Think of Baixa as a easily-navigable shopping district. The busy neighborhood follows a clean grid layout, making it feel open, orderly, and walkable.
There were a few hills, but none of the steep ones we had just toured around in the Alfama district.
And in the middle of the day, the bright sun lit up the place, casting perfect shadows on the buildings and pedestrians as we walked around.
All of this – the buildings, the sunlight, and people wandering around – made for perfect street photography conditions. It fit my style, and I took full advantage.
After taking some of these photos, I caught my breath. I was in picture heaven.
This lady, watching me take photos on the busy walkway, came up to me and started singing. Lovely!
We made our way down to the Rua Augusta to the Arco da Rua Augusta, in view of the Tagus River, then back up to the Hotel do Chiado, where we grabbed lunch at their rooftop bar.
It was here that I grabbed what might be my favorite photo series from the whole trip.
Across from our table was this very animated Frenchman talking business with a local. The way the shadows and light fell across him made for a beautiful scene – so much so that I couldn’t stop making photos. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.
That night, we finished up our trip with a sailboat ride on the Tagus River.
Shot on the Canon EOS M6 and (mostly) the EF-M 32mm f/1.4.
Our Lisbon, Portugal trip came in several stages, so let’s start with the first part: our tuk tuk tour.
Our tour guide, João, picked us up near our Sintra guide’s meeting spot: the Hard Rock Cafe, on Avenida Da Liberdade (Liberty Avenue), early in the morning. From there, we took off in his tuk tuk to see some of the cathedrals and grand vistas around Lisbon.
This lower, flatter part of the city contrasts sharply with where a tuk tuk can take you next. Almost immediately, you begin climbing into Lisbon’s historic hills, where streets narrow and the buildings get older.
Sé Cathedral (Lisbon Cathedral)
Lisbon Cathedral stands as the city’s oldest major monument. While the current Romanesque structure dates to the 12th century, its origins go back much further.
It’s old, and dense: heavy stone walls, thick towers, with minimal ornamentation.
Contrast with that age: modern tuk tuks everywhere, trying to pick up tourists.
Monastery of São Vicente de Fora (Saint Vincent Monastery)
Perched above Alfama, São Vicente de Fora is one of Lisbon’s most important religious and historical complexes. Built in the 17th century, the monastery is dedicated to Saint Vincent, Lisbon’s patron saint, whose relics were brought to the city in the 12th century.
Up here, you could understand how Lisbon’s high ground was historically reserved for institutions of power, faith, and defense.
Photographically, this was one of my favorite spots on the tour. Bright white walls, deep shadows inside, and open courtyards gave me lots of room (and light) to explore.
From the Cathedral, we hit our first viewpoint area: Portas do Sol, with its view over Alfama, Lisbon’s oldest neighborhood (above). This viewpoint showcases Lisbon’s medieval layout: narrow streets, tiled facades, and terracotta roofs everywhere you look.
Plus, we had a great view of the Tagus River.
It was dizzying, traveling up those narrow streets. You lose your sense of direction pretty quickly.
And then, the city opens out in front of you…
Senhora do Monte Viewpoint and Chapel
The Miradouro da Senhora do Monte is one of Lisbon’s highest viewpoints. From up here, the city opens up in every direction, and João pointed out the old city and where it meets the newer parts of Lisbon (he was, admittedly, not a fan of the newer parts).
Behind us, a small chapel dedicated to Our Lady of the Mount (Senhora do Monte) sits quietly at the edge of the viewpoint.
We weren’t the only tourists looking out from this vantage point, but the space was open and clear enough to get a good view of the city under a bright morning sun.
Finishing up, we hit the hills back down to where we started, where João explained some of the history behind his wonderful city.
We asked João where we could get the best pastel de nata in town, and he steered us to a little cafe not far from our original meeting point.
Together with a cup of coffee, the pastel didn’t disappoint.
