About

My earliest memory of holding a camera was sitting in my Dad’s apartment when I was about ten years old. He wasn’t an avid photographer, but had a couple of SLRs at the time and thought going out to shoot photos would be a good activity for the afternoon. Sitting at a table, he explained the basics of shutter speed and aperture, and how the two worked together to control exposure. I took it in, mostly, but was more engrossed by the object itself. I liked the weight of it in my hands, the feel of the dials as I adjusted them, looking through the viewfinder and seeing the exact window of the world the camera would capture. Slowly rotating the aperture ring was particularly satisfying, feeling the smooth action and the little click when it settled on one of those mysterious numbers.

I’m grateful I had the chance to discover photography before the digital era. I started shooting regularly in my late teens and for several years in my twenties had my own darkroom. The cost of film forces you to think more carefully about each shot, and when the process of shooting, developing and printing is spread over days (or even weeks) you develop a more interesting relationship with your own work.

I shoot everyday things, whatever I notice as I walk in the city. But weeks or months can pass where I don’t “see” anything. Periods where I’ve committed to carrying a good camera with me at all times, it’s quickly felt cumbersome given how little I use it. Thankfully, being without one hasn’t really mattered. When something I’ve captured on my phone holds my interest, I inevitably find myself back at the scene, staring through a viewfinder, having a closer look at exactly what it was that I’d noticed.