I was speaking with a friend today about art and making a living. We were commenting on how competitive photography is, along with other art forms like music.

I had mentioned that I was part of a London Photography group, which I enjoy, but much of my photography doesn’t necessary fit with much of what the group produces. My friend had mentioned friend, who was a photographer, had mentioned that photography, as with other art, is subject to fashions and taste.

This is the struggle I seem to face. Much of the photography I like to produce is not necessary the style of photography that is fashionable. It’s artistic, and often abstract. Feedback from viewers tends to be positive. But this work may not sell.

So what is the motivation behind these photos?

What I find is the photography people are willing to pay me for is wildly different to what I would prefer to take. It is often the wedding, christening or naming ceremony, shot digitally, and in colour, that pays for the often architectural, abstract and gritty photos shot on black and white film.

That isn’t to say that people don’t like my black and white photography. It can be well received, but the market can be fickle, particularly if you’re not a bit name. I have sometimes felt like I have two personalities – one that is more commercial and the other more artistic. While I can be creative when it comes to my commercial photography, I find it much more pragmatic. I am driven to deliver what the client wants.

My more creative and personal photography is much more driven by my voice. It is driven by what the world presents to my eyes. The intermingling and dance between light and shadows; the moments shared and the moments lost.

I find it interestingly, though, that Twitpic has changed their terms and conditions this past week so they can now sell users pics. While photography is competitive, someone obviously can make money from them. And Twitpic isn’t the first to try to cash in on creativity at the expense of photographers. While some photographers may not care if their whether they make any money from their snaps, who makes money from artists creativity has always been an issue – increasingly so in this increasingly digital age.

While there may be a divide in my photography, it obviously has value, even in the lowly ‘snapshot’.

As a photographer, one of the things I take for granted is seeing things. 

I don’t just mean the extraordinary or the unusual. I mean really looking and seeing things or people, often in different lights and angles. Sometimes the photos just appear without me really looking for them. 

One such photo was a sieve that hung in the kitchen window of a Pimlico flat I lived in a number of years ago. The flat was well positioned to let in fabulous amounts of natural sunlight at angles that lent themselves to very contrast abstract black and white photographs. I must admit, I felt in my element. 

On one particularly sunny Saturday morning, I ventured out of my room only to see the soft morning sunshine fall on the sieve and casting shadows on the wall. The image beckoned me, and I couldn’t say no. Grabbing my 35mm camera, I loaded it with Ilford B&W Delta 100 film. 

It was only after taking a roll of film of the sieve did I realise I had rated the film at 200 ASA. However, I appreciated the contrasting effect of the pushed film. It added to the texture and feel of the images. 

Without the lights and shadows playing with the steel of the sieve, the image probably wouldn’t have worked. The sieve came to life with the morning sunlight looking down at it. Without it, the image would have been very flat, and I probably wouldn’t have found the image as interesting. 

There is a part of me that likes to present interesting images of ordinary things society tends to ignore. I often light to play with light and shadows while shooting black and white film. I enjoy the challenge of having the viewer see things around them in a different way. 

I have found many cities have a certain timelessness to them. I often stumble upon parts of London which reflect its history in amongst the ever-changing people, architecture and tastes. 

Borough Market is one of those places. I have passed through many times, sometimes with my camera. On one such occasion, I managed to capture some its timeless quality and charm. 

The first time the market was mentioned was in 1276, although the market itself claims to have existed since Roman times. Like most things, the market has evolved over time, along with its character. However, its charm, and the charm of the immediate area, can be felt. 

The photo I stumbled upon was of a bike, locked up on a street sign, near an entrance to Vinopolis. While the bike, the street sign and signs on the building are clearly quite modern, the image itself could have happened anytime between the 19th century to the present time. The image captures how people travelled through the area on route to the market, work, prayers at Southwark Cathedral or local parishes and so on. 

The image would have had a very different presence and feel if it were in colour. It would have felt much more modern. There is an endearing timeless quality to black and white photos; perhaps due to photography started out in black and white. 

