Gallery

The Digital Salvage image collection is a visual anthology of random moments—captured in the raw, unexpected intersections of the world. Here, you’ll find not just landscapes and objects, but fleeting instances of time, chance encounters, and strange details that spark new ideas and possibilities. Each photo or image holds the energy of the unknown, the chaotic beauty of life unfolding in unpredictable ways. These moments are as much about the spaces between as the subjects themselves—suggesting that inspiration can be found in the most unanticipated places. From the isolated wilderness to the buzzing hum of technology, from moments of stillness to flashes of digital brilliance, this collection reflects the spontaneity and creativity that flow from both the natural and the artificial world.

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

The sky folded under the weight of something forgotten. The buildings stay still not because they want to, but because they’ve been asked to remember a world that no longer runs upright. What if time shifted its axis, and only snow noticed?

Where the Sky Fell Sideways

The sun didn’t rise. It drifted. Everything else followed—snow, buildings, memory. Now we live sideways.

Tony Eetak April 4, 2025

The sky above the Arctic doesn’t shout. It murmurs. These clouds are not weather — they are memory in motion, frost turned to breath, breath returned to sky. Look too long and you forget where you end and the sky begins. Up here, nothing is separate. Everything floats.

Above the Silence

The sky above the Arctic is never empty — it is layered, textured, alive. In this photograph, clouds fold into each other like breath caught mid-motion.

Tony Eetak April 2, 2025

A hollow in stone opens the eye. Shadows wait patiently, folding silence into silence. Paint bleeds across decades, whispering in light. You are the lens. Time coils around the absence. Meaning slips between surfaces—seen, not seen. There is no centre, only edges pretending to hold form.

Framed in Silence

There’s a stillness in this moment—caught while peering through the void of a carved sculpture.

Tony Eetak April 1, 2025

This Winnipeg alley dreams in grayscale, where nothing begins and nothing quite ends. It folds space like a tired map, worn soft at the creases. Light doesn’t fall here—it drifts, uncertain, like memory losing its edges. Brick holds the breath of things unsaid, while the ground carries a quiet ache, neither sorrow nor peace. The buildings don’t lean—they hover, caught between presence and forgetting. In this suspended stillness, time exhales slowly, then disappears, leaving behind only the echo of having once been.

Still Standing

Just as stories live in the land up north, here too, they settle between the cracks of time.

Tony Eetak April 1, 2025

Belonging tastes like a memory you never made, folded into bread and handed to you warm. It sits beside you, unspoken, like steam rising from a chipped mug. Between bites, there’s a silence that doesn’t ache—only nods. Food doesn’t ask. It remembers. It cradles your absence until you return. The salt on your lip might be from a tear or a fry; it doesn’t matter. The plate listens. The spoon forgets your name but knows your hunger. In the clatter and hush of diners, in the half-light of closing time, there is a choir of ghosts singing lullabies in sauce. You do not need to be known. You only need to chew.

Conversations in a House of Ketchup

The real galleries aren’t lit by halogen or sponsored by institutions; they emerge in the in-between: cafés at closing time, back booths where someone is sketching the same idea again, and again, waiting for it to say something new.

Tony Eetak March 31, 2025

Winnipeg shimmered in June heat—sunlight pooling on concrete, stories blooming louder than the traffic hum. We gathered there not just to share, but to listen, to witness what happens when distance collapses into presence. Every hallway, every bench, every patch of shade outside Qaumajuq became a studio, a stage, a scene unfolding in real time. Canada Council for the Arts lit the spark—Digital Greenhouse breathing life into ideas too big for one voice, too complex for a single frame. Qaumajuq made it lit. Digital became tactile. We touched screens and stone, code and carving, discovering new ways of holding memory and dreaming forward. In this heat, even the data felt alive, growing wild through collaboration, rooted in love, land, and long-held knowing. Laughter echoed off glass and stone, caught in air vents and elevator doors. We stitched together movement, memory, and light—pixels humming with intention, hands working with purpose. Nothing stood still. Even the quiet moments were loud with meaning. We didn’t just make art—we made atmosphere, made kin, made future.

Qaumajuq: The Power of Stories

Workshops at the Winnipeg Art Gallery 410,790 views—and each one carries a whisper of that moment. A gathering not staged but lived, glowing in the

Jamie Bell March 30, 2025