Ligger Point

I love the isolation that Cornwall offers me, far from the madness of the world I find a place of stillness where I truly feel I connect to the beauty landscape and life is governed by the changing tides and the fleeting weather..

Hi,

Over the last few days I have been sat in Coast Colour Canvas Gallery near Coverack in Cornwall where I am currently holding an exhibition of my new landscape work. It has been fascinating to listen to the way people respond to my images. As a result I’ve been thinking about a moment that happens twice in the life of some photographs. Once when I make it, and once, if I’m lucky, when someone chooses to take it into their home.

Two very different points in time. Two very different people. And two very different reasons for connecting with the same photograph.

I never set out to make a technically perfect image. I don’t think I ever have. When I’m out with the camera, I’m thinking about how the subject makes me feel, and whether I can be honest enough to let that feeling into the frame.

I’m often drawn to things that are a little broken or flawed, because I recognise something of myself in them. Many of my landscape images feature stillness, calm or the portrayal of silence, these are about my own search for these qualities in my life. The photograph isn’t a record of what the thing looked like. It’s a memory of what it felt like to stand there being fully present to the moment.

That’s a different job entirely to the one the industry keeps selling us: sharper, more pixels, more cinematic, more this, more that. Learning the craft matters, I’m not dismissing that. But somewhere along the way we started acting as though a photograph has to impress others before it’s allowed to be good enough for ourselves. I don’t believe that, and I don’t think you do either, not really.

Here’s the thing I keep coming back to. Nobody stands in front of the only photograph they have of someone they’ve lost and thinks about the sharpness, exposure or composition. They think about the person. The moment. The memory that’s somehow still alive inside two dimensions of the print.

That’s what a buyer is responding to at an exhibition, whether they could put words to it or not. They’re not appraising your technique. They’re checking whether the image reaches something in them, whether it sits close enough to a feeling they already carry. When it does, the imperfections don’t get in the way. Sometimes they’re the very thing that lets the feeling in.

And here’s the part I find genuinely fascinating. The thing that moves a buyer, is the very thing a photographer has been brainwashed into fixing. We chase sharper, cleaner, more controlled, while the person standing in front of the finished print is quietly drawn to whatever in it still feels human and alive. Perfectionism is poison for exactly this reason. It somehow erases the one thing a buyer actually wanted.

I think this is why print matters so much, and why I keep coming back to the physical object rather than the file on a screen. A photograph on Instagram is a passing thing, gone in the flick of a thumb. A print asks something more of both photographer and viewer. It asked something of me to make it, to sit with the image long enough to decide it deserved paper. And it asks something of the person who takes it home, because they’ve chosen to live alongside it, to let it become part of the furniture of their days.

So this is where I’ve landed. I make a photograph because something in front of me stirred an emotion, a feeling, a memory, and I trusted that feeling enough to receive it back in the form of a photograph. Someone else buys a photograph because, without necessarily knowing the story behind it, they feel something too. Not always the same feeling or story but their own version of it, built from their own memories, their own losses and emotions.

The print is where those two feelings meet. It isn’t priceless because it’s flawless. It’s priceless because it’s proof that a moment mattered to at least two people who will probably never really know each other’s reasons.

Next time you’re standing in front of a photograph you love, in a gallery, on a wall, in someone’s home, try asking yourself what it is you’re actually responding to. I’d put money on it not being the technical perfection.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

More Information and Booking

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

In Memoriam

Standing on the beach the other morning I noticed this small bouquet of flowers being battered by the onshore wind. When I see things like this it always makes me think about the people involved. To be honest I am never sure why I photograph these memorials to people I don’t know but often I am overwhelmed by sadness when I make the images. Is it a good picture? Not really but it does evoke some of the feelings I experienced that morning.

Hi,

Standing behind my tripod in Glen Coe, Scotland on a dull rainy November morning twelve years ago. I can still hear the rain on the hood of my waterproof, the light was depressing, flat, grey, everything looked like I felt, a bit miserable!

I had made the drive to Scotland from my home in the south east of England, a twelve-hour drive, costly overnight stay and no breakfast before leaving the hotel. Everything was wrong, the weather, the light, the water seeping through my boots, not a day for photography more a day for curling up with a good book and a glass of whisky in front of a roaring fire.

Let’s be honest now, it wasn’t the weather or light failing me, it was me failing to see different opportunities. I wanted, expected the light to do all the work for me.

All through my career as a photographer I have had to make the best out of bad situations, had to learn to adapt, overcome and make an image that counted, and yet when I was out in the landscape I blamed everything but myself.

If I had a pound for every time I have heard a photographer blame the light I would be a very rich man, it is the most often reached for excuse of all of us.

So let us reframe this light issue. There is no such thing as bad light! Light is just light, sunlight, harsh light, soft light, moonlight, starlight, candlelight, incandescent light, reflected light, transmitted light, every form of light gives a quality of its own that we as photographers can and could learn to work with.

Light is never to blame, we are for our lack of flexibility and openness.

Photography is about light yes, but it is more about connection, relationship, gesture, line, texture, expression.

All of these are available regardless of the light, often it just means that you have to be a little less blinkered in your approach to the subject.

What if none of these exist at the moment you arrive, no gesture, line, relationship, expression and no light? Then be patient, wait, breathe and give everything some space to breathe. The American photographer Minor White says “Be still with yourself until the object of your attention affirms your presence.”

Good light makes photography so much easier, dull, grey, flat light actually makes you a better photographer because it makes you do the work, forces you to see and connect in a different way, it stops you leaning on the light, and helps you learn to see, to explore and think differently about the way you photograph and what you photograph.

Next time the weather looks uninviting and the light looks like it’s coming through Tupperware go out anyway and look for the subjects that sing in that type of light, there is no need to force it, they are plentiful.

If you want inspiration have a look at the work of Ragnar Axelsson, a photographer who largely works with flat light, Michael Kenna too, these photographers allow the subject to do the talking not just the light.

Remember that photography is an experience, don’t spoil it for yourself by complaining about things that you can’t control.Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

More Information and Booking

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Left behind

Living by the beach has its foibles, the strangest of which is the amount of stuff the trippers leave behind! Honestly we could start a shop for people with no underwear, left shoes, right shoes, swim hats, goggles, sun and reading glasses. You would think a giant shark had attacked the beach and people fled for their lives but no, in the rush to get back to their accomodation they lose focus as kids demand ice cream, parents burnt pink with too much beer and sunshine seem confused by how much stuff they delivered to the beach that they simply overlook items that have strayed outside the beachcamp. Thankfully the early morning dog walkers collect all the items an pile them up in the hope they will be reclaimed or become a source of inspiration for a photographer

Hi,

Photographers are a peculiar tribe, always wanting to be unique but with a huge fear of missing out, then there’s the jealousy associated with seeing others success and the comparison that utterly destroys the enjoyment of the craft.

I’ve lived in a world where every image you create is compared and judged against the images made by others. As a news photographer, at every level from the Daventry Express where I started to the News Team agency, Manchester Evening News, Reuters and The Times, every image is judged by editors who are always searching for something better. I have also been the person searching for something better, putting pressure on my photographers as Picture Editor of The Times to do better, get closer, whatever it was that I was searching for that I had yet to find.

One of the things I have noticed most as a photographer is that we are essentially insecure creatives, we doubt ourselves first, last and always!

I have watched photographers virtually stand on top of one another to get a picture that one person saw, photographers crowd around subjects like flies often without thinking about their own point of view.

This is especially prevalent in workshops and photowalks, where one person will see something and then others will check out what it was they may have missed, eagerly shooting over the shoulders of those in front.

Don’t get me wrong, it is good to approach another photographer with curiosity to see what or why they are making photographs, to ask questions and look at their image.

However mindlessly making images because someone else has is a simple and fast route to disappointment in your own work.

In every group, every photographer is unconsciously being influenced by the other members, and it will often result in photographers not making images they were drawn to because they doubted their ability while everyone was crowding round another photographer’s idea.

Creativity takes concentration, it requires a sense of solitude where you can be with, and become engaged with your subject. Your eye and heart will be enchanted by something that only you can see or feel, when others are nearby it is easy to get distracted or to become doubtful of your vision.

I have always encouraged people to go their own way on my retreats, because I have watched it happen too many times. Someone photographs a scene simply because someone else raised a camera first. Nobody was copying on purpose, nobody would even have noticed themselves doing it, but another person’s attention was quietly becoming their own.

The healthy alternative is to create alone and edit or review together.

Create alone so you can follow your own curiosity without comparison, conversation or someone else’s direction pulling at your elbow. Then, once the pictures exist, meet with other photographers to edit, select and sequence the work.

That is when another eye becomes genuinely useful, not before.

Someone who wasn’t there when you made the image can see the attachments and the repetitions you can’t. They can tell you, kindly, which images you’re only keeping because you remember how it felt to make them, not because the image itself says anything. That isn’t a threat to your solitude. It’s what solitude earns you the right to hear afterwards.

For years as a news photographer, more experienced photographers would review my work, advise and guide me as to which images to choose and how to crop them. This is valuable and insightful because it is hard to detach yourself from your work, especially if you have had to battle to make the photographs.

Creation needs concentration. Editing benefits from a little confrontation. They are two different jobs, and asking one to do the work of the other rarely serves either well.

So here is what I’d invite you to try.

Next time you’re out with your camera, meet with a friend who shares your hobby. Go to your location together, then split up and work alone, even if it’s just for half an hour. Don’t check what they are photographing, don’t explain yourself to anyone, just follow whatever has caught your eye until it’s finished with you.

Then, once you’ve made something, meet up and share your work. Not for reassurance, not for praise, but for their honest, slightly detached eye, the one you can no longer bring to your own work.

Listen to what they say, be open to their opinion, don’t be defensive and certainly not aggressive or despondent. Use it as a learning curve.

Many photographers, myself included, get so attached to their work that they can’t see the wood for the trees. If you can view your own photographs with the same open-minded curiosity you bring to the subject itself, you will begin to notice the refinements needed: a subtle crop, gentle post processing, or even going back and trying again.

Being able to look at another person’s images and offer your thoughts will also give you greater confidence in your own judgement, of art in general and of your own work too.

Two different acts. Both necessary. Neither one a substitute for the other.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

More Information and Booking

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Incoming Tide

Fascinated by the rhythm of the waves as the tide made its way up the beach I answered so many of my own questions about being overwhelmed. I enjoy the simplicity of this image hugely, the composition doesn’t really fit any of the ‘rules’ The waves in the foreground seems to block access to the rest of the ocean, photographed just before the break. Many will think I should have used a longer lens to show more detail in the backlit spray but I am using just one lens at the moment so working with freedom and restriction. Below I explain my thoughts.

New Online workshop launched by popular request after the first one sold out very quickly.

More information and booking

Fifty Fifty: A year long creative challenge

Begins 9th September 2026 1830 - 1930 (UK Time)

Only 20 places available

Years ago when I started in photography every camera came with one lens; a humble 50mm standard lens. Nowadays, we are overwhelmed with choice, our bags laden with various lenses and filters, while zoom lenses have taken the place of the prime lens – loved for how easy they are. This has as many advantage as it has disadvantages, but has made us lazy and somewhat complacent.

I extend a challenge to you: to spend one year working with one lens, and nothing else to hide behind. Fifty Fifty is an online workshop built around a single question: what happens when the choice held within our camera bag is removed, and all that remains is the practice of seeing?

Book today

Hi,

There was a time when everything caught my attention but recently, as I mentioned in my Friday Live on Instagram last week, I have been struggling with overwhelm.

Everything is just getting on top of me, getting in the way and blocking my attention.

Has the world got less beautiful? Is the beauty of the world not speaking to me anymore?

For an artist this is a point where we think we have, or are failing, we have lost it, that ability to see beyond the ordinary and find the exquisite detail or play of light and shadow that most people are blind to.

When we get into this mindset it is easy to feel ordinary and that the world around us is vanilla.

It is not that we fail. It is that we stop feeling. We become a bit numb.

