Breath of the ocean
Breath of the ocean. 2016.
Shot with a long exposure as the tide pulled away, this image turns a simple wave into something more like drawn lines on a page. The blurred water fans out in soft arcs that lead you from the foreground into the calm bands of sea and sky beyond. It sits somewhere between landscape and abstraction, holding on to enough detail to feel like a real place while letting the motion of the ocean become the main subject.
24 mm • 1.6 sec • f/5.6 • ISO 100
A forgotten plan
A forgotten plan. 2023
Seen from above, this old concrete pad reads more like a diagram than a place. Rust coloured rectangles sit in the lower left like discarded pieces of a game, while a jagged trench tears across the middle, filled with scraps of green water and shadow. Faint pipes, stains and cable lines sketch ghost plans over the surface, hinting at structures that are no longer there. What was once a working industrial yard has become a flat, sun bleached drawing, part map, part memory of labour that has moved on.
10.26 mm · 1/400 sec · f/5.6 · ISO 100
Signal in the fog
Signal in the fog. 2015.
A lone warning sign stands at the edge of a wet, fog wrapped road, its red and white pole cutting cleanly through the softened greys around it. The crisp white edge line disappears into the mist, suggesting a journey that continues beyond what we can see. With the background swallowed by fog and only a strip of grass for context, the scene feels suspended in a quiet pause between movement and stillness, a small human marker holding its ground in an uncertain world.
50 mm · 1/1600 sec · f/2.8 · ISO 800.
Only
Only. 2019.
A single “right turn only” sign becomes the focal point of this quiet city wall. The metallic vents and patterned concrete give the scene a strict grid, while the soft tree shadows and slanting light loosen it just enough to feel human. The road sits in deep shade at the bottom of the frame, suggesting movement without actually showing any traffic. It is an image about directions and instructions, but also about the calm that exists when nothing is obeying them yet.
24 mm · 1/100 sec · f/5.6 · ISO 64.
Mountains and silhouettes
Mountains and silhouettes. 2025.
Shot on the alpine plateau below Cradle Mountain, this image combines a wide Tasmanian landscape with a subtle self portrait. The snow melt, frozen pond and jagged ridgeline describe the harshness of the place, while the long shadow of the photographer stretches across the foreground like a quiet signature. It is less about the summit itself and more about the feeling of occupying a small patch of ground in a very large space, just for the length of one shutter press.
24 mm · 1/2500 sec · f/5.0 · ISO 200.
Storm silos
Storm silos. 2023.
This picture is really about tension between order and weather. The silos line up like four careful exclamation marks, clean and engineered, while the sky behind them is starting to unravel into bruised cloud colour. The tall grass acts as a soft barrier, something wild pushing back against the straight metal forms. The dim reflection in the dam keeps the frame from feeling too rigid, hinting that everything solid is still resting on something unstable and changeable.
122 mm · 1/1000 sec · f/5.6 · ISO 160
Boats of Pokhara
Boats of Pokhara. 2013.
Painted wooden boats drift in loose formation on the lake at Pokhara, their chipped colours mirrored in the still surface. Behind them, the hills fade into soft blue layers under a pale peach sky, so the whole scene feels hushed and suspended. This photograph leans into that sense of pause, treating the boats as a quiet gathering at the edge of a vast, hazy landscape rather than a typical postcard view
24 mm · 1/5000 sec · f/2.0 · ISO 100.
The starting line
The starting line. 2020.
From ground level a running track is about speed and effort. From above it becomes something quieter and more abstract. In this photograph the four numbered lanes and crisp white lines turn into a simple grid of red and green, a chart of possibilities rather than a record of any particular race. The symmetry and clean colour blocks give the scene a calm, almost ceremonial feeling, as if the moment before the starting gun could last forever.
10.3 mm · 1/800 sec · f/4.0 · ISO 100.
A plane above
A plane above. 2024.
A simple red brick gable anchors this image, its symmetry and clean lines giving the scene a quiet, grounded feel. Above it, a small propeller plane crosses the soft grey sky, a fleeting detail that only reveals itself once you pause and look. The contrast between the heavy, familiar architecture and the distant movement overhead suggests a quiet tension between staying put and moving on. It is a modest suburban scene, but one that opens out into a larger, more imagined space.
85 mm · 1/320 sec · f/22 · ISO 250 · 01/2024
Asphalt glyphs
Asphalt glyphs. 2023.
Seen from above, this North Shore yard turns into a sheet of coded marks. Traffic arrows, bays and service lines intersect on a worn slab of concrete, each shape meant to guide trucks and forklifts through the space. At this distance, though, the instructions become something more abstract, a dense piece of notation that hints at the choreography of an industrial site. The small white vehicle resting in its painted box is the only obvious character, dwarfed by the scale of the system that surrounds it.
10 mm (28 mm) · 1/500 sec · f/5.6 · ISO 100.
Grid Of Transit
Grid Of Transit. 2021.
