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An occassional blog. Words and thoughts. Mumblings, utterings, and incoherent stutterings.

1st November 2025
I'm not the only artist preoccupied by gritstone rock.

Gritstone rock fascinated the famed artist Dame Barbara Hepworth and her equally famous artist friend Henry Moore. Gritstone can be seen in Devon, and Yorkshire, counties that both artists knew well. It surely influenced their sculptural works in particular.

Gritstone is not rare. But it is dramatic, and beguiling. It is worthy of a good healthy obsession - so who else out there is similarly bewitched by gritstone and incorporates it into their art?

Let me know if you do - I'd love to know. Text me...

28th October 2025
My rocks - what they mean - how to visit them - my personal limits

The rocks I photograph are my rocks. They're like family. When I visit the rocks, it's a homecoming. They fill me with happiness. It's best when I'm on my own. That's when I'm free of stress, anxiety, self-consciousness, and confusion.

There is something magical with the rocks. They are just rocks. But, they have stood witness for eons. Kinderscoutian rock is carboniferous. They saw the arrival of Dinosaurs, Then they withstood the devastating environmental effects of the Chicxulub meteor that ended the reign of those same terrible lizards. The rocks are immovable giants fixed and stoic. Their defiant peaceful determination contradicts the natural forces of nature. The rocks have resisted climate change, and the movement of tectonic plates that transported entire continents around the globe. The ecosystem has changed many times. Temperatures have fluctuated. Forests have grown and vanished. Seas have ebbed, and evaporated. Yet the rocks stand.

Perhaps because of their strength, I admire the rocks. Their stoicism impresses. They are godlike. I posit that ancient people worshiped at the rocks too. They are awesome. They fill me with awe certainly. My jaw drops at their beauty, and their majesty.

At the rocks, you may see signs of graffiti, and some surface damage. Not too much thankfully. I admit I actually quite like some graffiti. But, I'd hate to see my rocks bedaubed with too much inane urban tosh. A little now and then is fine. There are rocks up on Higher Shelf Stones with chiselled copperplate engravings. That's interesting. I've seen rocks peppered with holes that I suspect are evidence of a Grouse shooter that fired his shotgun. All signs of human presence.

I encourage people to visit the rocks. Go to Bleaklow stones, Wain Stones, Kinderscout, Grinah, or Alport Castles. Go in bad weather too. When nature is at her most potent. Sunny weather is nice, but it's tame too. Wild country is best in wild weather. Just go prepared, and with the right equipment for the weather conditions.

Don't underestimate how life-threatening the Peak District can become for the naive player in skimpy trainers and a t-shirt. Boots are essential on Bleaklow because the paths (if you can call them paths) are severely irregular, being strewn with holes, rocks, and other trip hazards. Away from the paths, it is very easy to get lost. The prepared visitor sensibly takes at least four types of navigation; A compass, A mobile phone (with online maps), A paper OS map, an innate sense of direction, and perhaps even a handheld GPS device. I've relied on all five in the past.

In fine sunny weather you can do Kinderscout in good strong 'all-terrain' trainers. The paths around the plateau are well defined, and not so rough. But you will still need to navigate, and dress according to the worst weather conditions you might encounter. Always tell someone else where you are going. Give them a paper route plan if you can. It is not overkill. Preparation is planning to succeed, and to get home safely.

Wherever you might go, remember; you are responsible for your own safety - have everything you need to independently stand on your own two feet.

[Addendum: I must add that only experienced walkers with knowledge of navigation should attempt to visit high Tors and the more remote sites. If in doubt consider Millstone Edge near Hathersage, that’s a relatively easy walk with lots to see.]

These days my body is knackered! Osteoarthritis. I can get to some of the rocks, but it causes me a lot of physical pain. I can get to some of the nearer rocks, but the more distant rocks may be beyond my capability nowadays. Bleaklow rocks for example entails a total walking distance of about fourteen miles on fairly challenging terrain. I can't do that now, and I have to accept that fact.

I can get to some rocks though. I could get to Wain Stones on Bleaklow. I can manage Kinderscout albeit in a lot of pain during and afterwards - and it takes several days to recover afterwards. Thank goodness for meds!

You can't change these things. I've had the privilege of seeing and walking around the Dark Peak rocks of the Peak District. So I am lucky.

And I've not given up yet. There's life in this old dog yet.

27th October 2025
My commercial status

It occurred to me that I had not clearly defined my commercial position. So here goes....