Why do we get overwhelmed and cease seeing? Mainly because of life’s impact on our day to day: maybe you are selling your house, have illness in your family, work pressures, have just finished a major project, kids leaving home, money worries, self-imposed competition, negative judgement, pressure from social media.

These and many more things affect the way we see and experience the world. It is only right that we feel overwhelmed or out of sorts about our work.

These days I think it is easy to reach a point of not feeling, of not being able to sense the things that inspire us in the same way.

I have to admit that I have been in this space for some time. It is in these times that the hard work is done.

Any creative practice requires perseverance, and, as they say, “when the going gets tough, the tough get going!”

But overwhelm is real and paralysing. It can feel suffocating and derail even the toughest of us into a state of non-action.

The challenge is to reset and reframe how we view the problem.

On Saturday I sat on the beach near home and watched the waves, breathing in the clean fresh air, the smell of seawater and seaweed filling my nostrils, the sound of the waves surrounding me, the softness of the sand beneath my feet and the tang of salt on my lips as I watched the waves of the incoming tide overwhelm the beach and rocks.

I realised that process happens twice a day, and every time the beach comes back and is revealed a little differently. Weak areas are exposed or washed away, strong areas show resilience, and treasure is to be found along the strand line. Each point of overwhelm teaches us something new about ourselves.

What we need to control is how we handle these situations, not letting them drive us into a negative spiral, a hamster wheel of discontent.

To take control, or bring control back to me, I have to really force myself to stop, breathe and receive. This is the mantra I use in most of my workshops and it really works for me, so I am gifting it to you.

The process is simple: do it once a day, every day, for a month.

Stop: allow yourself to sit or stand in place for at least half an hour, leave your phone alone, tune into the world around you, perhaps it is a coffee shop, a park or your garden. Give yourself permission to be quiet, still and just observe without pressure to create or make anything.

Breathe: yes, I mean actually breathe. Take a couple of slow, deep breaths to reset your nervous system, slow your heart and tell yourself that it is ok to stop and be still.

Receive: what do you see? What is being offered to you, what have you noticed? It might be the condensation on the cold drink in front of you, the curl of a leaf, the light and shadow of a doorway, an arrangement of cutlery on a café table, the movement of flowers in the breeze. Now that you have noticed and tuned into something, photograph it as it is. Don’t try anything fancy or try to make it into a viral sensation, just quietly and with respect allow yourself to make an image that shows what you noticed. Nothing else.

Don’t even think about sharing it online. In fact, it’s better that you don’t, because the comparison syndrome takes hold and the validation of the algorithm becomes the driving force rather than the quiet enjoyment of a moment.

Because it is not our creativity we are struggling with, nor our cameras. It is the noise of the world dominating our seeing, so that we are only aware of the noise and not the stillness we need to find the beauty of our imperfect world.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

More Information and Booking

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Fire Damage, Porthtowan

Four weeks ago The Beach Cafe at Porthtowan sadly caught fire, over the last few weeks I have been helping my friends who own the cafe with the clean up. It is really upsetting to see a place I visited everyday, wrote my book in, shared laughter and helped out during the busy summer holidays, be consumed by fire and left a blackened shell. But during the clean up I have noticed beautiful marks and patterns. This image is the smoke damage around what were the bottles of apple juice in a cabinet right next to the seat of the fire. There are more on my instagram feed

New Online workshop launched today.

More Information and booking

Fifty Fifty: A year long creative challenge

Begins 7th September 2026 1830 - 1930 (UK Time)

Only 20 places available

Years ago when I started in photography every camera came with one lens; a humble 50mm standard lens. Nowadays, we are overwhelmed with choice, our bags laden with various lenses and filters, while zoom lenses have taken the place of the prime lens – loved for how easy they are. This has as many advantage as it has disadvantages, but has made us lazy and somewhat complacent.

I extend a challenge to you: to spend one year working with one lens, and nothing else to hide behind. Fifty Fifty is an online workshop built around a single question: what happens when the choice held within our camera bag is removed, and all that remains is the practice of seeing?

More Information and booking

Hi,

As a news photographer the biggest and best change was the birth of digital photography. In 1996 I first used a digital camera at The Manchester Evening News, let’s just say the quality was dreadful and the exposure latitude was virtually zero. But within two years I was working for Reuters and we were fully digital using technology that wouldn’t be available to the mass market for at least a decade.

Digital revolutionised the industry and as someone who photographed a lot of sports, the joy of being able to photograph a greater proportion of a football match and sending the images pitchside via my laptop during the game (and straight out of the camera at major events) meant that I was usually home about 45 minutes after a match rather than two to three hours later.

The time difference was due to the processing of film and then having to scan and send images via either a Hasselblad or Leafax transmitters, if sending a colour image you had to send three colour separations (yellow, cyan and magenta) plus black on a Leafax each separation took around eight minutes to send - three pictures could take hours!

With the arrival of digital photography, overnight we gained hours more coverage and less time processing meaning photographers could be on top of the action and send more images from any event.

But what did we lose, not the news industry because that needs speed but us, the general photographers for whom speed is not of the essence?

Please don’t get me wrong I am not anti digital, I currently use a number of digital cameras and enjoy the convenience of them all. I also use film and enjoy that.

What I am asking is what have we lost as we rush into the image tsunami of the present day.

Many of us make images with the rapid fire of a machine gun, hosing down locations and subjects as if more is more. We would never have done this in the days of film where 36 frames was the most you had. This limit gave photographers an edge, every frame became intentional because it came with a cost. Now phrases like ‘spray and pray’ spring to mind as many photographers love the sound of the shutter mindlessly whirring - believe me modern shutters still don’t have the goosebump making sound of a Nikon F3 with its MD4 motor drive attached burning through a roll of film, but it was only three or four frames continuously, even during a major sports event.

Why only three or four frames? Because photographers anticipated the moment, they chose the decisive moment they needed and held their breath until the peak of the action, because we knew our stock was finite. But there was a second part of anticipation, there was the waiting until the film was developed. You were never quite sure, this built up excitement and some anxiety. Compared to nowadays where we look, judge and discard our images building disappointment and a lowering of self belief.

There is also the connection with the subject. With digital we are always checking (chimping it is called) looking at the back of the camera to check if you’ve managed to freeze the moment for posterity rather than paying attention to the subject through the lens. When I’m using my film cameras I am so much more engaged, I rarely remove my eye from the viewfinder, watching, waiting, reframing, fine tuning. There’s no screen to refer to so I have to believe in my choices and commit.

Let’s face it film wasn’t perfect but that was what made it more beautiful, it had flaws, grain, scratches, light leaks, processing errors. All of these added a sense of realness to the photograph, a feeling of the person behind the lens directing the choices and being responsible for some of the accidents. Learning to accept these imperfections made us more able to accept our own shortcomings and find joy in the imperfect beauty of the world.

Now we chase the perfection of flawless images, over sharp and hyperreal; add into that the number of AI tools available, photography is becoming quite faceless and less unique.

And finally my favourite, mindfulness, photography is about the photographer and subject becoming something special together for each other in a moment of total awareness, acceptance and free from judgement about whether you are good enough or will the image generate enough likes to make you an overnight sensation.

While photography has gained a lot, photographers have lost some of the magic that made photography special, in wanting everything now we are missing the version of ourselves that had patience, accepted flaws and understood that we only had a finite number of chances before we had to stop.

I am not calling for history or technology to stop, that horse has long since bolted, but what I am saying is that perhaps we can limit ourselves and adopt a more present approach by truly slowing down and not consuming our photography but allowing ourselves to be consumed by it. Being more attentive, slower and more intentional, photographing the same number of subjects with fewer frames and removing the need to show and share perfection when it, thankfully, does not exist.

Thank you for your time today

Paul

ps I had thought about not posting this until Tony Teague sent me this video by Gerald Joehri on the same theme. Here is the youtube video and it is well worth a watch.

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

More Information and Booking

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Car Park, Falmouth.

For me a bright sunny day and a car park are matches made in heaven. I enjoy graphic compositions, they’re definitely different to the work I make mostly. What I really enjoy is the change in seeing, adapting how I welcome images into my day depending on light, weather, time of day and equipment I am using. There will be those who would suggest cleaning the image up but for me the makes, scrapes and flaws in the white wall are part of the truth of the location.

Hi,

Last week I wrote about imposter syndrome, that annoying voice that tells you you’re not a good enough photographer, not yet, maybe not ever. I received a number of emails that expressed the same thing in different words: I don’t feel like I’m allowed to want good things for my work. I don’t feel like I’m allowed to expect it to go well.

This week I want to talk about the other side of that coin. Manifestation.

I know, I know. Paul has gone woo woo, I can hear your eyes rolling! Bear with me. The word comes loaded with vision boards, crystals, candles and people telling you to just “raise your vibration” and the universe will hand you a Nikon deal. That’s not what I mean, and it’s not something I ever believe in, not like that at least.

But there is something that looks a lot like manifestation once you strip the mysticism out of it, and I recently realised that I’ve been teaching a version of it in my newsletter, workshops and the book without ever calling it that.

Let me take you back to 1983. I was at school, I’d fallen in love with photography, and I decided that I wanted to be a photographer. I set my heart on it without the knowledge, the contacts or the skills to even begin. Decades later, here I still am working as a photographer.

When I started in news photography in 1991, I made a small list of things I wanted to achieve: front pages of the nationals, a staff job, and a slightly ridiculously over reaching shooting for the stars fantasy wish, becoming Picture Editor of The Times (be careful what you wish for - although I am grateful for what that role gave me).

I got all of it. I don’t think that was luck. I think it was attention, and commitment, and a lot of faith.

As a news photographer you learn quickly to pay attention to the story: the who, the what, the why you’re actually there. Get those details right and you nearly always come away with what the editors need. That was always how I worked, understand why you’re there, work around it, and the picture tends to follow. The days I went out without that understanding were, without fail, the days I fell flat on my face.

There’s an exercise in my book, Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers, where I ask you to sit quietly, settle on a feeling, and turn that feeling into a colour. Then you spend the day watching for that colour everywhere you go. In the book I chose red, but any colour works, even a very specific one.

Every time I’ve done this, the same thing happens, the colour turns up everywhere. Not because I’ve somehow willed it into existence, but because I’ve told my attention what to look for and attention, once you give it something to do, tends to get on with the job rather well.

That’s the whole trick of manifestation, as far as I can tell. It was never about wishing something into being. It’s about deciding, with intention, what you’re going to notice, and living with that decision long enough that your eye starts finding it everywhere.

I don’t think the photographers who always seem to get lucky, who always seem to be in the right place, are lucky at all. I think they’ve simply told their attention what matters to them, so consistently and for so long, that they can’t help but walk towards it.

As the first part is about attention the second part of this is about language. I’ve written about it before, because I think it matters more than people realise. We talk about photography aggressively. We shoot. We capture. We take pictures.

Go out to take something and you arrive tense, grasping a little, half braced for disappointment if the light isn’t quite perfect. Where as if you go out to receive something and you arrive open instead, not owed anything, but available for whatever might be offered.

That simple shift, from taking to receiving, changes the way you spend your time with a camera. A person who’s hunting sees less than a person who’s simply curious and waiting to be shown something. If manifestation means anything useful at all, I think it’s that: showing up often enough, openly enough, that you become the kind of person things arrive for.

None of this works as a one-off, though.

Julia Cameron, whose book The Artist’s Way has shaped a lot of my own practice over the years, talks about morning pages, a few handwritten pages of whatever’s rattling around your head, done first thing, every single day, no editing, no audience. The point isn’t really the writing. The point is showing up for yourself before the rest of the world gets a chance to steal your attention.

That’s manifestation too, and it’s a far less glamorous version of it than a vision board. It’s a small, unremarkable, repeated act of turning up for your own creativity before anyone’s asked you to. Do it for long enough and belief tends to follow. It isn’t that you’ve talked yourself into anything, it’s that you’ve built up a track record with yourself that you actually trust.

So here’s my challenge to you this week, and it’s meant to be fun, not homework.

