Old Level Crossing

This is a level crossing on the Mid Norfolk Railway –now a heritage line, but formally an important local rail route through the heart of Norfolk.Sometimes freight is still transported on this line, but more often than not it's vintage trains run by ethusiasts that roll down these tracks. Most of the time however the gate is closed, as here. I like the criss-cross effect of the various lines and the geometric shapes that are created by the old-school level crossing, and the contrasts work particularly well in silvertone –which also echoes something of the history behind the motive –which for me admittedly (as with anything to do with trains and railways) always remains romantic.

Location: East Dereham, England

Walls That Talk

I regularly pass by this open piece of ground in central Oslo, wedged in between buildings. Once a building stood here too; I remember it well as it used to house a fun nightclub and bar and later café, before the whole building was gutted in a fire one New Year's Eve (which I witnessed. Apart from a tiny fragment of the entrance (which is not visible here) the whole place was pulled down, the basement beneath the ground here filled in, and now fifteen or more years later– it lingers in the sun; occasionally cars may park here, but it's not been made to accommodate vehicles in any way –the area is simply waiting. Yet every time I pass by I'll recall a memory or two of fun times spent here back in the nineties, and then I'll get distracted by the decaying grandeur of the adjacent walls. I love the mix of textures, the unevenness, the sense of space, and I've passed by so many times meaning to take pictures here but never getting around to it –until now. The black and white rendition somehow just seems right, placing the image into a stylised past that is both evocative and strangely beautiful despite the decay.

Location: Oslo, Norway

Touch of Extravagance

You'd be forgiven for thinking this magnificent building is to be found in India or somewhere exotic, but it's much closer to home; Brighton, in fact, for this is a view of the famous Royal Pavilion, built for George IV when he was Prince of Wales and fancied a little hut by the sea. Originally designed by Henry Holland, the greater part of what we see today is the work of John Nash who extended the building greatly. Not so much a beach hut, but a veritable palace on the coast! It's a fabulous place to visit (equally spectacular inside) and endlessly fascinating. I don't quite know why I shot this one in black and white, though maybe it was because the building is a rather bland beige colour. But still, it evokes the Regency period and lavish extravagance –and we all need a little of that at times!

Location: Brighton, England

Perfect Little House in the Snow

Winter is slowly coming to an end, at last, and everyone seems impatient to greet spring, briskly, before getting on to the business of summer. I have taken more pictures of snowy landscapes, snowmen, blizzards, snowstorms and icy streets this year than I care to count and I too long for the bright colours of a new season. But like nature itself, I can't quite let winter go yet, for snow undeniably makes things very pretty and peaceful (at least to start with) and is a great reflector of light. This is a picture that I find particularly pleasing in composition and tone. The house is a small out-building on the grounds of the Oslo Museum in the park near where I live. I'm unsure whether anyone lives in it, but I would be happy to do so. I find, both the house and the picture gives associations to Hollywood sets of the 1930s and 40s, where snow is unreal but looks perfect and all features are skilful products of succinct art direction.I love the fence and the way its slats are shadowed on the virgin snow, creating interesting patterns. The sky is also lively, the clouds tempering the bright sun somewhat and making for a more interesting picture. The house itself seems content, at rest. With this photograph, I conclude my "winter" pictures for this year; with Summer Time officially starting this weekend with the clocks going forward, I promise something warmer next time!

Location: Oslo, Norway

Mountain Water

Norwegian has a word that describes a body of water that can be somewhere between a lake and a pond, but either of these too! Confusingly, the word is the same as the word for water itself: vann. The English equivalent in this mountain setting would probably be a tarn, but I have always found that word rather bland and nondescript, and somehow "water" works for me –probably because I have been in Norway for so long. This particular "water" in the mountainous countryside of mid Norway is apt to grow in size –being at its largest in spring after the winter snows have melted, and –if the summer is a hot and dry one– retreating to a marshy puddle later in the year. But here it sparkles in the afternoon sun of an early July. Calm, tranquil, somehow inviting and yet also perhaps a little mysterious (in a pleasant way). I've rendered the picture in sepia to accentuate this, but also because I find the cloud formations quite agreeable this way. Beyond the "water" and trees can be seen the ridges of three separate ranges of mountains, some still with snow on them. There is no one about, and were the picture to have an accompanying soundtrack, the only sounds that would be heard would be the slight rustling of the wind in the trees and the occasional distant buzz of some insect out on a spree. I find the picture very calming.

