At the end of May, I went to a music festival in Belfast with my dad and his partner. The festival was located on the slipways where the Titanic was originally built:


Here are the crane shots that I took before the festival, located near the Titanic slipways. These twin ship building gantry cranes, named Samson and Goliath, are icons of Belfast, and a nod to the city’s industrial history. The H & W stand for Harland and Wolff, the heavy industrial company that historically built the Titanic and her sister ship, the Olympic. I decided to focus on perspectives that produced abstract compositions. The lines drawn by the cables and the near isometric projections of the gantry and the overseer’s cabin create cubism-esque pieces. The primary colour palette of the crane along with the clear sky, made for an interesting assortment of vivid yellows, reds and teal.


The Titanic Centre, located on the slipways of Belfast, pays homage to the bow of the great vessel. Whilst most photos would want to contain the entire building, and ground it to the landscape, I was more interested by the shapes that it cut into the sky, drawing parallels to how the ship would have cut through the water. And perhaps that cloud pays homage to the infamous iceberg.




Berlin has a fascinating collection of Modernist, Brutalist, and Industrial architecture, the composition of which has been directly influenced by the historical injections of vying ideologies that occupied the two halves:


In this flying visit of Berlin, I spent the majority of the my time exploring the communist and industrial architecture of East Berlin, namely the area surrounding Karl-Marx Allee, the main avenue extending from Alexanderplatz.

Following the theme of brutalism, I hopped on the S-Bahn then U-Bahn the next day to go gawk at a marvelous sci-fi-brutalist tower in the southwestern area. The tower, already impressive enough on its own, was connected to a once-planned transport and shopping hub, structurally entwined with an overpass. The hub had a consistent design: the colour-scheme, building materials and composition were all cohesive and seemlessly integrated with the underground station, documented in the U-Bahn collection.

B&W post-production allowed me to create a series of geometrically distinctive images that I feel emblemises the restricted philosophy of design that the brutal communist architecture and juxtaposed industrial buildings share: Function over Form.


This is a smaller collection that celebrates the muted cubism-like palette of communist planned architecture, with flagship colours of yellow ochre, salmon pink and teal.


In July, I briefly met up with my Dad and company in Paris for a couple of days. In that time we zipped around, attempting to complete our jam-packed checklist. Whilst ticking off the big-boys like the Eiffel Tower, we also stumbled across some hidden gems whilst wandering through the backstreets:


Taking inspiration from the iron-clad Eiffel Tower, I wanted to produce a palette that focused on the orange hue of the ferrous metal, and how this is complemented by the acidic green foliage that decorates Paris. Shots are of the cafés, markets and bars that we encountered whilst roaming. The final three are unmistakably of the Pompidou exterior.


Paris in pastel. Some shots that celebrate the peachy, warm weather and the turquoise blues of the sky. The roofscape was taken from the 5th floor of the Pompidou. The church is the famous Sacré-Cœur, located in Montmatre.



We visited Athens in August for a week over my birthday. We stayed in an apartment outside, but each day we tripped in. Athens was a bit of a culture shock to me. The first European city I’ve ever visited that could have looked like it was the capital of a middle eastern country. The white flat-blocks fill the valley floor of the hill ranges like a sea of concrete. Written retrospectively:


This is a collection of individual photos that each have some interesting aspect to them, but aren’t particularly cohesive, other than the fact they each capture a little bit of the street-scene of Athens.


Some wider scale shots of the valleys and ranges of East-Attica, the region Athens sits in. The arid landscape lets the dusty buildings seemlessly integrate into the hills.


Roofscape shots of Athens taken at sunset, from the Acropolis plateau. It’s best to observe the photos as a textural mosaic, rather than individually.

Post-processing is inspired by the work of French artist Philip Cognée, who paints in a similar fashion to the blotchy white forms that buildings take, and the bleeding blacks of the shadows. I felt it best reflected the intense blurring heat of the city, and the déjà vu-inducing repetition of the almost derelict white tenements.

The spread of these concrete tenements and their condition is an interesting one. The legislation in the city meant that for most families or businesses, it was cheaper/profitable to sell their low-level property to a building company, who would build a flat-block on the lot, and then offer a flat to the family for free as part of the deal. This was very enticing to a lot of residents, evident by the images above. But it meant that many buildings considered part of the heritage of the city were raised, and the new character became these soulless, white towers.

On a taxation front, if a flat-block hadn’t finished being constructed, then the building was exempt from certain forms of tax. This was originally because it is very common in Greece for all generations of a family to live together, and so it made sense to leave a roof ready to build another floor as to fit the upcoming family members in. Unsurprisingly, everybody left their rebars sticking out of their roofs, simply because they’d pay less tax. The overall result is that in many places in Athens and the rest of Greece, everywhere looks to be in disrepair, derelict.