Pick a single word for what you want more of in your photography right now. Not a subject, a quality: stillness, courage, softness, connection, authenticity, joy, whatever’s true for you.

Every day this week, before you pick up your camera, write one line by hand about being open to finding that quality today. Don’t plan the photograph, just be open and fully attentive as you go through the day. Be prepared to receive it in unexpected places.

At the end of the week, have a look back at what you’ve made. I’d put money on there being more of that quality in your pictures than there’s been in weeks, and I don’t think it will feel like luck. I think it’ll feel like something you built, one small act of attention at a time.

Thank you for your time today

Paul

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

More Information and Booking

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Northam Burrows, Shadows.

I do love Pebble Ridge at Northam Burrows in Devon, it is one of that places that at first seems to offer very little to photographers but as you absorb the landscape and it does the same to you some incredible opportunities appear. These shadows fascinated me, the way the roll across the pebbles giving the impression of a change of surface shape. I made so many image of shadows - once you start looking at shadows you can’t stop seeing them and finding compositions within them.

Hi,

Last weekend I took part in a workshop with the artist Tansy Lee Moir, it was a charcoal drawing workshop, outside of my comfort zone, and I was somewhat insecure about my abilities compared to others there. The way charcoal meets the paper is unfamiliar to a photographer, the material in my hands doesn’t quite fit like my camera does, and I asked lots of questions of myself, often wondering why I’d attended. During the session a lady sat next to me and we chatted about how we both felt like imposters, she said she had arrived already convinced she was not good enough, I recognised that voice from the narrative in my head.

I find doing these workshops where I participate rather than lead a valuable experience, especially when it involves something as unfamiliar as charcoal. It puts me back on the other side of the room, reminds me what it feels like to be a nervous attendee, and I think that’s worth doing every so often, challenging yourself to be the beginner instead of the leader.

I’d like to share something that I still haven’t outgrown?

Before every workshop there it is. That small, familiar voice asking who exactly I think I am to be teaching anyone anything. It was there before my last retreat. It was there before a talk I gave earlier this year. If I’m honest with you, it has never fully gone away, and I’ve stopped waiting for the day it will.

If you feel this too, I want you to know you’re not on your own with it, and you’re certainly not doing something wrong.

I’ve been carrying some version of this feeling for most of my working life. It was there when I walked into the Manchester Evening News as a young picture editor, sat next to people who’d been doing the job for decades. It was there again at Reuters, surrounded by photographers who’d covered wars and elections while I was still finding my feet. And it followed me into The Times, into a job where I was leading a team of vastly experienced picture editors and photographers, where I spent a lot of my time quietly convinced that someone was about to work out I didn’t belong there.

Nobody ever did work it out. Not because I hid it well, but because I’ve since learned that most of the room was feeling some version of the same thing. Perhaps that’s true for you too?

I used to treat imposter syndrome as a fault, something to correct or outgrow before I was allowed to call myself legitimate. I’d like to offer you a gentler way of holding it, because it’s the one that has actually helped me.

What if the feeling isn’t proof that you don’t belong, but proof that you’ve stepped somewhere that matters to you?

Think about it. You don’t feel like an imposter doing the things you don’t care about. Nobody lies awake worrying they weren’t convincing enough loading the dishwasher, feeding the cat, making a cup of tea. The feeling only shows up when you’ve put something real on the line: your work, your voice, your name on a print, your hand up to teach something you love. So if it’s visiting you right now, over a camera, a portfolio, a workshop you’re nervous about leading, I’d invite you to consider that it might be there because you care, not because you’ve failed.

I know that doesn’t make it comfortable. I won’t pretend it does. But I hope it might make it feel a little less like an enemy.

I’ve learned, mostly by accident, to let this feeling do some good instead of trying to silence it.

Before I teach now, I let that nervous, vulnerable feeling remind me to prepare properly, to think again about what the people in front of me actually need, rather than what would make me look most in control. Redirected, the imposter feeling becomes attentiveness. It becomes humility, and in my experience that has always served people better than false authority ever could.

I meet so many photographers and artists who quietly carry some version of this. They don’t feel good enough to call their work art, to enter it anywhere, to charge for a print, to say out loud that they are a photographer at all. If that’s you, I’d gently ask you to notice something: the not good enough feeling and the caring deeply about getting it right are very often the same feeling, just wearing different clothes. It’s hard to have one without the other.

So next time the feeling arrives, rather than asking how do I get rid of this, try asking yourself what is it asking of me. Sometimes it’s asking you to slow down and look again at an image before you dismiss it. More often it’s asking you to be honest with yourself about why you’re making pictures. It is rarely, ever, actually asking you to give up and walk away.

Next time you feel unworthy, camera in hand or standing in front of people, would you try this with me? Don’t argue with the feeling. Just ask it, quietly, what it wants you to pay attention to. Then go and pay attention to that thing, properly, and let the rest of the noise fall away.

I can’t offer you a cure. I don’t think there is one, and I’m not sure I’d want one, because it would probably mean I’d stopped caring about the work. But I can offer you company, and the possibility of living alongside this feeling rather than being ruled by it. That, more than confidence, is what has carried me into every room I’ve ever walked into feeling like I didn’t belong.

You belong there too. The feeling that tells you otherwise is only evidence of how much it matters to you.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

More Information and Booking

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

Take a breath. Feel your body grounded, and let your gaze wander.

Join me for a unique, one-day immersive retreat within the sub-tropical soul of Trebah. This experience is a bridge between the wild, architectural beauty of the gardens and the quiet, grounding joy of creating a handmade book from the photographs you will make

There is a quiet magic that occurs in September. It is a time when the frantic energy of summer starts to fade, and the earth begins its gentle, necessary exhale. Here in Cornwall, as the air grows cooler, Trebah Garden undergoes a breathtaking transformation. Widely cherished as a sub-tropical paradise with a stunning coastal backdrop, this twenty-six acre valley garden offers a deeply immersive experience as the seasons shift. The dramatic canopies of exotic blooms give way to a rich tapestry of amber, rust, and gold. In Hydrangea Valley, late blooms cast clouds of china blue and soft white across Mallard Pond, while the spectacular champion trees begin to dominate the landscape.

We live in a world where we have become slaves to screens and timelines, constantly chasing the next thing. Mindful photography invites us to break free. It whispers, "Stop. Look. Feel." It is a space free of judgment, open to photographers of all abilities, whether you carry a camera bag full of specialized gear or simply an iPhone in your pocket. This day is not about technical perfection or rules; it is about your personal connection to the world around you.

Nature does not rush its transition; it transitions softly, inviting us to do the same.

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Summer breeze, sitting in my parents home I was fascinated by the casual movement of the curtains in the gentle breeze on a very hot Saturday afternoon. There’s no striving on a hot day, everything feels still, waiting, almost holding its breath, until that soft breeze makes the curtains dance revealing a moment of movement within the heavy stillness.

Hi,

Stop Performing. Start Seeing.

I spent years photographing for people I never met.

As a news photographer I made images for picture editors, art directors and for the public, always photographing in the hope that my pictures would land, be accepted, approved of and liked, long before social media likes became a driving force.

Even as a Picture Editor I was a human filter. Twenty thousand images a day passing under my eyes, and every single one of them made with the same silent question behind it: will this land? Will this get picked? Will an audience I will never see, never speak to, never know a single thing about, decide that this image is worth its attention?

That question doesn’t stay at work. It comes home with you. It gets into how you see. Eventually it gets into how you live.

That’s the thing nobody warns you about with performing for an audience, any audience, whether it’s a newsroom, a grid, or a set of followers you’ll never sit down with for a cup of tea. You start editing yourself before you’ve even had the thought. You start reaching for the shot that will land rather than receiving the one that’s true.

That’s not creativity. That’s performance. And performance burns you out in a way that making things never does.

I see it constantly in photography now, from the other side of the camera. People arriving at a location not to look at it, but to produce the version of it that will do well. Editing the life out of an image until it’s polished enough to post and honest enough to feel like nothing at all.

It’s exhausting to watch. I know first hand how exhausting it is to live like that.

Here’s what I’ve come to believe, slowly, the hard way: the most useful thing you can do with a camera is stop manufacturing an image and start receiving one.

Light doesn’t perform for anyone. It just arrives. It falls on the puddle whether or not you’re there to see it, moves across the field in its own time, indifferent to whether you had your camera ready.

Notice the words we reach for without thinking. We talk about taking a photograph, shooting a scene, capturing a moment, and the language gives the whole culture away. Taking implies something has to be grasped before it slips away. Shooting borrows its aim from a gun. Capturing assumes the world was trying to escape you. None of that is true. Nothing out there is running. Nothing needs to be seized.

It only needs to be received.

Receiving is quieter than any of that. It’s standing still long enough for the light to find you, for a face to be exactly as tired or as open as it actually is in that second, for a puddle to hold whatever pattern it happens to be holding without you correcting it. Accepting what is, and simply holding your camera up to meet it, is a spiritual act before it’s a creative one.

Breath slowing to match the pace of the light changing. The body remembering it’s allowed to just watch. The moment you stop asking “will this do well?” and start asking “does this feel like I felt?”, you come back into yourself and the world at the same time, because they were never really separate. You’re in quiet conversation with the light instead, with whatever is real enough to be standing in front of you.

That’s the difference between photography that empties you out and photography that fills you back up.

This is why stillness matters more than speed. A curtain doesn’t move for you on command. It moves when the room decides to breathe, when a window is cracked open on a hot day and the air finds its own way in, catching the fabric and letting it go again in its own time. You cannot rush that. You can only wait for it, patient enough to be there for the moment it happens. That patience, that willingness to simply stay without hurrying the world along, is the whole of photography for me now.

It’s the whole of what I’m exploring this summer too, in The Summer of Stillness, the online workshop I’m currently running. Not a course in technique, but in patience. In learning to wait for a room, a breeze, a moment, rather than forcing one into being.

I think a lot of us are quietly exhausted by the same thing, whatever our version of the “grid” is. Told to show up, to perform relatability, to manufacture warmth or wisdom or wonder on schedule, for onlookers who are, in the end, mostly imagined. You cannot sustain a life built around people you don’t actually know. You end up designing yourself for watchers who were never really watching that closely in the first place.

So here’s the invitation, to you and honestly to myself as much as anyone. Put the camera up not to prove something, but to receive something. Let the light find you before you go chasing it. Let the image be unfinished, unpolished, unperformed, true to what actually passed in front of you rather than what you think will get picked.

You’ll be amazed how much lighter that is to carry.

Because in the end, the picture is never for the strangers you’ll never meet. It is always for you.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

More Information and Booking

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

Take a breath. Feel your body grounded, and let your gaze wander.

Join me for a unique, one-day immersive retreat within the sub-tropical soul of Trebah. This experience is a bridge between the wild, architectural beauty of the gardens and the quiet, grounding joy of creating a handmade book from the photographs you will make

There is a quiet magic that occurs in September. It is a time when the frantic energy of summer starts to fade, and the earth begins its gentle, necessary exhale. Here in Cornwall, as the air grows cooler, Trebah Garden undergoes a breathtaking transformation. Widely cherished as a sub-tropical paradise with a stunning coastal backdrop, this twenty-six acre valley garden offers a deeply immersive experience as the seasons shift. The dramatic canopies of exotic blooms give way to a rich tapestry of amber, rust, and gold. In Hydrangea Valley, late blooms cast clouds of china blue and soft white across Mallard Pond, while the spectacular champion trees begin to dominate the landscape.

We live in a world where we have become slaves to screens and timelines, constantly chasing the next thing. Mindful photography invites us to break free. It whispers, "Stop. Look. Feel." It is a space free of judgment, open to photographers of all abilities, whether you carry a camera bag full of specialized gear or simply an iPhone in your pocket. This day is not about technical perfection or rules; it is about your personal connection to the world around you.

Nature does not rush its transition; it transitions softly, inviting us to do the same.

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Poppies. These poppies came out of their wrapping like this, I love how tangled up they are, permanently joined because of the way they have grown together.

