I love Borough Market. I love the hustle and bustle and the sights and smells of the amazing foods. From the paella dishes to the falafel to the meat section, complete with strung up rabbits. I love the fact that it's tucked away under the rail bridges leading in to and out of London Bridge station. I love the fact that you can't move for people. Most of all, I love the almost limitless photographic opportunities awaiting the photographer in me.
Borough Market is my default 'go to' place when I feel the need to indulge my passion for street photography. It's the hub of the area so always a good starting point for any stroll through London on my photographic walks, pub crawls or a for when my mum is visiting from Australia.
But for a perfect 'London' day, I always stop in for a midday pint at one of my many favourite pubs, The Market Porter or The George.
I was invited along to London Fashion Week to take photo's. Having never done anything like this before I didn't know what to expect.
I'd heard that the modelling world was very harsh and very cut throat and wasn't expecting to be privy to any of this behind the scenes sort of stuff. Most of it I concluded, was to be complete and utter nonsense. That is until I saw this one particular photograph that I had taken whilst I editing images in my room.
It was a girl, a model who was crying. I was quite taken aback. Most of the rumours I had heard were that the models were on crazy diets and that it was required of them to keep in the modelling game.
When I saw this photo I knew something was up that was really upsetting her. So putting two and two together I realised that something was obviously said backstage to make this poor girl very upset.
This brave girl who regardless of what happened backstage was courageous enough to ignore all that was said and to keep going with the show. My hat goes off to her.
I often travel into London to spend some time following my passion of street photography. Last month I was on Tottenham Court Road, just by the tube station, when I noticed this woman sitting on the floor clasping a cup hoping to collect money. What was unusual was that instead of placing herself against a wall as most beggars do, she had deliberately sat down in the middle of the pavement during the rush hour! I spent some time watching her and was amazed that no one bumped into or fell over her. Most people just ignored or didn't see her. However a few did drop money into her cup. The only time she stood up was to answer her mobile phone!
A sign above a dry cleaners in East London designed to amuse and confuse. It had doubtless caused endless hilarity since its erection nearly a century ago. How many couples had joked about it over the years as they walked past with their groceries on a Saturday afternoon? Times may have changed but our sense of humour remains the same. The only difference now is that laundry is, for the most part, no longer considered women’s work. And yet, this allusion to more chauvinistic times only makes the sign funnier today.
London is littered with relics of yesteryear, objects that serve to connect us with times gone by and help create this feeling that you are inside a living museum. The past, present and future of London all rub shoulders, bringing a sense of history to every street you walk down.
As I took the photograph I wondered if it could actually be a shop front for high street assassins? It would be the ultimate double bluff. No-one would suspect bespoke murderers masquerading as dry cleaners. You walk in with a suit and you walk out minus the missus. Job done. It could be just the thing to save the ailing British High Street... maybe that’s a glimpse into London’s future?
Working as a dance and performance photographer, I’m used to working in the darkened theatre space, and not seeing daylight for many hours. Therefore I was excited about the opportunity of working with East London Dance on their Postcards from East London, a UK development of the international dance/film project 'Postcards from...'
I was commissioned to take behind the scenes photos, revealing the process and offering an insight into the variety of locations and performers involved. The photo I've included here was taken in Mile End Skate Park. I wanted to show the harsh landscape in contrast with the theatricality of the performers costumes and their relationship to the space.
The project celebrates London life and connected the City at Aldgate to the Olympic Park in the year of the London Olympics.
When we first met, I didn't like her so much. It was more curiosity than genuine interest that brought me to her, in the beginning; and thus I paid little attention and made even less effort. I had always thought that love should be easy, something you fall into without thinking about it twice, like you do in the movies; but this was not the case with her.
To this date I cannot say what made me start to court her. Maybe I felt intrigued by her lack of interest, that she didn't seem to be bothered by me or my opinion. She just continued as she had, and this was something I wasn't used to – everybody else before her had wanted me to like them, had offered their best so I wouldn't leave.
But she was different, and I went after her. I got to know her, and she opened up to me little by little; I saw how many different sides she had, what magnificent qualities and how much she had to offer. And I saw the bad in her as well, her nasty habits and unpleasant traits, she didn't try to hide them; but by then I was gone, I had fallen for her harder than I'd ever fallen for anyone, and I could no longer see anyone else.
Having worked in London for the past 15 years I have been fortunate enough to experience and appreciate the amazing architecture and history of the city. Over recent years the landscape has changed dramatically and I now find myself looking for new views of the city that really convey how the new city mixes with the old.
Man was I bored. I mean, how much networking and fat chewing with my fellow paper-clip buyers can one man stand? Truth? Just another hour or so - but my camera's in the laptop bag and there's a good bit of sunshine edging it's way across the cavern between the ministry and the museum. Sod it, I'm out of here....
Outside. First corner turned and she's there. Pacing in front of the hoarding, deep in thought and conversation, can she read the text, does she see the error, get the joke? Click....I'm gone. Smiling.