Just popped out
A Village Walk
It wasn’t meant to be like this. I’d planned to head up to London, camera in hand, hoping for an early train to mists and autumnal greyness.
All through the night I coughed myself awake. Every time I sat up, it eased. Every time I lay back, it started again. In those wakeful hours, I mapped the day ahead — walking from Waterloo along the South Bank to Westminster Bridge, crossing quietly in the grey to the Houses of Parliament. Big Ben, a striking monolith in the mist. Then along a Sunday morning Whitehall to Trafalgar Square — silhouettes and pigeons, children carefree on the backs of sleeping lions.
By six o’clock it was clear I was going nowhere. Streaming eyes, a head that felt as though someone had taken a bar stool to it, hot and cold flushes — and that dreaded phrase: rail replacement service.
A mug of hot, strong tea in hand, sitting upright to soothe the coughs, I rethought my day. As the village Sunday came to life, the quiet autumn light reminded me of what I was missing. But perhaps a short walk was exactly what I needed. It certainly wouldn’t do me any harm.
Earbuds in. Podcast on. Out the door.
Dog walkers. Tots in knitted hats and scarves. The remnants of yesterday’s Bonfire Night festivities — smoke and mists.
“The falling leaves drift by the window.”
Some caught on car bonnets. Some a blanket on the ground.
Leaves.
Light.
Smoke.
Mist.
All poured into the hungry lens of my magic box.
And for a while, I forgot about my shivers and my cough.
Unplanned Moments: Cambridge in Black and White
A black and white street photography walk through Cambridge — observing people, light, and fleeting moments across the city.
Two Days of Noticing in Cambridge
I spent a couple of days in Cambridge last week with no real plan — just my camera, some time, and the intention to look. I wasn’t chasing a theme or working on a project; I simply wanted to wander and photograph whatever caught my attention. Sometimes those are the most rewarding walks — when you’re not looking for anything in particular, you start to notice everything.
Cambridge is a city of layers: students and cyclists, centuries-old walls, the quiet hum of cafés, the changing light on old stone. But it’s also full of small, contemporary stories — a moment on a bus, a face reflected in glass, two people passing each other on the street.
Leica M11 28.. f2.0 1/500 sec
The first photograph came from the top deck of a bus. A young girl gazing out of the window, lost in thought and her own reflection, while the world slipped past outside — sunlight, shopfronts, and the faint blur of motion. There was something quietly cinematic about it, that in-between space of travelling somewhere but being still at the same time.
Leica M11 28mm f3.4 1/500 sec
This second image was all about geometry and rhythm.
Two figures walking in opposite directions beneath an ornate bay window — a study in balance and timing.
It’s the kind of scene that lasts for a fraction of a second, and then it’s gone. But in that instant, there’s a conversation between architecture and people, between the permanence of the building and the fleetingness of movement.
Leica M11 28mm f11 1/250 sec
The third photo came later, peering through the window of a small Sicilian café.
A man was working the dough, completely absorbed, the light catching his hands and hat.
The reflections in the glass added another layer — the outside world merging with the inside — a quiet reminder that every scene we witness has more than one story playing out.
How about the images above? The same image - one in colour, one in black and white. I like the blue and gold tones of the colour version but, then again, I like the strong black and white contrast in the monochrome image. The decisive moment is all in the spoon entering her mouth. Let me know if you have a preference in the comments below.
Looking back, I realise these pictures aren’t really about Cambridge as a place. They’re about presence — the act of paying attention, the art of noticing. Two days of simply being open to what might unfold in front of me, of noticing people and patterns, gestures and light.
It’s these kinds of walks that remind me why I photograph - it forces me to notice. Panning for gold. There’s beauty in the everyday.
If you’ve ever taken a walk like that — camera in hand or not — I’d love to hear what you noticed.
How I See It: Brighton Street Photography In The Summer Sun
I spent one bright summer day wandering through Brighton with my camera — no plan, no route, just seeing what turned up. It was one of those days when everything felt alive: the sea, the light, the movement of people. I wasn’t chasing big moments, just small alignments — those flashes where shape, timing, and human presence come together for an instant and then disappear.
Here are three photographs from that day and some thoughts on what drew me to each.
1. The Rollercoaster – Brighton Pier
Turbo Check. Brighton, England. August 2025.
Fujifim X-T5 56mm f2.8 1/8000sec
What caught my eye first was the structure itself — a looping tangle of yellow and blue steel against a flat, almost cloudless sky. It felt quite architectural, but playful. Then I noticed a lone figure inside one of the loops, working quietly among all that machinery. Suddenly the whole thing shifted from abstract to human.
Composition:
The circular frame of the track became a natural enclosure, drawing the eye straight to the person. I’m always intrigued by how the eye is drawn to a human figure in an image - no matter how small.
I liked how the curved forms countered the rigid geometry of the supporting beams, giving the image movement even though nothing was actually moving. The scale works too — the figure is small enough to make the structure feel monumental, but still strong enough to hold attention. I framed it so the sky could breathe around it, letting the colours and shapes do most of the work.
Story:
There’s something slightly ironic about it — a ride built for speed and excitement, and a single worker making it function, unnoticed. It’s not a dramatic scene, but it says something about human presence in constructed spaces — how we keep these systems running quietly behind the spectacle.
Timing & Light:
The afternoon light was bright and crisp, the kind that makes colour sing but still leaves enough shadow to give form. The palette — lemon yellow, sky blue, and the flash of orange on the worker’s clothes — gives it that summery, almost graphic feel.
Overall Impression:
I like the balance between humour and order here — a bit of geometry, a bit of absurdity, and a human thread tying it all together. It’s simple, but it speaks to the idea of finding structure and story in everyday scenes.
2. The Wave and the Pier
Brighton Splash. Brighton, England. August 2025.
Fujifilm X-T5 56mm f4 1/2000sec
This frame came together in seconds. I’d been watching the sea hit the wall below the promenade, with the skeletal West Pier in the distance. Then a wave hit just as a few people were standing along the edge, caught between curiosity and carelessness. The timing was pure luck — the water exploded into a perfect shape before collapsing again.
Composition:
I liked how the scene naturally divided itself into layers: the foreground wall, the breaking wave, the open water, and the ghostly pier beyond. The horizontals and diagonals give it structure, but it’s the negative space between them — the stretch of sea — that lets the eye rest. The composition feels balanced without being rigid, and that empty middle section makes the splash more dramatic.
Story:
For me, this picture is really about impermanence. The pier is a ruin, slowly disappearing year by year; the wave exists for a second and is gone. And then there are the people — unaware, casual, a little timeless. It’s the kind of scene where everything seems to echo everything else: the decaying structure, the collapsing wave, the briefness of the moment itself.
Timing & Light:
It was taken in the early afternoon, and the light had that hazy softness that keeps colours natural. The sea has a slightly green tint that feels true to the English coast. I exposed for the highlights to keep detail in the spray, letting the shadows fall naturally. The timing of the wave — frozen at its peak — gives the image energy, but it’s the stillness of the figures that anchors it.
Overall Impression:
This picture feels both quiet and alive. It’s a decisive moment, but not a loud one — a calm kind of drama. When I look at it now, it reminds me how fleeting things are, but also how beautifully those fleeting things can hold our attention. It echoes classic summer vibes from days gone by - and yet to come.
3. Reflections in the Lanes
Later in the day, I wandered through the Lanes — busy, colourful, full of reflections and light. I stopped outside a shop window where gold lettering shimmered against the glass. So much to see - a young woman on her phone, completely absorbed. Outside, the reflections of passersby drifted across the surface. It was one of those layered scenes that make you slow down and look twice.
Homestore Connection. Brighton, England. August 2025.
Fujifilm X-T5 56mm f8 1/500 se
Composition:
The frame works on three levels — inside the shop, the glass surface, and the street reflected in it. I wanted them to interact without collapsing into chaos, so I waited for a moment when the interior figure was still and the reflections aligned with the lettering. Her placement — just off-centre, between verticals — gives the picture its balance. The type across the glass acts like a kind of visual punctuation, separating one layer from another.
Story:
What I love here is weat it shows of modern life; the mix of connection and disconnection. The woman is present but inward-looking, lost in her phone, while the reflections show a world in motion just beyond her. It’s a small slice of everyday life, but it hints at something bigger — how we exist in public spaces, half-aware of what’s around us.
Timing & Light:
The light was warm but soft, filtered by the surrounding buildings. The gold lettering picked up just enough glow to stand out without overpowering the scene. The cooler tones inside the shop balanced the warmth outside, giving a subtle contrast. I exposed for the reflections so that everything stayed visible without flattening the glass effect.
Overall Impression:
This one feels quieter, more contemplative than the others. It’s about perception — how we look, what we see, and what we miss. The layers make it a bit of a puzzle, but the mood keeps it grounded. It’s the kind of scene that could easily be overlooked, which is exactly why I wanted to photograph it.
Looking Back
Putting these images together, I realised they trace a kind of rhythm through the day — from open air and bright colour on the pier, to the energy of the sea, to the reflective calm of the Lanes. Each moment came and went in seconds, but together they tell a small story about Brighton and the way light, people, and structure interact.
That’s what I love about street photography: it teaches you to look for balance in the everyday, to find a bit of poetry in the ordinary flow of things.
If you’d like to see how the day unfolded you can watch the video from the day here:
👉 How I See It:Brighton Street Photography in the Summer Sun – YouTube
And if you’ve made it this far, I’d love to know what you think. Which image speaks to you most, and why? Feel free to leave a comment below, or explore more of my colour street photography in the gallery section of my website.
