A Seat by the Water, a Story in the Making
There’s something about a Muskoka chair that instantly transports me back to quiet mornings by the lake. The kind where the mist still clings to the water, and the world feels perfectly still. From the moment I first sat in one, these chairs were more than just a place to sit—they were part of every summer memory.
I enjoy the way the wooden slats warm under the sun, how the armrests are always the perfect width for a coffee cup or a book. Whether painted in bright colours or left bare to weather gracefully with time, they have a presence that feels both sturdy and inviting.
As a photographer, I find myself drawn to these chairs again and again. They symbolize something deeply Canadian—a connection to nature, to slow living, to the simple pleasure of sitting back and watching the world go by. Capturing them in different settings, from dockside sunrises to firelit evenings, has been a way to document not just a piece of furniture, but a feeling. A sense of belonging, of nostalgia, of home.
Every time I frame a shot of a Muskoka chair, I think of the people who’ve sat there before. The conversations shared, the quiet reflections, the call of a loon echoing across the water, the laughter carried by the wind. These chairs hold stories, just like the landscapes they rest in. And for me, each photograph is a way to preserve that moment, to relive those memories, and to invite others to take a seat, even just for a moment, through the lens.
In Ontario’s lake country, where the water stretches endlessly and the pines whisper in the breeze, the Muskoka chair stands as a quiet witness to summers well spent—past, present, and still to come.
