🎵 “When I’m cleaning windows…” 🎵

I was walking along Queens Quay with my old Sony camera around my neck when I looked up and suddenly started hearing an old song in my head.

🎵 “When I’m cleaning windows…” 🎵

Now if you are under 50 years old, you probably have no idea what Bob is talking about. But somewhere in the back of my brain, the old George Formby tune kicked in as soon as I saw these guys hanging off the side of the building like they were casually spending Saturday afternoon 30 floors in the air.

And there I was standing safely on the sidewalk thinking… “Nope. Bob’s photography career will remain firmly attached to the ground.”

One guy was smiling at me like he was sitting on a patio at St. Lawrence Market having a coffee. Another looked like he could rappel into a James Bond movie at any moment. Meanwhile Bob was zooming in with the Sony lens thinking, “Please don’t drop the squeegee because that thing is coming down like a Toronto condo maintenance missile.”

The funny thing about street photography is sometimes you go downtown looking for dramatic city scenes, protests, sports photos, or fancy architecture…

…and then you end up completely fascinated by window cleaners.

Because honestly, these guys are part of the real working city.

Toronto is full of people you barely notice unless you stop and actually look up. Construction workers, delivery drivers, crane operators, TTC mechanics, and the people dangling off skyscrapers cleaning the fingerprints off condo glass so the rest of us can admire the lake view.

That is what Bob likes photographing.

Not just the shiny buildings — but the people keeping the shiny buildings shiny.

And you know what else hit me while taking these photos?

This is the kind of stuff old cameras are perfect for. No fancy AI auto focus tracking of a Formula 1 car needed. Just a photographer standing on the street seeing something interesting unfold in front of him. A little zoom lens, a little patience, and suddenly you have photos that tell a story.

I also have to admit these photos have a classic Toronto feel to them. Glass towers. Ropes hanging down the side of buildings. Workers suspended over Queens Quay while tourists walk by eating ice cream pretending this is perfectly normal.

Only in downtown Toronto can a man be hanging off a skyscraper and people still walk past saying:
“Should we grab tacos?”

That’s street photography though.

Sometimes the city gives you giant moments.

Sometimes it gives you tiny moments.

And sometimes it gives you George Formby hanging off a condo tower cleaning windows. 

George Formby Song

Bob Has Been Everywhere, Man. Elbows Up This Summer.

Bob has been thinking a lot lately about that phrase everyone keeps saying:

“Elbows up.”

And maybe that does not just mean hockey.

Maybe it means this summer Canadians should remember what we have right here at home.

Because honestly, why are we racing across the border when we live in one of the biggest and most beautiful countries on earth?

Bob has stood beside the mountains in British Columbia with an old Sony camera hanging off his shoulder thinking there is no way this place is real.

Bob has driven through the Prairies where the sky is so big it looks like somebody forgot to crop the photo.

Bob has watched storms roll across Lake Superior.
Driven the Cabot Trail.
Stopped at roadside craft shops in Northern Ontario.
Photographed little towns, grain elevators, oceans, fishing villages, and roads that disappear into the horizon for hours.

And every single time Bob thinks:

“Why are Canadians always trying to leave Canada in the summer?”

This country is enormous.

You can spend your whole life traveling Canada and still not see it all.

Meanwhile everybody rushes to airports to stand in line somewhere else while half the people online cannot even point to Saskatchewan on a map.

This summer maybe it is time for Canadians to travel their own country.

Go camping in Ontario.
Drive through Quebec.
See the mountains out west.
Visit the East Coast.
Stop at the roadside diners.
Photograph the weird giant statues.
Buy snacks at gas stations in towns you never heard of.

That is real Canadian travel.

And you know what Bob likes best about traveling Canada?

The stories.

The woman running the tiny restaurant in the middle of nowhere.
The guy at the campground telling fishing stories.
The roadside museum that looks like it has not changed since 1974.
The grain elevators standing like castles in the Prairies.
The old fishing boats on the Atlantic coast.

These are the things you remember.

Not standing in an outlet mall parking lot somewhere.

Bob also laughs because people online act like you need expensive new camera gear to document your travels.

Most of these photos were taken with older Sony cameras and kit lenses while Bob wandered around Canada like a documentary photographer looking for the next story.

Because the truth is Canada already gives you everything you need.

Mountains.
Cities.
Road trips.
Lakes.
Storms.
Wild landscapes.
Street festivals.
Historic towns.
Endless highways.

This summer maybe Canadians should put their elbows up a little and remember this country is worth exploring too.

You do not need to leave Canada to find adventure.

Sometimes the best trip of your life is waiting somewhere on a two-lane highway with a Tim Hortons coffee, an old camera, and a sign pointing toward a town you have never visited before.

 

Bob vs. The Weed Blower

Bob thought it was going to be a peaceful afternoon.