Hugh
Why I Rebuilt My Website
My Previous Website Complete with Favourite Black & White Image
My old website had been stuck for quite a while — untouched, unloved, and increasingly out of date. I’d stopped updating it because, deep down, I knew it needed more than a quick tidy-up. It needed a complete rebuild.
Squarespace had moved on, upgrading their tools and templates, and my old site had been left behind. It no longer worked properly, and trying to patch it up felt like wasting energy that would be better spent creating new work.
So I took the plunge and started again from scratch. I wanted a site that felt fresh and flexible — a place that reflects where my street photography is now, not where it was a few years ago.
Looking ahead, I’d like this new site to grow into more than just a gallery. Eventually, I hope it can become a place to share and sell prints, run small workshops, and maybe even host a regular newsletter — something more personal and engaging than the quick-scroll world of social media.
Those things are still to come, but having the space ready feels like an important first step. I’d love it to become a quieter corner of the internet, where people who enjoy my photography can connect, respond, and maybe even join me on the journey.
It’s good to be back — and I’m looking forward to seeing where this new version of the site takes me.
The new look website
Autumn 2025 fashion
I’d love to know what you think.
Have you got any suggestions for how I can improve it?
Til next time,
Hugh
Capturing Serenity: Street Photography in a Quiet French Coastal Village
Street photography is often associated with the energy of bustling cities, but what happens when you take your camera to a quiet coastal village? In this blog, I explore the unique challenges and rewards of shooting in a slower, more secluded environment. From capturing local life to finding compelling compositions, this was a test of patience and observation. Watch the full video to see how I approached storytelling in this peaceful setting!
If you enjoy reading about my experience capturing the charm of this quiet French coastal village, you won’t want to miss the full video! In this episode of How I See It, I take you behind the scenes as I navigate the unique challenges of street photography in a slower, more secluded setting. Watch the video [here] and see how I approached composition, light, and storytelling in this picturesque location. Let me know your thoughts in the comments!
Recently, I ventured into one of these serene coastal villages to challenge myself and my street photography skills. Here's what I learned about the unique beauty and challenges of shooting in such a tranquil setting.
Blending In
In a small village, you’ll often stand out as an outsider. Your presence might make people more conscious of being photographed, which can disrupt the authenticity you’re trying to capture.
Techniques for Success
Use Light to Your Advantage
Coastal villages are often blessed with stunning natural light. Early mornings and late afternoons can provide dramatic shadows, golden hues, and reflections in the water. Let the light guide your compositions.Slow Down and Observe
Without the chaos of a city, you have more time to explore and immerse yourself in the environment. Pay attention to textures—the weathered wood of fishing boats, the rough stone walls, or the smoothness of seashells on the shore.Engage with Locals
A small village offers the unique opportunity to connect with residents. Striking up a conversation might lead to discovering hidden spots or gaining permission to photograph someone in their everyday environment.
The Challenges of Quiet Streets
Street photography is often associated with bustling urban environments—crowded markets, busy streets, and the constant ebb and flow of humanity. But when you step into a quiet French seaside village, the rules of the game change. The rhythm slows, the streets empty, and you’re left with a different kind of canvas.
Fewer Subjects, Less Action
In cities, you can rely on the natural movement of people to create dynamic compositions. In a quiet village, finding interesting subjects requires more patience. People are fewer, and their movements are often slower and more deliberate.
Stillness vs. Storytelling
Capturing a story in a setting where everything feels still is a challenge. You’ll need to focus on subtler narratives—the way a fishing net is coiled, the way light hits an old wooden door, or the interplay of shadows on cobblestones.
Finding Stories in Stillness
What I found most rewarding about shooting in a quiet French seaside village was the need to adapt my vision. Instead of chasing movement, I sought out tranquillity. I looked for visual poems in the way the village interacted with its surroundings: the sea, the sky, and the wind.
One of my favourite images from the trip was of an elderly man slowly pedalling on the hard sand of the deserted beach, the ocean as his backdrop, as he went seeking mussels. His posture, combined with the empty horizon, spoke volumes about the simplicity and depth of life in such a place.
Final Thoughts
Street photography in a quiet coastal village is a lesson in mindfulness. It pushes you to appreciate stillness and find beauty in what might initially seem uneventful. It’s a reminder that every place has its stories; you just need to listen closely and look deeply to uncover them.
Next time you’re in a place where the streets seem silent, don’t be discouraged.
Embrace the quiet, and you might just capture something extraordinary.
How I See It - Black and White Street Photography
My new YouTube video How I See It - Black and White Street Photography is out now.
Just a short note to say that my second video is now up on my YouTube channel.
It’s about five black and white images made in the last year - the story behind the images, the reason for processing in black and white.
Do you go out to shoot in black and white? What makes black and white so special?
And if there’s anything you’d like to see featured on this new channel I’d love to know.
Just comment below.
Black and White Street Photography 2023
I have always had a keen interest in history, and growing up, I used to look at black-and-white photographs of my hometown taken over the previous century. It's quite likely that I used to imagine the world was black-and-white until some magical date when colour burst forth - probably sometime around 1960. After all, the only way I could imagine what the world was like before I was born was through photos from the past, and these were all monochrome black-and-white.
Around the mid-60s and 70s, the photographic world began to take colour seriously, and black-and-white became a deliberate choice, not just an economic decision but an aesthetic one. Today, with a digital camera in hand, we can make the choice after the event. For example, I shoot in RAW, and I have the viewfinder on my camera set to show me black-and-white. However, the images are captured in full colour, and this is what shows when I post-process them in Lightroom. When I first take the image, I generally have a good idea as to whether it will be one I process in black-and-white or in colour. Nevertheless, the option remains for me to do either or both.
Black and white has advantages. By reducing everything in the image to shades from pitch black to bright white, it enables the observer's eye to be drawn to the parts of the image that the photographer intends to be seen. The eye does not get lost or distracted by the array of colour tones. Because black-and-white is not how we see the world, it is effectively an abstraction. That is always good in photography because it causes us to question what we're looking at and how we see things. Stripping away colour will often enable the photographer to focus on the shape and form of the subject of the image. It can be a great medium for architectural images for that reason. It can also enable us to focus on the features in a portrait as opposed to being distracted by a busy coloured background.
In processing a black-and-white image, the photographer has a lot more leeway in dealing with elements such as contrast. The photographer can be a lot more heavy-handed or given to extremes; pushing the blacks and blowing out the whites or anywhere in between. In colour, this would lead to a wholly unrealistic image. My touchstone with black and white has always been Sebastien Salgado's work, which, although not generally street photography, is beautifully processed with heavy contrasts.
What follows are five black-and-white images from 2023. Some are images which I took knowing they would be processed in black-and-white. Others could work in colour or black and white.
History’s Eyes.
London Waterloo. Feb 2023.
Leica M11 24mm
This first image I’ve called History’s Eyes. Although I’ve been back to this place many many times I can never actually remember whether it says eyes or lies - I like both and the head of the lady at the front distorts the word.
This was shot at London Waterloo, in the underground and it’s an image which is no longer possible to take; as is so often the way with street photography. As with so much of the underground, this space is usually a semicircular tube, the top half of a circle. The space contains two moving walkways conveying people backwards and forwards to the escalators and then down to the platforms below. However, at the time that I made this image, the walkway on the left was boarded off while undergoing repairs. The central walkway is not moving and there is a small family group disappearing into the distance.
The symmetry of the space and the leading lines of the floor, the walkways and the overhead lighting, create a sense of parallax, as the eye is drawn into the distance. It’s a strong effect. I often enjoy taking images on escalators because it’s a constant stream of new faces being delivered to your viewfinder. Here, I stood at the beginning of the walkway and shot from the hip.
There are five central characters in this image – four adults and a child. The adults all look fairly world-weary, certainly tired. One stares resolutely in front. The second looks nonchalantly towards the camera, disapproving but unwilling to act. The man looks down and knits his furrowed brow, carrying his worries in his expression. The final woman has an impassive face, stoically going about her purpose, whatever that may be. The child is sandwiched neatly between two layers of adults. His expression contrasts sharply with those of the grown-ups. He has a cheeky grin as if he is the only one who has got the joke; the only one to realise what the photographer is doing. His is a slightly impudent face and it’s not hard to imagine, that he could be the source of many of the woes of the others.
This image is far stronger in black-and-white. The faces of the five characters, the line of fluorescent lighting and the strong whites of the adevrtisement stand out well in the high-contrast image. The blacks have been heightened. There is no colour to distract.
Heading Home.
London. March 2023.
Leica M11 24 mm
Heading Home is a picture of solitude. It’s about being one person alone in the machine or at least in the city. We look down between the girders of two Bridges – the footbridge across the Thames on the right and the railway bridge into Charing Cross on the left. It was a wet March evening and people were hurrying home out of the cold.
like the previous image, this is one of those places that I often pass particularly at the beginning of a photo walk. I always look down. Usually, the road is full of traffic either hurrying past in a blur or stuck still waiting for the lights to change. Tonight the road was empty. The pavement was also quiet.
Our heroine marches home, her umbrella providing shelter like a turtle’s shell, and casting a dark grey circular shadow on the kerbside. To her left is another woman, possibly on a break, cigarette in hand. Perhaps she is discreetly observing our heroine, ready to report back to her superiors.
On the far left, emerging from the girders of the railway bridge, there is the looming, shadowy presence of a third figure, about to enter the scene. Is our heroine being tailed?
The light reflected from the pavement is quite bright and contrasts well with the dark frame of the girders. It also shows up the wet footprints of her now departed fellow commuters. The busy day has come to an end but she is still out there.
