Alexia Wright: Your work blends imagination and reality, creating new worlds. What draws you to this approach?
Cath Simard: For me, my intent is never to go out in nature and capture reality. It's more about capturing the inner journey rather than the outer journey. When I do composite photography, I go out to nature and photograph all of these elements separately, and then put them together. This allows me to tell my own story. I started with this approach very early in my practice. Within the first few months of doing landscape photography, I was already capturing elements separately and putting them together, and then sharing my work. I thought many people were doing this, and then I realized it was not common, and that it was even considered a bit controversial. This led me to think about why I create versus why another photographer might create. The expression of my individuality is the most important. It's not to capture the experience or what's in front of me. It is to express myself, my unique self. Approaching landscape photography as composite photography, which is deconstructed and then put together, made sense to me because it allows me to build my own story and share my emotions and thoughts behind the artwork.
LE DÉPART, 2021
AW: What do inner journey and outer journey signify for you?
CS: My daily daydreaming, overthinking, and just being in my mind. I'm someone who spends a lot of time in words, self-reflecting, and analyzing. There's a whole other journey inside of me that exists and is very strong, and I almost have a compulsion to share with the world. In a sense, maybe landscape photography is not the best medium to express this, because I go out to capture something that already exists. But I love photography, and I have found a way to make it work for me so I can express what’s inside of me: my values, my dreams, my sadness, my more difficult journeys, and my joys. I think it's something that is difficult to translate into a landscape image, which people tend to associate with nature, and not necessarily the inner journey of a human. So that’s the inner journey. The outer journey is the adventure itself. It’s going out for days, the hike, the physical exertion, the climbing, the preparation. That’s what most people see through the behind-the-scenes I share, or some of the writings that accompany my artworks.
AW: What does a day in your inner world look like?
CS: There's a lot of talking to myself, it's almost like a way to process emotions, to process my experiences. I would say it's often about reliving past experiences, whether it's a hike or something emotional, and rethinking them, making connections, and gaining understanding. It's a lot of digging to make connections and understand myself better, but it's also an attempt to understand other people and the world around me. I analyze everything in my life, and I think this also translates into my work.
When I go out in nature, I analyze every detail that could be part of my story, then I make connections and piece them together to create the final composite. My art is a reflection of my inner world in this sense.
See You On The Other Side, 2022
AW: You are comfortable being by yourself, what do you think has helped you become so at ease with solitude?
CS: I am often asked, ‘Who takes the photos of you?' and when I explain that they are all self-portraits, people are usually surprised to learn that I’m out there by myself. Nature isn't as scary as people think. It's a natural habitat, and being out there, listening to the sounds of the night, while being aware of dangers, feels less risky to me than being in the city. Taking the time to relax in nature and realizing it’s not scary can help women break free from the idea that it's impossible to do things alone, especially outdoors.
I enjoy being by myself, especially in the mountains, where I create my best work. It's free of distractions, other people's opinions, and what others are shooting.
I've realized that to fully immerse myself in my art, I need to be in my head, connect with my inner world, and let creativity flow.
It's not just about being comfortable alone; for me, it's a necessity. I am an introvert. It took me years to realize that I need time by myself to recharge. Once I accepted it, I was able to fully integrate it and set clear boundaries. Now, I have solo time to recharge, and everyone who knows me understands that.
Above the Noise, 2019
AW: How do you decide which elements to combine? What makes a scene feel complete?
CS: When deciding which elements to combine, I usually start by taking a trip, anywhere from a week to a couple of weeks, and pay close attention to what speaks to me along the way. If there's a really cool cactus or flowers that are beautiful, but maybe not positioned in a place where they’d make a good photograph on their own, then I’ll capture that detail. Further on in my journey, there might be other things that speak to me. It’s really about collecting little elements of nature that resonate with me, and as I travel, I start building the composite in my mind.