These days my photography is NOT commercial. I make no money from my photography, nor do I seek to make money from photography. Such ambitions are of no interest to me. I am only interested in the art. This practice is very beneficial for my mental health. As an autistic adult I have found habits that prevent my head from exploding! I can pick-up and drop my creative efforts as I need to. As such, photography and art are working for me.

In the past I have worked in the photography sector as a commercial photographer. My speciality was photographing artists' original artwork. I also worked for several years in the print/graphics industry in repro. I was very interested in faithfully reproducing original artwork - a very specific photographic discipline. With emphasis on retaining maximum colour fidelity and avoidance of introducing unwanted artefacts.

I'm still as passionate as ever, but nowadays I have to accept my limitations. I cannot work regular hours or commit to the disciplines of commercial life for health reasons. But, that does not stop me using my creativity in pursuit of personal wellbeing and joy.

I'm keeping going for now!

25th October 2025
Finding an audience

Feedback from people has been lovely to receive. It gives me a thrill to learn that viewers have seen something in my work. It means I've succeeded in sharing with another human spirit - sharing a little of nature's wonders.

Real art is deeply personal, and in all honesty, even if I was the last living person on Earth I would still create images and post them online. I don't really know why.

Is it the same deep impulse that motivated our ancient ancestors to make their wonderful cave paintings?

While I type, I'm listening to a podcast talking about the 'death of the internet' and how Ai is undermining human content on the internet. Apparently 70% of all internet traffic is now composed of Bots. Bots being insidious automated scripts that manipulate our actions. That 70% of internet activity is manipulative, is scary.

Bots (and associated algorithms) are the main reason it is so difficult for people to find original online content. Bots drive people toward profit making websites. Sites that are of lesser commercial interest are overlooked. Art suffers as a consequence.

Mister Caveman created art whilst knowing that few people would actually see his art. I'm in a similar situation!
Despite having access to digital technology, and a globe populated with content-hungry fellow spirits - my art photography will be largely unseen. But it’s worse than that.

The digital files containing my pictures and the few prints I've made will decay. Mrs Cave-dweller chose the perfect substrate. Rock does not deteriorate in the same way as a fragile digital hard drive. Cave art can be very very old indeed. The oldest cave art is at least 51,200 years old. If my photos last 100 years I'd be very surprised.

But, I'll still make pictures. I just have to while I can.

14th October 2025
Quick thought...

I've been meaning to say for some time, that I like the idea of photographs being quite graphic - like frames of an illustrated comic book. (I have no interest in making pretty 'chocolate box' photographs - there are many others that can do that to a high standard anyway).

13th October 2025
Taking another look, yet again....

A big part of any artist's continuing development will likely involve some degree of self assessment. We need to sort the wheat from the chaff. Sometimes it's really difficult to know what is a 'good' image. What does 'good' even mean?

After struggling with this question for years, I'm lately following a few basic points to help me decide if an image is worthy of publishing, or one I should quietly put in the waste bin. As I edit my Out-of-camera shots, I continuously assess my progress using these points...

● Is the image visually interesting enough? I want my images to feed the eye, in terms of texture, breadth of shading, and colour etc. And, I want to make good use of negative space wherever I can.

● Is the image sufficiently 'different' to share? I see no great value in producing an image that others have already made before. I might as well just go out and buy a print from them, if that's all I am seeking.

● Do I like what I have created? This is very important to me. If I don't believe in what I have made, then I'm just a fraud kidding myself, and deceiving others too. I won't do that. Honesty is the only path I feel comfortable with.

● Have I gone too-far with my post processing? I do a lot of post editing. Some images are very heavily tweaked and modified. I'm fine with that. But it is possible to go so far down the 'editing rabbit hole' that the fundamental nature of the original image is lost. I personally feel it is important that my images still retain the core elements of the subject's Earthly origins. I respect the subject matter. Beyond that, I'm happy to do whatever gives me satisfaction.

● Does it look 'right'? This sounds very simplistic. It is. But essentially I'm restating that old proverb; 'If it looks right, it probably is right'. Trust your instincts; believe in your art, and your process. Keep it real, and have the balls to try something off-beat now and again.

That's how I do it anyway...

8th October 2025
Play and be thankful

A musician is said to 'play' an instrument. A thespian 'plays' the part. A politician 'plays' the fool. Likewise, I play too. I'm enjoying the artistic process. Stress is so harmful. I enjoy what I do now. No negative thoughts. Sure we all get those invasive moments of self doubt, but really none of that matters. Who cares anyway! You gotta make yourself smile at the moment of creation. Bloody enjoy the process, and stop kicking your inner child.

1st October 2025
Today I thought again, how ridiculous my art is. I photograph rocks. That's crazy.

