Stephen Taylor Photography

The Holloway

The other evening I went for a walk along the Holloway Road near where I live in London. It is a journey I have made many times and for many reasons. Recently, that reason has often been to photograph the trees that line it. Rather fancifully, I imagine it as a “Holloway”, a sunken track through an ancient wood.

A common alder (Alnus glutinosa) in full leaf on the Holloway Road

It will never be a proper wood. Even so there are still trees.

The Holloway Road is a major road, a part of the A1; it is busy with traffic and people almost all the time. All the trees have been carefully planted and managed, and they all probably exist in a spreadsheet somewhere. When the leaves fall, they do not lie on the ground adding to the understorey but are collected up into big bags and taken away. And when the trees die, they will not lie where they have fallen; they will be chopped up, chipped and composted. A speeded up version of their natural afterlife.

Even so, they are still trees. Something else that lives amongst us. They are the past, the present and the future The older trees have lived through a past we have not seen. The younger trees, with care, have a future we will not know. The trees flow through time around us.

And they are egalitarian. They are for all of us should we find a moment to pause and look up. They are not in private woodland fenced off with barbed wire. They are on a public highway with a right to roam. We can enjoy them at any time. Their stark beauty in winter, their soft colours in spring, their sheer extravagance in high summer and their firework display come the autumn. Or if we reach out to touch them – beyond their textures, their smooth, crinkled and crevassed surfaces – we can feel the life of the tree itself. These experiences are all available to us any time we walk down the Holloway Road.

Sunlight breaking through one of the trees on the Holloway Road

I always felt there was something magical about woods.

I began photographing the trees in lockdown when we were not free to go far. I was working from home and it was so easy to allow the moments of everyday to blur into one another so, to split my personal life from my working life, I would head out for a short walk at the end or beginning of each day. As a keen photographer, I always carried my camera with me. Within a shrunken world I began to explore my own neighbourhood in greater depth. And I became aware of the sheer amount of trees in the area around and along the Holloway Road.

It reminded me of my earlier life before I moved to London. I grew up on the edge of the countryside and in our garden there were several mature trees. I have kept memories of three of them. A lopsided Beech tree (it was too close to the neighbour’s house so one half had been chopped away); an Elm that I only really knew as a tagged stump standing forlornly in a distant corner after it had succumbed to Dutch Elm disease.

Best of all though was a horse chestnut. This grew at the edge of the garden where it dropped down towards a brook and it was our playground. In the autumn she provided us with a harvest of conkers to do battle with. All year road there was a swing consisting of a rope and a stick hanging from one of the branches. We would swing out over the drop, the rope creaking above us as it twisted on the branch.

We also used to climb through her branches; I have strong memories of reaching the canopy of leaves at the top (my feet would tingle with the space between them and the grown far below). Here I could look out beyond our house to the houses beyond.

The pond in the magical wood where I used to play as a child

Further afield, there was a wood. It was not very big although it seemed so at the time. We would explore it regularly and each visit uncovered new pathways. One week we would build a den and somehow we could not remember where we had created it when we came back; it was almost as if this tiny piece of woodland was magically changing shape on every visit.

When I moved to London it never really became my home.

It was too noisy and too big. Elsewhere I have written of my attempts to escape it, to slip out of its grasps and keep on going to somewhere quieter, where the roads came to an end. As a result, I guess I never really saw the trees for the traffic, the buildings and all the people. There were some small patches of woodland nearby – Highgate and Queens Woods – which I would regularly retreat to but, of the trees on the streets I barely noticed them.

It was a lot later that I began to see the trees. Funnily enough it was somebody from Paris who drew my attention to them. I never met them but she had written a comment about the Holloway Road at an exhibition. In the comment she said she had been drawn to this part of London because it reminded her of the boulevards of her home city. Around the same time I also learnt there were enough trees in London to describe it as a forest. So I began to look at the trees across London and on the Holloway Road in a different light.

When I walk the Holloway Road now, camera in hand, photographing them, touching them, looking up through the leaves I am reaching back through my own life. This project is as much an exploration of myself as it is of the trees of the Holloway Road.

For more on the project check out the gallery page here.

The Holloway

Church-crawling

I discovered a new phrase the other week – “church-crawling”. I saw it in a book called “Steeple Chasing: Around Britain by Church” by Peter Ross but it may have come from the poet John Betjeman (he was a passionate visitor of churches).

On my cycle rides I find myself drawn to parish churches. It might be that they are the obvious place to visit in a small village. They are landmarks sometimes with wonderful architectural features to observe (Ross actually describes them as living museums). At the very least they are somewhere to pause and have a sandwich amongst the gravestones. If you are lucky enough they may even be open to take a look inside.

Peter Ross’s book is a celebration of the country (and town) church. He reminds us that they are the holders of objects that would normally be housed in a museum. Ornate examples of woodwork, stonework and brasswork just sitting there waiting to be seen.