Location: Valdres, Norway

Old Sea Dog

Though not at sea we are in the water here, for this is HMS Warrior, the first armour-plated, iron-hulled warship, built in 1860 for the Royal Navy. She is now permanently berthed by the wonderful Historic Dockyard in Portsmouth as a museum ship, and is well worth a visit, even though most visitors tend to head first for the even more famous HMS Victory which is also found here. But this means there are less people jostling about and –at least when I was there– no queue to get in; in fact, for a large part of my visit I had the great ship pretty much to myself, being one of the first guests to arrive that day. However, I was not quite alone, for pacing the deck was this elderly gentleman –presumably a guide but perhaps a ghost, who by the manner of his gait and poise was re-living days of glory at sea. I imagined him to be a crusty old captain, only really happy when aboard a mighty vessel. Here he seems content –the seas are calm and all is well; there is no mutiny today nor any sign of the enemy. There is time for reflection, and thoughts of a life devoted to the sea. I felt the picture captured both something of the grandeur of the ship and the story of a man, and I like that he is standing a little in the shade, hands behind his back, in control.

Location: Portsmouth, England

Favourite Picture of the Year

With the year drawing to a close it's time to look back (as well as forward) and try and pick out one photograph that I regard as my own personal favourite. No easy task. If you go to my Facebook page you will be able to see my four favourite pictures taken in Oslo, and each of those is in a way worthy of holding the main honour, but here, having to choose just one picture, I have gone for a photograph taken just a few weeks ago when the first big snowfall came. The picture is taken from a footbridge crossing a road outside of Oslo where I used to live, and it's both a bridge and a view that I have known since childhood. The straight road always and the way it stretches into the distance always seems to represent to me a metaphor of life –its opportunities and the forward-going draw of time. This year, I turned 50, which I found a surprisingly tough "achievement", so the road sign here has a very personal connection. Indeed the whole photograph is very personal as it expresses "me" as I am right now. Hopefully, it's also quite a nice picture to look at. It's rendered in monochrome, but the colour versions I took looked very much the same, for the day was dull and grey and the little green of the trees was so subdued and dark that they appeared almost black. Besides, I've always felt that snow and trees always look best in black and white! Next year, I shall try to post pictures more regularly (that's a resolution!) and I hope also to expand more into portraits –an area of photography I have always been a little cautious about so far, but now feel confident to explore more. I also have a number of series-projects that I shall be sharing pictures from as the year goes by, and now and again dipping into my archive to find some interesting pictures of old. In the meantime, may I wish you all a very Happy New Year, and thank you as always for bothering to drop by to glance at these myriad pictures of mine.

Location: Rykkinn, Norway

Boy on Stairs

Stairs can be interesting motives for photography, both in their own right and as a metaphor for going somewhere –or coming from somewhere; there's always the ambiguity, for stairs go both up and down and can represent escape, journey, adventure, progress and numerous other things depending on one's perspective. With this particular picture I didn't really have any lofty notions other than to capture the rather glorious effect of strong sunlight filtered into a more mellow state through the glass roof of a train station and down into the staircase leading from a platform. The boy on the stairs seems to be hovering with indecision –has he left said goodbye to someone on the platform above but is reluctant to leave them just yet? Is he waiting for someone? Or is he unsure of whether he is in the right place. The boy is not the main motive of the picture, but adds something human to the picture, I think. I took similar shots without there being anyone on the stairs, but then the effect was one of abandoned emptiness which though visually pleasing was not quite interesting enough. I love the various lines and textures here, and though a better camera than I had at the time would have given an even sharper image, I was quite pleased with the result.

