Servicing the Giant

A scene enacted countless times since the dawn of commercial aviation, ground crews prepare an airliner for its next flight. Machines have their own innate appeal, and when juxtaposed with the natural world are a poignant metaphor for humans cutting their own furrow alongside, or at right angles to, nature. I took this frame as part of a series at Singapore’s Changi International Airport in November 2011, on my way back from my fourth UK expedition. This was an equatorial evening, and home beckoned at the end of one more long leg in the air. The sun is not quite gone—there was some gold about sixty degrees of arc to the left, but “blue hour” was certainly arriving. This is the Qantas Airbus A-380 Reginald Ansett, named for one of Australia’s commercial aviation pioneers. The photo was taken through plate glass from the terminal, with the usual gymnastics to keep the interior lights from reflecting in the frame. Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.

 

The Appeal of the Machine

Aircraft have a beautiful symmetry created by their aerodynamics. They must flow through the air as the air flows over them, the very embodiment of the laws of fluid mechanics. Here is an A400M Atlas of the RAF, photographed at the RAAF Edinburgh airshow, 10th November, 2019, and the sheer size of the aircraft, dwarfing the personnel and spectators, is a delightful commentary on all things mechanical. Machines can be big, which frequently offers aesthetic appeal, and when matched to their symmetries and grace makes for a certain emotional appeal. The craft is like a great bird—serving the humans who created it, in a poetical sense. A simple photo, it exploits the size of the craft to frame the image, with the machine dwarfing the people below. You could read all sorts of romantic of psychological notions into such imagery, if you were inclined. I just think it’s a dynamic picture! Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.

 

Tree & Sea—Sunset Perspective

A simple telephoto shot, part of a long sequence documenting sunset on May 2^nd, 2022. Taken from the carpark on Range Road, above the Adelaide plain, the alignment of the sun with the trees and nearby power pylons created some interesting silhouettes. One would not think so many frames of essentially the dame material would create so many aesthetically different choices, but they do! I featured a frame from this shoot once before, quite a way back. Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.

 

Industry by the Sea

Here’s a simple but illustrative snap, taken on July 21^st, 2017. This is the Cape Jervis ferry terminal, looking across Backstairs Passage to Kangaroo Island, showing one of the big Sealink boats that provide the regular back-and-forth traffic between mainland South Australia and it’s offshore suburbs. I remember the day being bright and very windy—no wonder I needed to straighten up the image with fine rotation to a considerable degree: I was likely being seriously buffeted. The ship and the vehicles make a textured, mechanical panorama for the foreground, while the clear sky and wide horizon to the island create a natural backdrop—the juxtaposition of the built environment and the wild, the human-made and the natural. Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.

 

Tree Bark and Seed Heads

This is such a simple image, but an artistic one. The frame is filled with nature—living systems from side to side. I took this frame as part if a shoot at Byards Wetlands, South Australia, on August 20^th, 2025, and my eye was caught first by the lighting angle, back-lighting the seed heads of the reeds, then by the organic patterning of the tree bark. Bringing them together was a matter of choosing the angle to exclude any hint of other background—and there it is, an earth-toned panorama of life in the dusty warmth of an Australian spring.

I’ve been focused on work these last few weeks, so will post a few pictures in quick succession.

Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Poco M5. Image by Mike.

Gnarled Giant

Just a forest photo, but look at the shape of that tree... The Australian eucalypt is one of these trees able to take on any shape at all, as determined by the conditions in which it grows, and this one was growing from a steep bank in a gully. It reaches for the light one way, water the other, and creates such a remarkable shape. One would imagine an artist had been extravagant in the layout of a work for dramatic effect, but such things are common in the endless variation of gum tree morphology. However, what really makes the picture is the sun angle—the degree of backlighting, the way it shines through the foreground and understorey vegetation, silhouetting the tree—that's where the art happens. I took this shot on the walk through to Ingalalla Falls, down on the Fleurieu Peninsula, on August 12^th, 2017. Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.

 

Soft-Light Perfection

I don’t often claim perfection, and if it happens it’s probably by accident, but here is a frame where it all came together. Just a simple country view—a farm in the valleys on the railway between Middlesbrough and Whitby, photographed through the carriage window. But all the elements are right—no dirt on the window, no reflections of interior lights, the POV is square-on to the scene (no fine rotation required), and the composition fell into place, the farm framed neatly in the view. The sun came out—the weather was grey and damp but for a while there was sunshine. And even then, the sun angle was low, so the light had a soft, almost transparent quality that makes everything seem different to the hard light of Australia. This was November 14^th, 2006, on my first England trip, and I was about to see my home town for the first time in 35 years—getting off at the very station the family left from in 1971. Talk about circles in completion—it was something that just had to be. But the November light in England, closing in on winter and the snow, is low and soft, and I can hardly describe it—you have to see it, feel it, to understand. Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.