In colour, the warm tones of the golden street lights and the blue paint of the bridge make this image tell a very different story.
Birdfeeder.
Chicago, USA. Aug 2023.
Leica M11 35mm Summicron
Birdfeeder was shot in completely different circumstances to the previous two images - it was outside and in harsh daylight. The harsh Chicago sun is almost directly overhead, as you can see by the small shadows cast by the woman and the birds. The concrete reflects the heat and light up towards the sky, the buildings almost lost in the deep black.
In fact, the shadows of the buildings create a geometric block in the top two-thirds of the image. This contrasts sharply with the bottom half which is bright white in places and roughly textured.
In the centre stands a frail old lady, pausing amongst the pigeons. Her feet are close together and her legs are spindly, much like those of the birds. She too is a black shape, only differentiated by her size and the flash of white light on her hair. She seems very vulnerable, dwarfed by the huge buildings in the background that we can only really imagine. Unlike the birds at her feet, she is unable to fly away. She almost looks as if she could be there forever.
Again, this is another image which could have been in colour. However, the graphic nature of the image with its straight lines, textured floor, and the contrast between the bright pavement and the black birds made monochrome the better choice.
Tailor.
Jermyn Street, London. Feb 2023.
Leica M11 24 mm
This image shows a tailor at work in his shop in Piccadilly Arcade, London. The photo is composed in black and white, because I think it really helps to draw attention to the tailor himself amidst all the clutter of his professional life. It's amazing how the human form always seems to stand out, no matter what the environment.
In the photo, the tailor is surrounded by all sorts of fabrics and accoutrements, framed by small boxes of cufflinks in the foreground, a staircase and banister to the left, and clothes in the window display to the right. The lighting from above really highlights the tailor and makes him the focal point of the image.
A man at work.
Whistles.
Cambridge, England. Aug 2023.
Leica M11 28mm
The final image I’ve chosen interests me because it is a portrait (candid, of course) but it is also quite abstract and geometric.
The original RAW file reveals that there is very little colour in the image. The woman’s clothes are black and white. The shop behind has white walls and a black door.
So, why bother converting it to black-and-white?
I suppose it’s a question of contrast. We all know that white light is made up of a whole spectrum of colour. The whites in the original image showed faint hints of yellow-golden light, of pinks and pale blues. In converting the image to pure black-and-white these tones become shades of grey, bleaching to pure white and darkening to full black.
Considering the image as a black-and-white photograph enables the viewer to focus on the lines, shape and form - the structure of the composition. To me, it is about diagonal lines – the shadow of the awning coming from the top left and reflected in the inverse angle of the handrail coming from the bottom left; the diagonal line of the woman’s shawl which runs parallel to the handrail; the diagonal line of her handbag strap, which also mirrors the shadow of the awning. Diagonal lines also form parts of triangles and it’s not hard to find triangles either implied or explicit in this image. The triangle of space in the fabric which reveals the only part of the human body on show, the left eye, is crucial to the whole image. It is framed in pure black which itself is surrounded by white and pale grey.
Whilst also only taking a moment to capture, it’s a complicated image because it contains frames within frames.
What's really interesting to me is how much you can see in a photo when you really take the time to look at it. These photos are great examples of how black and white photography can highlight different aspects of an image and draw attention to certain elements.
What do you think? Do you prefer colour or black and white photography? Let me know in the comments!
How I see it - a YouTube video channel
Launching my Street Photography Channel - “How I See It.”
Future plans and how you can help.
A couple of days ago I published my first YouTube video. My hope is to create videos that I would like to watch – just as photography allows me to capture the pictures I want to see.
If these videos resonate with anyone else then that would be incredible. I don’t claim to know it all, or even to have any answers. I am not an expert. I’m an amateur photographer taking pictures with a passion and I’m learning all the time.
How I See It - launching my new street photography video channel
In fact, launching the channel has taught me a lot in a short amount of time. I'm happy to share my opinions and insights, and, if that’s Teaching then I’m fine with that. After all, teaching has been my profession. I know that teaching something is the best way to learn it effectively. I've gained a lot of knowledge from making my first video and hope it will be helpful to others too.
I’ve called this Channel “How I see it.” It is precisely that – how I see things. I'm not claiming any universal truths or expertise other than the experience I've gained from ten years of street photography. I'll undoubtedly make mistakes along the way, but that's how we learn.
In that spirit, I hope that those who follow along will offer their thoughts and comments as we go. If you want to point out diversions, shortcuts or wrong turns then we can all learn together. And if you have ideas for future episodes please feel free to share them by dropping me a line or leaving a comment below each video.
Seven Up - Best of 2023
I’ve always believed that it’s best to leave your images for sometime before processing them. You might call it letting them marinate. And I suppose that the same principle applies to this post because I’ve left it several months into 2024 to reflect on my images from 2023.
The images I’ve chosen are a combination of the ones that had the most likes on Instagram and a few of my own favourites. You will notice that these are all colour. I did have one or two black-and-white images that I wanted to include. However, they looked out of place within the overall feel of the colour gallery. There may well be a follow up post of black and whites.
With each image, I’ll try to give you an idea of how the image came to be. Not so much about meta data, but more about how I came to see the image as I did – the moment, the perspective, the point of view, and, perhaps most importantly, the feeling I was trying to put across at the time.
No Use.
Cambridge, England. November 2023
Leica M11. 28mm.
No use.
This may be my favourite image of last year because I’ve never actually seen anything quite like it. I do like using frames in my images. However, these tend to be fairly typical or obvious frames such as windows, doors or the side of a lamp post or an edge of a building to close off one side of the image. This was actually the reverse side of the cafe sign and I took the opportunity to shoot through the letters.
Inevitably, you will be wondering what the sign was. This was taken at the copper kettle, a very well-known café opposite Kings College in Cambridge. this is the reverse side of the entrance and the sign, reads restaurant and coffee house (or something like that). it was very much a spur of the moment shop; I hadn’t gone looking for it, I’ve never noticed it before. It was simply an opportune moment as I left the café.
As is so often the case, the café was full. Fortunately for me, on this occasion, it was filled by people wearing complementary shades of blue and grey which also resonated with the frosted grey blue glass of the window. Not only that, but the bright yellow of the butter on the plate on the right hand side, complements the blues beautifully everyone in the image, appears to be either engrossed in their food, or in conversation, No single person is shown fully, but each is impacted by the opaque frame. the frame itself, the letters ES and U in reverse also invite the question as to what they spell out.
To me, this is what street photography is all about– noticing things that are seemingly hiding in plain sight, making something every day noticeable and beautiful.
Very Tempting.
More London, London. June 2023.
Leica M11. 35mm.
Very Tempting.
This image is connected to the previous one by being shot at a café. Whereas inverted commas no use “was shot on the exit from the café, this image was shot while enjoying the coffee on a sunny Sunday morning in June. As far as I’m concerned, from the moment I’ll leave the house until I return the camera stays by my side, and every second is a chance to make an image. Resting my legs, enjoying a flat white and a cheeky croissant can only improve the photographic experience.
This is an area of London That has changed hugely in the last few decades. Just off Tooley Street, new buildings of chrome steel and glass have replaced the Dickensian warehouses alongside the Thames of two centuries ago. it’s an area that is fun to shoot in all kinds of light and weathers. However, it is also prone to the over officious security guard and so shooting with a small bodied camera is recommended. Walking around with a fistful of DSLR always seem to get me, stopped and moved along. With the rangefinder no one seems concerned.
With one eye on the street, I will often choose to sit in the window in a café. I think I had to shuffle myself along a few times in order to give myself a view of Tower Bridge while also maintaining a clear view of that column of bright light. It’s always good to include a view of a landmark to give the viewer summit information about where the image was taken. This isn’t a photo about Tower Bridge, but I like the fact that it’s a small part of the frame. This pedestrianised area can get very busy and it wasn’t as quiet as perhaps it seems. Waiting for a solitary figure to frame themselves against that almost white background. Without anyone else in the frame took some time. It would have been cleaner without the small huddle of three people in the right hand frame moving towards the bridge – you can’t have it all.
The words “very tempting” on the sign at the bottom of the image, give the image its title. But I can’t help but wonder if they are a distraction. Of course, I could have removed them in post processing. However, that goes against the grain with me – if it’s in it stays in.
Part of what makes the image work for me, is the combination of straight lines in the geometry of the buildings, the shadows with the diagonal light of the windows, showing on the building ahead, and the curves of the lamps of the café, as well as the reflection. It’s almost as if there are three suns in a kind of Star Wars way. The blue tones of the morning complement the warmth of the sun and the globe lighting well. In fact, I initially posted this image in black-and-white, and it was more successful in terms of likes on Instagram than this colour version.
Lake Michigan Rails.
Chicago, Illinois. August 2023.
Leica M11. 35 mm.
Lake Michigan Handrails
A blazing hot day, lakeside in Chicago; the harsh concrete platform, and the bright red handrails contrast beautifully with the inviting blue of Lake Michigan. Here, the beauty of the lake is only approached via the concrete jetty and the bright red handrails. The natural environment harshly butts against the man-made. It is partly this contrast that appeals to me.
In a more abstract way, I love the rectangles made by the two sides of the red handrail and the corresponding diamond, lozenge shaped shadows on the concrete. Similarly, the way the top of the handrails lineup with the horizon is aesthetically very satisfying.
There will be those that argue that this is not street photography. To me, street photography can be taken anywhere– in the street, on the beach, in the subway, at the airport, hey, even on the moon. The essential elements are that the image is candid and that there is evidence of human intervention.
Veil Descending.
Toronto, Canada. Aug 2023.
