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Streuli is a photographer of such a rare brilliance, dismantling the polished, protective veneer we wear as travellers. We cling to the worn cliché that urban exploration is boundless, yet we betray ourselves by treading the familiar, safe paths, viewing the world from a certain elevated perch, and noting only the most superficial fragments.
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I first stumbled upon the work of David Hoffman last month. I was reading an interview with him on the Socialist Worker website, and I was at once taken by his photograph of the Women’s Peace Camp at Greenham Common from 1982. I loved it so much that I featured it as one of my…
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Reading Carmen Winant’s book, The Last Safe Abortion, stirs a profound emotional reaction within me, it blows my mind how this conversation is still so prevalent, not only in America but right here at home in the UK. I see the utter idiocy of those still protesting outside hospitals and clinics across Scotland, and I…
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I remember the first time I saw one of Elisa Miller’s photographs. An image of a woman sprawled on a thick red rug, wearing a green dress and a white blouse, smoking a cigarette with a slash of bright red lipstick. Her red hair seemed to burn against the carpet, and I felt a sudden,…
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Gazing at these snapshots from Jack Lueders-Booth’s American Motorcycling Culture transports me straight back to my skateboarding youth, from 1989 to 1999, when the thrill of carving concrete roads and skating the council build ramps mirrored the raw freedom these riders chase. The book stirs that same unshakeable passion for a subculture that defined me,…
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My journey to discovering the work of Roberto Badin began, as many profound discoveries do, in a deep rabbit hole of local history. As someone who’s always been fascinated by Aberdeen’s past and the quiet narratives etched into its streets, I found myself tracing the origins of a famous Scottish whiskey, Chivas Regal, which began…
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Opening these pages from The Exposed Eye feels like a profound act of archaeology. I have to admit my oversights in not lingering longer to uncover the unspoken narratives that haunt the frame sometimes. These images, woven into Härenstam and Strand’s playful yet profound dialogue, resonate deeply with my passion for photography’s ability to peel…
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There’s something quietly soul settling about Simak’s work, a quality that pulls me back to those solitary hours in my Aberdeen flat, sat at my computer, trying to make sense of my own visual chaos. His conceptual approach, one that’s rooted in the ordinary yet elevated by light’s transformative presence, feels uncannily aligned with my…
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I was given the opportunity to talk with Dana Stirling, a photographer whose work I’ve been following closely. As you may recall, I was deeply moved by her book, Why Am I Sad? a piece that arrived at a time when I was grappling with my own photographic explorations into the unspoken corners of human…
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The first time I ever felt the visceral, raw energy of a music scene, it was not in some cavernous arena but in the cramped, sticky spaces of a rock club in December, Aberdeen 1993, a few weeks before my 16th birthday in February 1994. I was barely a teenager, but in the sweaty, pulsating…