The Bulls Ass End of Navan
A few weeks ago i had an hour to kill in Navan. I brought my camera along but had nothing in mind to shoot. Street photography is a bit of a trend now but it is something I find very hard to do…
Do you take photos of people you don’'t know… or sit in the shadows like a wildlife photographer in a hide patiently waiting. Not for me I am afraid… so I turn back to the details again, Looking for something that catches my eye…
While photographing some railings by the Parish Priest Home I heard a voice say ‘get any good snaps’… the Parish Priest is looking down on me with the look of confusion as I was lying on my stomach on some steps trying to compose an image… Now i ask myself which is more awkward… shooting strangers without permission or explaining my reasons for photographing what most people would walk past…
Just a Small Piece at a Time
Do you need to see every thing … Does it make sense to show it all if you don’t see a photograph before you. Yes you can take a shot just to have as a memory, there is nothing wrong with that, but sometimes you may see a small piece of a something that catches your eye and the benefit of such an image is to leave the viewer guessing what else is there… what else am I missing…
Its Been a Minute…
I had hoped to be regular enough on this blog as I am taking shots most days… However life, work and the day to day to tend to mess with your own internal algorithms. There is a back log of images I have yet to put up as i pick the topics that should keep me going as the winter closes in and the sun retreats to Aussie…
The darker evenings are closing in so there are not to many opportunities to capture images in the dark without a tripod or a dog who wont sit still….
My Fuji cameras do have a built in image stabilizer which has allowed me to shoot some images hand held while I try to get River to sit still. At least 1 out of every 27 images is not a bad hit rate isi’t it? I suppose that is what I will keep telling myself…
All Things Heavy Metal
Every afternoon and evening, the dog reminds me it’s time to go.
Same route, more or less. Pavement still warm from the day. Fence posts casting longer shadows now. The world looks tired but still awake. That’s when I start noticing the metal again.
A piece of Iron sticking out of a wall, dulled by sun and grit. A scrap of wire catching light in a way it didn’t yesterday. Rust blooming on a drain cover like it’s in no hurry. These things don’t ask to be seen, but they’re there waiting, like everything else.
I don’t go out with a plan. No project, no checklist. Just a pocket camera or my phone, and whatever’s waiting underfoot or half-buried in gravel. A bracket, a screw, a bent hinge. Things that once held something together.
Most people pass by without looking down. I don’t blame them. The world’s loud. But there's something calming about spotting a piece of forgotten steel at the end of a long day. It’s solid. Honest. Doesn’t try to be anything it’s not.
The dog doesn’t care, of course. He’s got his own priorities which is mostly territorial messages on lampposts. He waits while I crouch to frame a rusted bolt or the shadow of a chain-link fence on galvanized pipe then takes a tug on the lead and i start over again recomposing. I tend to average 4 shots to 1 that don’t have panning motion. If I get one first try its a small win.
There’s no message in it. No story, really. Just the act of noticing. A pause in the rhythm. A strange kind of stillness made of metal and afternoon light.
Just a Little More Colour
When you spend most of your time seeing the world in black and white, switching to colour can feel like entering an entirely different dimension. Black and white photography encourages a kind of visual attention to light, shape, contrast, and texture that often gets softened or overshadowed in the presence of colour. Without the emotional pull of hues, you rely more on structure, mood, and timing to make an image speak.
But shooting colour doesn’t just mean adding back what you’ve left out—it’s an entirely different way of seeing.
The first thing you notice when shooting colour after a long stretch in monochrome is the sudden weight of colour. It doesn’t just sit in the frame quietly as it pulls, pushes, distracts, sometimes even overwhelms. A red coat, a green wall, a pale blue sky compete for attention in a way that tonal range never does. What was once a clean composition in black and white can feel chaotic or flat when colour enters the picture. It forces you to recalibrate, to ask different questions: What’s the emotional temperature of this image? What colour story am I telling? Is the subject still the subject?
If you’re patient, you start to feel the rhythm of it. You begin to see colour, not just as information, but as atmosphere, tension, or harmony. You find yourself chasing that one patch of light that turns a mundane moment.
Interestingly, coming from black and white gives you a kind of edge. You’re already trained to shoot with intention. You’re used to stripping away, to making hard choices about what belongs in the frame. That mindset doesn't disappear it simply adapts. You start to treat colour not as the default, but as a powerful design element. And when you do that, even the simplest scenes take on a new depth.
Ultimately, switching to colour is less about abandoning black and white and more about expanding your vision. You’re not changing who you are as a photographer you’re just learning a new language.
And sometimes, in the middle of a chaotic, oversaturated world, you find a moment of colour that sings as quietly and powerfully as any black and white frame.
The Calm after the Storm
There’s something magical about photographing clouds after a storm. The air feels cleaner, the sky a little wilder, and the light dances like it knows it just survived chaos.
This past weekend brought heavy rains and rumbling skies. But as the storm moved on, it left behind a breath taking canvas of shifting clouds, glowing horizons, and deep contrasts. I grabbed my camera, stepped outside, and watched as the world slowly caught its breath.
Photographing clouds after a storm is about patience and presence. The sky changes by the second with thick, moody grays give way to golden beams and soft, cottony edges. No two moments are the same.