Hi,

I hope you are well?

I need to tell you something about my Fragile Beauty series, though it isn’t easy to say.

There’s a particular kind of morning I used to find things would literally call to me. Cool light, everything still slightly wet, the world waking up before anyone else was moving. I’d be drawn to a flower already past its best, petals starting to curl or drop, and something in me would recognise it before my mind had caught up. That flower was me. Fragile, worn round the edges, still somehow holding its shape. Making those pictures never felt like a decision so much as a reaching for something, the way you reach for a lifeline rather than plan one.

These days a flower like that still stops me most mornings I go out. The light I use is familiar now, the ones that will call to me are easy to spot, and the finished image forms in my mind long before the camera has even come up. All of that should sound like getting better at something. Some days, it just feels like a formula.

When a subject once mirrored a wound, and the wound begins to heal, it makes sense that the subject would speak more quietly too. The same can be said of any feeling or time, it doesn’t have to be a wound. That isn’t failure, whatever it might feel like at the time. It’s closer to healing simply doing what healing does, quietly and without asking permission.

The trouble comes when the work carries on regardless, because by then the hands know exactly what will land well. Something good gets made without ever quite being felt, and it’s in that narrow gap, between what looks right and what actually feels true, that the emptiness tends to arrive. There’s a different question worth asking for exactly this reason: not is it good enough, but does it feel like I felt, is it authentically me. When the first question answers itself easily and the second one goes quiet, that’s usually the sign worth paying attention to.

Nothing has actually been lost. The image has simply stopped being asked to mean something new.

So if any of this sounds like your own version of Fragile Beauty, take it as an invitation rather than a warning. There’s nothing wrong in it. It’s simply a small act of reconnection waiting to happen, not a crisis of confidence.

Some of you are further along this same road, not sitting with a flat feeling while still working, but somewhere quieter than that, because the camera itself has gone still for a while. If that’s you, there’s something worth hearing before anything else: that quiet hasn’t undone a single thing. Whatever photography once gave you is still yours, resting rather than lost, in much the same way you might be.

Falling out of step with something that once held you rarely has much to do with the something itself. More often it’s a sign that life has moved on, and you’ve moved with it, so the old way in simply doesn’t fit the shape you’ve become. That’s worth treating as information to help you rather than a verdict on your ability.

There’s no timeline for finding your way back, and no reason required as large as the one that first brought you to it. Come back quietly, for no grand purpose at all, exactly when it feels right, and it needn’t start with a camera in hand.

None of what follows needs to fix anything, because this doesn’t feel like something wanting fixing, only noticing, and slowly being let back in. Some of these paths involve a camera and some don’t, since the feeling underneath all of this was never really about photography alone.

It helps to start with why rather than what: not what to photograph next, but why any of this ever mattered in the first place. That question tends to carry you further back than any new subject could.

A notebook can do some of the noticing before a camera gets involved again. A line or two about a colour, a feeling, a moment of light is often enough, and words have a way of returning before pictures do. There’s no wrong order to any of this.

Stillness helps too, quite literally. A few minutes sitting somewhere familiar with no aim of making anything, or a walk without a destination, can be enough to remember what it feels like simply to be present, which is really what this has always been about underneath. I like to sit with my eyes closed, removing the visual sense often allows us to follow a sound or smell that might open our curiosity to something.

Sometimes the way back runs through an entirely different creative door: a little poetry, read or badly written, some drawing, finger painting, dancing round the kitchen to something loud, or humming while the washing up gets done. None of it needs to be good, and none of it is a detour. It’s the same root, sending up a different shoot for a while. You are just learning to let go, to enjoy being and beginner again.

If the camera is still in hand but the feeling has flattened, changing one small thing rather than everything tends to help: Use only one lens - your least favourite, different light, an unfamiliar corner of the garden, a flower usually walked past. Perhaps take a workshop in a genre that scares you a little. The aim isn’t to reinvent the work, only to surprise yourself slightly, which is often enough.

And if the camera has been resting a good while, let it simply come along, the way a coat comes along just in case. There’s no obligation to make a single frame. Being near the thing again is sometimes enough on its own.

Whatever door feels right, it helps to say it out loud to someone. Naming a feeling like this takes some of its weight away, and it is far more ordinary than the quiet tends to let us believe.

Fragile Beauty hasn’t stopped meaning something to me. It’s simply asking to be met differently now than it was twelve years ago, because the person who first picked up that camera out of desperation isn’t quite who’s holding it today. Somewhere along the way there’s been a shift from watching a life to living inside it, and this change in the work feels like part of that same movement.

If things have gone quiet for you too, however long that’s been, there’s nothing in that worth worrying over. It probably just means growth has happened somewhere and your work hasn’t quite caught up yet.

There’s no rush to force the old feeling back. The invitation is only to stay curious about what this practice, or whichever creative practice calls to you, might want to say now, as you are today.

I’d love to hear where you are with it, whatever that looks like.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Post Script

I just wanted to share one more thing with you. Yesterday, I was sent an email by Dorothee Out following the end of my Humble Eye online workshop. Dorothee was given a beautiful picture book by the Dutch author and artist Octavie Wolters. The book is about a starling who loves nature so much that he sings a song about it. He asks every bird in the forest what they love most. The robin tells him something that immediately made her think of wabi sabi: "Don't forget to sing about the beauty of a withering flower, says the robin. When its petals turn to paper and you can hear their voices crackling in the wind. They say: everything passes, but that's all right, because something new will come again."

I thought was a very beautiful part of the story to share with you all because as photographers we often look for the perfect when in truth the imperfect, broken and withered has a richer story to tell.

I also thought it fitted in very well with what I wanted to offer today.

There is an English version of the book available here

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

More Information and Booking

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

Take a breath. Feel your body grounded, and let your gaze wander.

Join me for a unique, one-day immersive retreat within the sub-tropical soul of Trebah. This experience is a bridge between the wild, architectural beauty of the gardens and the quiet, grounding joy of creating a handmade book from the photographs you will make

There is a quiet magic that occurs in September. It is a time when the frantic energy of summer starts to fade, and the earth begins its gentle, necessary exhale. Here in Cornwall, as the air grows cooler, Trebah Garden undergoes a breathtaking transformation. Widely cherished as a sub-tropical paradise with a stunning coastal backdrop, this twenty-six acre valley garden offers a deeply immersive experience as the seasons shift. The dramatic canopies of exotic blooms give way to a rich tapestry of amber, rust, and gold. In Hydrangea Valley, late blooms cast clouds of china blue and soft white across Mallard Pond, while the spectacular champion trees begin to dominate the landscape.

We live in a world where we have become slaves to screens and timelines, constantly chasing the next thing. Mindful photography invites us to break free. It whispers, "Stop. Look. Feel." It is a space free of judgment, open to photographers of all abilities, whether you carry a camera bag full of specialized gear or simply an iPhone in your pocket. This day is not about technical perfection or rules; it is about your personal connection to the world around you.

Nature does not rush its transition; it transitions softly, inviting us to do the same.

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Yellow Poppies. I noticed these beautiful flowers while sitting quietly in the morning with my tea, listening to the birds. I love how they are pushing through despite the barriers in their way.

Hi,

I hope you are well?

I want to suggest something for this weekend that will take about twenty minutes and cost you nothing.

Go to your phone. Not to Instagram, not to TikTok, not to wherever it is you find yourself scrolling when the evening gets quiet and the comparisons start. Go instead to your camera roll, and scroll back twelve months.

Don’t curate. Don’t edit. Don’t stop to wonder whether anything is good enough to share. Just look.

I’ve been thinking about the difference between those two kinds of scrolling recently. One takes you outward, into other people’s carefully arranged lives, their best light, their most considered moments. The further in you go, the smaller you feel. You know this feeling. We all do. You put the phone down vaguely dissatisfied, not quite sure what you were looking for but certain you didn’t find it.

The other kind takes you inward. And what you find there is something the algorithm will never show you: evidence of your own attention.

Because here’s what I’ve noticed about camera rolls. They are not the photographs we planned to make. They are the photographs we couldn’t help making. The slightly blurred picture of light coming through a kitchen window on an ordinary Tuesday. The shadow on a pavement that stopped you mid-stride. Your dog asleep in a particular way. A mug of tea going cold. A tree you pass every day that suddenly looked different.

These poppies, pushing through a gap in the wooden steps outside my friend’s home. I nearly stepped over them.

Nobody told you to make those. Nobody liked them. Nobody even saw them. And yet something in you reached for the camera anyway.

That is your eye. That is what you actually notice when no one is watching and nothing is at stake. It is one of the most honest things about you.

Scroll back through twelve months and ask yourself a few quiet questions. What kept catching your attention? Colour, or the absence of it? People, or the spaces between them? The grand and dramatic, or the small and overlooked? Are there patterns you didn’t know were there? Subjects you returned to without realising?

You might find that your camera roll tells a story about your year that no diary could. Not the events, but the texture of how you moved through them. What stilled your attention on a difficult day. What made you stop when everything else was rushing past.

This is not about finding hidden masterpieces. It is about something quieter and more useful: recognising what you are already drawn to, before the noise of other people’s work gets in the way.

The comparison trap of social media is a closed loop. You look at work made by people whose highlights you are seeing, compare it to your own ordinary moments, and find yourself wanting. It is not an honest comparison. It never was.

Your camera roll is the honest version. It is unedited, unperformed and entirely yours. And somewhere in those twelve months of unguarded looking, there is the clearest picture of what kind of photographer you actually are.

That is worth twenty minutes of anyone’s weekend.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

A Postscript: Blue Beetle

A week or so ago I received an email from Richard Gardner, who had read my piece on the beauty of colour in black and white. He had a question that I’ve been thinking about ever since.

He had seen a blue VW Beetle parked outside a house framed by palm trees, the kind of scene that stops you mid-stride. He wanted to call the image Blue Beetle. But he was wrestling with something: if the colour is the whole point, does the image still work without it?

It’s a genuinely good question, and I think the answer tells us something important.

Look at the colour image first. That blue is extraordinary. Vivid, unexpected, slightly surreal against the weathered driveway and the wild palm fronds. The colour does real work here. It gives the Beetle a personality, a presence. You understand immediately why Richard felt compelled to respond to it.

Now look at what happens in monochrome.

This is where it gets interesting. Processing a black and white image through different colour filters changes how each tone in the original scene is rendered. A blue filter lightens blues and deepens reds and yellows. A red filter does the opposite, darkening blues and making them feel heavier, more brooding. A neutral filter sits between the two, rendering tones closer to how our eye perceives them in grey.

In the version processed with a blue filter, the Beetle becomes almost luminous, light and airy against the darker foliage. In the red filter version it darkens considerably, sitting more solidly in the frame, more mysterious. Both are valid. Both are different images, with different feelings, from the same moment.

And here is the thing about the title. Blue Beetle in black and white is not a contradiction. It is an invitation. The viewer knows from the title that colour existed here. Its absence becomes part of the meaning. You are asked to imagine it, to feel its loss or its memory. That is a more active relationship with an image than simply seeing the colour as given.

For me, the power of a black and white image with colour in the title lies precisely in that tension. The colour lives in the mind rather than on the page, and that can be more affecting than showing it directly.

So to answer Richard’s question: make it in colour and in black and white. See what each version asks of you. The colour image is joyful and immediate. The monochrome versions are quieter, more contemplative, and depending on how you process them, carry entirely different emotional weights.

Neither is wrong. Both are true. That’s rather the point.

For me, I will always lean to the black and white though.

To see more of Richard’s work his website has some compelling images.

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

More Information and Booking

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

Take a breath. Feel your body grounded, and let your gaze wander.

