I hope you had a lovely Christmas with your family, friends and loved ones and wherever you are, all the best for 2011 – it’s going to be OUR year, of that I have no doubt

And finally a very special thank you for all your wonderful words and kind support throughout 2010 both on here, via Twitter & Facebook – it’s comforting to know there are people out there listening and even more surprising they care.

Much Love,



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p.s. Turn your volume up

Cameras, video cameras and even projectors were a staple of my childhood – my Dad was always a keen photographer, he took some truly stunning black and white shots of my Mum during the early years of their marriage, way back in the 1970s – some of which I’ve only just seen. And as a kid I always remember there being a heavy camera with a dense a robust lens on many an office or coffee table.

There were also numerous times when the video camera (arguably the size of bazooka at the time) was blinking it’s red light at me, recording various high school Christmas Nativity plays (I was usually a Shepard) or when I was skiing in Europe, clad in an embarrassing puffy shell-suit, comprised entirely of a shocking array of 80′s fluro colours.

I vividly remember Santa giving me one of those fantastic toy cameras (originally called The Viewmaster), where you would click and it clacked a new image in front of your eyes. I honestly thought it was the coolest thing ever, to the point where I deluded myself into believing I was taking a new photo each time (despite the reality of it continuously cycling through the same 10 photos) regardless of what was ACTUALLY in front of me.

The 10 pictures came on a card disc and were rather like the negatives you used to get with your photos using a 35mm camera. Each image was then magnified when you looked through the viewer, so that as a kid they appeared as large as a TV-sized image. It was certainly better than any Kaleidoscope I’d ever had, even if it was limited to a few photos. It made an awesome sound too.

I didn’t get my own “real” camera until middle school, which funnily enough I won in the school raffle. I remember it was painted silver and it looked really expensive, but when I was given it, I was bitterly disappointed because unlike all the cameras I’d seen at home, this one was a light-weight, made of  nasty plastic, with a cheap airbrushed silver look, a no-name brand that didn’t even have a flash.

Fast forward a few decades and I’d gone through a few digital cameras, always handy to capture parties and friends – but nothing that would really capture moments as it were. I use to pull some decent shots from my old Canon IXUS but nothing that I would ever call close to being “professional”.

So in late 2009, I invested in a Canon Digital SLR – several weeks rent, well spent as they say.

Since then, I’ve been putting it to good use and the definition and colour of my photos has come on in leaps and bounds. The difference is quite remarkable at times, even if the photos themselves aren’t always living up to the capabilities of the device itself.

I would never classify myself as a photographer, I’m acutely aware of my technical limitations and utter naivety about what makes a good photo. There are so many truly inspirational photographers out there in the world, who operate on an entirely different level, capturing images that defy logic and take your breath away. Photos that us mere mortals, could only ever dream of taking.

If you read this blog regularly, you’ll know that 2010 has been an incredibly dramatic year for me. But along the way, I’ve had my camera by side – documenting it all, even at some of the most inopportune moments. I think that is what photography should be about, being bold, harnessing a sense of occasion and revealing elements of the world around us, which we are normally blind to or simply take for granted.

With these images below, I hope you’re able to get some insight into the journey I’ve been on thus far, the places I’ve experienced and the emotions I’ve lived through since the start of 2010.

From each of the places I’ve been to, I’ve selected photos of personal significance or simply because I liked the shot.

Simply click on any image to view the rest of the photos in that album, or view the entire collection on my Flickr page.

I hope you enjoy these photos, notice their faults, see their strengths and let the feelings and emotions I tried to convey in each, resonate with you.

Even now, some of these are hard for me to look at, but I think that’s why I took them to begin with.

NORFOLK , UNITED KINGDOM MARCH (2010)

BARCELONA, SPAIN MARCH (2010)

AUTUMN IN SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA (2010)

HOLIDAY IN KIAMA, SYDNEY AUSTRALIA APRIL (2010)

MELBOURNE CITY, AUSTRALIA MAY (2010)

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Wow so i last checked in here, was way back on February 15th – that’s 58 days ago to be precise.

But what 58 days they have been.

