Can you introduce yourself briefly: where are you from? what's your training? etc.

Born and raised in Toronto. Went to an alternative high school for art, where from 16 I studied art all day, every day, until graduation in grade 13. Lots of great art history education, life drawing, painting, etc. In our final year we specialized and I majored in photography. Not sure how it went, as when I started applying to photo schools, my photo teacher suggested, "Neither, because you suck as a photographer." True quote, by the way. So that first semester, I put away my camera and changed my major to ceramaics, much to my mother's chagrin.

Since I gave up on photography - I always wanted to be a photojournalist - I then enrolled at Ontario College of Art in Toronto, where I took general art and later majored in public art and installation, which then segues into my next move, which was to study architecture. Photojournalism and architecture were the two areas of interest in my life, (although i didn't want to study architecture) so on graduating art college in 1996, I immediately left for Europe, where I went and asked for a job from one of the world's leading architects, Rem Koolhaas. I precisely got the job because I didn't study architecture. Fancy that. Worked there for three years, really didn't like it much, and plotted my next move, which was to drive across Africa on my motorcycle. (I previously spent three months in 1998 driving across the Sahara in a 3 axle truck, it was great).

The week I was to leave for Africa and ship the bike out, I got in a motorcycle accident. Actually, an old Greek lady in her giant 1980s Chevy Caprice did a u-turn and I drove right into her. When I was slammed across the hood of the car, and then sliding on the asphalt, I saw my crumpled motorcycle, and realized that I would not be going to Africa any time soon. So it was there, sitting in my motorcycle gear in 2000, that I finally decided to realize my boyhood dream of becoming a photojournalist. 

Your ongoing work focuses on Russia and Ukraine, places about which stereotypes abound - vodka, corruption, lawlessness, bareness, the coldness of its people, etc. You also mention you're a Russophile. What's your informed perception of the place and how does it influence the subjects that you choose to photograph?

Of course. Because the country really is what you described. But it's also much more then the perceptions. I really love Russia and Ukraine (although Ukraine has been winning of late in the fondness game) but I love it because of it's complete and utter contradictions and conflict. It has a reputaton for burdensome soul, of which perhaps I share with them. I think their history is so deep and complex, full of decades and centuries of such rich, bloody history. To really understand Russia, you must understand their history. And in reading and studying their history is the only way I can begin to start work. And I do not mean just examination of Soviet-era history, for I really think Stalinist communism could only happen in Russia - but look past into turn-of-the-century Russia, pre-revolution, Tsarist-era of Nicholas and back, to Catherine and Peter and, of course, Ivan and Alexander. To me, it seems quite logical as to why Russia is the way it is and they are who they are. What else I find fascinating, is that Russians, in general, tend to ignore or at least are unwilling participants in the knowledge of their history. They perfer to make their own or to look forward. So, under these circumstances, why would you want to photograph anywhere else?

Raymond Depardon, who you mention as a favorite, has the following quote on his Magnum page: "The photographer is filled with doubt. Nothing will soothe him." After reading too much Susan Sontag, to me the doubt is about power and voyeurism and the struggle to take truthful (to whom?) pictures. What kind of doubt(s) do you have as a photographer?

Yes, without doubt, then you have nothing. Doubt is about questioning and believing - or not believing - in what you're doing. I'm not sure it has to do with truth at all, for a photographer can only be subjective, and in his subjectivity lies his most sacrosanct ideas. For me, that is what the doubt and struggle is, to create a document that has meaning beyond the powers of truth - I know what truth is in my photography and I know what my ideas are. I view my role more as a historian than anything, and that's where I'll pursue my work. Thus, in historical reference, comes my truth. And really, how truthful can a photo be? If I am in a bad mood that day and it reflects in my photo of a person on the street, then where is the truth? It's the truth for that day, that minute, that second, maybe not the next day when I photograph the same person. For me, it's not about truth in the image, it's about extracting truth from the history I am recording.

What kind of equipment do you use? Are you shooting digital or sticking to film?

I have never really shot film, so I am sticking to digital! Although, I am working on something now and wish I shot it on large format film. Also, the project I shot called the last thing they saw was shot on a medium format "moskva" camera, 6x9, and shot it on some old Soviet film. However, in general, I like digital, although the format doesn't bother me, and digital has qualities film does not.