Join me for a unique, one-day immersive retreat within the sub-tropical soul of Trebah. This experience is a bridge between the wild, architectural beauty of the gardens and the quiet, grounding joy of creating a handmade book from the photographs you will make

There is a quiet magic that occurs in September. It is a time when the frantic energy of summer starts to fade, and the earth begins its gentle, necessary exhale. Here in Cornwall, as the air grows cooler, Trebah Garden undergoes a breathtaking transformation. Widely cherished as a sub-tropical paradise with a stunning coastal backdrop, this twenty-six acre valley garden offers a deeply immersive experience as the seasons shift. The dramatic canopies of exotic blooms give way to a rich tapestry of amber, rust, and gold. In Hydrangea Valley, late blooms cast clouds of china blue and soft white across Mallard Pond, while the spectacular champion trees begin to dominate the landscape.

We live in a world where we have become slaves to screens and timelines, constantly chasing the next thing. Mindful photography invites us to break free. It whispers, "Stop. Look. Feel." It is a space free of judgment, open to photographers of all abilities, whether you carry a camera bag full of specialized gear or simply an iPhone in your pocket. This day is not about technical perfection or rules; it is about your personal connection to the world around you.

Nature does not rush its transition; it transitions softly, inviting us to do the same.

A Small Assignment:

Spend time looking through your phone photo roll and see what really catches your eye when you’re not overthinking your photography.

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Olive Tree, Kefalonia, when I looked at this tree I fell in love with that little curve bottom left, that is the key to this image, one curve, then the texture. But then you notice the repetition of the curve at the top of the tree just before the leaves and suddenly I saw magic. I just found it so pleasing and that is enough.

Hi,

I hope you are well?

I want to ask something of you this week, something that might feel slightly uncomfortable.

A photograph that nobody will ever see. Not your partner, not your camera club, not your Instagram followers. Not even me. Made entirely and only for you.

No hashtags. No sharing. No quiet hope that someone might notice it.

Just you, a camera, and whatever it is that catches your eye when nobody’s watching.

I’m aware of the irony of publishing this.

Here’s what I’ve noticed. The images I’m most proud of, the ones that feel most true, are almost never the ones that performed well. They’re the ones I nearly didn’t share because I wasn’t sure anyone else would understand them. The image of a dying flower made in a small flat when I was at my lowest. A piece of rusted fence caught in winter light on Iona that said something to me I couldn’t put into words. A shadow on a wall that lasted about four seconds before the sun moved.

None of those images were made for anyone. They were made because something in me needed to make them.

That’s the kind of photograph I want you to make this week.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. I spend a good deal of my time encouraging people to let go of perfectionism, to stop seeking approval, to photograph what they feel rather than what they think will be admired. And I believe every word of it.

But I’ll be honest with you, even now, even after everything that has changed in how I see and why I make pictures, there is still a moment when I’m composing an image where a small voice says: would this work on Instagram? I don’t always listen to it, but it’s there. I suspect it’s there for most of us.

That voice is not entirely our fault. I’ve watched it happen to me gradually, without noticing. The metrics are always visible, always running. After a while we begin to compose for them. We reach for the light we know performs well. We return to the subjects our followers have responded to before. We self-edit before we’ve even pressed the shutter.

And slowly, quietly, we stop making the photographs only we could make.

Go somewhere familiar or somewhere new -it doesn’t matter. Take your camera, or your phone, or whatever you reach for when the impulse strikes. And make one photograph, just one, that you will never show to another living soul.

Let that intention change how you look. Notice what happens when the audience disappears. What would you photograph if the only measure of success was whether you felt something?

You might surprise yourself. You might make something tentative and odd and unlike anything in your usual body of work. You might make something quietly perfect. You might make something that doesn’t work at all.

All of that is fine. All of that is the point.

The photograph nobody will ever see might be the most honest thing you’ve made in years. And that honesty, that private, unwitnessed act of really looking is what everything else grows from.

Keep it. Don’t delete it. Just don’t show it.

That’s enough.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Trebah Garden One Day Workshops

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away.

More Information and Booking

An Invitation to Pause: Autumn, Stillness and the Art of Making.

September 30th 2026 0930 - 1700

Take a breath. Feel your body grounded, and let your gaze wander.

Join me for a unique, one-day immersive retreat within the sub-tropical soul of Trebah. This experience is a bridge between the wild, architectural beauty of the gardens and the quiet, grounding joy of creating a handmade book from the photographs you will make

There is a quiet magic that occurs in September. It is a time when the frantic energy of summer starts to fade, and the earth begins its gentle, necessary exhale. Here in Cornwall, as the air grows cooler, Trebah Garden undergoes a breathtaking transformation. Widely cherished as a sub-tropical paradise with a stunning coastal backdrop, this twenty-six acre valley garden offers a deeply immersive experience as the seasons shift. The dramatic canopies of exotic blooms give way to a rich tapestry of amber, rust, and gold. In Hydrangea Valley, late blooms cast clouds of china blue and soft white across Mallard Pond, while the spectacular champion trees begin to dominate the landscape.

We live in a world where we have become slaves to screens and timelines, constantly chasing the next thing. Mindful photography invites us to break free. It whispers, "Stop. Look. Feel." It is a space free of judgment, open to photographers of all abilities, whether you carry a camera bag full of specialized gear or simply an iPhone in your pocket. This day is not about technical perfection or rules; it is about your personal connection to the world around you.

Nature does not rush its transition; it transitions softly, inviting us to do the same.

A Small Assignment:

Make the photograph I mention in the main piece of writing, a photograph that you will not share with anyone, print it out (small 5x7 inches) and then fold a piece a piece of paper over the print so that only you can see it. Look at it when you need reminding to be honest.

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Trebah Gardens, there is something about Gunnera that excites the child inside me especially at Trebah’s gunnera walk, these giant plants form a tunnel over the path, the light glows green and I expect to see a dinosaur making its way through the magnificent plants - yes I know they are invasive and can’t be grown or moved here anymore, but I still love them.

Hi,

I hope you are well?

Last week I had the pleasure of leading a one day workshop at Trebah Gardens with a wonderful group, it was during the morning that I felt so elated to be completely in the present moment.

I found myself in a tunnel of giant Gunnera, the leaves making a secret world, rich with a green glow, the smell of damp vegetation, the spiky rough texture of the leaves and stems catching on my skin as I pushed past the enormous stems and nodding to others who, like me, had gone quiet as we looked up at the cathedral-like scale of these majestic dinosaurs of plants. I had fun making a few iphone images while talking to a couple of my clients in a whisper for fear of disturbing the stillness within the plantation.

I wasn’t always this connected to my photography, I didn’t see clearly. I lived a life defined by images, looking at 20,000 images a day as Picture Editor of The Times but felt numb about the majority of what I saw, I became unmoved by so much. There were many things dulling my vision as the volume of my job drowned out how I really felt about life. If I look back at the images I made at that time they are as if I were working on mute, there’s nothing that speaks, no soul.

I had been so consumed with consuming, I strived to convince myself that I was unworthy and unlovable. I put more energy into self destruction than anything else and at a point, I nearly lost everything.

Fortunately one person held their hand out to help, that person was my mum, I am grateful to her everyday for how she helped when I hit rock bottom.

There’s an image I made at that turning point of my life, it asks for forgiveness, understanding and compassion, it is an image made of love, about love and also from a place of love, it’s an image I made when I became sober.

Recently though I now see how blinded I was — and how the camera, a constant throughout all of it, kept asking me to be present. So, in its own way, has my faith.

In the past I would ask is it good enough? Now I ask does it feel true? I used to move through places. Now I stop in them.

I used to look for the dramatic and the grand. Now I find the lichen on a fence post more interesting than the mountain behind it.

I used to make images for approval — editors, audiences, competitions. Now I make them for a few moments of stillness with a subject, that’s enough.

Imperfection stopped being a failure and became the signal that something real happened.

Tomorrow I'm going back to Trebah with my camera. Not to take photographs. To receive them — from a place I now know how to be still in. I couldn't have said that ten years ago. I can say it now.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Online workshops

The two offerings of online workshops are now fully subscribed. I have had a lot of messages about people missing out - I am sorry that I can’t run a third version, but I just don’t have enough time sadly. The next round of workshops will be released in late August for the autumn series, detail will be on my newsletter - but if you want to join be quick when you see the newsletter.

A Small Assignment:

This week’s assignment is Incomplete, can you find something that is incomplete or broken and find the beauty within it?

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

Back in Stock

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Menagissy, I find the gates and fences on my walks with Luna, our black labrador, fascinating - mind you so does she with her nose pushing through the undergrowth and her tail wagging. I enjoy the time, usually early morning when the birds are in full voice and there is a stillness in the air that feeds my soul.

The Stillness of Summer online workshop

I have launched a new online workshop for the summer called ‘The Stillness of Summer’ It will be on my website by the end of the week.

The first intake sold in under 24 hours, as a result I have decided to offer a second intake of just 20 participants.

The course will be running fortnightly from 8 July - 17 September

The Stillness of Summer is an online photography workshop designed to help you find the quiet pulse of the season. Running from the high heat of July through to the softening light of September, this journey is a sanctuary. Whether you have practised with me before, have my book Still on your bedside table, or are picking up a camera for the very first time, you are welcome here.

Together, we will explore the concept of stillness in the midst of the heat, learning to lean into the shifting moods of the season. We will find that summer is not just one long, bright day, but a collection of subtle atmospheres. There is a specific quietude in the heavy, humid air before a storm, a sense of deep relief in the scent of rain on parched pavement, and a gentle invitation in the cool, dew-heavy mists of an early August morning. Each shift in weather invites a shift in how we feel, and how we see.

More information

Hi,

I hope you are well?

Over the last week or so I have opened my studio doors to the general public as part of Cornwall Open Studios. It is a wonderful time for conversation and questions, I enjoy these moments hugely.

One of the quirky things about showing and sharing work is the way people look at and appreciate the images I share.

Over the last week I have some incredible support and also some very bizarre comments; ‘Only Black and white, how odd?’ , ‘Your work is quite depressing’, ‘Do you really make a living doing this?’, ‘It’s only photography, not important, don’t bother’ ‘Is it AI?’ and so many more.

Years ago I would have taken these to heart and hung on to them over the all the wonderful things have said, these little negative moments would have overshadowed the many sales I have made too.

But now my mindset is different, and perhaps my confidence too, although I was in a state of high anxiety before I opened for the first day. Yes I still get anxious and nervous, yes I sometimes get physically sick too.

Showing your work to the public is scary and the imposter syndrome kicks in big time, it is very different to sharing your work on social media too because these are real people who are standing in front of you - the good things mean more and somehow the negative things land a bit harder too.

But I now enjoy the conversations around my work, it is better to have a negative chat than no chat. Often the people who make negative remarks are often looking for help, they are desperate to be informed. Also some are insecure and lack confidence about discussing things and can be, themselves, feeling very anxious, which leads to seemingly insensitive comments but they are just struggling themselves, so just blurt something out.

When I start explaining to people my background, my motivation, my working practice you can see a light bulb coming on.

I now see these moments as random acts of kindness to me because they give me a chance to explain, to help people understand and also for me to understand them.

When I make pictures I only make them for me so to expect others to like them is, perhaps, a bit much, but I can help expand the way they see and interact with art and artists.

I think it is important when dealing with people in the flesh to be as open as possible to their interpretations so that you can guide them to the right questions that they are seeking answers for. It is to easy to jump on someone and be damming of their attitude to your work. It is far better for both of you to be calm and think how can we get the best out of a situation.

Be kind, in return kindness is disarming, it often diffuses a situation, it opens up dialogue and importantly it gives a learning point to everyone involved.

Also it is key to remember that being kind to yourself during moments of criticism or critique is a way of navigating the self doubt that all creatives suffer from, whether you are just starting out or have been working at yourcraft for over 30 years.

If you can be anything in life, be kind to others and especially yourself.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Question:

I am thinking of offering a week long workshop to Romania in the autumn - probably October - would you be interested? If so message me and I will update you with details. Only six spaces

A Small Assignment:

This week’s assignment is Incomplete, can you find something that is incomplete or broken and find the beauty within it?