The latest one I visited was a tiny church dedicated to St Mary Magdalene in a long vanished village called Caldecote, near Baldock in Hertfordshire. It is accessed via a hardstone dotted with abandoned cars.

There may have been a church here since Norman times but the current church dates from the 14th Century. It has not been in regular use since 1974.

The church is now owned by a charity called the Friends of the Friendless Churches. The candleholders around the church (there is no electricity) are dedicated to the memory of Ivor Bulmer-Thomas who founded the charity in 1957. I just love the name of this charity. There is also the Churches Conservation Trust which does similar admirable work but the Friends of Friendless Churches has such a warm and welcoming name!

You can donate to the charity or become a member via their website.

From now on I am going to be church-crawling!

You can view the route I took on Komoot.

Tyburn

This is one of a series of posts exploring different parts of London through photographs and words. Note that this particular post contains descriptions of violent deaths.

The history of London is hidden underfoot.

A little while ago I sought out some of that history. I walked from the Old Bailey (the Central Criminal Court) to Marble Arch along Holborn and Oxford Street.

I was surrounded by the bustle and chaos of a busy town. At the beginning of my walk on the edges of the City of London, construction companies were wrapping up for the day but I could still hear the noise of machinery behind the hoardings. Later, on Oxford Street I tucked and dived between the commuters, tourists and shoppers.

Other people had made this same journey over the centuries, some of the unwillingly.

The Old Bailey is close to the site of Newgate Prison. It stood for over seven hundred years, opening in 1188 and closing its doors in 1902 and demolished two years later.

Marble Arch, now a busy gyratory at the junction of Oxford Street, Edgware Road, Bayswater Road and Park Lane, is close to the site of the Tyburn Tree. This innocuous sounding name masked its hideous intent; it was basically a mass killing machine, where multiple people could be executed at once.

A view looking up at the dome of the Old Bailey Central Criminal Court in London, with the figure of justice holding a sword and scales on the top. The sky is dark. Above the portico the sign reads "Defend the children of the poor & punish the wrongdoer". The photograph is in black and white.

The convicted would be held in Newgate Prison and then on the day of their execution (usually a Monday) taken in a cart through the streets of London to where they would meet their fate.

Over three thousand people would end their lives doing the “Tyburn jig”; they were not dropped to break their necks as in later executions, but merely left to choke to death as they hung there.

The first recorded execution was that of William Longbeard in 1196. He was part of a protest against rising taxes and would be one of many killed here for protesting against the established order.

The range of offences people could be hanged for was wide but a lot of them especially after the implementation of the Black Act of 1723 related to the theft of property. Sometimes this could be for very minor offences such as stealing food to eat, criminalising poverty.

I wanted to explore that final journey so many people took and so on a dark winter’s night I headed out from the Old Bailey. The actual route has changed a little but it is still possible to trace it on the ground.

You can view the route I took on Komoot here.

It must have been a chaotic and confusing experience for the convicted as they were paraded through the streets on the back of a cart. Some of them may have displayed a degree of bravado as they passed the noisy crowds that lined the route but all of them knew that their lives were no longer in their own hands and their fate awaited them at the end of the journey.

Shoppers on Oxford Street, hustle and bustle around each other on a dark and cold night in January 2025. Black and white image

A black and white image of a blurred bus with a person sitting towards the back on the top deck and looking out of the window. Photographed on Oxford Street, London

I tried to capture some of that chaos and confusion in the photographs I made.

The last person to be executed at Tyburn was John Austin in 1783. By then the area around the killing field had become gentrified and the new residents were concerned a weekly execution lowered the tone of the neighbourhood. The gallows were removed and the executions now took place within the walls of Newgate Prison.

A statue of Prince Albert, the consort to Queen Victora, on a horse standing on a plinth outside a glass atrium at Holborn Circus, London at night. Albert is doffing his hat as if in salute to the people below. The photograph is in black and white

One thing I noticed as I walked the route was how little there is on the ground in memory of those thousands of people who died here. At the end there is just a simple marker on a traffic island. London is renowned for its statues for the “great and good” – I passed one of Prince Albert, in a rather jaunty pose – but there are few for everyone else, the people. If history is written by the victors then the people who died at Tyburn were very much the losers.

I did notice, however, that someone had left a solitary rose on the marker.

No photographing

Do you live your life through the lens of your camera? Should you? This article looks at how we can fall in and out of love with photography, and how it’s okay not to want to take photographs all the time.

The inspiration for this post came from a couple of places.

First of all, hearing from a few other photographers who were giving up their craft. One of them was a professional who was retiring, and was disinclined to take any more photographs than necessary to be a grandparent. The other was an amateur who took photographs for the joy of it and no longer felt that joy.

