Recently, I was on a rambling walk along the Kent and Sussex border. This is a beautiful, and at times rugged, part of the country. Being a city-based photographer, I enjoy getting out of the city and seeing different parts of the country, and different styles of buildings and architecture. 

One of the famous types of buildings in the area, particularly in Kent, is the oast house or hop kiln, which is a building designed for kilning (drying) hops as part of the brewing process. Many redundant oasts have been converted into houses - which was the case of the oast house we passed early on in our walk.

The earliest surviving oasts date back to the 1750s. Early oast houses were simply adapted barns. By the early 19th century, the distinctive circular buildings with conical roofs had been developed in response to the increased demand for beer. In early in the 20th century, square oast houses appeared as they were found to be easier to build. In the 1930s, the cowls were replaced by louvred openings as electric fans and diesel oil ovens were employed. 

This is the first time I was able to photograph an oast, even if it was converted in home. Although hops are today dried industrially, I am glad that the unique architecture of the oast houses is not entirely lost. Brewing beer has become part of the cultural fabric of the UK, and its influence on the local architecture in Kent and parts of Sussex is distinctive. 

Architecture says a lot about local industry, way of life and the communities in a particular area. While these change over time, adapting some of the former buildings for modern can keep history alive, and the distinctive feel of an area. 

Rambling has allowed me to appreciate the countryside in South East England; and gives me an opportunity not only to enjoy things at a slower pace but to take photos of nature. 

As a Londoner, I find it very easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of city life. Much of my photography reflects my urban life and the city I live in. 

On a lovely spring day yesterday, with the sun peering through the clouds, thirteen of us began an eight mile walk near the Surry, West Sussex and Hampshire borders, starting from a pub not far from Haslemere. My camera was firmly in my hand, ready to take photos.

Much of the walk was through fields, which we shared with sheep, and in forests - with the last part of it through Petworth Park, which is owned by the National Trust. There was lightness in the air and the new shoots of spring coming through. I was spoiled for shots. 

What really struck me was the peacefulness of the walk. Even with the sheep, as well as other ramblers we came across, I really had a sense of being in and with nature. 

What was very striking was the peacefulness of the nature. I had a deep sense of the natural disasters that happened in Japan recently, and of the uprisings in the Middle East. While nature can be idyllic, beautiful and peaceful, it can also be brutal and dramatic.

I tried to capture this sense of peace, as well as the shoots of new growth, in my photos. Capturing the mood isn’t always easy, and can be greatly affected by light as much as surroundings. 

I cherish the ramblers group I am a part of. It allows me to get out of London and see parts of England that I may not have otherwise have seen, or take photos of. 

Recently, I joined some ramblers and walked over the South Downs in Sussex, South East England. It is a beautiful part of the country, and I wasn’t without a camera.

Being a city dweller, it’s probably not a surprise that the focus of much of my photography is city based. However, I did find the opportunity to take photos in a rural setting a welcome break from what I would normally photograph.

Being taken out of my ‘natural’ environment can push my photography in ways I wouldn’t have expected. It can present challenges I wouldn’t normally find in a city space.

But how?

Many of the photographic principles remain the same. Make sure the light is behind you; using the one-third / two-thirds rule when setting up a shot; shutter speed and ISO level; objects in focus; etc.

With a different subject matter, though, the photographer is freed from the usual constraints of familiar territory – busy streets; light behind buildings; etc. Buildings and concrete where replaced by hills, fields, cattle, country lanes and the odd building. Getting different angles of the landscape can mean walking miles, rather than street blocks.

While it can be easy to make the rural setting idyllic and fit into my own stereotypes and notions of what it should be, I found myself photographing it in an honest way.

Being in a different environment can also make you look at your own work in a different way. It can challenge you in how you frame things; it can push your creativity in unexpected ways.

You may notice things that you wouldn’t notice before. Even in cities, there is an interaction between the concrete and nature. I am always amazed that nature creeps in and finds places to grow in the cracks and crevices of a city, outside of the designated park area.

Developing and style and specialising in an area of expertise isn’t necessarily a bad thing. However, the downside is a photographer may become a bit stagnant and repeat what is tried and tested. Trying new techniques or even photographing what you wouldn’t normally can be insightful, even if it’s not successful. It’s a learning process.

A couple of years ago, I went to an Annie Leibovitz exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery in London. Anne is best known for her portraits of the famous. However, in the exhibition, she had a few photos of the Grand Canyon, which surprised me and challenged my expectation of her. They may not have been her strongest work, but I do respect her for trying something different, and having the courage to show the rest of us.

Pushing your creative boundaries can be very insightful, even when it’s not the most successful work you may do.

To view my photos of the South Downs in Sussex.