Shot on the Canon EOS M6 and a mix of EF-M lenses.
This Christmas, we were sitting with some family and going through some of my annual photo books.
“I tend to take my camera everywhere,” I told my mother-in-law as she relived the past few years through pictures. Some of those photo albums featured her, either at birthday parties or on a family trip to Wisconsin.
Looking through those photo books, all those ordinary moments feel anything but ordinary when you see them again.
As we turned the pages, I realized how much of what I remember is tied to the light of a place.
Light ends up highlighting how a scene, location, or event felt. Not just how it looked, but how I remember it: the warmth on a Lake Michigan beach. The quiet of a winter afternoon. The way a place said “home.”
In the winter, I always watch for the familiar light to return to the south side of the house. When it’s cold out, the light makes its merry way across the walls and floors again. When it shows up, I try to notice and capture it.
Looking back at old photos, I realize how much I miss the big picture window in our previous home’s living room (above). We made so many memories there. Morning light spilling in. Late afternoon shadows. Kids on the floor or the couch.
Quiet moments that felt small then, but feel enormous now.
Over the years, I knew that old house’s light and followed it according to the seasons.
In this house, the light is different. It arrives at different times, from different angles, and I’ve learned to take advantage of it where and when I can.
That’s part of why it helps to take a camera everywhere, or keep one on me at all times. I try to notice the light when it shows up and grab it while it’s there.
Then, when we look back, we’re not just seeing a photo; we are reliving how that light made the moment feel.
Heading out from our home base of Caparica, we took a day to visit Sintra, Portugal, along the Atlantic coast and a short drive from Lisbon.
We arranged an Airbnb tour and travelled with a mother/daughter pair from Mexico. As the day started, rain clouds moved in, misting over the landscape as we came into Sintra.
The first stop was the Pena Palace, one of the seven wonders of Portugal. Seeing it was like visiting a real-life Disney castle, but with colors and personality that made it a unique experience.
We climbed a short way up the mountain, through a grand entry archway, and stepped up to the bi-colored palace with tons of other visitors.
From up here, we had a great view of the surrounding area – and we could even spot Lisbon off to the East.
Next, we took a short drive to the Quinta da Regaleira, a 19th-century estate sprawling with chapels, statues, grottoes, and an initiation well that spiraled down into a cave system beneath the grounds.
We could have spent an entire day here, exploring the property. In between the rain, we climbed up the estate hillside and climbed down the well – over and under and through everything.
I thought back to what it must’ve been like to live here, especially as a child, and be able to wander around the estate day after day.
From the Quinta da Regaleira, we headed to the seaside and Cabo de Roca, the westernmost point in continental Europe.
After grabbing lunch, we stopped at the cliffside, 100 meters above the Atlantic Ocean, to see the lighthouse and marker noting the end of the Eurasian landmass. To the East were rolling hills and natural meadows. To the west? A long dive into the ocean.
With a good tour guide (shout-out to our own Giovana!), these kinds of tours are a great way to efficiently explore parts of a new country.
And even with the rain and inconsistent lighting, the Canon EOS M6 and stock zoom lens were all I needed to capture the day.
The mezzanine at work is our storage space. A large section of the mezzanine includes all of the Christmas decorations that appear this time of year.
I use the mezzanine to take a walk during my lunch hour. Last spring, I saw these holiday figures and packages wrapped in plastic while walking. It was such a striking scene that I had to grab my camera to grab some behind-the-scenes photos.
Happy holidays, everyone. See you in the new year.
First things first on our Portugal trip: Costa da Caparica, the little beach town we stayed in south of Lisbon.
For our 10-year wedding anniversary, we rented an Airbnb condo where, when you stepped outside the building, you were right on the beach. And believe me: coming from the chilly Midwest, we appreciated having easy access to the warm oceanside.
All of it – the seaside restaurants, the surfers, the golden light at sunset – reminded me of California. The weather was great too, full of sunshine and an ocean breeze.