Secondly, a little while ago I was walking across Hampstead Heath on my way home after photographing the changing scene from Parliament Hill as the daylight faded over the City. There had been a lot of rain and there were a few puddles around. I’m a sucker for a puddle – the reflections in them always make great photographs. This one was particularly good – the trees overhead reflected in perfect symmetry against a dark sky.

To take the photograph would have meant taking my camera bag from my back, getting the camera out, setting it up on the tripod, composing the image, moving the tripod, recomposing the image (with a lot of bending down involved!), focussing, setting the exposure, recomposing (again!), checking the focus and exposure (again!) before finally firing the shutter. And then packing everything up afterwards. It was dark and it was cold.

It looked like a great photograph but it doesn’t exist. I kept on walking. I had stood on the hilltop for over an hour as the sun set and feeling the cold through my back.

I am really a glorified amateur photographer, making a little bit of money on the side. I have undertaken a few commissions but most of my work is self-directed. I tell you this because obviously the experience is different for a professional photographer. They have to take photographs to put bread on the table (until they retire – see above) and philosophical notions about their relationship with their craft are less relevant.

Falling in and out of love with photography

I started photographing when I was a lot younger and I was extremely passionate about it, photographing at every opportunity. I would carry the camera with me everywhere. First of all, it was one of those bulky Russian cameras, a Zenit; then I graduated onto a Topcon (whatever happened to them?) before going medium format with a Mamiya 645. Along the way I completed an A Level in photography and even applied to study the subject at a higher level. I remember thinking that I could not envisage a time when I might not want to take photographs. It just seemed to be a part of me and define who I was.

And then I stopped. There was a time when I didn’t even own a functioning camera.

Back in love

Eventually, though, I started again. Now, as before I carry a camera almost everywhere I go. Not just my phone but a proper camera, sometimes one that takes film photographs! Photography again defines who I am. I spend a lot of time taking photographs and possibly even more time thinking (and writing) about taking photographs.

I also try to make time every week to go out taking new photographs, whether it is just a walk around the block, or a visit to somewhere further afield and new. It can help to clear my head and it gives me an opportunity to explore.

Is it always good to photograph?

But this has got me thinking. Is it always good to take photographs? Am I hiding away behind the camera?

When I go out with friends for a walk I take my camera with me and I am on the lookout for photographs almost all the time. I am pleased to say that one or two of them have even been encouraged to take the occasional photograph themselves. However some of them think it is a good walk spoiled.

For them the photography is an interruption (and sometimes it usually is – they have to stop and wait for me every so often!). They argue that I am not experiencing something properly; taking photographs is just getting in the way, living life secondhand.

Some people do seem to live the world through the lens of their camera or phone. Witness the number of selfies that are taken everyday. If you go to an event chances are you will see a lot of people focussing on the process of recording every single moment rather than living the event. I have seen this myself (and been guilty of it!). I am a keen cyclist and a watcher of cycling events. When the riders come by I tend to lift my camera to the eye to capture every moment.

There is also a school of thought that because we take so many photographs we are losing our memories. We are allowing the photograph of the moment to represent our memory of it. We don’t capture it with our mind, just with a cellphone. And that memory drifts down the bank of photographs, floating somewhere on a cloud that we never access again.

Seeing the world anew

There are positives to viewing the world through a camera lens, though. I personally feel it can be a way of living more deeply in the moment and experiencing the world around me, seeing it anew every time.

When I am out for a walk or on a cycle ride and I pause to photograph something, I always start by looking more closely at what has caught my eye. I notice other details around it and how it fits into its surroundings. I experience other sensations as well; perhaps there is the warmth of the sun on my back, or the scent of flowers drifting across a meadow, the sound of the wind in the trees.

Later on, when I get home and look through the photographs I can relive each moment. My memories are enhanced by the experience of taking the photographs.

And if I am at some event where I spend most of the time behind the camera? As long as I am still experiencing the enjoyment of being at the event, does it matter?

Could I imagine never photographing again?

It did happen to me and it could happen again. Life changes. What was important becomes irrelevant.

There are times when I do put down the camera. I see something worth photographing but decide not to do so. It doesn’t matter if the picture didn’t get made – I could still appreciate the moment and walk on. It’s great to take a break and not feel that I have to capture that perfect moment every time I take the camera out.

Putting down the camera can also help me become a better photographer. As an exercise I go for a walk without the camera and notice what is around me. I am looking for what could make a great image without taking it. It is a good exercise to improve my compositional skills; as I walk along I watch how the scene in front of me changes.

So, returning to photographing after a pause – can re-invigorate my creativity.

I have written here before about falling back in love with photography, and I have suggested different ways of doing that, but there are times when it is alright not to want to photograph. As a hobby photography is a passion but it one that you should set aside when you want to. Do not feel guilty if you do not inspired. Set the camera aside. Return to it when or if you are ready. If you do enjoy each moment you look through the viewfinder and fire the shutter.

I hope that you found my reflections on taking photographs interesting and I hope that some of my thoughts resonate with you. I would love to know your experiences. Do add them in the comments below!