Leica M11. 24 mm.
Veil Descending
In a way, this image is more typical of the way I shoot. If there is such a thing as a contact sheet with digital images, you would see that this image is a one off. I was not working the scene; there was no image like this before or after it. It exists on its own.
To me, this is the real thrill of street photography – coming across a one-off moment or instance, which is gone in a flash (no pun intended). This was taken at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto. It’s a magnificent building and, on an August afternoon, gorgeous, warm light floods the space. Rounding a corner on one of the walkways I came across this scene. I quickly brought the camera to my eye and did my best to frame all the converging lines of the arches as best I could.
The warm tones of the wood and the sunlight, the purity of the museum walls, and the main characters outfit beautifully complement the turquoise veil.
I find that the more I look at this picture, the more I see. It’s a complex mix of lines and light, shadows and curves and diagonals. It all takes place within the arch and there’s an inner arch which gently skirts the side of the outer arch. To capture the woman in the centre of the arch was almost entirely down to luck. The time it took her to move through what is probably less than 10 feet of that stairwell was just enough to get my one shot. If you look closely, there is another figure observing the scene from a window above. I think I wish she wasn’t there, but that’s street photography.
Swallowed.
London Waterloo. Sept 2023.
Leica M11. 28mm.
Swallowed
This is London Waterloo station, where the light at certain times of day is stunning, especially now that the old Eurostar rail terminal has been repurposed as additional platforms. Golden light pours down onto the lower concourse
Here, the shadows have a personality of their own, a dark, looming presence , which almost seems to chase the solitary figure from the scene. He’s clearly not hurrying, he’s being drawn into the subterranean safety of the London underground system. It makes me think Bill Brandt’s images of Londoners sheltering on the platforms during the Blitz in 1940.
Perhaps this is the last leg of our chap’s journey as he leaves behind the vestiges of his day, or maybe he’s heading out for an evening with mates. Either way the dark looming presence will soon be left behind. Maybe the poster asking “how did we do?” is calling him to reflect at the end of his working day.
A Shade After Twelve.
London. Dec 2023,
Leica M11. 50 mm.
A Shade After Twelve
This image was one of several I took within a very short space of time. I like them all, though mostly I prefer them in black-and-white. One showed just the architecture - the parliament building, Westminster Bridge, the Elizabeth Tower, and the arch, which frames them all. The modern graffiti contrasts sharply with the classical Victorian architecture in the distance. I have to assume the architecture will outlast the modern art. Another image was filled with tourists, umbrellas up, photographing the same scene without a thought for me who had been standing there all along – never mind, they actually improved the scene, as is so often the way. The image I’ve chosen makes the most of the individual and her red umbrella under that gunmetal sky.
The three different images were clearly taken within seconds of each other as the hands of the clock show. This one was taken just moments after midday - enabling me to use the pun a shade after twelve.
Time Stands Still.
London Underground. October 2023.
Leica M11. 28mm.
Time Stands Still
Baker Street has to be one of the most photographed tube stations. This is not the classic view and could’ve been taken in almost any of the hundreds of London Underground stations. I am always drawn to shooting on the tube. It’s not just that each station is different and has its own style. It’s not just the beautiful curves of the ceilings on the platforms and how they intersect with the straight lines of the track and the markings. For me there is a real thrill in taking photographs of people in an environment where you can easily be spotted or found out.
On the platforms, and even more so on the trains themselves, people are huddled close together for a concentrated slice of time. Everyone is waiting for the same thing – the train to pull in, the train to pull out, and for the train to reach its destination. For an intense time, everyone shares the same experience and there’s no escape if you are caught.
I went for a slow shutter speed and held steady - always a challenge in a rangefinder without image stabilisation. Luckily, the solitary passenger didn’t move as the train pulled in, enabling me to catch the moving train, while everything else is frozen still. I like the warm tones of the woman and her coat which compliment the cooler blues of the train as it moves through.
I’d love to know your thoughts. Let me know in the comments.
Oh… and happy New Year!
Mouthpiece 4: Year of the Rabbit
Year of the Rabbit - as seen from the edges in Chinatown, London.
Chinese Lanterns, Trafalgar Square, London.
I have always steered clear of the very popular. I’ve always been disappointed when a band I like have drifted into the mainstream. Always preferred the intimacy of a few people in a small venue to the big arena. Always avoided the big hitters - be they bands, movies, shows - whatever seems to be massively on trend has always somehow driven me away. I’ve always preferred to remain on the edge.
Setting Up, Trafalgar Square, London.
Maybe it is this position as the outsider that has drawn me to street photography. The Bystander. Watching from the edges - not fully immersed yet somehow not wanting to miss it completely.
China Blue, Chinatown, London.
I’m just as interested in the people around the event as the stars of the show, if not more so. The build-up, the preparation, the anticipation, the reactions. What makes up the whole experience. Perhaps this is why certain images have really resonated with me. Capa’s take on the 1939 Tour de France as it passed through Pleyben in Brittany- the crowd looking up the road in anticipation and then the crowd looking down the road following the race until it is out of sight; not a rider or bike in shot; just a succession of turned heads. Tony Ray Jones image of people watching the Trooping of the Colour. Henri Cartier Breton’s sleeping man in Trafalgar Square at the coronation of King George VI. Somehow these say so much about the main events which these photographers left others to record for posterity.
Robert Capa, Magnum Photos. Robert Capa and the Tour de France | photography | Agenda | Phaidon
Henri Cartier Bresson, Magnum Photos. The big picture: a comic take on a coronation by Henri Cartier-Bresson, 1937 | Henri Cartier-Bresson | The Guardian
Tony Ray Jones, Martin Parr Foundation. Tony Ray-Jones, Trooping the Colour, London, 1967 | Print Sales Gallery | The Photographers' Gallery
This year’s Chinese New Year celebrations in London’s Chinatown, like any year, were a fabulously colourful celebration, focusing around the carnival but with all kinds of preparations taking place. Decorations were hung and preened. Food prepared. Crabs weighed. Noodles crafted. Crowds slowly assembled. And, once the parade had passed through, dragons unmasked and demystified.
Noodles Prepped, Chinatown, London.
Crabs Weighed, Chinatown, London.
Anticipation, Chinatown, London.
By The Bystander, Chinatown, London.
Dragon Passing, Chinatown, London.
Proclamation, Chinatown, London.
Procession, Chinatown, London.
Dragon Watch, Chinatown, London.
Dragon Unmasked, Chinatown, London.
I was there. On the edges.
A Photographic Life :
This week I have found this conversation between Grant Scott and Bill Shapiro about photographers’ websites particularly interesting. Definitely a few things there that I will be adjusting about mine.
Til next time. Cheers,
Hugh
Mouthpiece 3: On The Dotted Line - going behind the image
The streets aren’t paved with gold but the warm fluorescent glow spilling onto the wet flagstones like Chablis are a damn close second on this winter’s night in Soho. The deep blue-black of the sky only accentuates the staccato blasts of the neon signs trumpeting reds, pinks and oranges.
If it’s only Mad Dogs and Englishmen that go out in the midday sun, then maybe it’s just drunks and street photographers who stay out on nights like this. Fingerless gloves clutch numbly at the small black box, somehow adjusting dials without feeling them.
On The Dotted Line. London 2022.
What warmth there is, is behind glass, lining a familiar path as I retrace many prior journeys into the ever beating heart of Soho. Chinatown - it’s swinging lanterns, steaming fumes and breath-coated windows, lies to my left. The grid of small streets and smaller bars and cafes of Frith Street, Dean Street and old Compton Street buzz to my right. My plan is to dip my lens into all of them as the evening takes a meandering shape around the spine of Shaftesbury Avenue.
A fellow street photographer once explained to me why he never go back to somewhere he had visited before. He explained how he would work the scene, maximising everything he could from it and tick the box. Done. Never to return.
And here I find myself outside the Curzon. I knew I would. For me, this is a scene I do return to. And very, very often. Far from completing it, like some street photography “I spy “checklist, I have unfinished business. It is always changing. Not just the light at the different times of day, not just the people passing through, but the window display. The Curzon is both a bar and cinema - the window acting as a huge advertising hoarding for whatever is showing inside. As the films change, so does the window.
On a cold winters night, the window display frames whatever activity happens within. Had I been approaching from the opposite direction my eyes would have been inexorably drawn to the fuchsia-pink neon legend “Curzon - Soho” - so often the backdrop to my images, as I work the scene over a long time stretch, seeking that elusive one shot that sums up everything else I’ve tried to achieve here before.
On this occasion, the sign is out of shot and my eye is drawn to the lone figure, the single glass and the impatient bottle of red. Head down, our protagonist is alone; searching for clues on his phone. Alone, yet not alone.
To his right, are the beautifully lit bottles on the shelf. Plenty to drown even the biggest sorrows. The text imprinted on the glass above our solitary hero reads “Completely Unique” as if to emphasise his singularity. And, almost out of shot, “A master at work,” perhaps suggesting something deeper and intentional is it play here. The film advertised? “Licorice Pizza.”
It’s a scene that’s impossible to avoid connecting with Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks painting - painted as Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. How apparent this similarity was to me at the time, I cannot say. My image took a fraction of the time to create - 1/250 of a second. I am sure my visual dictionary and subconscious must have come in to play. Nighthawks is certainly a touchstone image for me and surely informed my composition.
I do know I’m a storyteller at heart and Hopper’s painting, with its different stories imagined for each person in the bar, is a great example of narrative in art.
