It’s drifting, noticing, asking.
It’s shaped by social work, psychology, and the kind of ethics that come from actually working with people — not just photographing them.

It’s intuitive, yes — but it’s also evidence-based.
Backed by research into identity, place, memory, and how we tell our stories.

This isn’t just documentary photography.

  • I follow paths more than plans.
    I let people show me what matters, in their own way, in their own time.

    This work blends:

    • documentary practice

    • psychogeography

    • emotional storytelling

    • symbolic logic

    • and a grounding in psychological thinking

  • Sometimes it starts with a walk.
    Sometimes with a kettle.
    Often with something that wasn’t supposed to be the story — but is.

    I’m interested in how people shape place, and how place shapes them.
    What they carry.
    What gets repeated without being named.
    What’s visible, and what isn’t — yet.

  • A lot of it is just paying attention.
    To doors that don’t close.
    To trees, someone keeps trimming back.
    To the dog who only growls at visitors.

    It’s not always obvious.
    It’s rarely fast.
    But something always surfaces — if you leave enough room for it.

  • This is not extractive work.
    It’s relational. Ethical.
    Shaped by practice, supported by evidence.

    I’m not there to capture a perfect portrait.
    I’m there to understand what it feels like —
    to be someone, somewhere, trying to hold it all together — and sometimes letting it fall apart.

  • My own history drives this work — by a need to understand, and a kind of curiosity that hasn’t gone away.

    Some of it comes from research.
    Some of it is from walking.
    Some of it from sitting with people in silence long enough to feel the shift.
    It’s all shaped by care, by noticing, and by staying close to what feels real.

“I follow the stories that don’t shout. The ones waiting quietly to be noticed.”

If You Want to Reach Out

If this doesn’t feel like a “contact me” kind of thing, that’s fine. But if it does — I’m here.