Location: Amsterdam, Holland

Dublin Street

Whenever I used to imagine what Dublin was like, I conjured up in my mind a picture of narrow, cobble-stoned streets with quaint old lamp posts and bicycles –and always in black and white. Perhaps this image came to me from some painting I'd once seen, or (more probably) some book I'd read; maybe I'd been influenced by an old film. When I finally got to visit Dublin, I was delighted to find parts of it that corresponded totally with those pictures in my mind. Dublin is, of course, a lot more besides and a city of myriad views, but I was drawn to streets like this as a moth is drawn to a lamp. And talking of lamps, what is it about old lampposts that fill streets with dignity and character where modern ones merely seem to be a necessary eyesore! The only thing missing here is people –this was early on a quiet morning; the kind of quiet morning that is the inevitable tailpiece to a lively Dublin evening –is there any other kind?! Location: Dublin, Ireland

Trees in the Park

Trees always inspire me. I love their quiet, silent wisdom and grace, their noble quality of being able to shade us, embrace us, draw us in and somehow comfort us. Some trees are like old friends –always there for you, always reliable and, each year growing a little in your estimation as well as physically. I find this especially true of trees in isolation. But trees in parks, standing in some kind of order, can also be appealing, as much so in the winter when bereft of their foliage as in the height of glorious summer. Here they stand gracefully silhouetted against the sky, with the blazing sun signalling that spring is on its way. Already, there will be buds on these trees and the snow will soon be gone. Location: Oslo, Norway

Way to Nashville

I'm always curiously more attracted by buildings that are decayed than shining, new constructions. perhaps it's because they inevitably have more of a story to tell, having a connection to the past that may suggest ups and downs, a piece of history or dreams once realised but now passed on, or left to smoulder away. And there's something strangely beautiful and poignant about crumbling walls, faded signs and dusty windows. At least that's how I see it. These particular buildings -which I photographed from a train that kindly slowed down at this particular point on its long journey to Chicago- are not really all that decrepit, not yet; but they are heading that way; for all I know they may now have been pulled down, or rehabilitated, but I was eager to capture them at this moment. I've rendered the picture in a slightly dirty sepia bordering on faded monochrome because I have been an avid devotee of many of history's great photographic journeymen and then capturing of out-of-the way America; many of them in the 1930s, 40s and 50s. It's their influence that informs this picture, and though I am far less skilled than them, through devouring their work a little of their spirit has worn off on me! Location: Tennessee, USA

Le Chateau Frontenac at Night

Although quite mild as I write the start of this year has seen some very cold weather, with temperatures dipping far below most people's comfort level. Wrapping up in many layers to stay warm is called for as such times, but as I do so I comfort myself with the thought that the temperature does not quite come close to the coldest I have ever felt, and that was in Canada a couple of years ago. Visiting the fine city of Quebec in February was probably not the best idea, but that winter was particularly icy, casting a chilled veil over the entire city and made even colder by a cutting wind that turned one's blood to ice –or so it felt. On my first evening there I took my camera out to take some pictures, but taking my gloves off to operate it turned out to be a very bad idea so I gave up fairly quickly. But not before taking some shots of the fabulous Chateau Frontenac hotel that looms high in the old city. I took many more pictures the day after when it was a little milder –clearer and brighter photographs, but this one for me captures the winter moment perfectly. I headed inside here afterwards, to soak in the Chateau's warmth –as magnificent as the building itself. Hope you too stay warm, folks! Location: Quebec, Canada

Underpass 5.25pm

One day last year the band of my wristwatch broke suddenly. It could, I’m sure, be fixed and one day I shall get round to it, but since that day I have not worn a watch at all but relied on other means of learning the time. And it is amazing how accomodating the world is to the "watchless" among us! Everywhere I look now I seem to spot a clock of some kind, whereas before (when I had my own watch) I hardly gave them a second glance. We observe only what we need to so much of the time, or rather: when we need something we start to see it all around us, as if our brain is actively seeking it out. With photography it is the right or appealing motive that we seek. Here, I think it was the clock that initially attracted me, but I then became fascinated by the light and shadows and the reflections and lines I also was intrigued with the position of the clock –at the end of an underpass; a sort of goal for those walking towards it, or a last, quick reminder of the time for those entering from the opposite direction; perhaps an incentive to hurry up? I also found the urban orderliness pictured here rather pleasing. Location: Nuremberg, Germany