The bright sun and saltwater haze lent a summer vibe to these photos that I appreciated, especially when visiting in the middle of October.
We loved the constant waves, too, and even kept our patio door open at night. Think of it as an ocean-sized sound machine.
I grabbed my Canon EOS M6 and took advantage of the sunshine and summer vibes to capture some photos along the beach walkway.
Whether we were eating lunch at a seaside restaurant or walking through a Portuguese flea market, it was the perfect place to capture the local people and places.
And the light? To die for, especially approaching golden hour.
Just like California, ocean sunsets hit differently.
Caparica was a great launching point into the wider Lisbon area. We were 30-50 minutes (depending on traffic) to Lisbon, and from there we wandered up and down the coast for the few days we were in Portugal.
All photos shot with the Canon EOS M6 and a select few EF-M lenses.
For Gary Willcock, art is something built from the inside out.
His story begins with buildings.
“I studied architecture at the University of Michigan,” he says. “I worked for a company in Pontiac called Custom Home Design, for Architonics here in Jackson, and I used to moonlight doing drawings at night. I got into a lot of places, met a lot of people, did some fun things.”
Gary grew up in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. As he moved around the state, he was raised in houses without plumbing or a refrigerator, where every wall and nail carried meaning.
“All those structures had a special place in my life,” he says. “After World War II, there was a huge building boom. Every vacant lot disappeared, and I got involved in it somehow. When my dad decided to build a house, I was part of that. I didn’t know anything about architecture, but I liked designing houses. They told me, ‘That’s an architect.’ So off I went.”
Even after he left formal architecture for design and engineering work, the mindset stayed.
“Wherever I’ve lived, I play with the building,” Gary says. “If I see an empty building, I start massaging it in my mind.”
Gary’s Living Sculpture
Gary and his wife Christie live on seven wooded acres south of Jackson, a place they call Wind Mountain.
“When I moved in here, this part of the house was just a covered slab,” he says. “I enclosed it, added a reverse gable, and kept going. Over the years, I’ve changed almost everything.”
He built patios, redesigned the kitchen, and drew every trim detail himself.
“This is all my design: the casing, the woodwork. I had it custom-made by the man who built my cupboards,” he says.
Christie calls their home “a living sculpture.” Gary agrees.
“At some point, I wanted my life to be a piece of art,” he says. “To live in this structure where I’ve created all this stuff. I’m walking through my own big sculpture, and it’s functional.”
Sculptures of Precision and Play
Gary’s sculptures merge precision and imagination.
“I’m rigid in some ways,” he laughs. “Right angles all the way. That’s from my mother: you didn’t color outside the lines.”
His background in product and machine design shows in the materials he chooses: anodized aluminum, steel, acrylic, and found parts.
“I think of machines as robots,” he says. “Even a car is a robot. A robotic horse.”
His fascination with robots goes back to childhood.
“For some reason, I never got rid of a toy robot I bought in about 1948,” Gary says. “I bought it at Montgomery Ward in Royal Oak. It cost a dollar.”
Years later, his oldest son found a reproduction and bought it for him, sparking a new collection.
“Then somebody else gave me one, and another, and pretty soon it became a thing,” he laughs. Now, robots, along with dogs, fill his shelves.
“They all have personalities,” he says. “Some of my sculptures do too.”
Light is another essential part of his work.
“I enjoy how it plays off different surfaces, how it bounces around through the holes,” he says. “Some pieces have lenses. You look in one end and out the other, like a telescope.”
His sculptures often carry names that hint at humor and personality: Light Scope, Nest, Red Foreman, SEA AWL.
“I’m corny,” he admits. “But I like it when people lean in to look. Art should make you curious.”
Champion of Local Art
Walk through Gary and Christie’s house, and every wall holds local art.
“If you want a creative community, you support it,” he says. “You show up to openings, you buy work when you can, you encourage people.”
