Reading Frames Volume 15 has been an absolute joy, a quiet revelation that has firmly cemented its place in my personal holy trinity of photographic magazines, right there alongside Hotshoe and Aperture. There is a palpable sense of dedication and artistry woven through every page, a celebration of photography not simply as a medium, but as a profound means of understanding the world and our place within it. As someone who is, admittedly, at the beginning of my own photographic journey, with my project on Aberdeen’s graveyards and resting places slowly taking shape, this issue has been a potent reminder of the kind of work I aspire to create, the calibre of storytelling I hope to achieve one day. To imagine my own images gracing these pages is a powerful motivator.

I found myself at once drawn into the profound depths of Brett Leigh Dicks’s “Nuclear Landscapes.” These are not simply photographs, they are stark, haunting meditations on humanity’s colossal impact and our often fragile relationship with history. The accompanying text, detailing sites like the Stanley R. Mickelsen Safeguard Complex, operational for a mere six months before being decommissioned, or the Apple-2 House, a survivor of a 19-kiloton nuclear blast, brought a chill to my bones. I am a great lover of history, as my own personal project can attest, and Dicks’s work captures the lingering presence of monumental past events in the most subtle, yet powerful, way. The image of the “Basketball Court, Former Mexican Hat Uranium Mill” is particularly chilling, the banality of a court in such a contaminated space speaks volumes about the human tendency to build, disregard, and leave behind toxic legacies. Then there is the “Westinghouse Atom Smasher, Pittsburgh,” a pear shaped relic of scientific ambition, now lying on its side, a fallen giant. Dicks’s photographs do not shout, they whisper stories of ambition, hubris, and the quiet decay of forgotten futures, reminding us that even the most formidable human endeavours can become spectral.

And then, Barbara Mensch’s “Regarding the Past” unfolded before me, surprising me in the most delightful way. I confess, the very first image, the “Bird Imitations, from Child Growth series,” with the young boy naked in poses initially made me a little uncomfortable. I wondered where the series would lead, bracing myself for a particular kind of challenging aesthetic. But I was genuinely blown away by the later photographs and the narrative she wove. Mensch’s journey, from measuring time and motion with a camera to documenting the gritty, unregulated life of the Manhattan waterfront in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, is utterly compelling. The image of the “lonely security guard dressed in rain gear… against a backdrop of billowing smoke from the sewer vents” in the Lower Manhattan mall that truly cemented her brilliance for me. It is a stunning composition, ominous and deeply poignant, a visual echo of impending doom and the vulnerability of the lone figure against an indifferent city, a foreshadowing of the horrors that would descend just a few years later. This image will stay with me for a very long time.

Colin Charles Harris’s “Photographs of the Natural World” offer a refreshing contrast, a gentle invitation to pause and look closely. His preference for 35mm colour slide film and his steadfast refusal to “use computers to alter what is real” speaks to a purity of vision that I admire. It is a philosophy rooted in an older tradition, one that values the truth of the lens over digital manipulation. His creation of triptychs and diptychs with a slide sorter to “heighten the overall viewing experience” proves a meticulous craft and a deep understanding of visual flow. His images of abstracted natural objects, “so far removed from what they were, that they become something entirely different,” are a testament to the power of seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary.

Douglas Hill’s “Night Flights” took me on an unexpected journey through the hidden stairways of Los Angeles. As someone who has spent countless hours exploring the quiet, overlooked corners of my own city, Aberdeen, I at once understood his fascination. The idea that these staircases, built a hundred years ago, “slice through the neighbourhood by way of a different dimension, somehow disconnected from the one we live in,” is a beautiful and evocative thought. His shift to exploring them at night, when “the population of the stairways shifts” and “other creatures who quietly come out to do what they need to for survival” replace the daytime walkers, adds a profound layer of mystery and introspection. Hill’s work is a powerful reminder that every city, no matter how familiar, holds hidden narratives waiting to be discovered, especially under the shroud of darkness.

But it was Csaba Daróczi’s “Animals of the Forest” that truly blew me away and, if I am honest, has become a complete obsession. The composition of his shots is simply breathtaking, each image is an artistic, imaginative, and tonally stunning masterclass. I can confirm, without giving too much away for my upcoming newsletter, that one of his images will feature in it, as it has left such an indelible mark on me. His method of placing his camera in a hollow at the base of an alder tree to capture a bird in flight, or his ingenious setup for the blurry mouse in “The woods tell a story” using a GoPro for the long exposure and a Nikon with a motion sensor for the flash is a testament to his boundless creativity and technical prowess. It is this blend of intuition and meticulous planning that makes his work so powerful. The dedication to patiently wait for the “flying tit in the right position” or to spend “many, many nights in the forest” for a glimpse of a pine marten speaks volumes about his profound respect for his subjects and his unwavering artistic vision. I am now a huge fan of Csaba Daróczi, his work has opened my eyes to new possibilities within nature photography, elevating it beyond mere documentation to pure art.

Beyond the captivating photographers, the conversations in Frames Volume 15 provided immense intellectual stimulation. The interview with Saul Peckham, former Senior Photographer at The British Museum, was a particular highlight for me, given my deep love for history and my own project on historical sites. His journey from a childhood darkroom enthusiast to meticulously photographing some of the world’s most important collections was inspiring. I especially enjoyed his anecdote about photographing the British Museum’s clock and watch collection, where a game of chess with Paul, the curator, mirrored the delicate dance of capturing intricate movements. His insights into the technical challenges of reflections, the evolution from cross polarisation to digital, and the museum’s “house style” of dramatic lighting to capture “all the details” were utterly fascinating. To work in a place where you photograph Napoleon’s death mask or travel to Xian for the Terracotta Army exhibition sounds like an incredible privilege, and his passion for making history visible through the lens truly shone through.

The brief conversation with Rosalind Clarke, Program Manager at the National Library of Australia, also resonated. Her work as a “collection builder,” seeking out “whole of life archives” from artists and writers, and her focus on documentary photography for historical record, provided a fascinating counterpoint to the more artistic explorations in the issue. The discussion about Frank Hurley, a curator’s “dream” despite the sheer volume of his work, and her decision to focus on his lesser known Middle Eastern material, offered a compelling example of how curators shape historical narratives. The library’s commitment to “the democratisation of information,” allowing patrons to interact directly with original materials like Hurley’s Antarctic plates (with gloves and cushions, of course!), is a beautiful principle, reinforcing the tactile connection to history that I cherish.

In sum, Frames Volume 15 is a triumph. It is not just a magazine it is a meticulously curated experience that celebrates the enduring power of photography in all its diverse forms. From the haunting beauty of nuclear landscapes to the intimate poetry of forest animals, from the gritty street life of New York to the hidden stairways of Los Angeles, and the fascinating insights into the preservation of history through the lens, this issue offers a rich tapestry of visual and intellectual delight. It reminds me why I fell in love with photography in the first place, and why I strive to contribute my own voice to this incredible art form. It is a work that challenges, inspires, and ultimately, affirms the profound connection between the human spirit and the world we capture, one frame at a time. This magazine now sits proudly among my most treasured possessions, a source of constant inspiration for my own burgeoning photographic journey.

Regards

Alex