A little yard work. A little fresh air. Maybe even one of those “good dad” moments where you pretend yard work is fun.

Then suddenly he hears:

“DAAAAD!”

Now when you hear your daughter yell like that while holding a weed blower, you immediately assume one of three things happened:

1. The machine exploded.
2. A squirrel got launched into orbit.
3. Someone’s clothing has become part of the landscaping equipment.

It turned out to be number three.

Bob walks over and discovers the drawstrings from his daughter’s shorts had been sucked directly into the weed blower like the machine was starving for cotton rope.

The blower looked proud of itself too.

There she was standing completely trapped to the machine, unable to move forward or backward, holding this giant red weed blower like she had somehow become part of a modern art installation called “Teenager vs. Yard Equipment.”

Bob did what every father does in an emergency.

First… he laughed.

Not a little laugh either.

One of those full “I can’t breathe” laughs that make you useless during a crisis.

His daughter was not impressed.

“Dad! HELP!”

Meanwhile Bob is trying to take documentary photos because this is the kind of real-life street photography drama you can’t stage.

Forget protests.
Forget sports photography.
Forget waiting six hours outside the Rogers Centre.

This was the real breaking news story of the day:

Local Ontario teen defeated by weed blower string technology.

After a careful rescue mission involving untangling, reverse spinning, and several comments about “this is why sweatpants are dangerous around machinery,” she was finally freed.

The shorts survived.
The weed blower survived.
Bob’s ability to stop laughing did not survive.

Later Bob realized this is exactly how dads become legends in family history.

Twenty years from now someone will say:

“Remember when the weed blower ate your shorts?”

And Bob will still be laughing while claiming he documented the whole thing like a professional photojournalist.

Because around Bob, even yard work somehow turns into a story.

 

Waiting for the Water

The other day on a walk through Toronto, Bob stopped when he saw a Toronto Fire truck parked quietly along the curb. No flames shooting out of windows. No dramatic TV scene. Just a firefighter sitting inside the cab waiting.

And Bob started thinking.

Most people only notice the exciting part of the job. The lights. The sirens. The hoses flying everywhere. The firefighters charging into smoke while everybody else is running away.

But somebody has to stay with the truck.

Somebody has to be the driver.

Bob started imagining what it must be like sitting in that cab on every call. You pull up to the scene, heart pounding, radios going, people yelling directions, and then the crew jumps out. Suddenly it gets quiet inside the truck.

Now your job begins.

You are watching everything.

You are listening to the radio.

You are waiting for the moment when the crew needs water.

Then suddenly it happens.

“Charge the line!”

Now the driver moves fast. Pull the hose out. Connect to the hydrant. Open the water supply. Watch the pressure gauges. Feed water to the firefighters inside the building.

Without that water supply, the whole operation stops.

Bob realized the driver is kind of like the goalie in hockey. You may not always notice them, but when things go wrong, everybody notices very quickly.

And imagine doing this in Toronto traffic.

Trying to get a giant fire truck through downtown while somebody in a delivery van blocks the lane because they “just need two minutes.”

Meanwhile the firefighter driving the truck is probably thinking:

“Buddy… the building on fire would also like two minutes.”

Bob also noticed how modern these trucks look now. Screens. Controls. Electronics everywhere. It almost looks like driving a spaceship mixed with a water plant. Not exactly the old days of pulling a big chrome lever and hoping for the best.

Standing there taking photos, Bob realized street photography is sometimes about noticing the jobs people never think about.

Everybody photographs the firefighters spraying water.

Bob photographed the person making sure the water gets there.

That’s the hidden part of the story.

And honestly, sitting in the cab waiting for the call to come over the radio might be one of the most stressful jobs in the city.

Because when they need you…

they REALLY need you.

 

Bob Goes to Sugar Beach Before the City Wakes Up

Most people go down to Sugar Beach in Toronto to sit in the pink chairs, look at the lake, and pretend they are on vacation for 20 minutes before going back to the office. Bob goes down there wondering what the food vendors are doing before everybody else shows up hungry.

That is the difference between a tourist and a street photographer.

While most of the city was still waking up, Bob was wandering around the waterfront with his old Sony camera looking at smoke coming off charcoal grills and people setting up for a full day of cooking. Suddenly Sugar Beach was not just a beach anymore. It became a working documentary scene.

You could smell the charcoal before you even saw the grills.

Skewers everywhere. Smoke floating through the air. Coolers being unpacked. Sauces getting mixed. People lighting grills while half asleep and already working harder than most office workers will all day.

This is the Toronto Bob likes to photograph.

Not the polished Instagram Toronto.

The working Toronto.

The “we have been here since early morning getting ready so you can eat lunch at noon” Toronto.