Of course, my choices as a photographer enabled me to create the version of the story I wanted to tell. A glance at the other images on the contact sheet show he was not the only person in the bar. A few steps in one direction and I could remove them from the scene. As for his silent, anxious minutes with his phone…Maybe he was checking the football results while his friends popped to the loo. For me, the joy of images like this, is in the ambiguity. We can project our own imaginings onto the characters. This is the kind of street photography that excites me most. It speaks of the human condition and that is something we can all connect with.
Speaking of connections. It was a few days after this image was first shared on Instagram that I was contacted by the hero of the story. It seems some colleagues had recognised him and he decided to reach out. He was delighted and, in time, I was thrilled to be able to gift him a large print to adorn his new home. We have since exchanged a number of direct messages. I hope all is well my friend.
Finally, this image, titled On The Dotted Line, has been shortlisted for the British Photography Awards in the Street category. There are some amazing images alongside it - check them out here:
On The Dotted Line | Street 2019 Shortlist | British Photography Awards
There are plenty of photographers who use Soho as their happy shooting ground. Today, I’m going to recommend you check out the work of somebody who worked in Soho, projectionist in one of the many cinemas its narrow streets in the last 30 years. Bob Mazzer, took photographs on the underground – the tube – as he travelled to and from work. They are a great record of their time and of life on this narrow slice of London below the streets. You can check out an interview with Bob here: https://www.lensculture.com/articles/bob-mazzer-life-from-a-tube-the-london-underground
Bob Mazzer
More recently, Bob has produced a book of photographs of life in the south east of England-Sussex.
Currently available are Bob Mazzer:
And In Sussex
As a musical accompaniment, it has to be A Rainy Night In Soho by The Pogues.
Thanks for taking the time to join me in my thoughts. If anything has resonated, or you’d just like to say hello, I’d love to hear from you in the comments below.
All the best,
Mouthpiece 2: looking back to go forward
A hard drive crashing is never a good thing but, as an eternal optimist, I can see the good that is coming from it. I’ll get to that.
Don’t worry - it’s not as bad as it could’ve been – I have it all backed up in the cloud and this was a backup hard drive anyway. It has drawn my attention to just how full my main drive is. While the price of external memory is far cheaper than it was, I still don’t want to be buying new drives unnecessarily. It was clearly time for a good old-fashioned clear out.
As a street photographer, I’m very well used to that boom and bust cycle of returning on a high from a good day’s photowalk only to realise that a meagre three of the 600 images I took are worth a second glance. However, I only ever delete the very worst – completely missed images. Logically {and mathematically) this means that a good 95 to 98% of images on my hard drive images were there for no reason at all.
Piccadilly Grind. Oct 2014.
Now, I know that some of those are almost there, also-rans, and close enough. Some are images which have something about them; something which may become apparent one day – I really do think this. Maybe I took an image instinctively and I’m not yet fully skilled enough to appreciate it. Or an image, which processed or cropped the right way, will earn a place in my library.
That still leaves an awful lot of dead weight.
Paris, France. June 2014.
In the interest of sound financial management, it was time to kick out the junk and free up some space. It was therapeutic – keywording and organising as I went (like one huge sock drawer). It was time consuming (very). It was nostalgic - family no longer with us, kids when they were small, holidays enjoyed. It was also quite an eye-opener.
My first tentative street photography images from 2014 (before I even knew street photography was a thing) had far more about them than I had expected. Sure, there was a freshness and innocence which was, at times, jarring and embarrassing– some were literally just people on a street. But there was also a distinct voice in those images and the beginnings of a voice that I could definitely recognise as mine, if a little high pitched. I could still see why I had taken them and what I was trying to do.
Cambridge, England. Dec 2014.
At times, I was bowled over by how bold I had been to even take the image - am I backing off more these days? Have I become more cautious? Perhaps I was more prepared to experiment.
Some of these images have been processed. And boy had they been processed – within a hairsbreadth of their fledgling lives. Clarity crunched. Texture trashed. Saturation off the scale. Some of these could be reset and salvaged – and in a spare set of moments I intend to revisit them
Perhaps time spent looking at others work and teaching myself through YouTube had led to some kind of aggregation or a smoothing away of rough edges.
It’s not unusual to overdo all of these things when you first discover the processing toy box. What surprised me was the feeling that I actually preferred some of them to the more subtle, real life processing I’ve been aiming for in recent years. My recent images feel more like a clinical document instead of an expression of how it felt to be there at the time.
Deep down I always knew that my photography was not aiming to be a scientific record or historical testimony; but something more about mood, environment, character and art. What I hadn’t expected was that these faces from the past would cause me to pick up where I left off– pushing me to express more of my own vision through both the images I take and how I process them.
Looking back has taught me to see a truth that had been clouded and has enabled me to strive for something I now realise I had lost. I had lost sight of the expression, the art, in my records of the street.
Out with the old. In with the old.
Recently I had to undergo minor surgery and I am now fifty percent through a two week convalescence period. Unable to work or do little more than rest, it has been an opportunity to listen, watch and read. My mind has also turned to my photography (predictably) and I took the prudent step of closing my online store which just seemed to be an excuse to throw money away. Instead I bought a printer, thinking it would be a good project while I convalesce. Of course, it would be. However, having had it delivered, it is now languishing by the front door - as if unable to make up its mind as to whether to come and join us or scurry away from whence it came - because I am unable to lift anything heavy for 2-4 weeks. It’s very zen - teaching me patience.
Watch:
These videos from Nigel Danson and Thomas Heaton have whet my appetite for getting started with printing my images myself.
Thomas Heaton
My Printing Workflow from Start to Finish
How I Run & Operate My Photography Business
Nigel Danson
7 PHOTO PRINTING MISTAKES to AVOID
READ:
I’ve had lots of time to read - often in the middle of a three hour stretch of discomfort in the wee small hours. I am really enjoying getting stuck into “Comanche Moon” by Larry McMurtry and part of the Lonesome Dove westerns - if you like that sort of thing, I’d definitely recommend the whole series.
Photographically, and with my budding printer’s cap well and truly doffed, I found Robin Whalley’s short ebook Perfect Prints Every Time: How to achieve excellent photographic prints Kindle Edition to be a great walk through for what’s looking like being a bit of an inky minefield. Robin has several short and very practical ebooks available and also runs a YouTube channel of his own. It’s full of useful videos about various photo editing software programmes, printing and landscape photography. Plenty to support any kind of photographer.
Listening to….
A music headed colleague and kind soul, sent me a playlist which she called Recoup to help me during my convalescence. The first track seemed so evocative, lying wide awake in the middle of the night. Here it is: "Epilogue" by Olafur Arnalds
I hope you’ve enjoyed this edition of Mouthpiece - if you have any thoughts or similar experiences looking back on your earlier works I’d love to read them in the comments below. Similarly, if you have any tips, advice or things to avoid with home printing that would be great too.
Or if you just want to drop by and say hello it would be good to hear from you.
I will let you know how the whole printing thing shapes up!
All the best,
Southsea, England. July 2014.
Mouthpiece 1
Back once again for the renegade headmaster
Pardon the dodgy pun (and with respect to Wildchild) but it’s being playing in my head since I decided to rekindle the blog during a week’s break from school.
So, what’s this and why now? You might well ask. It’s been a long time. I suppose the longer you leave something the harder it is to get going again. Something in there about momentum. But also the fact that the longer I’ve been away, the greater significance the return seems to need to be. That brings pressure to make the first piece back all the more worthwhile - so I put it off; all the while heaping that pressure on the return.
Time. May 2021.
As it turns out, that’s all nonsense. Of course it is. My writings here were never intended to be anything more than a collection of thoughts. But it is the teacher in me that seemed to want to imbue them with weight and make them say something. “If you’ve got something to say, share it with the rest of the class - or be quiet.”
So I was quiet.
Then, as always, several things happened and the snowball gathered size until something dislodged it. (I know, that analogy doesn’t really work but, hey, it’s been a while).
Poring over cinematographer Roger A Deakin’s (The Shawshank Redemption, Fargo, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, A Beautiful Mind, Skyfall, Blade Runner 2049, and 1917) collection of black and white images “Byways” or, more accurately, taking the time to read his Foreword, I was struck by this quote:
It’s this difference in how we each sees things which I find fascinating. We are influenced by so many things - not just photographical. I wanted somewhere to share some of the things that enable me to see the images that I make, perhaps things which no one else would otherwise connect or experience. If it helps anyone find something stimulating, entertaining or challenging then that’s good..
The plan, then, is to share images but also some of the other things that have resonated with me - influencing me directly, indirectly or even imperceptibly. These may be pieces of music, films, tv, books, art, exhibitions, podcasts and conversations…. time will tell.
Later in this edition you will find links to what has been playing in my headphones as I write or been on repeat over the past few weeks.
Now’s The Time.
Why now? Now’s the time. No one needs to hear another story of how the pandemic has impacted in unprecedented ways but, likewise, there can’t be many people for whom it hasn’t made a significant difference. It’s no real surprise that my increasing silence on the website coincided with the appearance of the virus. As a street photographer, it became increasingly difficult to justify to myself and ultimately illegal to wander around London or any other UK city in the way that I had previously done without much of a thought. Photographically I had little to show.
My job, as a primary school headteacher, became increasingly demanding as we were faced with situations I could never have foreseen and the unfolding scenarios became more far fetched. Whoever would have thought that schooling would move online and that children and staff would, for the most part, go months without face to face contact. All of that needed lots of thinking, decision making and soul searching - what was right for one family was not for another.
The demands were many and the time was creatively stunted.
Sweetwater Woods, Surrey. September 2021
Instead of streets and candid images of people, my sensor gobbled up trees and lakes while i revelled in the quiet, the skies for a short time unbroken by aeroplanes.