“We buy it because we like it, not because we have to,” Christie adds. “The people who made this work are our friends.”
Gary smiles at that. “Art is connection. You don’t create in isolation.”
Making Meaning through art
After raising six children and working full-time, Gary returned to art in retirement.
“I had to work, so all this was on the back burner,” he says. “One day I told myself, ‘If you’re ever going to do something, you better get off your seat and do it now.’ ”
Now an active member of several local art communities and collectives, Gary continues to draw, design, and build.
“I think art gives meaning to life,” he says. “It reminds us to look closer, to pay attention, to see more.”
I came back to Austin, Texas, for a conference in November – the same conference I attended last year and had such a productive photography trip, walking around the city.
This year, it was much the same: beautiful, sunny weather, and a great chance to walk around downtown to grab some night images.
I brought along my Canon EOS M6 and a couple of bright lenses to capture the nightlife around 6th Street and the surrounding blocks.
Fujifilm cameras are famous for their film simulations that give images a unique character straight out of the camera.
One of the most beloved of these is Classic Chrome, known for its subtle tones, soft contrast, and cinematic feel.
But what if you shoot Canon? Good news: as I’ve talked about before with film emulations like Kodachrome and T-Max, you can get surprisingly close to that Fujifilm look with Canon’s Picture Style system.
Fuji’s Classic Chrome is all about restraint. It tones down saturation, especially in reds and blues, creating a muted, documentary-style color palette. Shadows lean slightly cool, highlights stay gentle, and the overall feel is understated – with a little touch of pink/magenta in bright spots. Think: vintage travel magazines or classic street photography.
And honestly, it’s very different from my own high-contrast, deep-saturation look. However, thanks to this Canassic Chrome (Canon + Classic = Canassic) emulation, we Canon users can achieve a similar look to that of Fuji using Picture Styles.
Here’s a quick comparison: my edit on the left, Canassic Chrome on the right:
I prefer my shadows to be black and my colors to pop (left). Classic Chrome (right) is different, a bit softer, and I took a chance on it during a recent trip to Lisbon, Portugal.
Canassic chrome in portugal
On our anniversary trip to Lisbon, Portugal, I loaded my Canon EOS M6 with Canassic Chrome to give it a spin.
What made this trip great was the variety of weather conditions. We saw sunny beach scenes, rainy and foggy hilltops, ocean cliffs, sea-side sunsets, and the contrasty urban environment of old town Lisbon.
Above, it shows its subtle tones and desaturated look on the beach at Costa De Caparica, Portugal.
I’ll have more to share on our Portugal trip, but throughout this Canassic Chrome discussion, you’ll see photos from the M6 that show what Canassic Chrome can do.
Above, I try Canassic Chrome on a rainy, foggy day in Sintra, exploring the colorful palaces and green hillsides.
Adding a touch of warmth by using Canon’s cloudy white balance was maybe a bit too much – but that’s what the experiment is for.
Here, I took Canassic Chrome for a test drive on the beaches of Costa de Caparica, close to sunset, to capture the soft, golden hour tones of the Atlantic coast.
These show the slight pink and magenta cast the Picture Style offers. It’s definitely a unique look.
WHere to get canassic chrome, and how to install it
Initially, you could grab Canassic Chrome from a site called Canon Style. Their YouTube channel remains, but the site is no longer available.
Thankfully, you can grab the Picture Style from Anh Hàng Xóm on Gumroad (I threw $1 at him, just to say “thanks”)
Once you have downloaded the PF3 file, follow these steps to install it on your Canon camera.
Set your camera to shoot either JPG only or JPG + RAW, and select the Picture Style to have your camera save a Chrome JPG.
Go out and find something to photograph to test it out.
Above are some scenes from around Old Town Lisbon – bright and sunny, showing that Canassic Chrome can be a versatile film emulation that I found flexible enough to both fit my style and provide a unique look to these pictures.