Workhorse of the Sea

There is something majestic about ships, and maritime towns always make for interesting shooting locations. I grabbed this shot on November 8^th, 2012, from the deck of the South Shields ferry, crossing the River Tyne on my way back to Roker after an excursion to Tynemouth Castle and Priory. This is a DFDS Seaways vessel preparing to leave in the evening for its overnight run to Amsterdam. It’s fascinating to be able to see into the open vehicle deck. I’ve often wondered what a crossing would be like on such a ship, a marvelous start to a holiday with one’s car in the hold. This frame is fairly unique as, given the exposure rating of the cameras of the day, I had limited ability to control for low light, The evening was coming in fast, and while the chip handled low light beautifully, it couldn’t compensate for motion with reduced exposure time. I shot plenty of frames, but this is the one where it all came together, and wasn’t blurred by motion. Fun memories, I miss those trips! Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.

Nature’s Effortless Disrespect

Humans modify their landscape—they are compulsive builders. We memorialise our perception of greatness, and such things long outlive their subjects—ask any Pharaoh. But the natural world is oblivious of such things, and competes with the human need to control entropy. Like the need to weed a garden—perhaps the ultimate expression of futility—we erect monuments to last the ages, while nature has a casual disrespect for such notions, in fact is in permanent violation of them. I took this picture in Mowbray Park, Sunderland, in November, 2011, during my fourth UK trip. This statue is of General Sir Henry Havelock, a local, who distinguished himself in India in the early 19^th century, and while he may be standing up there in cast bronze, on a stone plinth and surrounded with canons—how many symbols of imperialism can you get into one place at one time?—nature casually mocks such human constructs. It’s the seagull, of course. I shot the statue from several angles and distances, under that glowering, stormy sky, but that bird did not move an inch, and finally, I accepted it as part of the tableau of the moment—embodying the narrative of nature’s obliviousness to human precocity. The man may have been a hero and a figure associated with national and imperial power, but to a bird—nature—he’s just a perch. And that’s a profound observation on human nonsense, really. Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.

 

Holiday Snap

Fishing boats in Whitby Harbour, Yorkshire, England. Such a simple shot, but one so easy to mess up for so many reasons. Note, the vertical pole is parallel to the side of the frame—this is not adjusted, I managed to get the camera actually level for once! There are no passers-by wandering in front of the lens, there’s no ubiquitous garbage can, no bird dipping suddenly into the shot, no sun glaring off a window somewhere. It all came together, probably by accident, but I remember taking my time, being patient, and waiting for the elements to gel. It’s a bit deceptive too, the river is so calm, generating those nice ripply reflections, and the blue sky looks warm, but this was the November of 2007 (during my second UK trip, when I did some field research at a cemetery in Leicester toward my PhD) and the Christmas decorations were already up. Out beyond the breakwaters there was surf running—I got pictures from the west cliff of white waves coming in, the same afternoon. Nearly twenty years ago—but like yesterday in my memories. Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.

The First Step

Beginning a journey to the UK from Australia is always a momentous occasion—there and back, one is essentially travelling the equivalent of all the way round the world, more or less. This was only the second frame I grabbed on my second trip to the UK, in November 2007, while waiting for the first leg, a domestic short-haul from Adelaide to Melbourne to connect with the international flight there. What makes this picture interesting is the two lighting conditions captured. The POV is from the interior of the terminal, thus artificial lighting in the foreground or framing elements, against the natural daylight outside. I also did a fair job of framing the subject, getting the picture level—this is not angle-corrected but just as it came off the camera. The moody, blue-grey toned sky over the Adelaide Hills contrasts interestingly with the warm toned interior, diagonally across the frame. Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.

When Cloud Becomes Mist

Every winter in the Adelaide Hills there are days when the clouds are down on the hills—when the summits vanish in the soft greyness, and up there it’s as if you’ve stepped into another world. On June 14^th, 2023, I had the chance to photograph these atmospherics from inside and out, and I’ve featured this shoot before. This was the forest near Range Road West, where we parked on a dirt road and shot the silent, eerie world among the ghostly trunks of the gnarly, coppiced eucalypts. No fancy photography, except for holding things still as the light level was quite low, and concentrating on composition. Minor adjustments to colour, contrast and sharpness in Irfanview; Fuji FinePix S5600. Image by Mike.