In A Landscape


To remaIn at the beginning

uNtil the end

stArting anew

every singLe moment

with regArd for all

liviNg souls

and finDing life

in miStakes

and peaCe within


a Prayer for



So if you should go skating on the thin ice of mad life

Dragging beside you tear stained eyes

Don’t be surprised when a crack in the ice

Appears under your feet


Carrying just a memory

A snapshot from the Family Album

It’s all you have left for me


But when I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse

Out of the corner of my eye

I turned to look, but it was gone

I can’t put my finger on it

The child has grown, the dream has gone


And day after day, life turns grey

Like the skin on a dying man

And night after night, we pretend we’re alright

But I have grown older and the world has grown colder

And nothing is very much fun anymore

And I feel one of my dreams coming home


But this is just a passing phase

One of my bad days


Still A Long Way To Go


We chose to adhere to abundance
We chose the American Dream


Liberty –
How we abandoned thee


And the fading glorious night
Never seems to bring you home
You think that this is your road
There’s still a long way to go

Cold comfort in the dawn
The dawn that brings you round
A pale light that you’ve found
There’s still a long way to go


Time is all we have

I hope I have enough


We cannot turn back the clock
Cannot go back in time
But we can say


We will not listen to
Your bullshit and lies




We are enslaved in so many ways to measure time, aren’t we? Clocks and calendars, stopwatches and timers. How much time we allot to our loved ones each day or week. Work time versus play time. Down time. Time, time, time. It is an imaginary distinction that we created, then wrapped ourselves so thoroughly in it, yet it is also a very finite resource. How many days do you have in your life? We don’t know and won’t know until the end, but imaginary number or not, it is not an infinite number.

Even though we are the ones that invest time with meaning, it is still of immense value. Seconds mean something, minutes do too. Hours, days, weeks, months. Sometimes I measure time by photographic exposure. Those are some of my favourite units to measure time by, in fact. This exposure is 2 minutes for example. How many of those can I do in a given window. I only had so much time ,  only so many 2 minute exposures. The risk then is to worry about all the time that is lost or not used, to worry about the 2 minute exposures I might not be able to make. But this way of looking at things is an eternal loss. There will always be time you wish you had. We think we are drowning in a glut of time, we have time to spare, to waste or throw out. Considering the value of that time is set individually, this may very well be true but I hope not.

Exposures like this make me think more about time, they make me more aware of its ebb and flow. I only made one of these exposures. Two minutes was all I was willing to give this scene before moving on to other exposures. That doesn’t demonstrate a lack of value on my part though, the mere fact that I stopped here for a couple of minutes speaks against that notion. This two minute stretch was quite valuable to me and that is why I only made one image, I just made sure to make my execution of that image mirror the value of the time spent in order to expose it. I could go on about time, but I fear I have taken up enough of yours just reading thus far. I wanted to share a bit of what goes through my head during the making of such photos and how they help me measure time in a slightly different fashion and stay aware of its constant forward flow.


So only by going all the way to the end will you know if something will bring you peace.

Silent Cries And Mighty Echoes


Photographs sometimes work on you strangely and simply: at first glance you see things you subsequently discover are not there. Or rather, when you look again you notice things you initially didn’t realise were there. Oil paintings leave a scene strangely silent. Photography on the other hand can be as sensitive to sound as it is to light. Good photographs are there to be listened to as well as looked at; the better the photograph, the more there is to hear. Listen……

sc14Just take a pebble and cast it into the silent Sea.

What does happen?

sc1Have a thought,

Cry a word or pray a silent plea.

Do you know what will happen?

Are we aware in all that we feel or do.

We can’t  escape from the truth of our soul.

Are we actually informed
About the mission of our life?

Do we know that we are composed
By the trinity – of heart soul and mind?

That our dark nights will come to a bright end
Once we have learned, once our common spirit grows.

sc4And all our silent cries,

sc12Our thoughts and deeds will arise in

Mighty Echoes.

The River


Few people want to sit and contemplate at the edge of an uncared for River. I like to think of websites as Streams and Rivers, and I had a personal website, but it largely lay stagnant. I used it more as a static portfolio site and Flickr was more like my daily photographic journal. A significant amount of time was spent on Flickr, posting and writing. It was quite important to me as I am driven by a desire to share much of my philosophy on photography as well and up to a couple of years ago I was content to share that via Flickr. But those attitudes have shifted with time and we move on. Rust never sleeps.

So today you are standing at the water’s edge of a new born stream and for those of you reading this in December of 2016, you get to be witnesses to the first tentative trickles, the splashing and cascading of this new born stream of ideas and I greatly appreciate that. My new website and this related Blog will not be a haphazardly done activity, it will be alive and vital and it will slowly grow over time and take us places that I hope many can enjoy and benefit from. Along the roaming pathways you can expect to find many different things. There will be technical info: the cameras I have used and the films I have exposed and there will be philosophical musings. There has to be. So much of how I approach photography is philosophical and I think being mindful of how I think about photography has a great impact on how I do photography. There will be entries on photographic adventures and odysseys, hopefully not infrequently… and of course, there will be photographs themselves. I do not plan to cycle the galleries on the site often. They are intended to be the collections of images that mean the most to me. They will undoubtedly change but that change will be gradual. But secondary collections can and will show up over there too.

The nature of a blog means that communication is biased in one direction but there will be room for comments.
So thank you, for right now and for all future participation. Thank you to those who are stopping by for the first time. I look forward to what the future of this Rivers Journey brings and where it shall lead us to.



d1For just one day, I want to have died for a day
To disappear between two halves of a Schmetterling dress
You can only spend so much time as the world’s guest
It’s Halloween, and half the city is costumed and crying
And I don’t want to be a human being
All-night dreams of a sky that’s filled with ashes
And one more day till October’s end
Days spent floating in the half between.



No-one ever saw you
Moving through the dark


Leaving slips of paper
Somewhere in the park


Hidden from their friends
Stealing all they knew


Lovers thrown in airless rooms
Then vile rewards for you


Buildings crammed with people


Landscape filled with wrath


Grey concrete city


Rain has wet the street


I want to see you clearly


Before you close the door


A room of bloody history
You made sure of that


But you will leave without a sound, without an end…….

The last Leaf


I think autumn is my favourite time of year.

A few last warm days

A wondrous display of colour

I savour the softness of the falling leaves, the mist, the first frost and then the snow

Winter on the way, but still a long way to go.

When golden autumn light has settled quiet and cold

There, like a bird, still on the tree

f6Was that lonesome leaf, no longer gold

But curly and brown and dry and old

f11One by One these leaves will fall

f5Nothing I do will make them stay

f7High above glistening in the fading summer light

f14Why has it got to be this way