How to create your “Classic Chrome-style” Picture profile file
Want to create a Chrome style all your own? Canon’s Picture Styles give you full control over how your JPEGs (and preview images in RAW) render color, contrast, and sharpness. You can tweak existing profiles or load custom ones into your camera using Canon’s Picture Style Editor or third-party styles designed to emulate Fujifilm simulations.
The look to shoot for: muted global saturation (especially red/orange), slightly cool/teal shadows, restrained highlight roll-off, modest contrast in midtones. Overall, a cinematic and documentary feel (quiet, desaturated, moody). Use this as the target when building a Canon Picture Style.
Open either the Faithful setting or the Canassic Chrome as a base style in the editor.
Adjust parameters to your liking:
Contrast: –2
Saturation: –2
Color Tone (or colour tone/hue): slight warm shift (+1)
Sharpness: a modest increase (+2)
Save/export the result as a .PF2 (or .PF3 if your camera supports it).
Use EOS Utility (Canon’s camera software) to upload the PF2 to your camera’s custom picture-style slot.
Shooting with THIS Classic chrome Profile
Using a Classic Chrome-style Picture Style lets you capture photos with mood and personality straight out of camera. It can save editing time, help maintain a consistent aesthetic across shoots, and inspire a slower, more intentional approach to composition. Think of it like shooting film.
Coming back from Portugal, using the film emulation definitely saved on editing time. I picked a few selects from the JPGs and shared them on Instagram almost instantly. Since I can wirelessly transfer the photos from my M6 to my phone, it made sharing these photos super easy.
Whether you’re documenting a quiet street corner in Lisbon or chasing soft afternoon light near your own home, bringing a Classic Chrome vibe to your Canon setup is an easy way to infuse your digital pictures with timeless character.
Known for his figurative and kinetic sculptures, Tim’s work blends whimsy with craftsmanship. His pieces often balance, spin, or sway – sometimes, just for fun.
“A lot of this stuff moves or has a purpose, but it’s not like a practical purpose,” he says. “I like the idea of making something that does something, but there’s really no reason for it.”
Early Creativity
Tim’s creative story begins far from Michigan, in the western U.S.
Growing up a creative kid in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and later spending time in Oregon, Tim was drawn to the outdoors and the tactile world of making things. His early fascination with Native American culture and ancient traditions, particularly those of the Hopi and Zuni tribes, shaped his artistic sensibility.
“We’d go to the dances at the Pueblo. That exposure made me more interested in a lot of different cultures,” he says.
Before sculpture became his calling, Tim built a career in construction and contracting. He specialized in marble and tile work, creating intricate inlays and custom medallions for homes and businesses in and around Naples, Florida.
“I always liked working with my hands,” he explains. “I started doing tile and marble, and then I’d make tables with inlays. It was creative, but it was also practical.”
Those years, and those early cultural touchpoints, taught him the skills and worldview that would later define his art.
Experimentation and Autonomy
Tim never studied sculpture formally. Instead, he learned by doing.
“I definitely progressed because a lot of the earlier stuff, when I look at it now, it’s kind of rough,” he admits. “I guess it was just experimenting.”
That spirit of exploration remains central to his work. For Tim, art is freedom.
“You don’t have a boss telling you no,” he says. “You’re your own boss. If someone doesn’t like it, that’s fine. And if someone does, that’s great.”
Figurative and Kinetic Sculpture
Today, Tim is best known for his figurative and kinetic pieces. His portfolio (and his property) is filled with curious representations and characters. In his studio, he’s carving a standing wooden figure. Out in the yard, there’s a head made of stone.
“To me, figurative art is more appealing. I don’t like abstract,” he says. “I always like just having an idea and thinking, ‘I’d like to see it actually exist.’ It’s almost like an invention.”
Tim’s studio in rural Jackson is a workshop of constant motion. He works with reclaimed materials, metal scraps, and wood, often starting with a single piece that sparks an idea.