Spanning 4 different countries, over 20,000km, soaked in tears, immersed in laughter and joined together by seemingly countless airport lounges, surreal situations and mixed with a healthy dose of syncronicity. It has proved to be without question, one of the most dramatic periods in my life, a sharp shifting of focus and a stern reminder that change, with all it’s trappings of fear, excitement and unknown, is inevitable.

I don’t really know where or how I can begin, because in my mind, to truly grasp the enormity of the past 58 days, you’d have to have stood in my shoes, juggling with a whirlwind of emotions each and every second, finding yourself at a loss to explain any of it.

But I suppose one should start attempt to start at the beginning, So it is from here, that I shall try my best to sum up this series of unusual and unexpected events.

Thursday February 18th 2010

After working in the same company for nearly 4 years and in fact being one of it’s 3 founding members – over the past few months I’ve found myself hitting a glass ceiling. That I’m not challenged as an individual, nor growing as a person – either in my knowledge, position or salary. And trust me, I work seriously hard – I always have.

Someone once said to me that my current work isn’t a job, it’s a lifestyle and it’s very very true. But when you put so much into something, you want something equal in return and like I say, for some time now I feel I’ve been giving and getting nothing back. Promotions and opportunities always seem to pass me by. Clearly I’m either doing something wrong, because I have been given numerous promises and false starts, all of which have lead to a dead end.

So I sat down with the General Manager (who has since been axed interestingly enough) and told him my concerns, that I didn’t want to leave, but that I felt isolated, lacking any direction, I wasn’t inspired and after 4 years – I really need a shift, something to excite me, something to drive me and stretch my abilities – something that would allow me to tap into my potential in a tangible way.

It was the meeting, where I thought they would understand me, appreciate my situation and be fully aware of the commitment, passion and sound work I’ve provided since day dot. After all, I’d gone from 3 people the golden era, to 60 people and red tape, survived 3 office moves and countless redundancies. But here I sit, 4 years on, doing exactly the same thing – when everyone around me, is either new or getting promoted. I’m the go to guy, who isn’t going anywhere.

So this was the meeting, where I was expecting a roadmap, where I would be included, what my new role would be and how it will be implemented.

Instead it ended like this.

GM “As companies become more and more corporate – everyone finds their own niche, everyone has a very specific job. Like a cog in a wheel.”

ME “I don’t want to be ‘a cog’ in a wheel, that sounds really demeaning. That’s not who I am. I’m more than that and I deserve better than that. I know I can offer more than just work by numbers, clocking in, clocking out and merely doing a job.”

GM “How long have you been working here?

ME “Nearly 4 years. Twice as long as you. You tell me, if you were in my position, after 48 months in the same role, aged 28 seeing everyone around you getting promoted and praised, when you trained, helped and guided them there – what would you do?”

GM “Well some people aren’t meant for the corporate environment. Some people thrive in the start-up mentality of being across multiple areas and getting their hands dirty, I know a lot of people that have left companies to join start ups. If that’s something you’re keen on, we can make that work for you. To be frank, if you were me, I’d think it was time to move on and look for another job. You’re role will change and become automated in the coming months as it is.”

And therein ended the meeting.

I couldn’t actually believe what I was hearing, that essentially we know you’ve outgrown your role, but we can’t do anything about it, we don’t see why would should and frankly we’d prefer it, if that’s your attitude if you left. The outcome, was the polar opposite of what I was expecting. After giving so much to a company, for them to turn around and say that I either assume my position as a cog, or leave utterly astounded me. One of the internal mantras is “We always hold onto and promote our best people.” and for them to willingly let me go, made me feel utterly insignificant, deeply sadden, foolish and unwanted.

That’s a hard gig for anyone to accept, least of all someone like me who always gives 110% in whatever I do. So I ended up going outside, walking down an alleyway and bursting into tears, because for me, everything that I had though and hoped for – turned out to be the complete opposite. They didn’t care about me, nor my development or growth, they simply cared about keeping the wheel turning. There would be another cog, to replace this outspoken one should it be needed.

I went home that night, thoroughly dejected and at a loss to see where or what I’d done wrong – but now safe in the knowledge, that if they didn’t want me, then I didn’t want them either.

Monday February 22nd 2010 (3 days later)

Those wheels of change continued to rotate and creaked into motion, first thing the following Monday, this time via my inbox.