How did you meet and get access to the Zeks you photographed? What was it like shooting those guys? Tell the truth: did you end up with any tattoos from them? 

The zeks I always wanted to shoot ever since I saw my first Orhtodox cross tattooed on a guy's finger, where the ring goes. I asked my friend if he was religious; why else would there be an Orthodox cross? This simple question then blew open, for me, the world of the zek, and I started noticing a repetition of certain symbols on these fellows, all vaguely religioun-based or authoritarian/fascist in nature. I learned about the "criminal code of honour" and the meanings of the tattoos.

It took me about two years to finally get to photograph these guys. It wasn't until I met a zek who was into helping me that I could gain access. He was a former somebody, close to the top of the local criminal heirarchy and thus was a respected fellow. Without him and the trust that the other zeks had for him, I couldn't have started. However, once I got in, the other zeks found out and started contacting me. They really wanted to be documented.

I photographed about 40 guys over the course of a year. They wanted to show off and were proud of their bodies and their tattoos; some were proud of their criminal history but some were ashamed of it, yet still wanted to be a part of the portrait session. They were like peacocks, spreading their tails, puffing out their chests. Not literally, but you do not do what they do and hide it. It's a very complex, ancient system and I was honoured that they accepted me into their world. In the end, I became an honourary zek, but there's no way I'd ever get a tattoo! Getting one without "earning" it can get you killed. But I want one of the artists to at least draw me one, so that'd be interesting to see...

Out of curiosity, and attached to above, is there a comparable women's zek community as well?

Do you know about 'natasha?' A Natasha is a prostitute, and under the code of the thief, the natural lover for a zek can only be a prostitute or a fellow female thief. So, yes, there is very much a community. This orignated in the gulag era, unlike the zeks whose origins start under the Tsarist regime in the 'katorga' system in the 18th century...

Ti govorish po ruski?

Nu da, ya govoru po Russkii. No eto ochen trudnie yazik. No vazhnie dlya mne.

What are you reading now? What are you looking at?

I love reading and consider it a vital part of my process. Right now, I am reading The Dead Hand by David Hoffman, about the nuclear escalation [between] USA and USSR during the 80's and the end of communism, The Great Terror about Stalin's purges and Harvest of Sorrow about the Ukraine famine, both by Robert Conquest, and Odessa Tales by Isaac Babel. So yeah, I like to read and I read a lot, usually all these books at once. I like mixing historical fiction, fiction, non fiction, etc., as part of the research.

What I like about reading novels, such as say Babel or my favorite Bulgakov (White Guard is one of my favorite books of all time) is that novelists create such an evocative description - a visual language, if you will, with words. If the words fail, then the mood fails, then the story fails. I said I view myself as much as a historian, but I also like to think that I'm a novelsit, perhaps of historical themes. There really is no difference between myself as a photographer and a novelist; our tools are different but we're trying to do the same thing. Mood, plot, atmosphere, characters, etc., all play an equal part in my work.

I also use books to think of themes or ideas in the editing process. For instance, in Varlam Shalamov's Kolyma Tales (brilliant book, very important to me), the first story is about a zek walking through the woods in waist deep snow, and how the footprints made a pattern in the deep deep snow, the pine needles drooped under the weight of the snow. That, for me, was such a powerful visual, so when I was photographing I kept this in my mind. When editing the gulag work, Bulgakov in White Guard constantly talked of red, gold and white, which are essentially colours of imperial Russia - imperialism through Orthodoxy and Military, so I kept these colours in mind, as well, when thinking of the edit.

Lastly, books are great for one simple reason - [one gets] absorbed in someone else's world other than your own.

You talk about the importance of context in your photos. That, coupled with the fact that your projects tend to be long-term, sounds like an almost ethnographic approach to photographing. Do you think of it that way at all?

Yes, earlier I stated historian and I believe that. Stalin once said, "We are concerned with how the court of history will judge our present deeds." and I think as photographers, documentary photographers, we have an obligation to be that court.