Prime lenses for slower photography

Slow photography can help you and your art in so many ways. You engage with your surroundings and your subject more. It can help you think more deeply about your photographs, especially the composition. It can help you too, slowing you down, making you more self-aware and mindful. I know myself how helpful it can be when things have been troublesome. A few hours away with the camera makes things seem a little better.

In the past I have written about slowing my photography down, including by using a tripod. In this post I want to suggest another way to slow down. Switching away from zoom lenses to prime lenses.

A prime lens has a single focal length. It means that if you want to photograph something and it is too far away you can’t zoom in – you’ll have to get closer! Alternatively you could change to a longer focal length lens.

So why should you go to all that bother? You would have to carry more lenses and, when you do change the lens, you’ll need to be careful to avoid dust getting on the sensor. Read on to find out why I think you should. Also includes tips on how to change lenses quickly.

Why you might choose prime lenses

First of all, a few practical reasons why you might choose to use a prime lens.

To begin with the image quality might be better. There are fewer bits of glass inside them which could mean sharper images.

Less glass and less moving parts means they will be lighter than a zoom lens so easier to carry. I take my camera on the bicycle a lot so keeping the weight down is important for me. A prime lens can also be cheaper than a zoom lens.

On the other hand you might need to carry more lenses to replace one zoom lens but cancels out the weight and cost advantages. I usually just carry a couple of lens and both of them were still cheaper than the zoom lens I use. Having less moving parts means they less to bounce about on a bicycle.

This photograph of a lighted window in Senate House, London was taken with an 85mm f1.8 lens

The big practical advantage, though – especially if you take photographs in low light – is that prime lenses can be faster. That is they have a wider aperture setting than a zoom lens. The zoom lenses I have open up to F4 at best whilst one of my prime lenses has a aperture setting of F1.8. Some prime lenses can go even wider. This means that they will let more light in. That’s great if you’re in low light trying to take handheld photographs.

Slowing your photography with prime lenses

Using a prime lens means that you have to think more carefully about your subject and how you will compose your photograph. With a zoom lens you can rapidly change the focal length to compose your photograph.

With a prime lens on your camera you might need to ask yourself a number of decisions.

Am I using the right lens?

The first one is, is this the right lens for this photograph?

If you are out photographing you might see something that you want to capture. You raise your camera and look through the viewfinder to see what it looks like. You might think your subject looks a bit lost in its surroundings. If you are using a zoom lens you can simply zoom in. Or alternatively you might want to zoom out to show the context.

You can do that with a prime lens. When you first look through the viewfinder you might decide that the image will be fine with the choice of lens you are using at the moment. In which case, go ahead and make the photograph.

But what if you decide it might not be the right lens? Then you have a couple of other questions to ask yourself.

Could I take a different photograph?

This photograph was taken with a 50mm lens. I liked the tree and the building but couldn’t get in close enough.
However I felt the ploughed field added context to the subject.

Is there a different photograph of the subject you could take with this lens?

It might be that instead of changing the lens you could create a different picture. If you have a wide angle lens on the camera perhaps you could put your subject in context or emphasise the negative space in the photograph, rather than choose the detail. If you have a telephoto lens on perhaps you could focus in on the detail.

Look closely at the subject and its context. What else might there be to capture?

Can I move closer or further away from the subject?

This shows Culliford Tree, an old earthwork in Dorset. I was using a 24mm lens.
I moved closer to capture more of it but as I did so I thought this bush in the foreground could be the subject instead.

Why not use your feet as a zoom lens?

If you can, move in closer or further away as if you were zooming in or out. If you decide to do this, look carefully at your subject as you move toward or away from it. What else is being revealed or concealed? Are you seeing a totally different photograph now?

If you ask yourself these questions whilst using a prime lens it will help you think more deeply about your subject and the photograph you want to make.

Changing the lens

Of course, it is perfectly okay to change the lens to make the picture you had in mind. There are a few things to think about when it comes to changing lenses though.

Try the following steps to change lenses quickly to avoid dust on the sensor and inside the lens.

Make sure the camera is secure on its strap
Tilt it down.
Take the rear lens cap off the lens you are about to put on the camera.
Hold the replacement lens with the front pointing towards you
Grip so you have space to hold the lens on the camera with the same hand
Push the button to release on the camera
Hold the lens on the camera, turn and left away
Twist your hand around so the new lens is offered to the camera
Make sure it is properly aligned
Click into place
Put the rear lens cap on the lens you have just removed
Put away safely
You are now ready to use the new lens!

This does sound a long and complex but practice it a few times and it becomes second nature. It might be, of course, that you don’t want to keep changing lenses. If you do decide you want to use one prime lens then I would suggest the 50mm lens.

Sensor size and focal length

One other thing to be aware of is that the field of view of a lens (whether it is a prime fixed lens or a zoom lens) will vary depending upon the sensor size of your camera.

