One year ago (though it honestly feels like a lifetime), some fellow urban explorer/photographer friends and I were lucky enough to climb one of Toronto’s most amazing high-rises—one that we had often dreamed of visiting but never thought possible until the opportunity suddenly presented itself. After that serendipitous day, a photo Tom Ryaboi took of me went viral around the world and launched something of a global rooftopping photography movement. The full story is finally revealed on the photo’s anniversary via 500px‘s blog. Do check it out.

Today, I present my own series of photos in a followup and tribute to the famous photo in question, called “I’ll make ya famous”.

The title of this post is, of course, tongue-in-cheek and a play on the original, which was actually taken at the exact same moment that I captured the photos you see here. I never published my perspective on “I’ll make ya famous” because around that time, I fell into one of my worst creative ruts ever. While I still forced myself to shoot constantly, I lost the motivation to edit and the confidence to publish any photos I took (thus the birth of the year-long, Mount Everest-sized backlog I’ve been talking about).

Although I was really excited and proud to watch Tom’s tsunami-like success unfold, the popularity of his photo further cemented my own insecurities because, hey, there was no way my photography could compare, so why try at all? The photos from that day were buried and selectively forgotten, and although I didn’t like to admit it then, “I’ll make ya famous” became a source of mild resentment.

Well, it’s been a year. The move to Denmark happened and all manner of new experiences, new people, new places, and new things to shoot suddenly fell into my lap. I’ve fallen in love with photography again and I once more look at my camera as an extension of my mind’s eye, rather than a monetary burden and a reminder of my own shortfalls. I hardly recognize the person I was this time last year, and even looking at my old Lightroom catalog, I hardly recognize the way I saw through my own eyes. For this particular set of photos, it’s now or never—publish, or forever let them sit on my hard drive and in the back of my mind as “that time I let self-doubt win.” And let’s be real, I couldn’t live with that.

What’s next? On the immediate horizon, a lot that doesn’t involve scaling tall buildings. Will it be half as cool? I guess we’ll have to see.

But damn, do I miss those Toronto roofs!

Two children snack on bread as they wait for a tram at Homme de Fer station in Strasbourg, France.

Passengers sit in a tram car as its windows frame an advertisement on a wall across the street from Homme de Fer station in Strasbourg, France.

What’s new in the world of Jen? Well, this past week has felt like one giant hangover-induced haze, so I thought this colourphilic photo set might best illustrate my happiness and consequent intoxication.

No, Denmark hasn’t (yet) turned me into an alcoholic—let me explain. Last Wednesday I got my acceptance letter for the international photojournalism program at DMJX, which means I’ll be staying here for an additional six months after my current program ends in June. The photojournalism program here is world-renowned and my class will include just nine others from Europe and North America. I really wanted nothing more in the world, so for me it’s a dream come true. Now I wake up every morning and, rather than anxiously checking my phone hoping to hear about my application, I catch myself and just float to the ceiling. Life’s pretty great.

But enough about that. It’s time to publish some goddamn photos. The night before I left for Strasbourg, there was a massive party at DMJX with a live band, DJs, a smoke machine, and a light setup to make any lover of multicoloured things (Exhibit A, yours truly) wet their pants a little. Thanks to that hectic week in Strasbourg, the photos from that night vanished into a to-edit backlog that has slowly become more daunting than Mount Everest. But I decided that I had to start somewhere if I wanted the contents of this enormous vault to ever see the light of day, so below, at long last, are the results. Enjoy.

As part of International Pillow Fight Day 2012, a flash mob gathered in front of Brandenburg Gate in Berlin for a massive pillow fight (Kissenschlacht) Saturday afternoon. More than 8000 people were confirmed on the event’s Facebook page. Feather pillows were allowed at the Berlin fight, which made for a spectacular mess and an incredibly fun shoot. White fluff still swirled in the air as far as a 15-minute walk from Brandenburg Gate. By the end of it all, I had feathers and down in my clothes, my hair, my eyelashes, my nose, and my throat. Cleanup crew had their work cut out for them.

It was simply WUNDERBAR.

A photo set I took at the event was published in Die Welt, Germany’s third-largest newspaper. Check out the set on Die Welt and click to zoom, or just see below for the photos they used and a couple extra.

I’ve had an unspeakably amazing week in Berlin and I’m ready to be home in Aarhus again tonight. I am, however, head-over-heels in love with this city and there’s no doubt we’ll be reacquainted in the not-too-distant future. More photos and stories of my adventures to come, of course! But for now, tschüss…

Instead of enjoying the sun at the park with my friends today, I spent the first day of my two-week spring break speaking with a group of heroin addicts in preparation for a photojournalism essay I will be creating this week.

After wandering around lost for a while, I asked some passersby if they knew of the place where I needed to go. They were headed the same way, and told me to follow them, after making sure I knew what exactly went on there. When we arrived, there was a lot of curiosity and some confusion about my presence, but everyone was welcoming and some were eager to talk.

I spent a good hour with a longtime heroin user who was getting on in his years. In fractured English he told me about his life: one of being surrounded by heroin at a young age in his home country, of drugs bought and sold, of dealing with racism as an immigrant in Denmark, of never getting to see his family, of being looked upon with contempt, of recovery and relapse, of aging and just getting by. Never more have I regretted not understanding Danish than I did then, because I knew there was so much more he couldn’t express through our language barrier. The things I did understand were just shards of the full story.

In a concrete shelter masked in graffiti and littered with used tinfoil and cotton balls, I watched him smoke heroin he’d bought with his pension. He told me that no one in his group really knew how to find happiness.

I have a lot of work to do. I’ll be going back tomorrow morning.

Today is this lovely Dutch girl’s birthday. Tillyke, Anne!

A street scene in front of an Internet cafe spotted in the ever-photogenic Strasbourg, France.

Is there anything so beautiful as a sudden, natural smile?

Strasbourg’s six municipalities are interwoven with an incredibly efficient tramway system. The trams travel flush to the street and glide like space-age worms, each several cars long and with open gangways. They don’t clatter and spark like Toronto’s streetcars; built in the 90s, Strasbourg’s trams are much more modern and sleek, and they arrive frequently and on time. It’s public transport done right—cars are seldom needed, the city centre is vibrantly pedestrianized, and public spaces are celebrated. At the heart of the tramway is Homme de Fer (“Iron Man”) station, said to have been named in honour of the workers who laid down the tramway’s rails.

I ended up spending a lot of time around Homme de Fer because we’d always pass through it on our way to and from the European Parliament building. It became our meeting place of choice for walks around town and reasonably priced dinners and drinks before heading back to our shithole of a hotel outside the city centre. A constant collision of fascinating and photogenic people from all walks of life, Homme de Fer and its vicinity will go down in my memories of Strasbourg as a joy to street shoot, go people-watching, or just to explore.

Three businessmen eat baguette sandwiches as they walk down a street in Strasbourg, France.

(Trying something a little different with my processing today.)