I have often found people treat black and white differently, and often viewing it as a ‘truer art’. I am not sure whether this is true, as there is quite a lot of good art in colour. However, there is something about taking colour out of an image that makes the viewer look at it differently. The image is about the greys, shadows and nuances. 

I find myself taking very different photos in black and white than colour; and have had people say that even my colour images are taken with a black and white eye. On this particular day, I wasn’t using particularly modern methods in capturing the photo. Using a medium format film camera with Ilford 100 film is a bit passé for many. 

The feel and essence of the photo would have been a bit different on a digital camera. While I appreciate digital photography, I prefer the character and essence of film photography when it comes to black and white.  

Through the greys, shadows and nuances of my photo, the image I took captured the timelessness of Borough Market’s history.

Playing with light and shadows is something I feel very drawn to photography, particularly in black & white. Add in a textured surface, and I can’t resist taking photos of it. 

While walking through St James’s Park in London late one summer a number of years ago, I was drawn to the trees which line The Mall. I had been photographing the fallen leaves as well as the shadows on the Georgian buildings. 

I have a fascination with trees as they often are the silent witness to the world passing by them. Like human faces, over time, tree trunks move from the smoothness of youth to the rough and wrinkly face of old age - the cracks and spaces telling the stories of bygone ages. 

The particular tree that caught my attention was outside the ICA, and the light fell on the trunk through its bear branches; highlighting the texture of the trunk. The viewer can feel the image. 

Using Ilford Pan-F 50 film adds to the contrast to the image – and, in the end, helps the photo to become a bit more tactile. When I recently looked at the photo, I realised that I initially hadn’t appreciated how simple and tactile the photo was. I had been drawn more to the light and shadow.

While not to take away from the light and shadows, the texture of the image adds to the image in a more subtle way. This is one of the main reasons why I have started using Ilford Pan-F 50 film again. With this slow film, the image I get is punchy and contrasty and the fine grain suites many of the subjects I photograph. 

Often when I go out to take photos, I have an idea of what I want to photograph. However, in some instances, like photographing the tree on The Mall, I stumble upon photographs. I enjoy the unexpected photograph that presents itself. 

Civic space and architecture is constantly evolving and changing. This is very evident in London’s East End. 

Traditionally an area for the working classes, the last 30 years have seen great change with the area being regenerated and gentrified. Many new buildings celebrating the maritime past sit beside old warehouses that have been converted to flats, retail space or public buildings. 

Public art has been incorporated into the regeneration, and generally ties the area to its historical past. While visiting Woolwich Arsenal, some steps caught my eye. 

Sitting on the river banks of the Thames, Woolwich Arsenal’s past is deeply connected with the manufacturing of armaments, ammunition proofing and explosives research for the British armed forces. The history dates back to the 1670s. 

Although the steps serve a very practical purpose, I saw the rippling affect of the Thames in them. Sitting along a pathway running beside the Thames, they were like the riverbank, warn over time by the shifting, tidal waters. 

The fluidity of the river really represented the stories and history of the area. The stories ebbing and flowing as time passed with fortunes waxing and waning as many times as there are moons to take the tide in and out. 

I had been photographing the area in black and white, mainly due to the historical buildings in the area, and the steps lent themselves well to this. The viewer can feel and smell the river and history in the textured stones and concrete as they ebb and flow from side to side. 

The steps are a reminder of how fluid the human existence, and experience, is. 

The above image is available to buy as a print. For more information, please click here.

Love. A simple word, but one that can mean very different things. A word which describes something very profound, but can be seen as threatening at the same time. Much has been written, spoken, theorised and philosophised about love. 

Valentine’s Day is an opportunity for lovers to celebrate the love they have for each other; a love that can be very affirming, deep, tender and precious; a love based on acceptance and trust. 

However, love can also be subversive, and challenge the shifting social norms and mores. Love between different social classes, races and religions as well homosexual love can be reviled or even suppressed, for instance. 