The sensor is the area the light hits to create the image. If you are using film it would be each frame of the the role of film. The sensor size will impact the actual focal length on your camera.

Sensor size = part of the digital sensor that’s sensitive to light.
- Full frame = sensor size close to the traditional 35mm film (35 X 24mm)
- APS-C – a smaller sensor, around 23.6 x 15.60mm
Crop factor – full frame = 1, APS-C = 1.5

This means that if you have a 50mm lens it won’t be a 50mm lens on a camera with an APS-C sensor – it will be a 75mm lens (50 x 1.5), a medium telephoto lens.

Check the manual with your camera to find out what size the sensor is.

A prime lens is a great way to slow your photography down. If you are using prime lens ask yourself three questions: Can I take the picture I want with this lens? Is there a different picture I could take? Can I get in closer (or further back)? Asking all three questions can make you think about your subject and how to compose your image.

If you carry multiple prime lenses follow the steps to change lenses and minimise the chance of dust getting on your sensor.

Be aware that the field of view of different lens will be affected by the size of the sensor in your camera.

If you already use a prime lens regularly I’d love to know your experiences. Add them to the comments below. If you have any photographs it would be great to see them. Share them on Instagram. Tag them stephentaylorphotography so I can find them.

I am also now on Bluesky: @staylor-photos.bsky.social

Reflections on 2024: A Year in Photographs

Another year has started. Before I step too far into 2025 I would like to take a moment to look back on the past year.

A photograph is a memory and there is often a joy looking through them and being reminded of the moments when they were made.

In that spirit here are twelve photographs (one for each month) that I made in 2024.

January

A photograph of a red bauble on a Christmas Tree abandoned on the pavement as two joggers run by. The photograph has been saturated except for the bauble — Red Bauble

For a few years now after Christmas I will head out onto the local streets with my camera and a few brightly coloured baubles. I am on the look out for abandoned Christmas Trees. Recently they would have been the centre of family celebrations; now they are left out on the side of the road for collection. I wanted to celebrate them so I redecorated and photographed them. The process has become a little ritual for me around Twelfth Night. Here is one of the photographs I made in January 2024. You can view some of the photographs made in 2025 here.

February

The cooling towers of Battersea seen from across a wall with a red building in between on a winter's day. A tree with no leaves stands in the foreground. — Battersea Power Station

In February I was acting as a tour guide for my brother and his wife over from the United States. It was the first time I had seen them for some while and I think I overdid some of the walking I made them do around London! This photograph was made on a walk along the River Thames past the refurbished Battersea Power Station. I just liked the geometrical shapes of the electricty box, the wall, the red roof behind and then the towers of the power station, especially as they contrasted with the bare branches of the winter tree.

March

A view of a seafront development at the small seaside resort of Swangae in Dorset, England. A small dinghy is heading out across the water. The posts of the old pier are visible in the foreground. Part of the development includes the 19th century bell tower built as a memorial to the Duke of Wellington. — Swanage, Dorset

At Easter towards the end of March I visited Dorset. This feels like my second home and it is where I grew up so I take any chance to revisit as often as I can. This photograph is of Swanage, a traditional little seaside resort, and it is one of the photographs I made during the year I made to include in the calendar I produce each year. Each year I choose a different theme. For 2025 I wanted to celebrate seaside resorts. You can view more of the photographs from the calendar here.

April

A view of a acer tree in leaf on a sunny day on the Holloway Road in London. A red double decker bus is visible in the background — Forest of London – the Holloway Road

Did you know that London is a forest? There are enough trees in London for it to be officially defined as a forest! When I learned that fact it inspired me to take a second look at the trees around me and imagine them as a magical forest slowly taking over the city. This one shows a young tree planted on the Holloway Road in North London with a double decker bus in the background.

May

A photograph of a woman with red hair and a black veil turning her head to look backwards as she walks away from the camera — Majka

In May a friend of mine was getting married. For family reasons the wedding had to be brought forward and she asked me to take the photographs. It was the first time I had done anything like this and it gave me a few sleepless nights beforehand! On the day though I found that once I was behind the camera I was in control of the situation, directing and posing all the guests for the different sorts of photographs required for a wedding album. This photograph was not posed though. The bride was just about to walk with her father into the room where the ceremony was to take place. As she did so she turned her head to look behind her. I liked the idea of her standing between two lives and looking back one last time on her old life as she headed into the future.

June

A traditional touring bicycle with handlebar bag and saddle bag propped against a tree on a track somewhere in Hertfordshire — The Fratello

One of my happiest places is out on the bicycle photographing the countryside. This photograph was taken in June on a road towards Hertford. As I cycled along I noticed path off through some trees on the side of the road so I decided to pull over to explore. Off the track I came upon some beautiful ferns and spent some time capturing their shapes and textures before I dragged myself and the bike back to main road to continue my ride.

