WHAT MAKES ME REACH FOR THE CAMERA

It isn't usually the big view. It's the small things — an object sitting where it shouldn't, a particular stare, a piece of typography, the peeling layers of an old sign, or the way light falls across a building. I'm drawn to patina, texture and the traces that time leaves behind, rather than things that look newly finished.

I like images within images too — a reflection in a window, a picture hanging on a wall, a poster half-covered by another poster. One frame containing another.

Sometimes it's something completely useless. That's often the appeal.

I don't travel looking for photographs in any organised way. I walk, look around, get distracted, carry on, then occasionally turn around and go back. There are places I've photographed because of one tiny detail that nobody else seemed to notice.

Sometimes I take a photograph before I've worked out what caught my attention. I stop, look, take it, and keep walking. It can be hours or even days later before I realise what it was that made me reach for the camera.

Not because I've found something extraordinary.

Because, for a moment, something ordinary has stopped being ordinary.