I justify my interest. Those Kinderscoutian rocks are ancient. They were formed below a shallow sea before the dinosaurs, before flying insects, long before humanity, before even the continents had drifted to their present locations. I believe it's likely that ancient civilisations worshiped at the stones. Those stones are sacred relics of the Earth's geologic past. I excuse my passion by hiding behind these clinical facts.

If the rocks were made just last century, would I still be so fascinated by them? I like that these rocks are remote both geographically, and in age. They are distant from humanity. They're dead skeletons of a long-forgotten epoch.

Where do elephants go to die? These rocks can never actually die of course They were created in a dynamic process as tiny grains of water-borne matter precipitated through the shallow water of an ancient sea, fed by colossal rivers. Specks of sand, minerals, dead creatures, metals, and all manner of natural detritus collected, compacted, and accrued on the sea bed. Each grain therein already had its own history, having been previously part of a larger mass already eroded and disassembled by natural forces. It’s a continuing cycle. Geology is amazing.

As creatures of life, we humans think (quite understandably) that life is very important. But Mother Nature is much less respectful of life. Scientists say that 99% of all the species that have ever lived are extinct. We humans are here by dint of miracle and circumstance. It's remarkable and unpredictable. Humanity should not exist. I should not be here. Nor you.

That I am here today in 2025 with the gift of technology and some wit, and able to photograph ancient kinderscoutian rock is an uncanny freak of timing. Such an opportunity. How can I not photograph rocks?

29th September 2025
What the hell am I playing at?

I've been obsessed with photography all my adult life. I have spent hours and hours studying. I have also spent a shedload of money on equipment I didn't need - only I didn't know any better.

These day I need to reign-in my enthusiasm, and enjoy my art. It's got to be fun. It is fun, only being too keen can turn even the most positive activity into a dark nightmare. In the past I have taken things too far. I've over-committed financially, and emotionally. Not now though.

I love what I'm doing with my rock photography (I don't like that phrase I have to come up with another name for my genre of photo-art. Maybe I should call it, Geo-Photo-Art, GPA for short! Acronyms are the thing arn't they!)

I'm part of a huge cohort of artists, photographers, and creators that strive for years. It is a kind of inner battle. It's a determination against all the odds. Success is impossible to measure. What is success anyway? I think perhaps success is best measured by how much contentment one has found.

I am content. In particular when considering the art I'm creating today,

I think I have found that happy place at last.

28th September 2025
Visit to Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Autumn sunny day.

I love Yorkshire Sculpture Park. I love sculpture. I love the buildings at YSP. I love the landscape at YSP. I don't always love what the artists exhibit. Sometimes the sculptures at YSP pass me by.

If you've never been to YSP, let me explain a little about the layout. There is a modern visitors' centre with cafe, toilets, exhibits, and a shop. There is also a large separate building called the underground gallery, and an active educational centre. There are hundreds of acres of Yorkshire landscape to explore too, dotted about with notable sculptures. Those works include pieces by Dame Barbara Hepworth, Damien Hirst, Sir Anthony Caro, and Henry Moore.

The YSP has a continuous rolling programme of exhibits from internationally renowned artists. There is a lot to see. Much that is visually interesting, intriguing, exciting, inspiring and even magnificent. But it struck me today, that much of what I'd seen left me uninformed and confused. I had no idea what the artists were trying to convey with their works. I know they each have some tenet behind their work, some ethos or philosophy they're trying to express. I just don't always get it. As a means of communication art often fails.

I have felt this before, when viewing sculpture.

I have to quickly add that I totally understand the work of Henry Moore, and Dame Barbara Hepworth. I love their work, and really enjoy it hugely. They each had a relationship with the natural world. Their works had an inescapable aesthetic appeal that carried their work and entertained the viewer.

Barbara Hepworth. Squares with two holes. Bronze. 1963. YSP.

Much of my own artistic output is concerned with shape and form. The rocks I am so obsessed with are naturally occurring sculptures. They are their most basic level aesthetically appealing. All the other stuff that goes along with geological rock and stone such as their vast age, origins, and historic relevance are in fact incidental.

Perhaps being autistic denies me the ability to understand the emotional nuances other artists seek to express through their work? Maybe. Could it be I just have a blind spot when it comes to interpretation? I don't know.

I now feel sure that for me, it will always be the aesthetic appeal of a photographic image that is preeminent. I will be unashamed about that. Those ancient rocks that once sat on the equator, formed at the bottom of a shallow tropical sea, may be academically interesting, but above all they have to look good. Not pretty perhaps, but my photographs have to be operatic, dramatic, and bold. I don't want the viewer to be left in any doubt.

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