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

Back in Stock

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon and Waterstones in the UK - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

There is a German version too and in the US it is available from all good bookstores and The Getty Museum

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Gwelva, Marazion. This is an image I have thinking about for weeks, it is the boat landing stage for St Michael’s Mount. For this to work for me I needed rain, lots of rain to block out Penzance and Newlyn, thankfully on Saturday I was gifted more rain than I knew what to do with! With the use of a 90 second exposure I have taken the chop and waves out of the water to create the sense of stillness I needed and isolate the steps that fascinate me.

The Stillness of Summer online workshop

Over the next few days I will be launching a new online workshop for the summer called ‘The Stillness of Summer’ It will be on my website by the end of the week.

Limited to 20 places only running fortnightly from 7 July - 22 September

The Stillness of Summer is an online photography workshop designed to help you find the quiet pulse of the season. Running from the high heat of July through to the softening light of September, this journey is a sanctuary. Whether you have practised with me before, have my book Still on your bedside table, or are picking up a camera for the very first time, you are welcome here.

Together, we will explore the concept of stillness in the midst of the heat, learning to lean into the shifting moods of the season. We will find that summer is not just one long, bright day, but a collection of subtle atmospheres. There is a specific quietude in the heavy, humid air before a storm, a sense of deep relief in the scent of rain on parched pavement, and a gentle invitation in the cool, dew-heavy mists of an early August morning. Each shift in weather invites a shift in how we feel, and how we see.

Hi,

I hope you are well?

At school - long ago in the 1970’s and 80’s I was always told to copy from the board, copy this and read it, memorise it and you will be fine. We weren’t taught to think for ourselves, even in art - my favourite subject because I had a crush on our teacher - the message was the same ‘here’s a picture copy it’. We were never allowed to express or interpret things. In a way we were taught to follow not to lead.

The idea of following is a common theme now, we follow people on instagram, X, Facebook and numerous, we are all followers of someone or something.

In this queue of where do we look for inspiration? How do we find our own way?

I am lucky enough to share a gallery space in Marazion, Cornwall opposite St Michael’s Mount - it is probably the most photographed place in Cornwall, Goggle it and see what comes up.

Countless people stand on this causeway and make the same photographs - it is a beautiful image to make because it gives a sense of place.

Here’s mine from this morning, where I dutifully stood waiting for my turn behind a very large group of German photographers. Because I needed to have this image for my newsletter. Made with my phone using the Reeheld app.

But it holds nothing for me, I felt like I was wearing someone else’s shoes making that image today - which I did because when I was here on Saturday someone told me I had my camera pointing in the wrong direction. I posted a reel over the weekend on my Instagram feed showing my camera pointing the wrong way too.

I have wanted to make the image at the top of the page - the steps at the Gwelva boat launch - for some time - although I am sure I am not the first person to do this.

I had set up my equipment when a man, who had been watching with fascination, said to me that I was looking the wrong way, and he pointed the Mount out to me.

When I explained what I was doing to the man he was quite fascinated as I explained to him that that recently I had been struggling with anxiety and a very noisy head and for me the steps were a metaphor, an aspiration of climbing out of the overwhelm to a calmer place.

To be fair to him I think I freaked him out by sharing!

I want an image that reflects me, how I feel, how I see, I want an image that is led by my curiosity, not necessarily an image that will be liked by others. I really want to make pictures of the things in my life that speak to me, that hold my attention or ask me questions, not that conform to other people’s expectations of a location.

I am not saying we shouldn’t make the obvious images when we go to a place that is popular, what I am saying is that it is ok to ‘take’ that image but then explore with an open mind and ‘receive’ an image that is offered to you.

Although we are taught to follow at school, we are, as adults, free to lead our own lives exploring our unique connection with the world while not being frightened to express and interpret those subjects in a way that makes our soul sing.

A Small Assignment:

Here’s an image of mine - don’t copy it but can you make a still life image inspired by this?

These are quince, photographed using available light only, so nothing fancy needed to complete this assignment only a few bits of fruit or veg.

I have written an essay for Nature Vision magazine, Issue 12 is out now - link below

Read Issue 12

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

Back in Stock

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Dried flowers in a coffee shop. For photography is all about noticing the little things in my day that call out to me, they aren’t especially great photographs but they make me smile.

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

Back in Stock

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of months now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Hi,

I hope you are well?

That is a question I ask myself everyday. My wellbeing is paramount to me, I am lucky enough to have survived long periods of really poor mental health, so checking in with myself is important.

I’ll ask you again, how are you doing?

This week is Mental Health Awareness week 11-17 May - now before you roll your eyes, sigh and delete this email I would like to hold your attention for just a couple of minutes.

The theme this year is ‘Action’ which is all about moving beyond awareness towards taking everyday practical steps to support your own mental health and wellbeing.

You can become your very own take action hero!

If any of you have heard me speak or read a copy of my book “Still” you will know that photography has quite literally saved my life, but more than that it has become a daily practice of finding something uplifting to photograph, even on those dark low days.

For me the practice is simple, what makes me stop, or catches my eye, what do I look at more than once, what has a beauty that whispers to me? These questions are about finding a balance in my life.

I am not looking for great, award winning images, I am looking for moments that slow me down, make me pause and take a breath.

These images are about curiosity, texture, shape, pattern, rhythm and joy - the image top right of the panel above is a moment of joy, through the open window I could hear the birdsong of the morning, along with cow bells and the voices of people talking and I only had to sit up in bed to make the image! Does it matter you can’t see the cows or the birds? NO, what matters is that when I look at the image it reminds me of the moment and the experience.

It is just about making space to allow myself to discover these moments, they happen like little surprises because I don’t plan where I am going, I have zero expectation of what I might discover.

One of the things that affects people’s mental health is pressure, another is comparison, we have to be good enough - good for who?

A key thing is not to share these moments with others, (unless like me you’re trying to help people) you don’t need the likes to validate who you are, you don’t need to compare the moments that give you joy with anyone else’s moments of joy.

Take the pressure off yourself by allowing yourself to just do it, just make a picture of something that you find beauty in, or a moment of peace, it might be a single flower on a wall, light reflecting in a strange pattern, the way the art on your coffee looks or the smile of a friend - currently I have a thing for toilet rolls - don’t ask me why!

These aren’t pictures that will set the world on fire, but that doesn’t matter the practice and joy of making pictures is all that is important.

We all need little pauses in our day to allow our nervous system to calm down and stabilise, our world is one of constant pressure and permanent distractions. My photography calms me and still offers a little dopamine hit that is more fulfilling than clicking ‘like’ on instagram or responding to another advert for something I don’t need.

Photography is available to pretty nearly every person today because of the popularity of smartphones, and yet many photographers look down their noses at those of us who use the phone as part of our creative toolkit and as a way of keeping ourselves well.

Here are my five top tips for looking after your mental health:

Do something creative every week - everyday if you can.

Walk barefoot on the grass or sand at least once a week.

Have a real face to face conversation with someone.

Limit your screen time and stay away from online arguments.

Wake up ten minutes earlier, make a cup of tea or coffee and then either sit outside or with the windows open and listen to the birdsong.

A Small Assignment:

Make one image a day just for the heck of it, it can be anything that catches your eye, don’t worry about what the subject is just enjoy the process of seeing and being. Look out for lines, shapes, textures, colours, reflections, rust, toilet rolls! Photograph the subject and then jot down a few words about the joy of the moment. If you can print the picture out only small and stick it in a notebook or journal.

I have written an essay for Nature Vision magazine, Issue 12 is out now - link below

Read Issue 12

Railings over Brasov, Romania. I have a deep love of Romania as a country and the people here, nearly every time I have been here I have taken the cable car up to the Panoramic view point to look over the city, but I have always been sidetracked by the safety fence which has been in place since the 1980s. If I am honest I have no idea why I love it so much, but sometimes you don’t need to explain to yourself why you do something, you do it purely because of who you are and what draws your attention.

Hi,

I am a photographer who sees and experiences the world in black and white, that’s it. I see the world in square shades of grey and I don’t ever want or need to change to please anyone any more.

For years I had to photograph in colour because that was a requirement of working in the newspaper world.

In fact nothing made me happier that when I was asked to help develop the visual identity of the new compact version of The Times and being told that for the launch and foreseeable future it was going to be black and white.

I am often asked why square and why black and white - basically it is down to how much I enjoyed photography when I first started. I made black and white images of the garden at home and loved processing the images at school, that was where I first fell in love with the magic and started exploring photographers who worked in Black and White and found it to be a power way of communicating because the noise of colour didn’t distract, there was a rawness to the images I was looking at (my first photo book was by Don McCullin Beirut A City in Crisis

And Square, my grandma loaned me the money to buy a professional medium format camera - a Bronica SQ-A - a beautiful 21/4 inch square work of art. These things are embedded in my photographic DNA.

I am not a fan of colour personally, for me it is noisy, distracting and a bit shouty or violent - that is my own work. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate colour.

To be a black and white photographer you have to have a deep understanding of how the subtle shift of colour will affect the tone and mood of an image. Looking at the scene or subject isn’t enough, you have to visually understand the subtleties of colour to bring something to life in grey.

You can see the way the mood of the gently differs depending on the way I have processed the image.

Why is colour important to black and white photographers?

Strange as it may seem black white film is made up of three colour layers red, green and blue plus a layer of silver. You could affect the way an image looked by using acoloured filter over the lens to alter the light hitting the film - a red filter would be used to darken skies for example, essentially and simply the colour of the filter used would stop the light of the other colour hitting the film, thereby underexposing the film for those colours - so a red filter allows only red light through to film and other colours become dark because none of their light gets to the film.

Now we have Lightroom, Photoshop, Snapseed to help us process our digital files and colour becomes even more important because we can use these colour filters to give us general control or you can actually adjust every colour to become the grey tone of your choice if you wish.

Being able to make black and white images is all about how you ‘see’ the tones and working out how you want the image to look and feel before you release the shutter. Black and white should always be an intentional choice, not a way of saving a dreadful photograph.

Working intentionally means if you can set your camera to black and white - you can always go and rework the raw file which will have all the colour information.

Experiment with the different black and white filter settings in your cameras menu - you won’t break anything! In my opinion Fuljifilm cameras have some beautiful black and white recipes, most of which you can customise easily too.

If you own a Leica or Ricoh Monochrome camera you can be old fashioned and put a coloured filter over the lens to adjust the contrast of tones.

Why am I telling you this?

Simply because I want people to experience the full colour beauty of black and white rather than the flat expressionless shades of grey that means people are often disappointed by their attempts at monochrome images.

Black and white strips back the subject to an abstraction of the real but reveals more of the subject and often more of the photographer, it communicates a story more quickly in many cases than colour - snooker, rainbows and sunsets often being cited as key exceptions.

So when I say I see the world in black and white, I see the colour, appreciate the colour and then in my head move the colours to a grey scale that evokes the feeling I hope to achieve. I then bring in my understanding of colour and conversion that has taken years of practice to understand.

When I say practice I mean literally photographing fruit (lemons, green peppers, red peppers, oranges etc) for days and seeing how they look with different filters - now you can shortcut that process by making one image and putting it through software several times using different settings.

The problem is that we are impatient for results so we don’t want to do the hard yards of work to begin to understand what and why things work.

I would love you to begin the practice of finding your black and white by doing a little bit everyday on a phone or camera below is an assignment to get you started

A Small Assignment: Colour in Black and White

For the next week I invite you to photograph the following colour - RED - but in black and white, can you make red look white or very bright, can you make it look black or very dark? You can use the settings in your camera menu, film simulations or picture style. You can also use any software you choose - for exercises like these I often just use my phone and snapseed

Here is a short (less than 60 second) video showing my phone screen using Snapseed to create a black and white image - there is no sound.

Image and Word Photography and Bookbinding St Ives, Cornwall

with Paul Sanders, Adrian and Clea Beasley

13-16 December 2026

6 spaces only

More Information and Booking

Escape to the captivating charm of St Ives, Cornwall, for a truly unique creative experience! Join us for an immersive Photography & Handmade Book Workshop, where you’ll experience the breathtaking beauty of this iconic coastal town and transform your images into a treasured, hand-bound book.