For example, if I already have flowers, I might then look for an interesting background or cloud to integrate it with. It’s like going on a journey, and little by little, I construct the composite in my head. I do this when I don’t have a clear plan. Other times, I’ll research the place I’m about to hike and already have an idea of the elements I need to capture to create something aligned with my vision. My approach is either very planned or I let the journey unfold and collect elements along the way to build the composite.
As for when I know a piece is finished, I take a long time to even look at my images after a trip. I like to leave them on the hard drive for a couple of months so I can fully disconnect from the experience. This lets me view the images with fresh eyes.
I think when beauty is right in front of you, you can forget how amazing it is. So, stepping back, looking at old pictures helps me reconnect with the experience. That’s usually when the inspiration strikes.
I take multiple months to work on an image. I’ll spend a few hours a week, then let the image sit for a couple of weeks and come back to it a month later. With fresh eyes, I might say, “This is too high contrast,” or “This doesn’t express what I want.” I might change things or even start over completely. It’s a slow process.
Gnossienne No.1, 2022
AW: From what you’ve shared, it’s clear that a lot of emotion goes into your work. Since the creation process can take time, do your feelings toward a piece shift as you work on it?
CS: The more I work on a piece, the more I connect with it, and the more the emotions related to it become stronger. That feeling of deep connection or satisfaction is a good indicator that the piece is ready. I don't really think about the viewer. I've realized it's always the last thing I think about when I create a piece. I just want to express myself and show the world what is in my brain, and if people connect with it, that's just a bonus. That’s always been how I approach my art. There might be a few pieces where I think more about how I want them to come across, but in general, my work is driven more by internal expression and connection than by external considerations.
CURIOSITÉ, 2021
AW: When photographing a place that might be unfamiliar to most, how do you capture its essence?
CS: I enjoy capturing the fragility of nature. I’ve found myself photographing many glaciers. Most recently, I returned to an incredible location in front of a glacier that I had visited three years earlier. When I compared the images side by side, I realized it had receded significantly. In a sense, I want to capture the ever-changing nature of Earth and preserve some of its stories. But again, it’s not only about capturing what’s in front of me. I’d say it’s almost more about inspiring people to go beyond their comfort zones and limits, and embracing adventure. Going out and pushing yourself physically. I think that’s important for personal growth, but it’s not why I do these things. Even though my work is filled with imagination, if it inspires someone to explore their backyard or go for a hike, then that makes me really happy.
AW: You have said that after returning from your trips, going back home can be hard as you miss the peace and freedom you experience while away. What aspects of your travels give you those feelings, and how do you hold onto them once you return to your routine?
CS: Nature provides the ultimate freedom. It shows how we, as humans, were meant to be outside: exploring, using our hands, walking wherever we want. For me, being out and traveling is a reminder of that freedom and a deep desire I carry. We all have different values, but for me, freedom is at the top of the list. I gravitate toward things in life that help me hold on to it.
On my last trip to Peru, I wanted to dive deeper into mountaineering. I had always assumed that this kind of activity was only for elite athletes, and I convinced myself it wasn’t for me. In hindsight, that was just a way for me to justify why I was not doing it. After a bit of a creative rut in 2023, I wanted to push myself. I decided to step outside my comfort zone, learn mountaineering, ice climbing, knots - everything. It was my first real mountaineering experience, and it involved real risk. But I did it. I came back to camp each night amazed that something I once thought was impossible was within reach. I realized I was capable of so much more than I believed.
That trip made me proud of myself and reminded me how many boundaries we create for ourselves. I'm very growth-oriented, and these trips allow me to grow. That’s what I hold onto the most when I return.
Comfort and routine don’t lead to growth for me; traveling does. The freedom of being outside is powerful, but the growth is just as important. When I review my images and build something from them, it becomes a reflection of that growth.
Looking back at my body of work, I can see how I’ve evolved, not just aesthetically or conceptually, but as a person. Growth is a huge part of why I travel and why I create.
MANTRA, 2021
AW: Your work often requires you to engage in extreme activities like climbing mountains without ropes and being exposed to harsh weather. How does pushing your physical and mental limits influence the way you see and capture the world?