Spiral. August 2021.
Helen Levitt
Helen Levitt, New York, 1940 © Film Documents LLC Courtesy Galerie Thomas Zander, Cologne.
One photographic highlight of the last year was the Helen Levitt exhibition at The Photographers Gallery in London. Unfortunately, you’ll have to take my word for it but you can still get plenty of Levitt’s work in print. I’d particularly recommend One, Two, Three, More: Helen Levitt and the book Helen Levitt that (I believe) goes with the exhibition.
Levitt’s work spans half of the twentieth century. She had a superb eye for the very human life of the street - children particularly feature. I love seeing this skilled eye transition through what feel like classic black and white images to the vibrant colour work of her later canon.
Helen Levitt New York, 1980 © Film Documents LLC Courtesy Galerie Thomas Zander, Cologne.
Heavily Rotated
For much of the past few weeks I have found myself returning to the wonderful Joy Crookes’ debut album Skin. A London girl who tells it straight, her sound is infused with jazz and blues; very much picking up from where Amy Winehouse so tragically left off…
Skin
Joy Crookes
Mouthpiece?
A reference to my instrument of choice, the trumpet, and the fact that I always seem to have a lot to say. This is where I am going to say it.
Despite the rocky ground of the past two years, some positive new growth has come from it and I will share some of this with you next time.
Until then…
Mouthpiece 2: looking back to go forward
A hard drive crashing is never a good thing but, as an eternal optimist, I can see the good that is coming from it. I’ll get to that.
Don’t worry - it’s not as bad as it could’ve been – I have it all backed up in the cloud and this was a backup hard drive anyway. It has drawn my attention to just how full my main drive is. While the price of external memory is far cheaper than it was, I still don’t want to be buying new drives unnecessarily. It was clearly time for a good old-fashioned clear out.
As a street photographer, I’m very well used to that boom and bust cycle of returning on a high from a good day’s photowalk only to realise that a meagre three of the 600 images I took are worth a second glance. However, I only ever delete the very worst – completely missed images. Logically {and mathematically) this means that a good 95 to 98% of images on my hard drive images were there for no reason at all.
Piccadilly Grind. Oct 2014.
Now, I know that some of those are almost there, also-rans, and close enough. Some are images which have something about them; something which may become apparent one day – I really do think this. Maybe I took an image instinctively and I’m not yet fully skilled enough to appreciate it. Or an image, which processed or cropped the right way, will earn a place in my library.
That still leaves an awful lot of dead weight.
Paris, France. June 2014.
In the interest of sound financial management, it was time to kick out the junk and free up some space. It was therapeutic – keywording and organising as I went (like one huge sock drawer). It was time consuming (very). It was nostalgic - family no longer with us, kids when they were small, holidays enjoyed. It was also quite an eye-opener.
My first tentative street photography images from 2014 (before I even knew street photography was a thing) had far more about them than I had expected. Sure, there was a freshness and innocence which was, at times, jarring and embarrassing– some were literally just people on a street. But there was also a distinct voice in those images and the beginnings of a voice that I could definitely recognise as mine, if a little high pitched. I could still see why I had taken them and what I was trying to do.
Cambridge, England. Dec 2014.
At times, I was bowled over by how bold I had been to even take the image - am I backing off more these days? Have I become more cautious? Perhaps I was more prepared to experiment.
Some of these images have been processed. And boy had they been processed – within a hairsbreadth of their fledgling lives. Clarity crunched. Texture trashed. Saturation off the scale. Some of these could be reset and salvaged – and in a spare set of moments I intend to revisit them
Perhaps time spent looking at others work and teaching myself through YouTube had led to some kind of aggregation or a smoothing away of rough edges.
It’s not unusual to overdo all of these things when you first discover the processing toy box. What surprised me was the feeling that I actually preferred some of them to the more subtle, real life processing I’ve been aiming for in recent years. My recent images feel more like a clinical document instead of an expression of how it felt to be there at the time.
Deep down I always knew that my photography was not aiming to be a scientific record or historical testimony; but something more about mood, environment, character and art. What I hadn’t expected was that these faces from the past would cause me to pick up where I left off– pushing me to express more of my own vision through both the images I take and how I process them.
Looking back has taught me to see a truth that had been clouded and has enabled me to strive for something I now realise I had lost. I had lost sight of the expression, the art, in my records of the street.
Out with the old. In with the old.
Recently I had to undergo minor surgery and I am now fifty percent through a two week convalescence period. Unable to work or do little more than rest, it has been an opportunity to listen, watch and read. My mind has also turned to my photography (predictably) and I took the prudent step of closing my online store which just seemed to be an excuse to throw money away. Instead I bought a printer, thinking it would be a good project while I convalesce. Of course, it would be. However, having had it delivered, it is now languishing by the front door - as if unable to make up its mind as to whether to come and join us or scurry away from whence it came - because I am unable to lift anything heavy for 2-4 weeks. It’s very zen - teaching me patience.
Watch:
These videos from Nigel Danson and Thomas Heaton have whet my appetite for getting started with printing my images myself.
Thomas Heaton
My Printing Workflow from Start to Finish
How I Run & Operate My Photography Business
Nigel Danson
7 PHOTO PRINTING MISTAKES to AVOID
READ:
I’ve had lots of time to read - often in the middle of a three hour stretch of discomfort in the wee small hours. I am really enjoying getting stuck into “Comanche Moon” by Larry McMurtry and part of the Lonesome Dove westerns - if you like that sort of thing, I’d definitely recommend the whole series.
Photographically, and with my budding printer’s cap well and truly doffed, I found Robin Whalley’s short ebook Perfect Prints Every Time: How to achieve excellent photographic prints Kindle Edition to be a great walk through for what’s looking like being a bit of an inky minefield. Robin has several short and very practical ebooks available and also runs a YouTube channel of his own. It’s full of useful videos about various photo editing software programmes, printing and landscape photography. Plenty to support any kind of photographer.
Listening to….
A music headed colleague and kind soul, sent me a playlist which she called Recoup to help me during my convalescence. The first track seemed so evocative, lying wide awake in the middle of the night. Here it is: "Epilogue" by Olafur Arnalds
I hope you’ve enjoyed this edition of Mouthpiece - if you have any thoughts or similar experiences looking back on your earlier works I’d love to read them in the comments below. Similarly, if you have any tips, advice or things to avoid with home printing that would be great too.
Or if you just want to drop by and say hello it would be good to hear from you.
I will let you know how the whole printing thing shapes up!
All the best,
Southsea, England. July 2014.
Set: Southsea April 2021
Southsea on a grey Saturday in April. 2021.
As we emerged, blinking, from lockdown, the south coast was gearing up for something of a summer - even if it wasn’t clear yet what it would be.
As we emerged, blinking, from lockdown, the south coast was gearing up for something of a summer - even if it wasn’t clear yet what it would be.
Here are a few images from Southsea on a grey Saturday in April.
Frost and Fog - A New Year's Day Tale
Shooting landscapes in frost and fog.
I can’t remember being so pleased to see the back end of a year like I did 2020. The New Year may not have brought the greatest of changes but there is hope - vaccines, testings and such. Regardless, the weather here played its part in a memorable start with freezing fog on the higher ground of the Surrey Hills. Welcome to Hascombe Hill.
I am most definitely a street photographer but any photography is better than no photography and, given that lockdown meant no visiting town and city streets, I enjoyed the chance to slow down and shoot some landscape images to start 2021.
The fog had really sucked the tonal range from the colour. I shot in RAW with the intention of processing in black and white to show the forms. However, there is something in the colour images which I also like. Which do you prefer?
Solitiude.
Broken.
Hascombe Hill.
2020 - a baker's dozen
A look back on a year of images - one for each month and one for luck. Heck knows we deserve it.
I don’t ever recall meeting a baker who actually gave me thirteen when I wanted 12. Not loaves, rolls or cream horns. Not of anything. Mind you, I can’t imagine ordering twelve of anything anyway - certainly not cream horns. Nonetheless, as it’s the season of giving, I give to you my baker’s dozen of selected images from the year that we are about to gleefully kick in to touch. 2020.
These aren’t necessarily the most liked on social media - I didn’t check. They’re not necessarily technically the best. They’re not even the ones I think are definitively the best. They’re just the ones I like most at the moment of choosing. And the order is nothing significant either - it’s simply chronological; stretching back to a great afternoon in London walking miles with an old friend in the first days of January, through to images taken masked up and alone in December.
Cinema Three.
Soho, London. Jan 2020.
This was taken on a cold, dark winter evening in Soho, London. It’s an area I often visit, especially at night when the lights, and particularly the neon, are a huge attraction. I love shooting at night and using the artificial light that comes from shop windows, advertising hoardings, and signs. This cinema is a favourite haunt with its retro stylings and its red neon signage. There is often an image to be made here. The image was shot wide open because of the low light but that adds to the sense of depth. On this occasion, several things combined - as is so often the case when an image resonates with the photographer. Firstly, there were three people seated beneath the sign, perfectly placed with each framed in their own “box” of the window frame. The central figure was almost symmetrical with his shaved head which also reflected the red light of the sign. In fact, that unnatural red light permeates the frame.
Beyond, is the blurred figure on the stairs. Is this who they are waiting for? Do they know each other?
I was close to the subjects but, coming from behind, they were unaware. It would have felt quite different if they had turned to face me as I took the shot. Perhaps it’s also important that they are almost unidentifiable.
Reverse Portrait.
National Portrait Gallery, London. Jan 2020.
