There have been thousands—maybe millions—of photos taken of the geese at the Eaton Centre. Everyone has seen them. Everyone has photographed them. Which is exactly why Bob knew this wasn’t going to be a normal photo.
At the Bob Camera Club, taking a picture of something famous doesn’t win you points. Seeing it differently does.
Bob didn’t go looking for perfect geese.
Bob went looking for conditions.
He waited until after a snowfall, when the snow stuck to the glass roof and turned the ceiling into a giant, frosted canvas. The sharp lines softened. The outside world disappeared. The light turned quiet and flat. And the geese—well—they stopped looking like geese.
They became shapes.
Shadows.
Motion.
Flying forms drift through what looked like clouds.
In the final image, you can barely tell where the roof ends and the sky begins. The birds dissolve into the geometry of the glass, the curves of the ceiling, and the haze of winter light. It’s not about identifying the subject anymore—it’s about feeling it.
That’s what made it an abstract.
And that’s what made it a winner.
When the judges saw the photo, it wasn’t, “Oh, the Eaton Centre geese again.”
It was, “Wait… what am I looking at?”
That pause—that moment of uncertainty—is where abstract photography lives.
Bob didn’t win because he photographed the geese.
Bob won because he photographed winter, motion, and atmosphere—using geese as an excuse.
Same mall.
Same birds.
Completely different story.
Another reminder from Bob:
If everyone’s already taken the photo, change how you see it—and let the camera club catch up.
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