ADAM SIMMS

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.

The photographs in the Resettlement project document Adam’s journey to immerse himself in the remains of outport communities in Newfoundland that were once vibrant places but are now uninhabited. Begun shortly after Newfoundland became the 10th province of Canada in 1949, the government’s resettlement programs offered subsidies and improved public services to the thousands of people it relocated from these isolated coastal communities to so-called “growth centers.” While ostensibly designed to benefit the people who were moved, these resettlement programs had the devastating consequence of erasing entire communities, both literally—their names expunged from maps—and figuratively. As people dispersed, so did their history, family relationships, livelihoods, and traditions; unnurtured, these fundamental aspects of community began to fade away.

In these solemn photographs, Adam captures the immense sense of loss that lingers even now in these forgotten communities. The images are as mysterious as they are mournful. They raise unanswerable questions about the people who inhabited these places that had “no great future” and about the circumstances under which they left.

Contemplating these photographs is a layered process: at first, they may seem like familiar landscapes or interiors; but look a moment longer, and a growing sense of discomfort begins to emerge: we see the playful silhouette of the iron bed frame against the floral wallpaper before we notice that the curtains are in tatters. These images are disconcerting because they upend some of our most fundamental beliefs about of being human: our homes provide protection for the people and things we cherish most; we honour our ancestors by sustaining their traditions; our community will remain long after we are gone; we can always go home again. The sense of absence in the Resettlement photographs is so palpable that it becomes its own kind of presence.

The scenes in this body of work feel nostalgic, but they also remind us that the displacement of groups of people is a contemporary issue. Whether forcibly or by choice, people around the world have left their homes, livelihoods, and families, and have endured the loss of their homeland and its culture and history. The journey Adam documents in Resettlement represents a step toward reversing the loss of a unique, self-sufficient way of life, a step that engenders empathy for those who will never have the chance.