I’m a huge fan of lo-fi photography like lomography.  Sure, I love my megapixelz, but there’s something so exciting about not knowing exactly what you’ll get when you release that shutter and capture that moment in time.  In essence, it’s why I’ve always loved my Polaroid camera; that moment is also instantaneously brought to you.  It’s also why I rarely look at the image screen when I’m taking photos; I much prefer to come home and review them as I ‘develop’ them.

It’s a shame in many ways that the physical art of photography is being lost to transistors, and the magic of that the singular moment giving way to smoothed edges and desmudged lines.

Sometimes it’s nice just to create something unique.  The above is a composition of four images rapidly shot off in sequence using the wide angle lens, looking down from the aforementioned foot bridge.  I couldn’t bear to part them.

The corner of the Leighton Beach footbridge is a wonderful vantage point to admire an ever retreating sun.  The wind generally whips up the coast towards the camera’s vantage point and while blustery, is often very refreshing after a long hot summer day.

The flash of colour on the left hand side of the image is not an alien spacecraft and is instead an artifact created by the angle of the sun and the glass of the lens; it’s usually an undesired element, but sometimes I feel it adds to the intensity of the moment.  The sun is literally so bright that you’re seeing stars.

As a photographer I’m perpetually torn between using my wide angle (16-35mm) lens and my wide to telephoto (28mm to 300mm) lens.  I learnt my craft on the latter however the former revolutionised my way of seeing things.  It was quite a mindshift to think about the additional width that the lens gives you and just how to take photos to fully take advantage of that.

I’m still honing that skill, but an image like this makes me want to never take it off of the camera.  Of course, as soon as I think that, I see a situation and ultimately a photo that disagrees.  Certainly, when I was first starting out, it sure was easier to have a fixed lens, because, then it didn’t matter.

Freedom is both a blessing and a curse.  I’m not complaining, mind.

Brightly coloured townhouses poised atop a hill beside the West Coast Highway in Scarborough melt into a blur of early dusk light and car momentum.

The strong south westerly winds we’ve been cursed with this year manage to dredge up all sorts of miscellania onto the beach, though even more tends to appear in the autumn when the strong ocean currents kick.

Looking fresh from a japanese restaurant, the afternoon offerings could do with some soy sauce.

As I probably tended to go on a bit about on my old site, I’m a huge fan of how things change over time and also taking the time to document them in my short passage on the face of the earth.

Bennion Beach has been a very happy photographic hunting ground for me ever since I moved to Perth and it’s nice to know that nothing has changed.  A trip there  a couple of weekends ago to watch a somewhat lack lustre sunset (it looked promising with smoke hanging in the air) was still saved by the immeasurable beauty of this part of the coastline including the occasional rusty pole.  Some more images from this trip will follow over the next few days.

Reeds from around the ‘water gardens’ in Kings Park exude a glorious mix of spotted patterns and straw colouring.