Bob stood there watching the vendors line up trays of food like an assembly line. Some people were quietly focused. Others were joking around while flipping skewers. One woman looked over at Bob’s camera with that expression street photographers know very well:

“Why is this guy taking photos of us cooking meat at 10 in the morning?”

Because it tells a story.

That is why.

Bob realized something while walking around Sugar Beach. These food vendors are almost like street photographers themselves. They show up early. They work in all weather. They depend on timing. They wait for crowds. They create something quickly before the moment disappears.

A good skewer is probably a lot like a good street photo.

Too slow and you miss it.
Too fast and you burn it.

And while everyone later in the day will be standing in line eating food by the lake, Bob got to see the hidden part nobody notices — the setup, the preparation, the smoke, the workers moving around before the crowds arrived.

That is the advantage of wandering around with a camera all the time.

You end up seeing the backstage version of Toronto.

One vendor was already grilling while another was still unpacking supplies. Somebody else was organizing sauces while smoke drifted across the beach area like a movie scene. Bob probably looked suspicious standing there photographing charcoal bags and skewers like they were historic artifacts.

Meanwhile the camera club judges would probably call this:
“Outstanding Urban Food Preparation Documentary Series.”

Possibly even:
“Best Use of Smoke in a Waterfront Environment.”

And honestly, these photos are snapshots of Toronto life. Different cultures. Different foods. Different people all working side by side near the lake while the city slowly wakes up behind them.

This is why Bob likes walking Toronto streets.

You never know if the story will be a protest, a pickleball game, a construction crew, or somebody grilling 500 skewers beside Sugar Beach before lunch hour even starts.

And somewhere in Toronto there is probably a YouTube photography expert testing corner sharpness on a $3000 lens.

Meanwhile Bob is standing beside a charcoal grill at Sugar Beach photographing smoke and chicken skewers with a 10-year-old Sony camera thinking:

“Now THIS is street photography.”

 

Bob The Sports Photographer Strikes Again… At The Pickle ball Courts

Bob is always looking for his big break as a sports photographer in Toronto. Most people think sports photography means standing on the sidelines at the Leafs game with a giant white lens worth more than a downtown condo parking spot. But Bob knows the real action can happen anywhere in the city.

This week the assignment took Bob to the pickle ball courts down by the waterfront.

Now let me tell you something… pickle ball players are serious.

Bob walked by thinking maybe it would be a calm little game with retirees gently tapping a ball back and forth while talking about garden centres and early bird specials. Five minutes later there were serves flying, people sprinting across the court, and volleys happening faster than the TTC changing bus routes before a long weekend.

Suddenly Bob was in full sports photographer mode.

The Sony camera came up. Continuous auto focus turned on. Burst mode ready. Bob started tracking the ball like he was covering Wimbledon for international media.

One player leaped into the air for a return shot while a GO bus rolled past in the background. That right there is pure Toronto sports photography. You are not getting that at Centre Court in London. Another player smashed a return with the LCBO sign towering behind the court like the official sponsor of recreational athletics in Ontario.

Classic Toronto.

Bob realized something while taking these photos. Sports photography on the street is not always about professional athletes. Sometimes it is just about people enjoying the city. The movement, concentration, reactions, and competition all tell a story.

And honestly, pickle ball might be the fastest growing sport in Toronto right now. Everywhere Bob goes there are courts full of players. Condos are going up beside them, GO buses rolling by, dogs barking in the park, and somebody walking around with a camera trying to capture the moment.

That somebody is usually Bob.

The funny thing is Bob still dreams of getting that official sports media pass one day. Maybe FIFA. Maybe the Olympics. Maybe even the Blue Jays. But until then, Bob is perfectly happy photographing Toronto’s unofficial major leagues:

Pickle ball at the waterfront.
Street hockey in laneways.
Basketball courts under condo towers.
Kids kicking soccer balls in the park.
And people arguing over whether the ball was out.

Because at the end of the day, sports photography is really about capturing energy and emotion. And Toronto has plenty of both.

Besides, if Bob keeps practicing at the pickle ball courts, maybe one day he will be ready for the big leagues.

Or maybe he will just end up joining a doubles team with a bunch of retirees who call him “the camera guy.”

Either way, Bob wins.

 

What It’s Like To Be a Water Taxi Driver in Toronto Harbour

Bob was standing down by the waterfront watching the Toronto Harbour water taxis going back and forth to the islands and started thinking… what is it actually like being one of those drivers all day?

Most people just see the ride. Bob sees the story.

One minute you are hauling tourists with bikes over to Centre Island. The next trip you have somebody dressed like they are heading to a yacht club dinner. Then five minutes later you are carrying somebody with a cooler, two kids, and enough beach gear to survive a week on the island.

That is basically Toronto in one boat ride.

Bob noticed every driver had a different style too. Some looked like they were running a harbour bus route with military precision. Others looked completely relaxed like they had discovered the greatest office in Canada.