July

A black and white fine art style photograph looking up at an office building in London with wisps of clouds floating by overhead — London sky

Another of my favourite places in front of the computer working on my photographs. I always see the image I took as the starting point. At home I can then create what I saw and felt as I looked through the viewfinder. Contrary to popular opinion a photograph does not show the reality of what was in front of the camera. Rather, it shows what the photographer wanted to capture. Sometimes it can be a straightforward record of the scene but often it can be an interpretation; a view of the photographer’s experience of the subject. This photograph expresses what I felt when I looked through the viewfinder up at these buildings.

August

A view of the wrinkled downs below the Iron Age Hillfort of Eggardon in the west of Dorset — Dorset Downs

In August I returned to Dorset and on a gloriously sunny day I went for a cycle ride westward. This part of the county is very lumpy and this photograph was taken at a top of a climb – as I waited for my brother to join me ;-). It shows Eggardon, an Iron Age hillfort atop the Dorset Downs. One of my passions is the sense of the past beneath our feet and I sometime feel that most deeply in the county of my birth.

September

The Diver: Regeneration sculpture by John Kaufman at low tide on the River Thames at Rainham, Essex. — The Diver

A river runs through London and I have been exploring its further reaches out towards the sea. This was taken at Rainham in Kent. The sculpture is called “The Diver” and it was created by John Kaufman. The artist’s own grandfather was a diver working in the dangerous waters of the Thames. Kaufman himself was late to his craft and he started work on this artwork in 1995 as a self-taught sculptor. The artwork was installed in 2000 and sadly he died two years later. His work is a memorial to the people who worked the Thames but also serves as a reminder to never stop living, something I try to remember everyday.

October

A still life photograph of a pumpkin and autumn leaves on a slate — Autumn

Perhaps one of the purest forms of photography is still life. It allows the photographer to be in complete control of their work. They can chose the subject matter, lighting and composition. I find that I can lose myself in the process of making still life photographs. If you are practicing mindful photography it can be the simplest genre of photography to try.

November

A small tree in autumn colours stands between its older and taller relatives in the undergrowth of Savernake Forest in Wiltshire England — Autumn colours

I seek out the delights of every season to photograph even in the darkest of winter but perhaps my favourite time to photograph is autumn, and then I head to the woods. This was made in Savernake Forest in Wiltshire in early November. The forest is renowned for its ancient trees grown large over the centuries but it is a living place and there are always new trees waiting to take their place. Perhaps this one will eventually reach the sky and in years to come grow into one of the venerable trees that make up this forest and delight visitors.

December

A line of gravestones stand under a yew tree in a churchyard in Hertfordshire. The tower, all that remains of the church, is in the background. A mist drifts around the gravestones — The Old Church Tower, Thundridge, Hertfordshire

There are places I visit often but sometimes there are places I have never visited before. This is just outside the small town of Ware in Hertfordshire. It is an old tower, all that remains of a church that once stood here. It served the nearby village of Thundridge for many years but fell into disrepair in the middle of the nineteenth. I have visited the Hertfordshire countryside many times but I had never been to this woodland clearing where the remains of the church stand surrounded by some of its parishioners. It speaks to me of the need to explore more deeply.

….examine this region
Of short distances and definite places.

W.H. Auden “In Praise Of Limestone”

Thank you for taking the time to view the photographs I took during 2024 and to read my thoughts on them. I found it a therapeutic experience, looking back on happy memories with family and friends or out on cycle rides or walks. I also feel it has given me the inspiration to head out, view the world around me and make more photographs.

Watch this space!

From Festive to Forgotten: The Afterlife of Christmas Trees

Last Sunday 5th January marked Twelfth Night, the traditional end of the Christmas celebrations. After this it is unlucky to leave up any decorations from the festive period. As a result it is also a time to discover abandoned Christmas trees on the roads left out for the local authority to collect.

A little while ago it had played an important part in a family home. It would have been brought in and decorated. Before Christmas Day brightly wrapped presents would have been placed around it. For a few days it would become the centre of attention in the home.

This might be more to do with the physical space it takes up in the house than its part in the celebrations!

So soon, it is abandoned, de-decorated (if that is a word) and taken out into the cold winter weather.

This is where I come in.

For the past few years just after Christmas I head out with a collection of Christmas tree ornaments to re-decorate any trees I find in my local area. It is usually just two or three brightly coloured baubles.

Then I photograph the results.

Here are some of the images following Christmas 2024.

Over the years some of these photographs have been turned into Christmas cards. If you’re looking for some unique cards for next Christmas then these might be what you are looking for. And all on sale for just a pound each (plus postage and packing).

www.stephentaylor.photography/christmas

Capturing Time: Photography in Hertfordshire

It’s the end of another year when we turn our minds to the past and the future. As a photographer I have always been fascinated by how to interpret time in a single image.

