Bridges

This black and white photo exhibition by Tony Eetak explores the quiet poetry of Winnipeg’s bridges—their bones, their shadows, their forgotten corners. Bridges of Winnipeg: Seen and Unseen is not just a documentation—it’s a meditation. A monochrome walk through the connective tissue of the city, where every bridge is both a structure and a story.

It stands where steel forgets it’s steel—among colour bleeding from walls, among echoes not meant for birds. A pause with feathers. A poem without lines. Graffitied stillness, urban myth. Something sacred hums low under the bridge, and the goose listens.

Canada Goose

The goose under the coloured bridge Beneath the bridge, in a pocket of stillness layered with shadows and spray paint, a single Canada goose stands

Tony Eetak April 18, 2025

$Provencher Bridge floats between breath and concrete, a tethered gesture over water’s slow murmur. Light fractures across its spine like memory refracted—half civic promise, half spectral hush. It does not span space, but thought—an architecture of pause, where crossings blur into echoes and the river forgets which way is forward.$

Provencher

We never grew up with bridges like this—suspended, sweeping, confident in the air.

Tony Eetak April 18, 2025

“If you fall, get up.” We found it ghosted beneath the railway bridge, where rust runs like tears down concrete cheeks, where the wind holds its breath beneath traffic’s hum. A phrase not shouted, but etched—faint, hand-drawn— a weathered whisper surviving winter’s bite and autumn’s sigh. It is not just a sentence; it is a gesture, a lifted chin in the chill, a soft defiance sprayed in silver, where no one is watching, but someone once needed it most.

Where Trains Rumble, Walls Talk

It’s easy to miss if you’re just driving by, but under the railway bridge near Higgins and Main, the walls are alive.

Tony Eetak April 18, 2025

In Winnipeg, graffiti always pops up like little surprises scattered across the city. We found this one under the bridge near Main and Higgins.

Walls We Walk By: Higgins and Main

We found these inspiring words under a bridge near Main and Higgins.

Tony Eetak April 15, 2025

Mud pulls at your feet, the river hums under closed bridges, and the air thickens with thawed-out memory. Between branches and broken trails, a stillness opens—where water dreams upward, steel waits without speaking, and the season writes itself in soft collisions.

Waiting at the Water’s Edge

In spring, the river swells with memory. Ice pulls back, revealing thick ribbons of mud and trails softened by thaw.

Tony Eetak April 9, 2025

Among bare branches and snow-laced silence, the book-buffalo waits—pages frozen in time, wisdom stacked into muscle and memory. It is not sculpture, but spellwork. It holds what we forgot we carried: story, survival, and the soft hoofbeats of future paths.

The Bison

Tucked into the natural paths at The Forks, Education is the New Bison emerges like a quiet monument.

Tony Eetak April 9, 2025

Empty seats in a lecture hall echo with memory—fragments of thought, laughter, doubt, discovery. Education isn’t confined to presence; it resonates in absence. These still rows are archives of energy, holding the quiet hum of voices that changed everything. Most of us never make it here.

The Quiet Rows

At the University of Winnipeg, that idea lives in the space itself. It’s not just a school; it’s a meeting ground.

Tony Eetak April 9, 2025

In Winnipeg’s playgrounds, metal tipis rise like echoes of old songs, catching sky in their spines. These are not structures but spells—frames for imagined fires and stories unspoken. Here, laughter roots in the dust, spiraling upward. Memory plays barefoot, circling the sacred geometry where past and future quietly braid. Photo: Jamie Bell

Playground

The playgrounds and gathering spaces at The Forks are layered with meaning—designed not just for function, but for story.

Jamie Bell April 9, 2025

Winnipeg’s stonework hums in chisel tongues—glyphs of frostbitten dreams etched in sediment and soot. Faces emerge, not seen but sensed, eroded into myth by wind and waiting. Carvings press silence into permanence, where granite listens and limestone weeps. Each groove a memory. Each building, a slow exhale of forgotten hands.

Carved in Stone

All over the Forks—tucked near the riverbanks, beside trails, or half-buried in grass—you’ll find carvings.

Tony Eetak April 9, 2025

Beneath the rusted lattice of the old rail bridges near the Forks, time bends—steel bones whispering histories into the wind, footsteps echoing between memory and motion. The river moves slow and thick below, like thought unspoken, while overhead the iron arches cradle sky and silence.

Bridges: The Forks

There’s something sacred about walking through The Forks in Winnipeg, especially when winter hasn’t quite let go.

Tony Eetak April 7, 2025