One of my current projects is photographing London’s East End. It’s an area that has seen much redeveloping over the last 30 years.

I used to live in the East End, and have been rediscovering the area with my camera. It would have been interesting to see the area before the regeneration had kicked off. However, even seeing the area after the changes have begun, I find it interesting how developers have mixed and blended the old with the new.

Even with the changes, I am drawn to photographing the area in B&W. While many of the buildings have been rebuilt or revamped and upgraded, it still has kept some of character and the memories of the shipping, docks, storehouses and factories of its history.

About a month ago, while photographing in Wapping, I managed to find access to the Thames river bed. The tide was low, and I took the opportunity to make my way down the steps to the river bed and explore.

As a friend from work described it, I felt like I was starting to explore the backbone of London. The Thames has played such an integral part of London’s history and economy for much, if not all of its existence.

The river bed holds the cast offs of history, much of it considered rubbish. However, a man I bumped into had found an old carved pipe used by a sailor. A cast off of one generation is an artefact of another. I felt I was standing amongst a part of London’s history to some degree.

Being below street level also gave me a new perspective of the city. I managed get a few shots of the skyline. However, what really drew my attention were the walls of the river bank, which allowed buildings to be built right up to the river’s edge. These walls tend to be hidden and overlooked by most people.

These moss-covered and water logged walls could probably tell a story or two about the history of London. I found myself drawn to them insomuch as they were very tactile. A viewer can feel them through his or her eyes.

History is often like that. Sometimes hidden and mysterious, but there and ever-present. It’s about the people as well as the environment. Dig a little, and you find the stories and memories of humanity – both the good and the messy. Sometimes we don’t want to see it, but it is there, underneath the surface.

I hope to find some more stairs to the Thames river bed. I want to find some more stories.

Water is one of the most fundamental things in life, and something that we take for granted in the West. Without water, very little, if anything, can survive. 

Art and buildings that reflect the natural world have always interested me. How the artist or architect and builder incorporates nature can reflect human ingenuity and, in some cases, an appreciation of the world that we live in, or, in other cases, a sense of dominating it. 

The relatively new ‘funky font’ at Salisbury Cathedral captured my imagination when I visited the Cathedral last year with family. It wasn’t something I was expecting, and hadn’t been there when I previously visited. The font was installed in 2008. 

Designed by William Pye, it is the first permanent font at the Cathedral for over 150 years. The font shows the contradicting nature of water - contrasting its still reflective quality with the more animated overflowing spouts at each of the four corners.

Like many artists, Pye drew inspiration from the natural world and, in particular, water. The font he created for Salisbury Cathedral made me realise a couple of things. Firstly, I have often appreciated, and photographed, the reflective and fluid quality of water.

Sometimes on my ramblers walks in the countryside, I often photograph streams and ponds we come across and manage to get the sky along with the trees and shrubs reflected in it. 

Art and architecture is not immune to the natural world. Many modern buildings are made of glass, and often find myself drawn to them in order to take reflect, and sometimes transient, photos of a bustling modern world. 

Secondly, I have always been interested in the architecture of religious buildings. Religious buildings not only reflect the spiritual and religious outlook of a community, but it can also reflect its character. 

What I found the font doing was reflecting the history, spiritual leanings and character of the Cathedral back onto itself. Like water, there is a sense of fluidity and change, but also a depth to it, even if none of these were readily apparent. 

Water can be still, appear to be still, and have varying degrees of movement. It can be translucent and show it’s innermost workings, but also reflect back at us not only ourselves, but  the world around us. 

Like so much in this world, it is full of contradictions. And without water, we probably wouldn’t be alive. 

London would be a very different city without the River Thames. Communities have lived along the Thames for thousands of years.

It is the second longest river in the UK, and has traditionally been a major economic artery into London for generations.

However, with the decline in ship transport into London, and the shift of Britain’s economy to the service and financial sector has had a dramatic impact on the Thames.

So, what’s the draw to photograph such an iconic waterway?

The obvious would be the buildings that line both sides of the river. The Southbank, the Parliament Buildings, Greenwich, Canary Wharf and the Battersea Power Station all sit along the river’s winding path.

While the shipping industry no longer uses the Thames to bring goods into London, and the rest of the UK, people still earn a living on the Thames. Where once the shipping trade employed people, now tour boats and commuter boats ferry people to various destination.

While on holiday before Christmas, I spent some time on a frosty and foggy day walking around London taking some candid shots on my new digital point and shoot camera. I happened to be walking across the Jubilee foot bridge towards Charing Cross, and I managed to get a series of very moody and atmospheric shots of the Thames.

The pictures aren’t perfect – some parts of the sky are burned out as the camera couldn’t handle the brightness. However, I feel the pictures capture the character of the Thames – with its history, present and future all wrapped into one.

I could sense the dock workers and seafarers of days gone past working the river while watching a tourist boat pass along the river underneath my feet. The shift from cargo to passengers made all that more present.

I look forward to photographing the changing face of the Thames.

The Canadian Museum of Civilization in Hull, Quebec has always captured my artistic eye and imagination as a photographer.

Sitting on the northern side of the Ottawa River opposite Parliament Hill, the distinctive building heavily draws from the natural landscape that surrounds it.

The Museum is a very fluid building, and it has a feel of rock being worn away by years of flowing water. It reflects more how the natural world exists rather than humanity trying to dominate it.

So, why would I want to photograph it?

Douglas Cardinal, the Museum’s architect, was  greatly influenced by his Native American heritage when he designed the Museum. He felt that a building in harmony with the land would be in keeping with the cultures of Canada's native peoples.

"Aboriginal cultures evolved into a way of being in touch with the earth, and experiencing reality as being part of the earth. Our culture also lives in the dream state of vision. When I designed the Museum of Civilization, I went to the ceremonial lodge and I was given the vision of taking technology and creating something positive with it." - Douglas Cardinal

As a photographer, I appreciated the simple lines and forms of the building, and enjoyed the possibilities it presented to me. The Museum is the architectural equivalent of photographing nature itself.

I was drawn to capturing its curves, fluidity and texture. The building itself has captured mother nature in her femininity.

Photographing the building in black & white may not be the most obvious choice, but I was also drawn to the texture of the building. The texture is as important as the earthy feel of it. While it had a fluid and water feel to it, the building also had a rougher exterior – where the water hadn’t yet polished it smooth.