A series of photographs I took of Table Cape Lighthouse during my visit to Tasmania in March 2018.
parish church of st cuthbert
brontë parsonage
new lighthouse [dungeness]
five crosses inn
jazz at 11 (accidental portrait of the artist’s parents)
hotel ^^^^
untitled #79
first we take manhattan...
So, a mere ten days ago, I wrote about feeling like my heart had been torn out of my chest. It turns out he didn't get it all the first time, and today I learned that the hard way.
Yesterday was hard. I was tender and tired and anxious but simultaneously hopeful and cautiously optimistic.
Clearly, I had no idea what today would bring.
I thought the worst would be less time between drinks. I didn't know last drinks had already been called while I was away powdering my nose.
And today, all the fight has gone out of me.
I didn't get to post a photograph from my travels before I had to take some time out last night, so I'm sharing these 35mm film photos of Tacheles in Berlin that I took in 2000 tonight.
Memories from 20 years ago that might have been revisited with another. But apparently, that's not to be.
Tacheles, as it was in 2000, feels like such an appropriate metaphor for how I feel right now: half-demolished, half-derelict, yet full of art and creativity, and somehow still standing despite everything. Somehow. It also had a beer garden.
I scanned these today from glossy black and white prints with the Photomyne app on my iPhone. For me, it's no substitute for scanning negatives with a proper flatbed scanner. While it may be worthwhile for some, I think I'll save my money to put toward an actual negative and photo scanner so I can share my older work with you from time to time.
Also, after a long week or so of sunshine and warm weather, today is closing with rain as it was ten days ago. I believe a thunderstorm is coming our way.
The rain and The Cure are intermingling to alternately calm me and punctuate my sorrow.
untitled #174
glistening waters
rear window (you can see hollywood from here)
st bernard's well
I'm a couple of days late on sharing a travel photo for this week but I came across this lovely lady in my archive and edited her to share with you this evening.
I took this on a wander with friends through Dean Village in Edinburgh all the way back in August 2011.
Set atop St Bernard's Well on the banks of the Water of Leith, Hygieia holds her bowls, allowing a snake to drink from one.
Inscribed on the pump inside are the words 'Bibendo Valeris', meaning 'drink and you will be well'.
I'll drink to that!
love letters to london
Today I celebrated my tenth Londonversary!
And I've decided to commemorate my ten (consecutive) years of living in London by sharing a series of 'Love letters to London' with you during 2021.
The series will cover a selection of things I love about London. Each post will focus on a different aspect and will, of course, feature previously unedited and unpublished photographs to illustrate it.
For now, I'm thinking twelve instalments - one a month - but let's see how we go. There might be a monthly broad-themed post with a smattering of bonus posts throughout the year focussing on a particular place, for example.
Whatever the case, I'll be sharing them to my Patreon first, early access for patrons. I'll share them here and elsewhere around the web about a week later when the post becomes public on Patreon.
I'm hoping to share the first one with my patrons later this week, so now's a good time to become a patron!
eclipse theatre
It's easy to forget how much Art Deco architecture still remains in Australia.
There are so many high profile examples of it in major cities, and I'd seen examples in New South Wales towns like Bellingen when on a road trip with a friend in 2010.
But, even then, I kind of forgot. Even though it's one of my favourite architectural styles.
So when Simon and I were on our road trip from Melbourne to Brisbane just over a year ago, it took me a bit by surprise.
From Fish Creek and Yarram in Victoria to Oberon and the well-known Hotel Gearin in Katoomba, New South Wales, we saw a lot of beautiful Art Deco buildings in various states of repair.
Unfortunately, with our trip feeling rushed, with the constant stress created by watching bushfire alerts, and with my limited mobility, we didn't spend much time photographing these gems. Definitely not as much as I would usually demand.
The Eclipse Theatre in Deepwater, New South Wales, was a sneaky surprise that caught our eye on the New England Highway. Still impressive despite its dereliction.
And a place we would never have seen if not for the bushfires that raged across the country.
We were supposed to be driving along the coast somewhere between Port Macquarie and Rosebank according to our original itinerary. Instead, as we stopped to check out this beauty, we were inland about 20 minutes' drive south of a raging bushfire.
Our visit varied a lot from our plans, but I'm thankful for the experiences we had. And grateful we chose to go for Mum's birthday (despite what the day held for us) instead of mine and Simon's. Had we held off until April this year we would not have been able to go at all.
untitled #47
I took this on a photo walk with my friend and fellow photographer, Scott, on my birthday in 2018.
It was taken in Bloomberg Arcade, a spot which is very close to two of my last workplaces but that I rarely passed through. I think this was only the second or third time I'd been there.
This was one of two photographs of Bloomberg London that I submitted to Issue #149 of Shots Magazine.
time for reflection
Last week I submitted some of my photographs to issue #149 of Shots Magazine. The theme for the issue is open, so work on any subject can be considered.
This was one of the images I submitted, though the version I sent through was black and white as the magazine is printed that way.
I took this photo of the Church of St Peter and St Paul, the Appledore Parish Church, in Kent on 20 June 2016. It was taken mere days before the referendum on Britain leaving the European Union.
A short walk around the town revealed posters, placards and flyers proclaiming many of the town's residents as proud Leave supporters. Conversations overheard while we ate at The Black Lion confirmed we were in prime Leave territory.
Fast forward four years and the UK has left the EU, but we're still figuring out what that means.
About five months after the UK referendum, Donald Trump was elected.
The passing of time since then has revealed the world to me as seemingly the inverse of what I had believed and hoped it to be.
I felt we were moving forward as a global population. But since 2016, I feel like we've gone backwards in every way except time. Honesty, compassion, empathy, rationality, sanity and logic all seem at an all-time low around the world right now. At least compared to what I've seen in my lifetime.
Though gender and racial equality has made leaps and bounds over time, it feels like notions of equality are bending back into shapes of the past.
Two steps forward. One step back.
Or, more accurately, two steps forward, three steps backwards, another two, another two, another one for good measure...
I often feel like I'm staring at a weirdly inverted, sideshow-mirror-reflection of the world I thought I knew.
Though I've (perhaps foolishly) not 100% discounted the thought of having children, I've seen so much in the past four years to make me thankful for not having children up to this point. And fearful of what they might face if I were to have any.
On a day when everything feels alternately raw and jagged or dull and numb, this photo feels like a metaphor for the disorientation I've been feeling more and more lately. But perhaps it appears calmer than my feelings.