Gradually, we grew out of our past, explained away halos and beasts and cities of clouds. History, after all, is written by those that live in the present.
But it’s still there, that old world. Beneath our own, like a first coat of paint, glinting through chips and scratches.
I'm a photographer, writer, and full stack web developer based in London.
In 2019, I needed an online portfolio. I took one look at the price of a website builder and decided to make my own from scratch.
Three years and four redesigns later, I’m proud of this messy work-in-progress.
24 Dutch children in a phone booth? It’s more common than you think.
The full breadth of humanity, every hope and every sorrow, every song and every sigh, is on Wikimedia Commons, an open file repository maintained by Wikipedia. In Spring of 2021 I created this film, for free, using 144 of those files.
I've had maps on my walls since before I can remember: world maps, maps of places I've been, maps of places I want to go. They're like windows, windows you don't need curtains for.
I've spent more of my life than I care to admit looking at maps. There's always something new to see, and even familiar names feel like discoveries.
So, it was only natural I create my own.
The wide blue sea spread before me, a quilt of the patterns of the wind. I was suddenly struck by profound desire. A desire for what, I was not sure.
I was on the edge of the world, and I wanted to see beyond. It was a sort of nostalgia, but not for any real past. A nostalgia for the future, maybe, the future that can no longer be.
I wrote my undergraduate dissertation about this feeling. If you're interested in the theories behind my photographic practice, check it out.