There are two common threads that run through much of my photography: images made in nature and self-portraits. On the surface, they might seem like separate practices – one looking outward, the other turning in. In reality, they are both ways of seeing, interpreting and expressing, though they happen through very different means and processes.
Looking Outward: Photography in Nature
When I photograph nature, it’s rarely with a plan. These images are often the product of early morning walks when the world seems quieter and I can find a space of my own. Nature photography is more an act of observation, paying attention to details, looking at how the light is falling, and deciding the best way to capture something in its natural form. There are particular themes I will come back to in nature – cycles of the seasons, the days and the moon, and of life and death and rebirth. Most of the time I shoot with a macro lens and focus on smaller elements. When I do capture a larger landscape, there is still an expression of closeness and intimacy – very rarely is there a feeling of wide-open spaces.
The process isn’t about chasing the impressive or extraordinary, but recognising beauty in the small and unseen. There’s a sense of stillness and grounding in these moments, a connection to something outside of myself.
Turning Inward: The Self-Portrait Process
Self-portraiture is a different kind of practice, both more deliberate and more charged. There’s usually something I’m trying to explore or express, something I can feel but haven’t quite found the words for – a tension, an emotion, or a story that hasn’t fully formed.
The process can flow and feel instinctive, but it’s not often calm. There is thought and intention behind the framing and the pose, and I usually begin with a loose idea or direction, but the final images tend to evolve, taking on new forms and meanings as I shoot. I try to let go of control and let intuition guide me, making decisions and adjustments based on what comes up and what feels true.
The act of taking a self-portrait is a very physical one, not only in the necessity of working in the frame and behind the camera at the same time, but in the energy that is demanded in digging beneath the surface. Self-portraits ask more emotionally, and they can be incredibly challenging and mentally tiring.
I will also often incorporate elements of nature into my self-portraits – pieces that I have collected as they spoke to me. The nature in these images feels different, less wild and more controlled. There is a definite feeling of human intervention, and perhaps that is an unintended theme – the curation and manipulation of the natural world for our own means.
Common Threads
While these can feel like two very different forms of expression, there are definite consistencies that bind them together, both in execution and in the ideas they speak to.
Often, I will pair nature photographs with self-portraits as diptychs, placing them side by side so they become a conversation. These pairings are intuitive, based on both visual similarities and common themes or feelings. Together, they draw on themes of juxtaposition – shadow and light, calm and tension, absence and presence, fragility and strength.
Combining different subject matter and creative approaches allows for deeper exploration and adds a fuller and more cohesive feel to my work overall. Each element acts as a fragment, a piece of the whole, honoured in itself and as part of a bigger idea.
A Shared Language
At times, I have felt that my approaches should be more consistent, that the variations in my work should tie together more cohesively. What I have come to understand now is that both humans and nature are vast and diverse; we are not limited to one thing or way of being.
Both of these forms of photography ask me to pay attention, to listen to my instinct and to take the time to look more closely and honestly at what I’m trying to say and how I might say it. Including them both offers multiple means and forms of creative expression, allowing for a deeper and more fulfilling practice.