This photograph was taken during my first visit to Jasper, Alberta, in June of this year.
I had heard about the wildfires before, but I quickly learned that hearing about them and seeing them are not the same thing.
Standing on the edge of a burned hillside made it real. Blackened trees stood like outlines against the sky. The ground was bare where I imagined there had once been lush greenery. The quiet felt heavy, as if the land was still holding its breath.
I took a few photos to remember the strength that was still there in the surrounding space and communities.
Back home, I obtained wildfire data for Canada covering the first half of 2025 from the Canadian Interagency Forest Fire Centre (CIFFC), which is the national agency responsible for collecting and coordinating wildfire information across jurisdictions. It detailed hectares burned by province and categorized fires by cause, size, and location. One hectare is 10,000 square metres, which works out to about four NBA courts side by side. Once I pictured it that way, the scale hit differently. Thousands of hectares meant thousands of packed arenas worth of hardwood. Millions meant enough courts to cover entire cities.
Mapping Its Footprint
The first visual is a map of every recorded wildfire in Alberta during the first half of 2025. Each circle marks a point where something irreversible happened. Standing in Jasper, I only saw one small part of it. Here, I can see how that moment fits into a much larger picture. I work with data often, but it’s rare to be able to place myself inside it like this.
The horizontal bar chart shifts the focus to cause: natural, human, or undetermined. The labels are simple, but each carries a complex story that can influence how we prevent the next fire. They matter to those who live on this land, and to those watching from afar.
The treemap is about scale. Each province’s space reflects how much was lost, and Saskatchewan’s share is impossible to miss. I try to picture that much burned land, but all I see are fragments. I’ve built charts like this before, in other contexts, but this feels different. Here, the numbers aren’t just measurements—they’re pieces of the landscape itself.
Looking at these visuals, I’m reminded that data isn’t just something to analyze and report—it’s a way of seeing. The maps and charts don’t replace the memory of standing in Jasper, but they give that moment context. They link a single hillside to an entire country’s story.
What I value most about my work is the chance to take something vast and overwhelming, break it into pieces, and share it in a way that helps someone see it more clearly. The numbers aren’t the whole story, but they can offer a small window into it. Living in Canada, with the chance to witness both its beauty and its fragility, is something I don’t take for granted.