I came across some graffiti recently near Brick Lane, East London a few months ago. It was something I could have easily missed, and am glad I didn’t. 

The graffiti is very simple, but profound. A girl and a boy holding hands, in a doorway; the doorway was on a side street. With a certain shyness, the lovers steal a moment together. While not flaunting their love, they aren’t entirely out of view either. 

The viewer was left to interpret the story. Was it of two young lovers wanting a more private moment together, away from the ridicule of peers and the knowing eyes of elders? Were they trying to hide something from their friends, family, and society at large? 

The image for me encapsulates the conflicting nature of love. On one hand, something that is profound and beautiful; on the other, revealing humanity’s deep unease of something that is rather difficult to control. I find the image both affirming and subversive. 

The graffiti art works as a black & white photo rather than colour. The black & white of the graffiti and the surrounding buildings bring out the subtleties of the image. I took the photo on Ilford Delta 400. 

The above image is available to buy as a print. For more information, please click here.

Light is one of the basic elements of life, and is something that is fundamental to photography. 

Light and shadows is something I am drawn to as a photography, and find myself exploring how the world presents itself in this way. What is seen, or even not seen, have been played with, if not manipulated, by photography. The photographer can have quite a lot of control over the lighting of a photo, and as a result, can affect the feel of an image. 

However, a photographer can also be at the mercy of light. Not all shots can be set up and controlled in a studio – although, images can easily be manipulated in photo editing programmes like Photoshop. 

I do enjoy working with available light, and let it present itself to me. Waiting for a friend at St Paul’s Cathedral in London, I was taking photos to pass the time. The sun was playing hide and seek between the clouds, and I was drawn to the shadows it was making on the walls of a building near the Cathedral. 

I managed to get a one photo before my batteries on my point and shoot camera died, which only really happens when you need them most! The impromptu shot really captured the moment before the sun decided to hide behind the cloud again. I am very happy with the rather dark, if not ghostly, result. 

The image I managed to get seemed quite simple and primal in some ways. The light coming through the tree branches cast shadows look like blood veins. I managed to capture something that was beneath the surface of life. 

While the image is in colour, the look and feel of it is very black & white. Colour can capture the nature of light, but black & white lends itself to light in a way that colour can’t. The very essence of black & white is about light and shadows. 

Light and shadows is very fundamental. Much of our experience is about the varying shades of light and dark. This is something I am very drawn to exploring in photography. Even my colour photos often have a fundamentally black & white quality to them. 

This is something that I never really noticed until a friend pointed it out to me. No matter whether I am taken in images in colour or black & white, I see things in light and shadows. Without light and shadows, photography would be very different. 

Light and shadows can have a very stark element to it, but I also enjoy the greyness of it. Much of life isn’t that stark, and is much more fluid than we think. The playful sun I experienced at St Paul’s reminds me of that. The fluidness of the light created different qualities, and greyness, when it appeared and disappeared. No two moments were the same. 

Art can be used to reflect who we are and what it means to be human. While visiting Woolwich Arsenal in East London, I was reminded of this.

The proper name for the area is Royal Arsenal, Woolwich and was originally known as the Woolwich Warren. It was where armaments manufacture, ammunition proofing and explosives research for the British armed forces was carried out.

The Warren in Tower Place was established as an Ordnance Storage Depot in 1671. An ammunition laboratory (the Royal Laboratory) was added in 1695, and a gun foundry (the Royal Brass Foundry) was established in 1717. In 1805, it became known as the Royal Arsenal. The Woolwich Royal Ordnance Factories closed in 1967.

Like much of the East End, parts of the Royal Arsenal has been redeveloped and used to build residential and commercial buildings.

Part of the redevelopment has included some statues of Iron Men, situated near the old warehouses near the River Thames. When I first saw them a few months ago, I was taken by them. They almost seem like an attempt to solidify the fluid human existence and form.

