Practice & Reflection

Beginner Again

by admin | Jan 2, 2026 | Practice & Reflection

Becoming a beginner again has been one of the most liberating decisions of my career.

What a relief it is not to have all the answers. To stop fixing. To be able to say, I don’t know — and mean it without discomfort. Returning to beginner energy has given me full permission to experiment without outcome, to get things wrong, and to let learning unfold organically.

It has allowed me to move beyond old limitations — both my own and those inherited from others. What excites me most is the return to making with my hands. To physicality. To material presence.

I’ve secretly longed to paint on a large scale for years — of what, I couldn’t say — but in meditation I’ve often seen myself doing it, feeling a deep sense of harmony, flow, and peace. Now, I’m finally allowing that impulse to exist without explanation.

I’m challenging old paradigms with joyful defiance — and it feels wonderful.

Working with unfamiliar materials has been exhilarating. Scratching marks into copper, zinc, wood, and lino. Rolling messy ink onto plates and paper. Handling the most beautiful art papers — the kind that instantly signal alignment and care. Entering the art shop at the School of Art feels like coming home, even if it requires a great deal of self-restraint.

Multicolour print created from an aluminium plate, with layered colours applied by hand using a muslin cloth

There is something deeply satisfying about slowing down, following instinct, and letting the materials speak back. And then there’s the return to the darkroom — renewing my relationship with analogue processes, and stepping into alternative techniques with curiosity and respect. Old friends, new conversations.

What makes this moment particularly rich is the coexistence of experience and openness. Thirty years of photographic craft sit quietly beneath the surface, supporting curiosity rather than constraining it. I am working with intention, staying open, trusting myself — and allowing not knowing to be part of the process.

This feels like a beginning, not because I am starting over, but because I am starting honestly.

What a time to be alive.

This reflection continues in Learning by Making

Why I’m Still Here

by admin | Jan 1, 2026 | Practice & Reflection

There comes a point where staying matters as much as starting.

When I first began my career as a photographer, it wasn’t part of some grand plan. In fact, after travelling, I took a short stint working in the AA relay office at their headquarters — a practical decision to earn money, pay off a credit card, and work out what I was meant to do next.

That experience changed everything.

I hadn’t realised how completely I had surrounded myself with creative people until I found myself in what I can only describe as a real job, with real systems, routines, and expectations. I simply wasn’t cut out for it. I was too sensitive. It felt as though my soul was quietly shrivelling up inside.

That moment brought a clarity I hadn’t known before. A sharp focus. A gritty determination I didn’t realise I possessed. I knew, deeply, that I was here to create — and that failing wasn’t an option. I had to find a way not just to make photography work, but to build a life where I could truly thrive. An empire, if only in my own mind.

Fast forward, and here we are.

I can’t help myself — I still see in 35mm. I’m always framing, noticing, witnessing. Photography quietly pulls me back, again and again. It isn’t something I do so much as something I am.

What has changed — and what hasn’t?
Everything, and nothing.

The way I work has evolved. Digital has brought many advantages, particularly when photography is your livelihood. But what has remained constant is the pull to witness and capture this beautiful, complicated world we are fortunate enough to live in.

The biggest shift now is internal. I feel no need to prove myself. The questions that matter are no longer about recognition or achievement, but about meaning. About truth. I allow myself to pause and ask: What do I really think about this now?

There is great relief in loosening my grip on old ways of working, old beliefs, old markers of success. I no longer need to hold on to the past — the awards, the expectations, the definitions.

Now, I get to be curious again. Fully present. Fully myself.
And, wonderfully — joyfully — free to play.

That is why I’m still here.