Nestled on the dramatic Cornish coastline, St Ives has long been a muse for artists, drawn by its unparalleled light, vibrant atmosphere, and stunning natural beauty. Since the late 19th century, this picturesque fishing town has nurtured a thriving art colony, attracting world-renowned figures like Barbara Hepworth, Ben Nicholson, and Naum Gabo. The iconic Tate St Ives, perched majestically overlooking Porthmeor Beach, stands as a testament to the town’s profound artistic legacy, showcasing modern and contemporary art inspired by its unique landscape.

Beyond its galleries and studios, St Ives itself is a work of art. Lose yourself in the labyrinthine narrow, twisty streets. These charming alleys, steeped in history, offer endless photographic opportunities, from quirky details to dramatic views.

St Ives boasts a collection of spectacular sandy shores, each with its own character. From the golden expanse of Porthminster Beach, perfect for a serene stroll, to the wild, surf-kissed Porthmeor Beach, offering dramatic Atlantic views, the coastline here is a photographer’s dream.

Your Creative Journey Awaits: Photography & Handmade Bookbinding, this isn’t just a workshop; it’s an opportunity to create a truly unique piece of art that tells your St Ives story.

​

More Information and Booking

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

Back in Stock

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of weeks now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

The Giant’s Causeway, it’s an iconic location and hard to get something original but for me it yielded a moment of clarity that has finally come back to me.

Hi,

I remember a day in 1995 when I sat at the Giant’s Causeway on the Antrim coast in Northern Ireland and had a moment when I felt I truly knew what I wanted out of life. I wanted to create images that matched how I felt about something. In that moment I felt immersed in nature, totally awestruck by the beauty of the place and very unusually for The Causeway I was alone - but it was autumn and it was raining.

I then pretty much forgot everything I felt as I left the car park and pursued a dream in my head rather than the leanings of my heart.

If any of you have read The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron you will know what a shadow artist is, but for those that don’t this is what she says; “a shadow artist is someone with significant creative talent who, due to fear, insecurity, or early discouragement, suppresses their own artistic urges and instead gravitates toward "shadow careers" that serve other artists. They are drawn to the creative world but feel unworthy or afraid to step into the spotlight themselves.”

I have been a shadow artist for a significant part of my creative life - being Picture Editor of The Times is a shadow career - I wanted to be a photographer, but ended up making other photographers look good, as UK Assignments Editor at Reuters, again I sent other photographers into places to get the images that graced the front pages of newspapers all around the world - I was an accomplished shadow artist!

It was only after leaving The Times that I was able - not able - forced to face the fact that I had lived a life defined by others and never really expressed myself.

Now I consider myself lucky because I am making the images and art that I want to make, I have come out of my shadow to show who I really am, it has been a slow process too.

"Creativity — like human life itself — begins in darkness."
— Julia Cameron

Writing “Still A mindful practice for photographers” really helped me, in writing and organising the images I was able to reflect on my work and see where I had come from and how I am developing and possibly where I might be heading.

One of the things I love about being a photographer, artist, writer and workshop leader is the fact that I can now support other people to make the steps to find their own direction.

I have no interest in helping people photograph like I do, I want them to find themselves, to be empowered enough to say ‘this is me’ and ‘this how I feel about the world I am part of'.’

To me the joy of helping other people step out of their shadow is one of the greatest pleasures I experience.

The most important part of helping someone is giving them the space to explore. During a recent trip to Iona one of my clients - Brian - who is quite shy and often undermines his own images had walked across the island to the beautifully named ‘Bay at the back of the Ocean’ in the wind and rain to make the image below.

Before I caught up with him I sat and watched him from a nearby rock - he had no idea I was there, I didn’t want to disturb his flow. It was lovely to watch a person stand in the landscape not worrying about what others thought of what he was doing, he looked empowered, confident and happy.

There was excitement in his voice when he showed me the image on the back of his camera too, I was excited for him.

When we got back to the hotel Brian seemed deflated. he explained that he was disappointed by his image and felt that he had failed.

For me that was sad to hear because Brian is a wonderful photographer, with a very gentle eye but also (and more importantly) he is a generous, kind man, who doesn’t need to undermine himself.

I sat with him while he explained his disappointment to me, having listened I asked him why he felt like a failure, what was missing from the image that gave him this idea?

He explained that the image didn’t look right, it didn’t look like he had felt - this is a common thread for many people.

To make an image personal, it needs to resemble the experience you had when you made the image. That is not making the image technically perfect but experientially correct.

From my point of view it was a simple fix, make the image a little darker, bring out the highlights in the ribbon of white that draws your eye into the image and add a very soft vignette to hold your attention in the central area of the image. I say simple fix, but for Brian this was a big thing because he was attached to the idea of getting it exactly right in camera.

I don’t know any photographers who get it exactly right in camera every time, there is always a little bit of adjustment to be done.

Brian’s sense of failure was down to external noise that had created an internal monologue. He hasn’t failed, he has created a beautiful image that entirely matches his experience of the moment, all he needed was to give himself permission to work the image a little rather than the hard judgement of failure.

What delighted me further was that Brian printed the image (he rarely prints because the images might not come out as he hoped), signed it and sent me a copy - that is the artist emerging from the shadows!

Brian is by no means my only client who suffers in this way either, I imagine that a good number of you reading this can relate to this feeling.

Giving yourself permission to do something is the key step to becoming the creative you want to be rather than the shadow of yourself that people tend to be because of the fear, doubt and insecurity or lack of belief that they deserve any success.

Every person who picks up a pen, camera, paintbrush or any other creative tool deserves to call themselves an artist because it takes courage to make the first mark, to share your photography, drawing or writing.

However you see the world or feel about the things you experience or notice it is important to acknowledge that you are the one with the camera, brush or pen, you are the one creating the magic and you are creating it for you, because it is important to you.

So I ask you, are you the creative you want to be or are you hovering in your own shadow worrying what others think and say about your ideas and artistry?

If you answer yes, then I am 100% pleased for you, if you answer no, what is stopping you?

Write those blocks down in a notebook and find the positive from the block.

If you write ‘I have never been encouraged to be creative’ turn it around and write ‘I encourage myself to do one creative thing each day’

You will start to believe yourself and feel your power.

Alternatively get a copy of The Artist’s Way and take on the 12 week transformation.

Below I have given you a small assignment to join in with if you wish - if you do use the assignment when you decide to share the images on Instagram please tag me (@discover_still) and I will share your images with my community.

A Small Assignment: Permission

This week, I invite you to practice giving yourself permission to be creative by taking part in the assignment.

Allow yourself five minutes each day for the next week to photograph five lines, these lines can be a simple as the horizon line, the dotted line on a page that says cut here or the white line in a road. When you have made your five line images then write five positive lines about yourself or your images. Go on, you have my permission!

A Day of Mindful Photography & Bookbinding

June 10, 2026

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away

Book Trebah Here

What if you could take a piece of the garden home with you, not as a faded bloom, but as a feeling?

Join Paul Sanders of Discover Still for a unique, one-day immersive retreat within the sub-tropical soul of Trebah. This experience is a bridge between the wild, architectural beauty of the gardens and the quiet, grounding joy of creating a handmade book from the photographs you will make.

The Morning: The Art of Noticing We will walk slowly through the valley paths with a sense of “soft fascination.” We’ll move past the postcard views to find the quiet poetry of the season:

• The prehistoric scale of the Giant Gunnera leaves as they filter the high summer sun.

• The intricate, lace-like patterns of the Tree Ferns against a bright Cornish sky.

• The hazy blues and vintage whites of the iconic Hydrangea Valley as it spills toward the Helford River.

• The rhythmic shadows cast by the Chusan Palms and the whispering Bamboo groves.

The Afternoon: The Art of Bookmaking In the quiet of our creative space, we transition from observing to making. You will learn to curate your favorite images from the morning and transform them into a beautifully hand-stitched book. Using traditional binding techniques, needle, and thread, you’ll create a tactile, physical vessel for your summer discoveries.

• Open to All: No technical expertise is required. Whether you use a DSLR or the smartphone in your pocket, the focus is on your unique perspective.

• An Intimate Circle: With only 8 spaces available, the day is designed to be calm, personal, and restorative.

• The Takeaway: You will leave with a bespoke, handmade heirloom—a bound collection of the beauty you found at Trebah.

Book Trebah Here

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

Back in Stock

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of weeks now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Porthtowan beach, my local beach, I make pictures here pretty much everyday, I love the sense of space and solitude I have here, it is a magical. Every day the beach changes, reminding me that nothing is permanent, nothing is finished and reinforcing the concept of seeing everything as if for the first time.

Hi,

In the late 1980’s the band Bros released the single ‘When will I be Famous’ it reached number two in the Uk charts and Bros (Mat and Luke Goss) were pretty much a household name for a few years.

To be honest I am amazed that no one has re-released that song because it fits with the culture of today.

It seems that everyone wants to be something or somebody - usually at the expense of being themselves.

People these days strive to make a mark, leaving lasting proof that they were here, something to say that their existence mattered.

As photographers and artists many of us want our work to be noticed, to have that lucky break, it seems as though many of us take up a hobby because we want to get noticed, we want to win a competition, get a society distinction or sell our work for vast sums of money.

“To need to be seen, to be heard, to be understood, is simply to be human.” ―L.R. Knost

In this race to be seen a staggering 1,100 images are uploaded to Instagram every second! I always thought looking at 20,000 images day, when I was Picture Editor of The Times, was exhausting!

In truth, nothing we create truly matters to the wider world now , but at the same time it does matter in terms of who we are.

Most of what we create is a legacy of how we lived, it will be seen by generations in the future, they will decide which of us becomes famous and whose work really mattered.

Creativity doesn’t exist to be someone it exists because you are someone. Your purpose isn’t to be famous, it is just to be who you are, truly connecting with the world in your own way, in your own time, photographing, drawing, painting, writing, making music about what your life means to you.

The most effective marks are the simplest. So many of us try to over-complicate our expression by wanting something more from it, when all we need to be is simply authentic, to embrace that wild, free creative energy we had before fear of failure and comparison stole the joy form us.

To share how we each uniquely take part in the world is our purpose, every separate expression of creativity makes the world a richer place, and most importantly it doesn’t matter what others think or feel about your work.

Failure doesn’t matter, nor does success, all that matters is that you get up in the morning and find the beauty in each day as if it were the first time you had set eyes on the world.

There is no getting it wrong, there is only learning.

Although we all compare ourselves to other creatives we need to find it within ourselves to enjoy what others share without jealousy or bitterness, but just enjoy the fact that someone has seen something that we didn’t. We should feel we are enough in ourselves that we don’t need to copy it or trash talk the artist.

What striving to be someone does is create jealousy, resentment and hatred.

If you look back over the history of art and photography you will find that Ansel Adams and Edward Weston were friends, along with Minor White, Monet and Renoir, Pissarro and Cezanne, Van Gogh and Gauguin.

These artists used their friendships to improve technique, bounce ideas around and discuss the philosophy of their art. They didn’t strive to be famous they only sought to share the way they saw the world without expectation of reward.

When you remove the judgement and expectation from your creativity you start to connect with things that genuinely appeal to you, that no one else can see. Ironically it is when you are not trying that most people do their best work.

When we take away the pressure to impress we find flow states much easier to attain, this results in work that comes from our heart rather than our need to be validated.

In short create because you want to, not because you want people to notice you, people will notice your work if you stop trying so hard, get out of your way and enjoy the process over the product.

Below I have given you a small assignment to join in with if you wish - if you do use the assignment when you decide to share the images on Instagram please tag me (@discover_still) and I will share your images with my community.

A Small Assignment: The Process

This week, I invite you to practice the process of photography by taking part in the assignment.

Photography is a process, seeing, exploring and accepting - this week I invite you to explore a single subject, let’s say a leaf or flower. Over the next week can you make five different images of the subject everyday, explore the process of making pictures not for any plaudits but just because you are fascinated by the subject. Feel free to share them on instagram with me if you wish.