After dating for over a year, and without any warning, my girlfriend decided it was best if we broke up. There was nothing sinister about it, she simply came to the conclusion things had run their course, even if I didn’t at the time. Over the past 12 months, was I good boyfriend? Definitely. Could I have been a better boyfriend? Unquestionably. I genuinely can’t pinpoint the reason we broke up to a specific event or situation – the time had come it seemed, to simply move on

We had a fantastic ride along the way though, we really really did – some of our memories will stay with me forever. We had a deep shared interest in art, fashion, movies and music, but ultimately none of it proved enough to make it a longstanding union – sometimes you just have to accept the situation for what it truly is.

She taught me so many things, many of them indirectly, about how the world isn’t always black and white, that less is more, that being subtle and shy are two totally different things, how sometimes its ok to not be 100% in control, to see where life takes you, and that above all, how you should always strive to do something that makes you happy. That sound obvious I know, but it’s easy to lose sight of that at times, it’s easy to get caught up in other people’s demands of you and be swayed by the lure of what’s expected.

But when I reflect on the time she and I spent together, the experienced we shared, the funny conversations we had, our common bond and secret love for lame rom-coms – I do so, without any regret, ill feeling or sense of injustice. It’s always a very sad and disheartening situation when you break up, especially with someone you have vast affection for and after such a long time. Yet there’s no easy way to tell someone you don’t love them anymore, either way you’re both going to get hurt. And whilst receiving the news via an e-mail wasn’t ideal – and after countless nights staring at the ceiling wondering we could have done differently, in the long run I think she inevitably made the right choice.

She’s now on a different path and I’m on an different trajectory entirely, but all you can ask for anyone you truly care about, is that they find happiness both within themselves and with someone who will love them equally. Two people that give each other butterflies every time they see one another. We had that, yet somewhere along the line, lost it.

But I do hope one day she will once again feel those fuzzy butterflies swirling around her tummy  and on that occasion, be able to hold onto them for good.

Wednesday February 24th (2 days later)

A mere two days later, at 10am as I sat at my desk staring out across Sydney’s rooftops, I got a hurried SMS from Jules (my Dad’s wife) along the lines of “Need to speak ASAP”. 6 weeks previously, I was with my Dad in the UK celebrating his birthday, wedding and bringing in the New Year. As many of you know, he was in poor health then, but the worst case was that he would have another 3-6 months. I told him that I would come back, to be by his side during those last few days.

But I never got the chance.

I left the office (walking down the same street after my ill-fated meeting with the boss) and made the call to the UK. I expected to hear “He’s suddenly got worse, you should come back soon.”

When I answered all I heard was

“Hey Alex, I’m so sorry but your Dad died today. Peacefully in bed with Beth and I by his side. I was talking to him and I said, if you want to go, you can…he squeezed my hand and with that he took a deep breath and exhaled. The curtain near the open window shifted at the very moment and we both knew that his spirit had literally floated out of the room. It was so peaceful. Tonight, when you’re by yourself, I’m telling everyone who knew him, to raise a glass to the sky and gave him one final toast – as he sets out on his next sailing adventure or hunt up there.” and then she and I both dissolved into tears, broken words and unfinished sentences.

I can’t really describe the sheer weight news like that has on you, it’s as if everything literally becomes frozen in time. The world stops spinning and everything falls silent. You’re standing there just reeling from it, as a myriad of emotions pan around you – like some unnaturally lucid dream.

As the tears started to seep into the screen of my BlackBerry, I messaged my boss and said “My Dad just died. Going home.” and I didn’t return to my desk for 4 weeks. I literally just left everything hanging in midair, stumbled home in an utter daze and booked my flights.

So there you have it, the first chapter as it were – as I recount these past 58 days.

6 days into it, a boss who didn’t care, a girlfriend who decided I wasn’t the one and a father who was given the timely and gentle release of death. They say change happens in three’s, but even I found that all just too much to handle, I was utterly overwhelmed and overpowered by it all. Each area of my life, suddenly was filled with frustration, sadness and loss in the space of six dramatic unexpected days.

Not the ideal way to start 2010 admittedly, but trust me – things do get a little better in my next chapter. They couldn’t get much worse after all.

