Less becomes everything. These are meditations on space, balance, and the edge between presence and absence. When light is soft and sound is distant, the world simplifies — leaving only form, tone, and the quiet geometry of thought.
The Old Beacon
The old beacon rises like a memory half-remembered, suspended between sky and sea. Its skeletal frame, stripped of purpose yet rich with history, stands quietly against the vastness, offering no signal now but its own fragile endurance. In the still water below, its reflection stretches downward like an echo — softened, trembling, almost fading.
Here, emptiness becomes part of the geometry. The horizon dissolves, leaving the beacon alone in a spacious hush where time feels slowed and sound seems impossible. With nothing to compete for attention, its worn timbers and delicate symmetry reveal a different kind of strength: not the strength of utility, but the strength of simply continuing to exist.
This image is less a portrait of a structure than a meditation on solitude — a place where form is reduced to essence, and silence becomes the truest kind of light.
"Fogbound Groyne"
Captured on a muted, fog-bound morning at Aberdeen Beach, this image reduces the shoreline to its most essential elements. The groyne stretches outward and gradually disappears into the mist, its moss-covered timbers softened by the slow movement of the tide. With the horizon erased by fog, the scene becomes a meditation on line, tone, and stillness.
“Fogbound Groyne” was awarded Second Place in the Seascape category of the Scottish Landscape Photographer of the Year 2024, recognised for its restrained composition and atmospheric subtlety. It invites the viewer into a moment where the world is quiet, edges fade, and minimalism becomes its own form of poetry.
"Cascade"
This close study of a waterfall gently reverses expectation: the rock, not the water, becomes the focal point. The cascade slips over its surface in soft, luminous veils, tracing the contours and textures that time has shaped. By isolating this moment, the image reveals how movement can illuminate stillness — a quiet dialogue between permanence and flow, held in a frame of simplicity.
This close study of a waterfall gently reverses expectation: the rock, not the water, becomes the focal point. The cascade slips over its surface in soft, luminous veils, tracing the contours and textures that time has shaped. By isolating this moment, the image reveals how movement can illuminate stillness — a quiet dialogue between permanence and flow, held in a frame of simplicity.
“The Kraken’s Claw”
Long exposure transforms this jagged outcrop into something otherworldly — a dark, grasping form rising through a veil of mist. The rock’s natural ridges and fractures resemble the joints of some great submerged creature, frozen mid-emergence. In the surrounding softness, the sea loses its familiar texture and becomes an indistinct, shifting field of light, heightening the sense of mystery.
“The Kraken’s Claw” invites the imagination to blur the line between landscape and myth. What is solid appears animate; what is water appears weightless. In this quiet, minimalist composition, the shoreline becomes a place where geology and story briefly touch — a moment suspended between the real and the imagined.
Winter’s Quiet Curve
Along a snow-dusted shoreline, the land softens into a single sweeping gesture — a quiet curve where snow, sand, sea, and sky settle into harmony. The stillness feels almost weightless, as though the world has paused just long enough to be noticed. This photograph was awarded the John Muir Trust Landscape Prize 2023, recognising its celebration of simplicity, space, and the gentle clarity that winter brings.
“Rum on the Rock”
Shot from the shores of Eigg, “Rum on the Rock” brings together two contrasting elements of the landscape: the cracked, weather-worn slab in the foreground and the distant silhouette of Rum rising beneath heavy skies. The rock anchors the scene with texture and permanence, while the island hovers across the water — dark, atmospheric, and almost unreal beneath the shifting cloud.
The quiet patterns in the sand and the soft tones of sea and sky create a space of calm between the two forms. In this minimal composition, the dialogue between foreground and horizon becomes the heart of the image: a meditation on scale, distance, and the quiet geometry of the shoreline.
Silent Line
A row of abandoned sea defences rises gently from the tide, reduced now to quiet shapes holding their place against the horizon. In the soft light before dawn, their purpose fades and only form remains — simple, repeating, almost meditative.
This image is a study in balance and restraint: the stillness of water, the muted drift of clouds, and the quiet geometry that emerges when the world pauses. In the emptiness between sky and sea, these weathered blocks become a single, contemplative line.
A row of abandoned sea defences rises gently from the tide, reduced now to quiet shapes holding their place against the horizon. In the soft light before dawn, their purpose fades and only form remains — simple, repeating, almost meditative.
This image is a study in balance and restraint: the stillness of water, the muted drift of clouds, and the quiet geometry that emerges when the world pauses. In the emptiness between sky and sea, these weathered blocks become a single, contemplative line.
Whispers in the Tide
In this quiet meeting of stone and sea, the world softens into suggestion.
Rocks rise and fade like thoughts half-remembered, held briefly in the hush between waves.
Here, detail gives way to essence — a minimalist meditation where form becomes feeling, and the tide writes in whispers across the shore.
Rocks rise and fade like thoughts half-remembered, held briefly in the hush between waves.
Here, detail gives way to essence — a minimalist meditation where form becomes feeling, and the tide writes in whispers across the shore.
“First Light, Aberdeen”
At dawn on Aberdeen beach, the groyne becomes a quiet gesture leading into the soft expanse of sea and sky. The long exposure smooths the water into a gentle haze, revealing the structure not as an obstacle but as a line of stillness within the unfolding light. The muted colours of morning — pale gold, soft blue, and the first warmth of day — create a sense of calm that balances presence with absence.
This image is a meditation on simplicity: the meeting of horizon and water, the rhythm of repeating posts, and the quiet moment when the world shifts from night to day. In this space, less becomes more, and the ordinary becomes quietly luminous.
Pillars of Silence
Rising from the stillness like fragments of an unfinished thought,
these pillars stand suspended between water and shadow —
anchored, yet somehow weightless.
these pillars stand suspended between water and shadow —
anchored, yet somehow weightless.
Their reflections drift into darkness, softening the hard geometry of concrete until structure becomes presence, and presence becomes quiet.
In this pared-back world of tone and texture, silence is the architecture —
and the pillars simply hold it in place.
and the pillars simply hold it in place.
The Last Watch
Alone at the edge of tide and time, the old beacon keeps a vigil no one asks of it anymore.
Its weathered frame rises like a memory, steady against the soft unraveling of sea and sky.
In the vast hush of this horizon, it stands not as a guide, but as a ghost —
a final sentinel holding its place in the silence, long after the world has moved on.
Its weathered frame rises like a memory, steady against the soft unraveling of sea and sky.
In the vast hush of this horizon, it stands not as a guide, but as a ghost —
a final sentinel holding its place in the silence, long after the world has moved on.