A Day of Mindful Photography & Bookbinding

June 10

Be guided through a day of mindful photography & the meditative process of Japanese Stab Binding, taking the handcrafted keepsake away

Book Trebah Here

What if you could take a piece of the garden home with you, not as a faded bloom, but as a feeling?

Join Paul Sanders of Discover Still for a unique, one-day immersive retreat within the sub-tropical soul of Trebah. This experience is a bridge between the wild, architectural beauty of the gardens and the quiet, grounding joy of creating a handmade book from the photographs you will make.

The Morning: The Art of Noticing We will walk slowly through the valley paths with a sense of “soft fascination.” We’ll move past the postcard views to find the quiet poetry of the season:

• The prehistoric scale of the Giant Gunnera leaves as they filter the high summer sun.

• The intricate, lace-like patterns of the Tree Ferns against a bright Cornish sky.

• The hazy blues and vintage whites of the iconic Hydrangea Valley as it spills toward the Helford River.

• The rhythmic shadows cast by the Chusan Palms and the whispering Bamboo groves.

The Afternoon: The Art of Bookmaking In the quiet of our creative space, we transition from observing to making. You will learn to curate your favorite images from the morning and transform them into a beautifully hand-stitched book. Using traditional binding techniques, needle, and thread, you’ll create a tactile, physical vessel for your summer discoveries.

• Open to All: No technical expertise is required. Whether you use a DSLR or the smartphone in your pocket, the focus is on your unique perspective.

• An Intimate Circle: With only 8 spaces available, the day is designed to be calm, personal, and restorative.

• The Takeaway: You will leave with a bespoke, handmade heirloom—a bound collection of the beauty you found at Trebah.

Book Trebah Here

Image and Word photography workshop

Hartland Quay, North Devon

Book the Last Place

13-16 October 2026

Hartland Quay has been a constant location for our Image and Word book making workshops. This dramatic piece of the north Devon coast will not fail to inspire photographers of all levels. The dramatic jagged rocks to the rolling hills of the South West Coast Path, not to mention the waterfalls are all incredible subjects but let us not ignore the lichen, mosses, weathered fences and geology that make this place a must visit for photographers and artists. We hope you can join us!

The Image and Word workshops are a wonderful blend of photography and bookmaking, each client leaves with a their own hand-made book of their work. The experience is enhanced by having only six clients with three leaders, Adrian Beasley and Paul Sanders looking after the photographic needs, together with Clea Beasley’s exceptional talent as a creative bookbinder.

You will leave feeling inspired, having embraced and learned new skills, with a beautiful handmade book of your time with us.

Sign up today

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

Back in Stock

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of weeks now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Image and Word photography workshop

Hartland Quay, North Devon

One Place Remaining

Book the Last Place

13-16 October 2026

Hartland Quay has been a constant location for our Image and Word book making workshops. This dramatic piece of the north Devon coast will not fail to inspire photographers of all levels. The dramatic jagged rocks to the rolling hills of the South West Coast Path, not to mention the waterfalls are all incredible subjects but let us not ignore the lichen, mosses, weathered fences and geology that make this place a must visit for photographers and artists. We hope you can join us!

The Image and Word workshops are a wonderful blend of photography and bookmaking, each client leaves with a their own hand-made book of their work. The experience is enhanced by having only six clients with three leaders, Adrian Beasley and Paul Sanders looking after the photographic needs, together with Clea Beasley’s exceptional talent as a creative bookbinder.

You will leave feeling inspired, having embraced and learned new skills, with a beautiful handmade book of your time with us

Sign up today

Swiss Cheese Plant, it’s just a leaf but something about this leaf caught my attention every time I passed it on the stairs to my room at the hotel on Iona. So naturally after it called my name everyday the least I could do was spend a few minutes acknowledging the shape, texture, colour, space and beauty it shared with me. What other reason do I need I make a photograph.

Hi,

I don’t know about you but who’s the loudest voice you listen to?

For me there is a constant internal monologue of noise telling me how I am not good enough, my ideas are rubbish, my photos are meaningless etc etc - sometimes they even wake me up in the middle of the night keeping me from my much needed sleep.

How often do you listen to that voice in your head that says you are not enough, that X is a better photographer than you, or that you don’t deserve the success you are having?

If I had a pound for everytime I listened to that voice I wouldn’t need to work again!

We are our own worst enemies when it comes to criticism or imposter syndrome.

I hear it a lot on the workshops I offer, people running themselves and their work down before they have shared it. The self doubt and comparison kicking in to steal the joy from a moment.

I have a way of at least getting even with my critic - who I call Keith.

When he starts his ridiculous monologue of failure in my head I ask him ‘what have you achieved?’ He can’t answer that because he has achieved nothing on his own merit, he is always on the coat-tails of other people’s success.

My Keith, bless him, can only run me down based on his own fear of putting himself out there.

Often I ask him ‘is what you’re saying 100%, beyond all doubt, true’ (I got that from my counsellor Susie!)

I then list in my head or on paper 10 positive truths about myself, these range from small things like I am a photographer who enjoys his work, my work is a valuable expression of who I am, my photographs are enjoyed by others, What I photograph makes me feel good, I am a force for good, I am kind etc.

The more you write down those positive truths the more you will start to believe them.

Creatives are braver than they believe! On an almost daily basis artists, photographers and writers put themselves out there, bearing their soul for the world to see in spite of the baying voice in their head that says they’re pointless and add nothing to society.

And yet we still do it, because creativity is a need within us, it is a powerful desire that keeps us pushing forward in spite of the insecurity, doubt, imposter syndrome and fear of never being enough, we produce our work and set it free into the world knowing we like it and hope that others connect with it in some way.

Of course there is the doubt that your work isn’t liked, but does that really matter - I have been in a gallery for a couple of months and as yet haven’t sold a single piece, but I look at my work and know that it means something to me. That is the important lesson, your work means something to you, you enjoyed the process of making it and seeing it through to completion. YOU ARE NOT A QUITTER! YOU ARE ENOUGH!

Are you a creative who often doesn’t believe in themselves? If so how do you to quieten the voice in your head and what do you call them?

Below I have given you a small assignment to join in with if you wish - if you do use the assignment when you decide to share the images on Instagram please tag me (@discover_still) and I will share your images with my community.

A Small Assignment: A Stone’s throw

This week, I invite you to practice the art of awareness through photography by joining in with me by taking part in the assignment.

A stone’s throw (or stick, ball or paper plane)

This is a simple challenge, go for a walk and pick up a small stone, stick (you can take a ball or make a paper plane too) when you are away from people lightly toss your chosen device and watch where it lands. Walk to it and stand exactly where it landed, the challenge is to make 5 images from that point, they can be looking up, down, or out of the space, but pay attention to the detail, textures, light, shade, shape and colours. Try it you might enjoy it.

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of weeks now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”

Last Minute Cancellation Place

Romania May 2- May 8 2026

Sadly one of clients has had to withdraw at the last minute due to an injury so I have one space open on this inspiring photography experience in rural Romania

Book Now

Alternatively you can email me paul@discoverstill.com

Image and Word photography workshop

Hartland Quay, North Devon

One Place Remaining

Book the Last Place

13-16 October 2026

Hartland Quay has been a constant location for our Image and Word book making workshops. This dramatic piece of the north Devon coast will not fail to inspire photographers of all levels. The dramatic jagged rocks to the rolling hills of the South West Coast Path, not to mention the waterfalls are all incredible subjects but let us not ignore the lichen, mosses, weathered fences and geology that make this place a must visit for photographers and artists. We hope you can join us!

The Image and Word workshops are a wonderful blend of photography and bookmaking, each client leaves with a their own hand-made book of their work. The experience is enhanced by having only six clients with three leaders, Adrian Beasley and Paul Sanders looking after the photographic needs, together with Clea Beasley’s exceptional talent as a creative bookbinder.

You will leave feeling inspired, having embraced and learned new skills, with a beautiful handmade book of your time with us

Sign up today

Barbed wire and rain, Iona. I’m often struck by the way nature softens the harshness of human boundaries, be it ferns and ivy growing over a wall, the grasses coming up between paving slabs or in this case the way rain water softens the tip of the barbed wire. These little moments bring a great deal of joy to me, especially in the busyness and noise of the world.

Hi,

How are you? The sun is shining down here in Cornwall, as I write this I am listening to the huge number of birds that are busy making nests around our home. There is something wonderful about turning of the devices and just sitting with a cup of tea listening to the busyness of nature. Often I will open the Merlin Bird ID app on my phone and let it record the birdsong, I never knew we had so many native wild birds!

Why am I saying this in a message that is meant to be about photography? Simply because the world is quite overwhelming at the moment, the conflict in Iran and rising prices, especially the cost of fuel all push us into anxiety.

When you start to feel anxious, nervous, on edge, overwhelmed this is your body saying you need to take action to let off the tension, to bring yourself back in to regulation. Some people do this by going for a run or meditating but you can get exactly the same sense of calming down through intentionally doing something creative.

Writing, drawing, dancing, painting and photography can all serve your nervous system and bring about a sense of calm.

The joy of just making pictures takes your mind away from the crisis and brings it into a state of flow, awareness and presence - it is very powerful.

Have you ever noticed the way time seems to disappear when you are out making pictures, how all you can think about is what is in front of your lens? This is flow state.

A flow state, often called "being in the zone," is an optimal state of consciousness where you feel and perform at your best, characterized by deep immersion, intense focus, and effortless engagement in an activity. The concept of flow state was popularised by positive psychologists Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi and Jeanne Nakamura a feeling where, under the right conditions, you become fully immersed in whatever you are doing.

Photography isn’t a creative practice that you save for the best of locations or subjects - the the china that only comes out when you have guests - it is for the everyday practice of noticing and observing every aspect of your life.

In making time for yourself to practice something you love everyday, you are also not consuming, you are creating. Consumption sucks the energy out of you, making you feel inadequate, not enough, whereas creativity is a positive act that energises and offers challenges.

The key is to give yourself permission and make time to take part for yourself. To do this I give myself mini assignments in the form of prompts, these offer a two fold benefit to my work as a photographer, firstly they switch me off from the drama of the world and secondly they teach me to see, to pay attention and notice the simple beauty in the everyday.

The next time you hear yourself complaining, or feel overwhelmed by the mess and noise of the world pick up your camera or phone and use the prompts I have given you below as a starting point for your rebellious act of creating something beautiful.

Thank you for your time today

Best wishes

Paul

Below I have given you a small assignment to join in with if you wish - if you do use the assignment when you decide to share the images on Instagram please tag me (@discover_still) and I will share your images with my community.

A Small Assignment: The Treasure Hunt

This week, I invite you to practice the art of awareness through photography by joining in with this visual treasure hunt. Visual treasure hunts are great fun and really train you to notice - you don’t need to photograph extraordinary things, just find ordinary things and by noticing them they become extraordinary!

• Five shades of yellow but in black and white! There is so much yellow around at the moment, can you find five shades of this wonderful colour but show the difference in tone by turning them black and white.

• A rainbow or spectrum of light. As simple as that, but elusively difficult, can you notice the rainbow of light that splits through a rainstorm, through the edge of window or even through glass ornaments.

• Something twisted. This opens up a world of opportunity, look for subjects that are entwined or wrapped around you will be surprised how many of these you will find.

• Nature’s caress. Look for the way a leaf wraps around a new bud, or two stems rub together, even a plant or weed holds onto a wall.

• The view from my bedroom window. Very simple, but photograph the view over the next week, different times of day will reveal different lighting and mood, you can include things that are the window sill too.

Still: A Mindful Practice for Photographers

My first book “Still - a mindful practice for photographers” has been on sale for a couple of weeks now and is listed as a bestseller on Amazon - which I still can’t believe. The feedback has been incredible, I am so grateful to everyone who has ordered a copy. If you don’t have a copy yet it is on sale in most good bookshops and via numerous online book retailers too.

“More than a photography book, Still is a must-have guide for anyone seeking calm and clarity in their creative life.”