Thanks, as always, for taking the time and for being here for me,



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It was just over a month ago, that I was in the icy realm of the UK celebrating my father’s birthday, wedding and bringing in New Years Eve with him. Three wonderful moments in anyone’s life, sitting alongside one another in perfect unison on December 31st 2009

Already it feels like those dramatic 11 days were so long ago – but they will remain with me, both haunting and comforting me for the rest of my life. 44 hours up in the air, traveling along dark icy roads and celebrating my birthday at 33,000 ft over Eastern Europe admittedly wasn’t much fun, so it’s been an unusual and surreal start to 2010 to say the least.

It was a bitter sweet trip, the friends, family, conversations, laughs and smiles tapered with the unavoidable fact that my Dad is suffering deeply from advanced cancer, the pain of which is at times utterly debilitating and all consuming for him.

It is heartbreaking to see anyone in pain, but when it’s your own father, wincing in his sleep, as you patiently wait for the morphine to kick in and provide some respite, it is one of the most confronting & distressing images I think any child can be faced with.

During one of his better days, I sat there in his office, as it snowed outside, the world on mute as he stared out to the white horizon and calmly said, “I’ll be lucky to see out another Christmas like this”. There was a pause. And then silence.

He said it not with fear in his voice but with a calm air of resignation, as if he had accepted the reality he may very well face. I on the other hand couldn’t and still can’t. It was a chilling premonition to reconcile and it’s an even harder memory to now revisit.

I don’t think any amount of words can’t accurately do justice to the way it makes you feel hearing an admission of such gravity. The words hang in the air like dense thick soup. It’s even more saddening when deep down, despite your best attempts, part of you is inclined to agree with that assertion.

I am truly a believer in the advances, power and resolve of science, I have a tremendous amount of faith and admiration for doctors. They helped him overcome the illness 10 years ago, but when you’re privy to terms like “quality of life” being banded around, it’s a sobering realization that there might not be a repeat performance.

But one thing I do know, with absolute certainty, is that December 31st 2009 will go down as one of the happiest days in his life, his wife Jules’ and mine.

From the church to the reception, to the dinner and the celebrations – I watched with my camera from the sidelines, trying to capture moments, the real essence of the occassion, its wealth of emotions, the warmth of the day and the hopefulness which permeated all four corners of it.

And what I saw above all was my real Dad shining through, with his new wife and sweet-natured daughter (and my sister) by his side.

He was utterly and thoroughly in the moment, to the point where I don’t think he even realized he was in pain. He reminded me of the man I had seen 6 years ago on my trip previously – larger than life, looking a little older but still as charismatic, bold and magnanimous as ever.

The distractions of well-wishers, outrageous stories, refills of red wine and unanimous bursts of laughter from the whole room utterly eclipsed whatever doom and gloom the previous days had brought.

The look of anguish and frustration, which had been riddled across his face since I arrive a few days before, was replaced that booming laugh, his eyes often tightly shut in fits of giggles and his trademark smile sat squarely touching ear to ear.

Mind over matter say they say.

It was a day filled with endless smiles, heartfelt tears and recollections of wonderful stories – the likes of which even the most brilliant imagination couldn’t conjure up.

What was almost instantly highlighted to me was just how much of an impact my Dad’s life, his generosity, support, advice and the experiences that he shared had genuinely had on others.

I was deeply proud to be his son that day. I saw another side to one of the most important individuals in my life and it was a side, which I had all too frequently underestimated all my life I think.

And I knew deep down, that even if this was to be his final public appearance before his illness became too overwhelming, he couldn’t have asked for a better finale, it was a graceful, dignified, compassionate and deeply moving end to just one of the chapters in his life.

I can only hope that when I get to his age, that I too am surrounded by such fantastic company with so many true and genuine characters.

It was as if we all existed in another place, a happier time, willing to leave our fears and preconceived ideas at the door and simply embrace each other – a genuine camaraderie brought and bound together by his legacy, love and friendship.

Getting married is suppose to be the happiest day of your life and I think the events of that day, with family and friends reunited, birthdays and New Years Eve celebrations entwined, all served as a rock solid signed, sealed and delivered declaration that everyone was utterly lost in the magic and memories of it all.

I can only hope, that at least some of my photos managed to capture even the faintest hint, of such a truly magnificent time in all our lives.

I love you Dad.

Your son

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