There’s something timeless about monochrome photography. Without color, the image leans fully on contrast, texture, and light. Shadows become intentional. Lines feel sharper. Emotion isn’t decorated—it’s exposed. Lisbon after dark While working on my next photo book from Portugal, I came across a series of images I made at night in Lisbon. I’d intentionally limited myself to a 35mm prime lens and set the camera to black and white before I ever pressed the shutter Stillness il

I collect images on Pinterest that grab me. Sometimes it’s the subject, but most of the time it’s the feel  of the photo. When I scroll back through what I’ve saved, there’s definitely a pattern. Apparently, I have a type. Yesterday, I decided to experiment with AI. I copied an image from Pinterest—one that really spoke to me—and paired it with one of my own photos. I asked her (yes, my ChatGPT is a lady) to apply the same look and feel to my image. This is the image I found

I love minimalism because it slows things down. This long exposure from the Isle of Harris and Lewis softens the water and strips the scene down to one rock and a lot of quiet space. Sometimes less really does say more.

I love traveling to new cities—experiencing different cultures, wandering unfamiliar streets, and of course capturing it all with my camera. But let’s be honest: most of us are lucky if we can do that once, maybe twice, a year. So, what about the other 50 weeks? Where do you go to make photographs when you’ve already “been there, done that”? Good question. 😊 For me, the answer is familiar places—the ones I return to again and again. Not because I’m out of ideas, but because

“I’m often asked what kind of photography I shoot, and I usually pause—because the honest answer doesn’t fit neatly into a category.”  But the better question—the one that actually matters—is why .  I don’t chase dramatic moments. I don’t hunt for expressions or wait for something “big” to happen. I’ve never been particularly interested in photographing people just to photograph people. If someone walks into my frame, it’s usually because they belong there—not because I went