In an area that manufactured munitions for war, the status reminded me of how fragile humans can be, but how humanity tries to protect itself from death, destruction and erosion.

I was debating between whether to photograph in colour or b&w. Both would give a very different feel to the photo. The statues are very textured, as are the buildings (both historical and new build) in the area. The area is steeped in military history, and you can feel that.

In the end, I chose to shoot with Ilford Pan F 50 film. I wanted to use a slow film to capture the texture of the sculptured Iron, which was beginning to be weathered by the elements.

I am very pleased with the results, and am sure I will revisit the Iron Men again at some point. The images captured an aspect of humanity that we sometimes miss.

Wapping is one of my favourite places to photograph in London. It’s an area steeped in history, but has changed considerably in the last 20-30 years.

Even with the changes, there are remnants of its past that have yet to be gentrified. A few months ago, while wandering with my camera, finding things to photography, I came across a derelict building, waiting to be redeveloped. The interesting thing about it was how nature had taken over and managed to find a foothold into the building.

I have noticed this elsewhere. It could be weeds coming through train tracks, or peaking over the tops of gutters on old buildings. It has always amazed me that nature can take hold in places you wouldn’t expect.

Being an urbanite, it is easy to thing nature has been tamed within the city limits, and the wild and rugged side of nature is confined to the rural parts of the country. But the building I found in Wapping challenged this, and showed how Mother Nature can take root in the seemingly inhospitable or built environments.

I also found it interesting to see this derelict building with sprouting weeds and trees in amongst luxury flats and buildings. In an area of regeneration and luxury, this building is a (soon to be distant?) memory of the industrial past.

Whether we like it or not, Mother Nature doesn’t listen to the boundaries that humans place on her. Her presence is closer than we may think. If we turn away, even momentarily, her shoots sprout up through the cracks of concrete and human existence. In a subtle way, we are governed by her rules, rather than the other way around.

The derelict building in Wapping provides a wonderful contrast to the ordered and now posh surrounds we humans have created. The wild heart of Mother Nature beats, even through concrete and brick.

Photographing it in black & white seemed to do the shot justice. I could have coloured in the weeds, but thought it would take away from the industrial feel of the photo, and the contrast between nature and industry.

Living in a couple of capital cities, I have become accustomed to living in close proximity to political power and the buildings they inhabit. I have always found it interesting how nations express their political power and outlook through its buildings they live in.

I have lived much of my life in Ottawa, and had many visits to Parliament Hill. The Gothic buildings show the influence from Europe, but the statues and carvings show a distinctive Canadian flavour.

I have photographed the Hill many times over the years, and know the area very well. Most of my photos are in colour. However, the last time I was in Ottawa, I wanted to photograph it differently. While photographing the Museum of Civilization in Hull, Quebec, I was given the opportunity to see the Parliament Buildings, and Ottawa, in a different light.

The weather was cloudy and overcast, and I was taking photos of the Museum with b&w with a high ISO (aka fast film), and it dawned on me to start photographing Ottawa in much the same way. Previously, my photos were taken on slower film - either colour slide film (Fuji Velvia) or b&w film (Ilford). The reason was Ottawa is a very beautiful city and I wanted to capture it’s details.

However, with the weather the way it was, it made me look at Ottawa in a much more rugged, textural and tactile way. Looking across the Ottawa River, the Parliament Buildings dominated the skyline with the clouds making the view moody.

I could have taken the photos with my digital camera, but the pixelated photos wouldn’t give the textured feel grainy film would. The images I wanted to take were ones where the viewer could feel them, and digital pixels don’t feel in the same way as film grain does.

The resulting photos give the Parliament Buildings, Ottawa river and riverbank a less pristine and more punchy feel and look. They pushed my view of how to photograph the Parliament Buildings, and Ottawa for that matter.

This marked the beginning of a shift in my photography. The shift was rediscovering b&w film photography, and moving to the more textural and tactile. I hadn’t realised it at the time, nor noticed the beginnings of this in my previous work, but my current work has consciously explored this much more.