This image is all about colour and rhythm. It actually has a lot in common with the previous image - Cinema Three - not least that it was made on the same day, but compositionally. For some years now, I have made an annual pilgrimage to the Taylor-Wessing prize exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery, London, and always with my camera in hand. If you have never photographed people in a museum you really should.
Firstly, the rhythm of the four frames provides a great backdrop to the figure in front. Her placement, on the third, creates a good tension to the image. Her dyed blonde hair, roots showing, is echoed in the face covering of the left hand portrait; her roots echoed in its frame. Her blue coat is repeated in the face covering of the portrait on the right.
The take away from this image is to never pack your camera away, even when doing something which is not expected to yield any photographic result.
Gone Fishing.
Sweetwater, Witley, Surrey. June 2020.
Another image which is predominantly one colour - the lush verdant green that came as a result of the incredible spring and early summer that 2020 delivered. Some consolation for the pandemic - at least we could be outside.
Locked down and banished from the city streets, I took to training my lens on my local neighbourhood. This was particularly so on the early morning or evening dog walks. I don’t hold with the idea that street photography can only take place on the tarmac and concrete of an actual street. For me, it is about humanity - candid images of people or even just traces of humanity.
This image of a lone angler was shot on a much longer focal length than I would choose for the street. He was positioned across a private fishing lake and clearly noticed me lining up the image. In fact, I shot several. His expression is one of resignation - as if he’d been caught doing the one thing he loved and couldn’t even rouse himself from his seat to do anything about it.
The Only Living Boy In Soho.
Soho, London. July 2020.
Named after the Simon & Garfunkel song (or, truth be told, the Carter USM track which I knew first), this image was taken early on a Sunday morning and on my first time back in London after the first national lockdown.
London pubs had been reopened the evening before and, by all accounts, Soho was heaving with social distancing pretty much thrown to the wall. By the next morning there was hardly anyone to be seen. I like to think this chap had been part of the celebrations and just hadn’t made it home – his dark glasses a medical necessity.
Compositionally, he is framed on the third by the sides of Bridle Lane and, furthermore, by the double yellow lines. The twisted arrow is the final element and he has very conveniently chosen to sit right at its tip. And so he should.
Blue Ball.
Aberaeron, Wales. Aug 2020.
I have to confess to feeling a little uncomfortable in making this image. Running down the street in order to get parallel with two teenage girls is not a good look! However, I knew this street was lined by different coloured houses and it was really a question of reaching a specific point and from the other side of the road without them noticing me. Luckily, they were engrossed in their chat and concentrating on bouncing and catching their ball.
The blue van was just one of those great strokes of luck. On the other hand, the colour in the yellow short was obscured the ball carrying friend. Even better if the ball had been mid-air. You can’t have it all – not in candid street photography. Nonetheless, I was pleased with the final image because I had visualised it several hundred yards earlier and worked at it to get this final version.
Post.
Battersea, London. Aug 2020.
This image is the result of always having a camera with me – my everyday pocketable Fuji x-100f. images don’t take a break just because you’re not ready.
So this was taken looking down from the balcony of a fourth floor Battersea apartment. I was supposed to be moving boxes – not looking for shots.
The side of the balcony is very reflective and I was enjoying the potential symmetrical images that unfolded below. The street was quiet – Covid protocols – but the mail still has to be delivered. And here it comes all wrapped in red, pushing a cart.
Compositionally, the double yellows again form an integral part of the image – it’s important that they don’t go out of the right side of the hand frame.
Nothing clever, just spotted the potential.
Scoot.
London Waterloo. Aug 2020.
As much as I love to explore, I also like to make sure that I will definitely bag a few certainties when I’m on a photowalk. It’s never good to go home empty handed. I do need to go off the beaten track more in the year ahead.
Arriving in London, I’ve usually clicked off a few images on the train between Clapham Junction and Waterloo – just to warm up and get my eye in.
Just to mix things up (crazy eh?), on this occasion I left the station by a different exit to usual and was immediately faced by this fabulous wall of windows. Beyond, the sky was blue, trees green and the odd train heading out to Kent flashed yellow on to what resembled cathedral stained glass.
There was a slow but steady procession of passers-by but I had to get down to ground level for them to register against the coloured backdrop. This one was my favourite – a baseball capped scooter rider on his phone.
Three For The Festival.
South Bank, London. Aug 2020.
Excuse the slightly obscure title. It references a Roland Kirk track from one of my favourite albums (We Free Kings) and came to mind as I shot this against the chalky white walls of the Royal Festival hall.
It was actually taken shortly after Scoot, the previous image; a very hot late Summer holiday when London was busying up but definitely not back to pre-pandemic levels of anything.
Harsh afternoon sun scorched the stone wall and, by metering for this, the carnival of pedestrians was thrown into harsh silhouette. Composition became a question of finding the right rhythm in the walkers and waiting for some clear separation. This image had a satisfying stepped progression in heights and a great clarity around the facial features. Notice, also, the important part played by the railings which are black in silhouette apart from where the sun catches them and shows them bright white.
Corona Trim.
London. Aug 2020.
Another from August in London – a period which now looks like a precious time between Covid waves and varying degrees of lockdown. The virus was comparatively quiet down south and barbers were able to open and their clippers could run amok.
The classic red and white poles in a new-fangled configuration draw the eye in and dwarf the two characters. I wonder if the longest lasting images contain features which fix them at a specific time. The full PPE face visor does just that here.
I have no idea what the customer looked like before he took his place in the chair to be held down by the weight of the barber’s white towel. However, he does not look like the kind of chap who has much need for a barbershop. This only adds to the quirkiness of the narrative.
Red Alert.
Soho, London. Sept 2020.
Another shaved head. In times to come, I suspect this image will be one more that is very much of its time – twixt lockdowns. The disposable mask made in surgical colours indicates that the situation was still not permanent enough to require investment in a three-layered fabric version. The mobile phone in its wallet casing. The wired headphones. Move on twenty years and this will really speak of 2020.
As a novice photographer, it took me a long time to appreciate colour. Here the blue of the mask resonates with the walls of the bus and the darker blue of the seats, complemented by the swatches of yellow. The red of the traffic lights, picked up in the two windows and edged in the closest window frame, speaks of danger – an emergency. It’s even reflected on his head – thoughts of his own peril. Maybe.
It was taken on Shaftesbury avenue in London’s Soho, while the bus was stopped, waiting to enter a quieter than usual Piccadilly Circus.
High Tea At The Edge Of The World.
Whitstable, England. Oct 2020.
One thing lockdown did allow, at various times, was meeting up with people from other households outside. Of course, here, being English, tea was an essential part of this.
This was taken during a weekend stay in Whitstable, Kent in October – not the warmest time of year for a picnic by the sea; hence the mountain strength fleece jackets. This is no causal meet up. Brightly coloured chairs, a camping stove and kettle (also nice and bright) have all been factored into the planning.
The position, way up high, above the rows of beach huts, affords views to the wind farm on the horizon (and even the rusting old hulks of the defences for London against German invasion threats). The clouds threatened but nothing was going to detract them from their tea.
Red Flag.
West Wittering, England. Oct 2020.
Another shot of red – another warning. I suppose that must be something of a theme for 2020.
Unable to walk the city streets, I took this at West Wittering, Sussex. It was a dull October morning with grey skies, greyer seas and reflective grey beaches. The only real colour came from the “Don’t Swim” flag billowing in the wind that made white horses of the incoming tide.
I’m really drawn to the textures of the stones in the foreground and of the waves frozen in a fraction of time. The soft, dark grey clouds counterbalance the solid shapes of the groynes, and the flagpole provides balance to the other markers nearer the water’s edge. The tonal range is much greater than might be expected with tiny dark figures silhouetted against the bright reflected light of the beach. The tiny stick-like figures remind me of a Lowry painting.
Night Grind.
Soho, London. Dec 2020.
In many ways, this image brings us full circle back to the kind of images that I might have expected to have been making all year. However, this picture gives a misleading impression.
This was taken during, what we now know was, a brief interlude between two national lockdowns. London did not feel 100% safe but it was quiet despite being what should have been full-on Christmas shopping and office party season. It wasn’t difficult to walk the streets and avoid contact.
So, this is Soho again. And it’s a much visited street photography site – not without good reason. The neon signs are such a draw. The writing on the wall in the café harks back to the area’s more seedy times and says “French lessons given downstairs” – gotta love a euphemism. These provide the backdrop on to which characters come and go. Here, it’s that beautiful collection of curves that is a London taxi, stacked up in the slow moving jam, pulling into Regent Street; and being overtaken by the blonde pedestrian heading home from the office.
No doubt 2020 will go down in infamy. It has impacted upon so many people in many tragic ways through the loss of loved ones and friends – myself included.
It seems trite, or worse, to speak of the impact of Covid 19 on my photography. I only do so to highlight the fact that street photographs speak of the times in which they are made. Most of the images here have been impacted upon by the virus. Sometimes this is down to the subject matter – mask wearers, deserted streets or outdoor tea parties – or because of an enforced change of location – a British holiday or a walk on a beach instead of a city street.
Perhaps what has surprised me most is that the images chosen are all colour. There’s no doubt I have increased in colour confidence – confidence in myself not to completely over-process an image, I mean. I’ve always had greater “belief” in my black and white work. This year there were black and white images that I was pleased with but they seemed out of place or tokenistic in this colour-field.
Maybe we all just need a bit more colour in our lives right now.
Stay safe people.
2020 Vision - how I saw the year.
2020 has been a challenging year for just about everyone. Street photographers are no exception. For me, the important thing was to keep going.
Red Alert.
Soho, London. Sept 2020.