A photograph can be captured at 1/250 of a second. How do we suggest the passing of time in that instant?

Recently I explored somewhere in the Hertfordshire countryside where I was very aware of the sense of time and I wanted to capture it in my photography. I discovered one place where time covered all. Elsewhere I came upon a human construct of time sliced through the landscape.

Sometimes the best way to see the countryside is in the depths of winter when it is at its simplest. All the leaves are fallen and the trees are bare, the flowers along the path are long gone and leave nothing but dried seed heads. The fields are empty as the crops have been harvested and the livestock brought inside. And overhead the sky hangs low, so low that a mist drifts across my path.

Time covers all

The churchyard at Old Thundridge Church in Hertfordshire.
All that remains of the church is the tower in the background.

The first place I visited was in some woodland just outside the village of Thundridge near Ware in Hertfordshire. Here a solitary church tower stands alone save for a few gravestones; villagers staying close to their place of worship through the centuries.

A church may have stood in this space since Saxon times. All that remains is the tower built in the 15th Century.

In the middle of the 19th century the church was in a state of decay. The bells of the tower were moved to a new church closer to the village, and the chancel and nave were demolished leaving just the tower behind. For a while some services were continued including burials (some of the parishioners wanted to be closer to their family members after death) but the tower now stands alone in a woodland clearing.

It is a listed building but unfortunately listing does not necessarily lead to protection as the tower is in a dire state and needs substantial funds to restore it. Despite the best efforts of a small but dedicated group of volunteers the tower is slowly being reclaimed by time.

I took numerous images of the tower and the graveyard and I think this one sums up the feeling I had for the place, showing it succumbing to time and the land, along with the parishioners resting in their graves around the tower.

Timelines

A dirt track runs through the Hertfordshire countryside.
Close to the tree, where the track turns, runs the line of the Greenwich Meridian.

After visiting the church tower I headed south, skirting around the edge of Ware. Here my route crisscrossed the a human construction of time – the Greenwich Meridian line.

It is a line of longitude that has been set at zero degrees, zero minutes and zero seconds and runs from the North to the South Pole, dividing the world into eastern and western hemispheres. The Greenwich Meridian line was just one of many lines that were arbitrarily created over the centuries to aid navigation. Most of them would run through the country that had set it up. In 1851 the Greenwich Meridian became the international standard. It has since been superseded by the IERS Reference Meridian which runs a little to the east of it.

From the line of longitude time spreads out east and westward. In these days of universal time we barely notice it but once there would have been minor changes in time even across short distances. Clocks in villages and towns across Britain would have been set to their own local times. Now we have a standard time across the country but as I stood where the meridian line crossed the track I was walking along I could not only see a landscape stretching out in both directions, but a timescape too.

My journey into the Hertfordshire countryside took me through time and space. I hope that these photographs have captured that sense of time that ran through the landscape.

If you would like to view more of the photographs I took on this visit go to my Clickasnap profile to see them.

More information and references

You can find out more information on the church tower here.
If you would like to donate to the charity seeking to restore the tower they have a gofundme page as well. I have no connection to the organisation.
For more on the Greenwich Meridian Line check out the Wikipedia page
If you would like to explore the route I took check it out on Komoot

Keeping in Touch: The Importance of Physical Greetings Cards

How do you keep in touch with your friends and family when you are far apart? How do you tell them about what you are doing? How do you celebrate family events?

Chances are it will be through occasional or regular calls; perhaps you keep them updated through social media or on messaging services.

Once upon time it might have been with regular letters home and greetings cards at Christmas, birthdays and holidays. This change is also reflected in how we use and consume photographs.

The changing nature of photography

How many photographs do you see everyday printed out?

The way we view and use photographs has changed.

Once upon a time we could only see them when they were printed out. In some forms, the daguerreotype, each photograph was a unique item. The whole process of making a photograph was complex and time consuming so each one was important.

The only way we could send images was to print them out and give them to people. We either had to be with the person or we would have to put them in the post, either as a postcard or in an envelope, maybe even mounted as a gift. They became possessions, objects that people would carry with them.

Photographs have become ubiquitous. Many of us carry cameras with us all the time now. But the images have become more transient as we view them on computer screens or phones. We will see them for a while and then they will fade away

A photograph of a Christmas Card on a plain background with the message "Merry Christmas" — A design for one of my Christmas cards. Check the link at the bottom of this post to purchase

Keeping in touch has changed

An old fashioned greetings card is slower but it creates a physical connection.

This change in how we view photographs is very obvious in how we share our experiences and celebrate significant events. Once we would have carefully (or otherwise) chosen a card for them, written a message inside, sealed it into an envelope, written their address on the front, stuck a stamp on the top. Then we would have walked to a local post box. Within a day or two, our friend or family member would have received the card.

Now we’re likely to send an all singing, all dancing animated GIF that they receive instantaneously.

But I am here to praise the greetings card, not to bury it.