CS: Art is a powerful trigger for growth, and any art that doesn't push me to grow feels less significant or exciting. The physical challenge is usually very important to me. I don't feel the same sense of connection with an artwork taken from the road or one that doesn't involve any kind of challenge. When I push myself in this way, when I go for days hiking by myself, I come back much more connected to the art I’ve created or the images I’ve captured, compared to when there's no physical effort involved.
There's a part of me that also enjoys it. I call it “type two fun”.
Type one fun is when you go out, have a drink with friends, and everything is nice and easy. Type two fun is when it’s not fun in the moment, but afterward, you look back and think, "That was awesome."
I really enjoy that. In the moment, it’s not necessarily fun, but the feeling afterward definitely is.
Over the years, I’ve learned to enjoy type two fun, even when I’m breathing heavily, carrying a load, finding my flow, and physically lifting myself to the top of a mountain. It hasn’t always been like that, but it’s become something I look forward to: pushing myself physically and preparing for it, because it’s a marker of growth for me. So yes, the physicality definitely plays a big role in my art. It’s tied to my connection to the artwork and to growth.
Continuum, 2022
AW: Have there been instances when something scary or worrisome happened that made you question everything?
CS: In some places where I didn't have a Garmin, the emergency device, I was a bit careless with safety, especially at the beginning. I often wondered if I was doing the right thing. Over the years, I've learned to prioritize safety in everything I do. I love my art, hiking, and mountaineering, but I'm no longer willing to put myself in extreme danger for my art. Though I have taken risks, like climbing or scrambling without ropes on steep walls, carrying a heavy backpack, where a slip could be fatal. I've also had close animal encounters, like a grizzly bear in the Canadian Rockies in 2018. I was hiking alone at night on a trail where a grizzly had been seen the day before. I continued anyway and had a face-to-face encounter with the bear about 10 meters away. It was curious, not aggressive, and I backed off and got my bear spray. Instead of turning back, I continued up the trail while making noise to keep the bear away. Thankfully, it was a happy ending, but it could have been a different story.
Landscape photography, especially what I'm doing now, is increasingly technical and hazardous. I often cross glaciers and avalanche areas. The more I push my art and myself physically, the riskier it becomes. But I always aim to remain safe and avoid being reckless.
AW: Much of your practice involves waiting for the right light, weather, or subjects. How does that patience shape your perspective in both art and life?
CS: I’ve always been a patient person, I enjoy taking the time to analyze and be intentional with everything I do. For example, when I started with NFTs, I was slow to release my first artwork, and didn’t rush into things. It's all about being intentional. In my practice, creating an artwork can take a year or more, from the initial idea to the trip, capturing everything, editing, and finalizing it. It's a long process, but I enjoy it. Maybe it’s because I have a strong Capricorn influence, but it’s part of my essence. Slow and steady is how I operate, and it’s always worked for me.
Cath Simard is a photographer known for her surreal, blue-toned landscapes that blur the line between reality and imagination. Her work is shaped by a deep connection to the wild, capturing remote mountain scenes at dusk, dawn, and night.
Her creative process is as demanding as the environments she explores; trekking hundreds of kilometers, scaling high-altitude peaks, and pushing her physical limits through mountaineering to gather the perfect elements for her composites. She treats landscapes like a puzzle, combining details from multiple experiences and lighting conditions to craft a single, cohesive yet surreal image.
With a deliberate and patient approach, she often lets her photographs sit for years, followed by months of editing to ensure each piece reflects her artistic vision. Producing just a handful of artworks per year, her creations stand as a testament to endurance, transformation, and the limitless possibilities of both the real and the unreal.
Alexia Wright believes in the power of storytelling and the importance of providing context to art. She shares this passion through writing and content creation, including the Art After Hours interview series for Tribul, and co-hosting the Collectors Call Podcast and FOMO Factor video series. As Communications Director for the Charles Csuri Estate and Head of Social Media and Marketing at Tribul, she elevates the stories behind the art. With a Master of Arts degree, Alexia stays engaged with the latest trends in art and web3.