Storms may bring disruption, but they also leave behind beauty in their wake. Sometimes, you just have to wait it out …. then look up……
A Sip of Rain
Ireland is no stranger to rain. From soft drizzles to sudden downpours, the weather here is as much a character in your photo story as the landscapes themselves. While many tuck away their cameras at the first sign of a shower, rainy days offer a unique, moody atmosphere perfect for compelling shots if you're prepared.
Overcast skies act like a natural softbox, eliminating harsh shadows and creating even, diffused light. It’s the perfect setup for atmospheric or dramatic landscapes.
Contrast is everywhere in the rain—dark skies against bright green fields, raindrops on old stone, or a pop of red in someone’s coat. These visual contrasts can make your images stand out.
But sometimes I just shoot the rain on the Window…
Texture my Shoot True
There’s something incredibly captivating about photographing texture and shooting through everyday objects. For me, it's not just about capturing a scene, it's about adding feeling, depth, and sometimes a little mystery.
When I shoot texture, I’m drawn to the details most people overlook, cracked paint, weathered wood, soft fabric, peeling walls. These surfaces tell stories. They hold history, mood, and atmosphere in ways a clean frame often can't.
Shooting through things like glass, lace, leaves, or even shadows adds a layer between the viewer and the subject. That layer acts almost like a secret, making the viewer lean in closer. It creates a sense of intimacy or curiosity, like you're peeking into a private moment.
I love how both of these techniques can turn simple scenes into something cinematic, poetic, or dreamlike. They help me express how a place feels, not just how it looks.
Photographing light and texture on trees is one of my favourite ways to connect with nature through the lens. The way sunlight filters through leaves or grazes the rough bark creates beautiful contrasts and patterns. Early morning or late afternoon light brings out the rich textures—highlighting every groove, crack, and shadow in the wood.
or Up….
Sometimes, all it takes is looking up.
We spend so much time staring at screens that we forget the sky is always putting on a show. Clouds drifting, shifting, catching light in ways that change by the second.
For photographers, clouds are quiet magic. They turn ordinary skies into stories that can be soft, dramatic, moody, or full of light. Looking up with a lens reminds us to slow down, to see beauty in the in between moments.
Next time you’re outside, lift your eyes. Snap a photo. Let the sky surprise you.
Dont Forget to Look Down
There’s something quietly powerful about walking with your eyes cast downward.
In a world that often tells us to look up, to dream big, to chase the light, sometimes, beauty waits below, nestled in the shadows.
This image was taken on an ordinary dog walk. Nothing planned, no intention of making art. Just a moment. The grass around was dry and tangled, the light was fading, and the air was still. But then this small, intricate bloom appeared, seemingly glowing in the gloom. A fitting name Queen Anne's lace (Daucus carota)…
I found this old gravestone dated 1770. The inscription reads:
“Here lies the body of Simon… who died Jan’y 1770 aged 46 years (I think). Pray for his Soul.”
This quiet marker tells a powerful story. In an age before modern medicine, living to 46 was a full life. Simple, hand-carved, and weathered by time, this stone shows how death was once deeply spiritual, personal, and woven into everyday life. No grand memorials, just a plea for remembrance.
There's something profoundly humbling about standing before a marker like this. It’s a glimpse into a world long gone. Simon, whose full story may never be known, lived and died more than 250 years ago. Yet here he lies, resting quietly beneath the’ gravestone, as if nature itself is cradling his memory.
It makes you reflect on legacy, memory, and the stories that are left behind or forgotten. In a time when everything is instantly documented and shared, this stone speaks to the quiet permanence of history, etched in rock and rooted in the earth.
Next time you're out in nature, keep your eyes open. You might just find a whisper of the past beneath your feet.
Just a few steps away a tree root is exposed with a dying leaf resti, before the wind takes it…
A Horse called Man
Tucked away in the soft green edges of Trim, I wandered past a small horse sanctuary. The evening was still, with only the low rustle of the trees and the distant sound of hooves. A single horse grazed lazily across the field, seemingly indifferent to my presence until he wasn’t… He approached me slowly, not in haste or fear, but with the calm curiosity only animal wanting to know if I had a carrot or two. As he neared, I raised my lens, quietly, not wanting to interrupt the moment. He stopped just a few feet away and met my eyes—then the click of the shutter. One frame. One soulful eye.
As I continued exploring, the weather began to shift. Clouds rolled in, thick and deliberate, casting shadows over the fields and the ancient ruins that stood watch over the landscape.
The contrast was striking, dark silhouettes of broken stone against a sky quickly turning charcoal. There was a stillness to it all. Shapes formed in the contrast between light and dark, arches, towers, jagged edges softened by time. I stood there, letting the camera expose for the bright sky and felt more intrigued by the feeling than the frame when processed would be quite unusual. Look for the watchers on the wall… winter is coming.
Here we go…
This afternoon, I took the dog out for a walk around Trim and brought my camera along. The weather was mild, with soft clouds hanging overhead and the sun breaking through now and then, casting a gentle light across the town. We strolled along the river and through the old Church Ruins, and I took the chance to capture some photos of whatever seemed to catch my eye. River was full of energy, tugging at the lead while I paused to frame shots, it’s something he is very good at, but eventually settled into the pace. It was a peaceful lunchtime walk — just the two of us, a camera, and a town that always has something worth noticing.