There is something so much more physical about a greetings card. This is particularly the case if there are so many miles between the sender and the recipient and they only see each other on a few occasions.

Sending a card to someone else is letting go of something you have held so that someone else can hold it. It creates a physical connection between you.

A video or phone call offers immediacy for a while. You feel you are with the other person, chatting to them as if you were in the same room. Holding a card that someone has sent you can have a similar feeling. The object in your hands was a little while ago held by someone else who cares for you. It was physically in their presence and now it has become a part of you.

Christmas Greetings — Slices of oranges and lemons create a seasonal feeling for this Christmas cards.
Check the link at the bottom of this post to purchase

Merry Christmas — Slices of oranges and lemons create a seasonal feeling for this Christmas cards.
Check the link at the bottom of this post to purchase

The Christmas Card

Christmas is still the time for sending cards

Once upon a time, the greetings card was ubiquitous, especially at this time of year as we approach the festive season.

I remember as a child all the cards along the mantelpiece, some of them perhaps given more prominence than others. And if there were far too many for the shelves, others would be strung up along the walls.

Christmas remains the most popular time to send physical cards. According to Hallmark, approximately 1.3 billion in the United States each year, and according to the Royal Mail, about 150 million in the UK. However, fewer cards are being sent these days. Instead we tend to send instant messages to each other.

When we do send Christmas cards, though, they are more likely to be personalised. Something more unique. Something that might be kept by the recipient.

Perhaps we still recognise that we need that physical connection especially when we are miles apart. We feel that connection should be uniquely ours. We are returning to the time when we used to send cards (maybe even letters) in the post, and the recipient would hold on to them and treasure them?

It is because of my passionate belief in this notion that I create a range of Christmas cards based upon my photographs. I send them out to all my friends and family members.

They are also available to purchase here.

If you are looking to make a physical connection with your family and friends, what better way than to send them an actual card with your own writing in it? And if you are looking for a unique Christmas card then check out the link for some of the cards I have produced.

If you are quick there is still a bit of time to get them before Christmas.

https://www.numonday.com/shop/stephen-taylor-photography

How to fall back in love with photography – take a chance

If you are stuck for ideas to photograph why not throw in an element of chance?

This is one of a series of posts suggesting ways to re-ignite your passion for photography. If you’re finding it hard to choose something to photograph how about just leaving it to chance? The simplest way to do this is to go for a walk and use a random process to decide where you go.

This time we’re taking inspiration from some of the ideas behind something called psychogeography. The term was invented in the 1950s by Guy Debord as a way of exploring our relationship with the space around us. It grew out the idea of the 19th century flaneur or walker, who would explore parts of an area, sometimes wandering in an aimless fashion. Debord suggested more inventive methods of navigation to explore an area.

Exploring by chance

There are a number of ways to explore by chance.

One method is to explore somewhere with the map of somewhere else. You might try to navigate Paris with a map of New York, for example!

A second option is to draw a straight line in any direction on a map and try to stick as closely as you can to the line.

Alternatively simply make a random choice of direction every time you come to a junction. You can do this with a toss of a coin or letting an app on your phone make the choice for you.

Bristol

I tried this method recently when I was visiting Bristol in the west country of England. I was with my sister and we were walking through a part of the town centre on a Friday morning just after breakfast. It was still quite early and we hadn’t planned our day very much yet.

As we explored I thought it would be fun to throw in a bit of chance so I asked my sister to make the choice. At each junction I asked her to decide, without thinking too much which way to go; left, right or straight on. For the next hour or so we took the turns based upon her decision at each junction.

I did not ask her if there was any rationale behind her decision. Perhaps there was something that had attracted her interest in one direction, or maybe she really was just choosing left, right or straight ahead randomly. In any case, for me, it was a random choice. I just followed her decision; at every turn I deferred to her in the choice of route we should take.

The route took us past

the cathedral where an obliging street sweeper waited a few moments to take my photograph before clearing up the leaves that were the composition;
several monuments including those of social reformer, Raja Ram Mohan Roy (topped by a gull) and politician Edmund Burke (complete with the stars of the EU on old cotton bag;
the oldest Catholic church in Bristol, that used to stand on the harbourside but now stands on Colston Avenue where buses have replaced boats,
a car park illustrating that Bristol’s architecture includes a fair amount of brutalism;
a ruined church, now a war memorial;
and, finally, a main road back into the town centre (and more functional architecture)

Some of it was not in the traditional parts of the city. It was a chance to explore parts of the town off the beaten track. For me it was the opportunity to take some photographs that I wouldn’t otherwise have taken.

Thank you to my sister for being my random navigation device 🙂

Exploring by chance is a great way to discover places, sometimes even the familiar from a different angle. It can open you up to new sights and inspire you to take photographs.

What do you do when you visit somewhere? Have you ever tried exploring in a random manner? If you have, let me know. I’d love to hear how you got on!