Not that anyone should be able to predict the contents of their Christmas stocking, but when this year began I would never have foreseen that Santa would be leaving, not one but, two face masks. Just one marker of what a strange year this has been.
And, of course, it is all reflected in the images I have taken too; the number of images, the location and the style and the genres captured. Or, perhaps to put it more accurately, in the images I haven’t taken.
January saw several photo walks, both solo and accompanied around favourite London haunts – the world was seemingly unfolding as it should. Soho, the West End, the South Bank, the City and Columbia Road flower market were all exhibiting the old normal; while rumours of the far away virus caused few visible ripples. Things are never as bad as they seem.
The end of February saw me shooting in London with trepidation nibbling away at me but not enough to stop me. As I returned home I did wonder how long it would be before I returned.
One Last Time.
Paternoster Square, London. Feb 2020.
Lockdown, when it came at the end of March, seemed late. Other countries were ahead and we didn’t seem to be reading the signs – football and race meetings carrying on defiantly in a weird echo of the Blitz spirit but against an invisible enemy that wanted us to do just that. I had no idea when I would be able to reclaim my London streets from this undetectable foe.
Only essential travel was permitted. Not being a “real” photographer – someone who could make a living from photography- I could hardly claim it was essential for me to be out and about in the capital. Yet I felt that history was being made on those empty streets and that it was running away from me.
I also needed to shoot. It’s what I do. It completes me. Balances everything else. Gives me an escape. Perhaps I am an escape artist.
I also knew enough to know I didn’t (and don’t) want this virus; thank you.
So, as we got used to the new normal, social distancing and a distinct lack of toilet paper, so the number of photos taken dropped off sharply. Street photography where I live is a real challenge for me, as I have described in other blogs. Too many people know me. And it’s very hard to see home streets objectively. When I did go out, my camera still came with me but it was just in case”, rather than with any real sense of intent or expectation.
Increasingly, I found I was taking photos on my early morning or evening dog walks. I began keeping the camera in my hand instead of in a bag – ready. I started enjoying the walks more. I slowed down., looked around, noticing the subtle changes as spring bloomed around me and melted into a hot summer. Miraculously, lockdown weather was incredible and everyone took themselves outside to live their lives. It was as if nature was compensating.
Sweetwater, Witley, Surrey.
June 2020.
As we got used to the “new normal” and the world realised that life would have to continue to enable market forces to regain the upper hand, it began to feel safer to emerge from this bizarre hibernation. After one tentative afternoon scoping the outlying Battersea and Chelsea on foot, I finally made it back into the heart of the city at the beginning of July.
London was finally allowed to reopen its pubs, which it did in a characteristically crazed Saturday night – all or nothing, seemingly – on the 4th of July. The Independence Day coincidence was not lost. The next morning, a beautiful summer Sunday, I returned for the first time in over four months. It was incredibly quiet (see Post-Lockdown London). Sure enough, it delivered the empty streets and squares that I’d been so keen to document and was worried I’d missed. It also displayed all the paraphernalia of Covid Life – hand sanitisers on street corners and in station concourses, painted footprints strategically distanced; Thank You NHS signs and graffiti. I sat in my first café for months; all alone with a double espresso and an anxious frown on some side street in Soho. But at least I was back.
The Only Living Boy In Soho.
Soho, London. July 2020.
What turned out to be a long hot summer didn’t pass me by but afforded me a few days walking and shooting shadows along the South Bank and up into the City. It felt good to be keeping my hand in and to feel that I wasn’t losing my mojo.
A week’s holiday in Wales kept my camera firmly in reach for some coastal images – both candid, public shots and stormy sky-ed landscapes. It even had me thinking about tripods and filters - briefly.
Aberarth, Wales.
August 2020.
The autumn term (I’m a Headteacher when I’m not doing the street photographer impersonation) usually sees me taking in a few London evenings and weekends. However, as we neared what became Lockdown II in November and, then the introduction of Tiers in December and even tighter restrictions again over Christmas, I have almost entirely stayed away.
In the UK, the vaccine has started to roll out. Over 500 000 of the eldest vaccinated so far. It’s going to take a while to have an impact. And, in the meantime, new more virulent strains of the virus are making their presence felt. But 2021 does hold hope, certainly in the longer term. For now, I guess I’ll be reaching for that wide angle lens, walking boots and maybe even a tripod and a filter or two.
Night Grind.
Soho, London. Dec 2020.
Post Lockdown London - The New Normal
As London began to reopen in early July, I photographed the deserted streets.
I always remember seeing photographs from the Second World War showing streets with people rushing to sand bagged air raid shelters, or newspaper boys with hoardings proclaiming the outbreak of war, or crowds dancing jubilant in Trafalgar Square on VE Day. There was something mesmeric, possibly haunting, abut the familiarity but strangeness of these images. Here were places I knew, and scenes that were familiar, but distorted by the events that had transformed them at that point in time.
History has always fascinated me and part of it has been a desire to be able to go back and witness momentous events but to be able to do it safely. I think that would be my superpower, if I could choose one. And of course, I’d have a camera in hand.
I have always counted myself lucky that I grew up in a generation that never experienced the world wide conflicts that took place in the first half of the last century. These were events which in many ways defined the age and the generations that lived through them. Now, this global Corona Virus pandemic has provided our defining worldwide event.
The invention of the camera, less than two hundred years ago, gave to history the means to record more objectively and instantly than ever before. As street photographers, I truly believe that it is our responsibility to record our current times for those still to come, just as Bert Hardy, Bill Brandt and Alfred Eisenstaedt did for World War Two with their images of GIs, tube sheltering Blitzed Londoners or sandbagged Whitehall. I have always felt that the ubiquitous appearance of mobile phones, ear pods and vapes would be the accoutrements that would characterise our times when people looked back.
Then along came Covid-19.
Who could have predicted that summer 2020 would be defined by empty streets, face masks and huge government publicity campaigns? In actual fact, very much like World War Two.
So, I was keen to capture these street scenes. But not keen, also.
I wouldn’t be walking the streets of London with one eye skyward for a doodle bug, Stuka or V2 rocket. I wouldn’t get a siren warning of impending danger. My enemy was the Covid-19 virus - invisible, undetectable and potentially anywhere. After months of taking great care and working from home whenever possible, as the government advised, travelling on public transport and being out and about in London felt like a risk I possibly shouldn’t be taking. After all, I was only going to take photos. Who did I think I was? David Bailey?
But there was also a longing to return to normality and a desire to experience the creative process of making a photograph: that moment when everything else ceases to exist or, at least, to matter. Let’s face it. I needed to get back to street photography to recapture a sense of self, of what makes me me; if nothing else.
Two good reasons then - a responsibility to posterity and my own mental well being!
And so it was I found myself exiting an almost deserted Sunday morning train at London Waterloo, glasses steamed up from the mask that I was not yet used to wearing, camera clutched in my sweating right hand, phone gripped with my online ticket ready to scan at the gates.
Waterloo itself was immediately different with just a small number of people on the concourse. I wanted to capture the gates with all of the 2m distancing signage and encouragement to wash hands but was immediately pounced upon by three transport officials who wanted to know what I was doing. I suppose it’s not technically a public space so they were presumably within their rights to challenge me. I explained that I was a street photographer and they looked at each other and shrugged - seemingly proof enough of my credentials. I wasn’t quite so lucky a few moments later when another officious, uniformed woman told me I would need a permit to take photographs at Waterloo. Having shot there unchallenged many times, it did feel like a wartime restriction.
Moved along, the streets were deserted. I know it was a Sunday but it was a shock to see the streets around the station with no one on them. I crossed over Hungerford Bridge to Charing Cross. There seemed to be the lowest tide I had ever witnessed on the Thames (Sunday 5th July) which only served to make what should have been a glorious summer Sunday seem even more surreal. It was as if the people and old Father Thames were deserting the city.
In Trafalgar Square, Nelson gazed down on acres of stone, concrete and pigeons. There were the classic London red buses, making their rounds almost empty, but not a soul in the square.
The same was true of Piccadilly Circus - just a solitary figure at a hand sanitising kiosk, offering a squirt to anyone who happened to walk by. Hardly anyone did.
Regent Street was pretty much the same. Oxford Street only slightly busier, a handful of curious wanderers, but nothing like the usual melee of tourists, office workers and rough sleepers.
This was the day after the Boris Johnson’s government had allowed the pubs, bars and restaurants to reopen after weeks of lockdown. Soho had apparently been heaving with little acknowledgement of social distancing, as revellers enjoyed the cork fizzing out of the bottle of pent up frustrations. The following morning was quiet. Perhaps a hangover. But there was almost no one in good old London town.
Masks, NHS rainbows and thank yous, hand sanitising stations, closed signs on restaurants, familiar buses but fewer and empty, tube exits closed, pedestrians redirected... the first signs of normality.
Arriving home, I shared my images with intrigued friends and families, eager to see what had become of the capital city, just not quite ready to visit it themselves. And the the doubts crept in. Should I have gone? Had I caught anything? Would I be infecting anyone?
And the wait to know I was fine began.
Featured...
I’ve pulled together articles and links to features about my street photography.
Here are some links to articles or features about me and my work:
Kris Karl Photography Podcast:
I am lucky enough to have been featured twice on Kris’s podcast. You can listen to both episodes here
Article about my work on Streetphotography.com by Sergio Burns
https://streetphotography.com/adventures-start-street-photography-hugh-rawson/
Interview and images on The Pictorial List Mag
https://www.thepictorial-list.com/post/interview-hugh-rawson
Featured in Digital Photographer magazine Issue 195.