Most people have at least a couple of funny dad stories. This is my last one, from just a couple of weeks before we finally said goodbye forever.
What a couple of old abandoned delivery vans parked in a vacant lot taught me about mortality, my relationship with my father, and the purpose of my photography.
The arrival of Joe Biden’s inauguration ceremony feels like watching in relief as a close friend sends a toxic and abusive partner packing.
Do you want to capture a great looking ‘spontaneous’ photograph? Try planning it in advance.
Emerging from over two months of lockdown, the island nation of Malta stretches its legs and slowly begins to swing back to life. While sitting in a newly opened bistro table watching the sun go down, this introvert reflects on walking through the empty streets of Malta’s capital and concludes that it is people that make a city.
As I sit next to my son on a nearly empty Easyjet flight to Malta, faced with a mandatory 14-day quarantine as soon as we land, my mind is on fighter planes and other things that haven’t happened yet.
As the world around me crumbles, I contemplate whether this is the time to be working on a travel photography blog written during benevolent exile on a cruisey little Mediterranean island.
Sometimes it feels like life is a process of moving from one bubble to the next bubble. Today, for the first time in two weeks, we stepped outside into the fresh air and walked down the streets of a city which, up until now, we have only known from the sliver of an ocean view outside our apartment window.
I get stressed out packing for a weekend vacation. How do I chose what to pack when I know it may be months before I’m able to return home?
To visit modern-day Berlin is to be immediately confronted by the visual evidence of a persistent question: ‘how do you acknowledge and learn from the past while at the same time planning and building for the future?