A wall of containers becomes a kind of accidental architecture, each unit stamped with logos, numbers, rust and tape, all locked into a strict grid. The fence and shrubs along the bottom anchor the scene back in the real world, hinting at scale and distance. The picture leans into repetition and minor variation, inviting you to read each panel as a separate story while still feeling the weight of the whole structure pressing in from the frame edges.
70 mm • f/5.6 • 1/320 sec, ISO 200.
The red stack
The Red Stack. 2020.
The stack feels almost stubborn, holding its line while the sky seethes around it. Warm red brick pushes up through a churn of grey and white cloud, a human-made mark surrounded by weather that does not care it exists. I was interested in that tension, the way a single column can feel both fragile and monumental when the storm builds behind it. This photograph lives in that uneasy pause before the rain, when the light is thick, the clouds are rolling, and the old industry on the horizon is left to weather whatever comes next.
82 mm • f/5.6 • 1/8000 sec • ISO 200.
Between the gables
Between The Gables. 2012.
The canal is almost still, holding a thin raft of fallen leaves that glow against the dark water. The old Amsterdam houses lean gently into each other, a row of crooked shoulders painted in brick reds, creams, and yellows. Their reflections stretch and soften in the canal, turning hard edges into something more fluid and nostalgic. This photograph lingers on that quiet in-between moment, where the day is fading, the city exhales, and the weight of centuries sits lightly on the surface of the water.
24 mm • f/2.8 • 1/800 sec • ISO 125.
A disheveled man
A disheveled man. 2012.
A man has dropped to his knees in the middle of the street, caught between a mouthful of burger and a drag of his cigarette. His eyes lock onto the camera, ringed with fatigue and smoke, while a tangle of plastic bags and spilled lettuce gathers around his hand. The sharp focus on his face and hands sits against a soft, indifferent blur of the city behind him, turning the moment into something suspended and uneasy. The picture hovers between empathy and discomfort, asking how close we are willing to stand to someone else’s unraveling.
50 mm • f/14 • 1/640 sec • ISO 200.
Eye of industry
Eye of industry. 2019.
This storage tank stops being a piece of infrastructure and starts to feel like an eye. The white surface is etched with rings and streaks of rust that read like an iris and lashes, radiating out in irregular bursts. Around it, pipes and walkways draw a measured square frame, trying to contain all that organic disorder. It is a view of industry at its most abstract, where corrosion, paint and geometry come together as a kind of accidental drawing on the land.
24 mm • f/2.8 • 1/2500 sec • ISO 100.
This hour of the world
This hour of the world. 2018.
The last light has almost slipped away, leaving the sky washed in soft pink and lavender. In the foreground the grasses will not sit still, swaying just enough in the breeze to blur into strokes of colour. The photograph is less about recording a landscape and more about the feeling of standing in it for a few quiet seconds, listening to the wind and watching the day loosen its grip. It is a small, calm pause at the edge of night.
24 mm • 0.5 sec • f/16 • ISO 100
Beneath a burning cloud
Beneath a burning cloud. 2022.
A storm is building just out of frame, but from this distance it feels more like theatre than threat. The last light of the day sets the cloud’s edges on fire, carving out every fold and billow against the cool blue above. Three birds cross the open sky beneath it, small and unhurried, as if they are passing under a slow moving wave. The photograph sits somewhere between calm and unease, a quiet moment borrowed from the kind of weather that tends to arrive with a roar.
145 mm • 1/160 sec • f/10 • ISO 200
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come. 2017.
The future neighbourhood is still an idea pressed into the dirt. Clean new roads sweep through the frame, tracing out the grid long before any house has risen from the soil. The contrast between the pale asphalt and the scarred red earth turns the scene into a kind of drawing, a plan half finished and already cutting across the land. It is both ordinary and unsettling, a quiet record of the moment when open ground becomes a map for the lives that will follow..
24 mm, f/2.8, 1/160 sec, ISO 100
Perched in time
Perched in time. 2020.
Five old pylons stand in a quiet stretch of water, their rough timber softened by the long exposure. A single bird has claimed the central post, pausing to stretch its wings while the tide smooths itself into a gentle blur around it. With almost no horizon and only the faintest hint of color, the photograph becomes less about place and more about a suspended moment, a small life balanced on the remains of something long left behind.
200 mm • 10 sec • f/22 • ISO 31
Landscaper’s palette
From directly above, the supply yard resolves into a strict grid of colour, bins of red, purple, green and grey soil stacked against one another like painted squares. At the centre of the muddy, rutted ground, a bright yellow loader sits idle, its solid shape and primary colour cutting cleanly through the patchwork around it. The scene feels both functional and strangely abstract, a working landscape that reads almost like a diagram.
Landscaper’s Palette. 2023.
Seen from above, this landscaping yard turns into something closer to a painter’s studio than a work site. Bays of coloured mulch and gravel run in a loose spectrum around the frame, while a lone yellow loader sits in the middle of the muddy ground, surrounded by tracks and puddles that feel almost like accidental brushmarks. It is an everyday industrial scene, but from this height it becomes a study in colour blocks, textures and the quiet pause between one job and the next.
24mm • 1/180 sec • f/2.8 • ISO 100