Let's just put this out there: Russia is a crazy place! What's your life there like? Do you get totally bored when you go back to Canada? I find that when I travel I inevitably get culture shock when I return to the U.S., not when I arrive at my foreign destination. Do you get that at all?

Yes, yes, reverse culture shock. I enjoy going home and looking forward to my return but then as soon as I arrive I'm ready to go back! In actual fact, I have this always upon arrival in another place; I always like to be moving and prefer to be homeless of sorts; if I was rich enough, I would just go from place to place. Canada for me is great, but it's like a sauna; very warm and comforting, but after too long you'll have a heart attack, so you've got to get out into the shocking cold! As for living in Ukraine, in Russia, it's incredibly time consuming and terrifying at times. Which is why I love it. I try to stop asking myself "why are you....?" realizing that answering the question will be futile. I especially love getting out of the cities into the smaller towns and villages - it's such a unique and rare experience and I love being just within that milieu, I am a total foreigner, complete outsider, and I feel at home then.

Does your background in architecture influence the way you see or did you have to develop your 'photographic seeing' separately?

Yes. But I also have a very solid art background. As stated earlier, I went to an art high school at 16, studied art all day everyday - no math or sciences, it was great! So we were very well developed in visual senses much before many of my artist peers ever were. Then I studied at OCA for another 4 years, so in total, upon graduating, I had 7 - 8 years of a solid art training before I even began architecture. I was never formally schooled in it, except if you consider my job as schooling. But the art history and the total immersion into a visual world combined with the idea of space and texture, light, form, color - all the basic principals of architecture - plus humanity and empathy for those who will live in a built environment, all helped develop what I am as a photographer. I usually get the architecture asked in terms of did it help me visually - yes it did, but more importantly, as an architect you are leaving a mark for decades, even centuries! so you have to have a total understanding and connection with the human world around you. Develop thought and empathy, and that's what I think I learned most from architecture.

Do you direct much when you shoot or do you take the fly-on-the-wall approach?

Never direct, maybe some portraits, but for those I usually just like to have people in the right light; but my theory is you have to photograph what's there, what is around you and try to evoke a sense of the reality through that light. For the zek series, I had a very clear vision in my head, same with the natasha portraits. The light was key, so I had to move them to the right spot. But my way of working in a portrait situation is just to play a game a chicken, I rarely talk to the subjects, in fact I try to avoid talking to them, I want them to get bored of me, to resist and finally just give up trying to "be in a picture." Many people have ideas of what they think they want to be in a photo. By not talking, I think they become their natural selves, boredom wins and they disappear into their own worlds. That's when the photo happens.

This is sort of an obligatory question: Many photographers I've spoken to see what's happening in photojournalism as an evolution that will lead to great things while others are predicting doom and fleeing. What's your take on the present/future of photojournalism? Will 'serious' photography once again become the past-time of the affluent who can afford to finance their own projects?

I think it's always been a playground for the affluent! But it is a struggle; I work everyday, 365 days a year on something with so little in return other then the faith that what i'm doing is good.

I am not too bothered by this crisis, in fact, it's probably a good thing. The argument has been made that we're still playing a game that was invented 75 years ago with the advent of the Leica, and we haven't pushed it further. So, to start questioning is good, I think. I think part of the problem of where we're at is that it has been a comfy ride for so loing that we never had to push or challenge ourselves - things were always good and things were always working. I myself have never really been a photographer of assignments, I've always been good at securing at the last minute before my next rent comes due some sort of alternate funding - NGOs, grants, etc., so I think I'll be fine and will force those who live in the past to come to grips with the present and look for the future. It's just a shaking up really, seeing where we're all going to go.

Are you planning any new projects in the near future that you'd like to share?

Well, in Kosovo right now I am photographing the local elections. I wanted to broaden my scope past Russia/Ukraine, but I really still love Eastern Europe, so I decided to come here for a month. I wasn't sure what to do on arrival, but in traveling with the local politicians, I was struck at the crowds and their interactions, or at least, place as spectators. I started photographing tableaus, political 'panoramas' of the scenes, like in Renaissance paintings, with their mix of perspective and humanism. So, I started looking at the crowds from a very distant viewpoint, and from there a representation of the modern poltiical game. Or something like that!