And honestly… maybe they have.

Imagine your office being Lake Ontario instead of a cubicle.

No TTC delay announcements.

No elevator meetings.

No “per my last email.”

Just: “Next stop… Ward’s Island.”

Bob figures these drivers probably know more about people than most sociologists. They see nervous first dates heading to the island. Families trying to organize screaming kids and folding chairs. Cyclists trying not to fall into the harbour while boarding. Tourists asking if the CN Tower is “that big thing over there.”

Then there is the weather.

A sunny July day? Probably amazing.

A cold windy April morning? Different story.

Bob was taking photos and started realizing the water taxis themselves almost look like floating Toronto street photography subjects. Every boat has its own personality. One looked like a floating construction company shuttle. Another looked like a tiny island party bus. One had the phrase “The island awaits you” written across the roof like some mysterious movie trailer.

Bob also wondered if the drivers secretly become local celebrities after a while.

“Hey! It’s Steve from the blue water taxi!”

People in Toronto probably recognize these captains more than half the city councillors.

And while everyone else rushes around downtown staring at phones, these drivers are out there watching the skyline, the weather, the boats, and the city changing every day.

Not a bad life.

Of course Bob also started thinking this would make a great camera club category:

“Working People of Toronto Harbour.”

Meanwhile some photography influencer is flying across the world to photograph canals in Europe while Bob is standing at the Toronto waterfront realizing we already have floating stories right here in the harbour.

Sometimes the best street photography in Toronto is not even on the street.

Sometimes it floats by.

 

Bob went to the CONTACT Photography Festival exhibit up on the 22nd floor on Dundas West and walked around looking at giant prints hanging on clean white walls while trying not to look too much like “that guy” who spends half the time studying the photos and the other half studying how they mounted them.

Meanwhile Bob is standing there thinking…

“I have photographed half the streets of Toronto since some of these condo towers were parking lots.”

That is the dangerous thing about sending a Toronto street photographer into an art exhibit. By the third room they start mentally curating their own show.

The exhibit was good. Real good. Big city stories. Different styles. Different voices. Some artistic shots where Bob stared at the photo for five minutes pretending he completely understood the deeper meaning before finally admitting to himself:

“Okay… I think this one is about loneliness… or maybe construction permits.”

But walking through CONTACT also got Bob thinking about Toronto itself. Street photography in this city is endless. Every TTC ride, protest, festival, construction site, laneway, food stand, snowstorm, and weird guy dressed like a pirate outside Union Station is part of the story of Toronto.

Bob has spent years walking the streets with old Sony cameras documenting the city like a one-man newspaper archive.

Not with fancy medium format gear.
Not with a production crew.
Not with grant money.

Just Bob, comfortable shoes, and a camera that YouTube reviewers probably declared “obsolete” sometime around 2016.

And then Bob got home and checked Flickr.

Over 1000 views in one day.

Now to normal people that may not sound like much, but to photographers it means your photos are out there moving around the internet while you are asleep eating leftover pizza.

The funny part is Bob’s photos are not staged fashion shoots or celebrity portraits. Half the time it is:

• construction workers in the rain
• people lined up for hockey games
• strange Toronto moments in laneways
• somebody carrying a giant plant on the TTC
• a raccoon looking like it pays property taxes

Snapshots of the times.

And Bob realized something else at the exhibit.

A lot of gallery photography today feels almost like landscape photography. Very controlled. Very still. Very carefully planned.

But street photography is different.

Street photography is alive.

You cannot move the buildings.
You cannot control the crowds.
You cannot ask the raccoon to hit its mark again.

The streets give you one chance.

Walking through CONTACT made Bob wonder something:

Did CONTACT miss an opportunity by not having more raw Toronto street photography in the exhibits?

Not just polished gallery work or landscape-style photos. Real everyday Toronto. The kind of photography where you can almost hear the streetcars and smell the hot dog carts.

And then Bob started wondering something else.

How many CONTACT exhibits actually had over 1000 people physically walk through them in one single day?

Because Bob’s Flickr page just did.

That is the strange new world of photography now. A guy walking around Toronto with a 10-year-old Sony camera can quietly put his work online and reach numbers that some gallery spaces might never see during an entire exhibit run.

No wine table.
No curator speech.
No security guard watching you too closely.

Just people scrolling through Toronto street photos from all over the world.

Because years from now people may not care about another perfectly lit minimalist wall photo.

But they might care about what Toronto actually looked like in this era.

The workers.
The crowds.
The chaos.
The festivals.
The protests.
The strange moments.
The changing streets.

That is what street photographers quietly collect over decades.

Bob walked out of the exhibit thinking maybe Toronto street photographers are building one of the biggest unofficial archives of the city without anyone even realizing it.

Then Bob checked Flickr one more time and saw the stats spike again.

Maybe the streets are the exhibit after all.