“It’s the fun part to pick something up and then actually make it,” he says. “After it’s done, I’m not as worried about it anymore.”
Beyond his studio, Tim is an active presence in mid- and southeast Michigan’s art scene. He exhibits regularly in Detroit-area galleries and participates in local shows that bring together regional artists.
His work has become a familiar highlight at community art events, where its playful energy draws both collectors and casual viewers.
Brigit, his wife, sums up his appeal simply: “Tim’s work makes you smile. It’s clever and full of life.”
For Tim, that playfulness is the point.
“Either way, I just like making things,” he says. “If someone connects with it, that’s even better.”
Another Saturday morning, another small town in south central Michigan.
This time, I picked a sunny fall morning and drove south to Hillsdale, a small town that I haven’t seen in 15 years. I used to travel to Hillsdale for work fairly often. Today, it’s all photography, and a fresh chance to revisit this small city.
Hillsdale is about a 40-minute drive from Jackson, through the rural countryside, and it was a good opportunity to get to see this section of US-12 again.
The first stop? Lewis Emery County Park to watch the sun rise.
I met this gentleman who was struggling to find a fish.
“What are you photographing anyway?” he asked.
The scenery, I said, and to watch the colors change as the light came in.
“Well, if you see any fish around, send them my way,” he said.
Driving into town, I spotted this industrial section of town and pulled over to explore. The sun was coming up and lit up these bright white silos perfectly.
On the town square, near the courthouse, I walked around the farmers’ market and bought a delicious selection of apples.
At the farmer’s market, I ran into a co-worker and her friend.
“What are you doing down here?” she asked.
Have camera, will travel, I said.
Photos shot with the Canon 5D (classic!) and either EF 50mm f/1.4 or 40mm f/2.8.
Back to the University of Michigan’s Big House, the largest stadium in America, this time to watch the Wolverines take on the University of Wisconsin.
My friend, Don, and I started out at Fox Sports’ Big Noon Saturday TV taping, live from the high school across the street from Michigan Stadium.
If you treat these big game settings as street photography, you can capture the fun and excitement of all the fans. I brought my Canon EOS M2 as my light and portable gear, easily bringing it everywhere I went. I even put it in my back pocket and breezed past the security checkpoint.
The weather was warming up – and quickly – as we headed into the stadium. By halftime, the temperature climbed to the unseasonable 80-85 degrees F.
We had to take a break and drink some water in the shade. We weren’t the only ones.
This didn’t feel like fall football in October. This felt like summertime.
By the start of the fourth quarter, the game was well in hand for Michigan. I grabbed a few final photos on my way out of the stadium, taking advantage of the bright sunlight and all those maize-colored shirts and jerseys.
Let’s go, Blue!
Photos shot on the Canon EOS M2 and EF-M 22mm f/2.
This New York Times profile on photographer Sally Mann – one of my family photography heroes – is one of those periodic reminders of the importance of making photos at home.
Sally became well-known (and, sadly, controversial) because of her intimate family portraits. She has since moved on to landscapes and other forms of photography, especially as her children became adults.
I feel that transition happening in my own life, too. For the past 10 years, since my daughter Madelyn was born, family photography has been my main creative outlet: photos around the house, family vacations, and capturing moments as my kids get older.
In the past year, however, I have had more time for creative projects outside of my family and home. I rebooted my Artists In Jackson project, I’m taking more time to take little adventures around my community, and I’m revisiting projects that I worked on long ago.
It feels good! And I have a metric that shows my return to other kinds of photography – my Lightroom photo count:
Over the years, my photo count has decreased. Now, for the first time in a long time, I’m taking more photos than I have in years past – by a lot. That feels good, too.
But despite doing more photography, I haven’t lost sight of the importance of my own household. The kids are more mobile and active these days, but I still try to steal a shot when I can.
Family photography is still the most important kind of photography. It’s just that now, I have found my way back to other projects.
