Field Notes: Electric Current | Tofino, British Columbia

You know the moment when life jumbles in front of your eyes—when your thoughts race, your vision blurs, and the clarity you thought you’d found slips into chaos again. It’s the pulse of anxiety, the noise of living. But somewhere inside that blur, if you look long enough, you’ll see something else: beauty.

That’s what Electric Current is. It’s life in motion, in colour. Not the calm kind, but the raw, volatile kind—the kind that pulls at your edges, demanding you to feel, to stay awake, to respond.

At the ocean’s edge in Tofino, nature mirrored that internal rhythm. Here, where foaming whitewater collides with volcanic rock and bursts into spray above tidepools glowing with marine pigment—turquoise, acid green, rust—I found a visual echo of what lives in us: emotion, energy, electricity.

I waited for days. I studied the tides, timed the light, tracked the sun, watched the barnacles breathe and the gulls wheel overhead. And when the elements aligned—just for a flash—I captured what I could. No filters. No effects. Just the force of nature rendered real through my lens.

These images aren’t only about water or waves. They’re about the state of being pulled—by beauty, by uncertainty, by the rush and retreat of clarity. They reflect a life lived in constant motion, where focus is fleeting but colour is always present.

We are, like the tidepools, always filling and emptying. Shaped by invisible forces. Catching flashes of light. Holding it just long enough to be seen. And in that moment—just before the wave crashes again—there is a charge. A surge. A stillness.

That is the electric current. And it lives in all of us.