Empty Car-Park

Places that are empty hold a strange fascination for me. I would never dream of taking a photograph of a car-park when it is full, and I try to avoid them as much as possible because I really don't like cars much, but over Christmas while out walking in my old home town in Norfolk I found the emptiness here to be rather magical. It had rained the night before (if course it had, this is England, after all!) so there were lots of puddles about, and because the surface of the car-park wasn't entirely flat there was something interesting going on, the water and reflected light on the large open area creating an almost alien surface that was at odds with the mundanity of the perfectly ordinary car-park. I thought it interesting enough to photograph, rendering it black and white to add to the mysterious quality. Location: Norfolk, England

Streetscape

Cobblestoned streets are always a treat for photographs; they seldom disappoint, and frequently come out far more beautiful and even than they actually appear in real life. They also tend to give pictures a timeless look. Take away the cars in the distance here and this could be a hundred years ago, or two hundred or even five hundred. But it’s not just the cobblestones that attracted me here; The brick arches that cross from one side of the street to the other create the effect of an open tunnel. I don’t quite know what their function is or was, or whether they are the remnants of some former structure, but they create an interesting effect. The lines and various odd-looking windows also intrigue me, and the way the left side of the picture looks rather foreboding while the right side is somehow more friendly and accomodating. Location: Lübeck, Germany

Railway Hut

A little hut (complete with curtains) at a sleepy Swedish station in the countryside – but it could be almost anywhere; and any time. I was trying to emulate a little the style of some of those magnificent 1940s and 1950s photographic travelogues in American magazines like Life or National Geograpic, and was quite pleased with the result. Black and white seemed most apt. The background is a little blurred, but I think this brings more focus to the hut itself, and I was particularly taken by the thin, vertical wooden planks that form the wall, which contrast nicely with the many horizontal lines crossing the picture. The window and the half-drawn curtain is also something that intrigues me; I want to if there is anyone inside, and what they are doing; it's obviously some kind of worker's hut, but for an avid railway lover like me, I could ask for no better view! Location: Kil, Sweden

Central Station

The interior of certain buildings fill me with instant excitement –libraries, museums, theatres, and most cake shops – but perhaps most of all I am captivated by railway stations. Some of them may be small and quirky and almost ghostly; others are cathedrals of breathtaking wonder, buzzing with activity. I like them all, because they're inevitably a pulsating blend of history and adventure: of arriving, departing, greeting people or saying goodbye. Big stations are especially thrilling. The noises of trains coming and going, doors slamming, shrill whistles and unintelligible announcements echo through vast halls that once housed magnificently romantic steam engines. Some people find airports romantic and exciting too; I can quite understand that, though I personally find them stressful and rather sterile. Railways stations are different: There is an immediacy about them that airports never have, because railway stations are often right in the heart of a city and can be stepped into directly from the street. In fact, it could be said that that a railway station is the heart of a city –the rails being the veins and arteries that spread out from or lead to myriad platforms. Naturally, I find such places to be wonderful for photography, so this year I will be posting pictures from some of my favourite stations. This one is from Amsterdam Centraal – a beautiful, airy tunnel of a hall. It's quiet at the moment; one train has just arrived and people are waiting for another further down the platform. The light coming through the curved roof was quite magical, showing off the wonderful simplicity and beauty of the engineering, and I've rendered it in monochrome because, at heart, I am a romantic. All aboard! Location. Amsterdam, Holland

Underpass in Berlin

Nothing to do with Christmas or winter or snow this time, apart from the fact that the holiday period has been a good time to sort through pictures taken earlier in the year and get them in some kind of order. This one is from the summer, taken on my last day in Berlin – a city filled with more stories than most and one I return to as often as I can. It's taken from the east side of the Spree, with the magnificent Bode museum on the island on the other side. What intrigued me here was the way the building was framed by the tunnel, with enough light coming in to illuminate the walls and features - sombre and baroque and modern and urban all in one shot. And even more intriguing is the pairing of the chairs –one balcony type and the other, incongruously, a comfortable office chair. I have no why they were there or who used them, but they certainly seem too perfectly situated to have been merely dumped. It seems to me that the chairs are happily enjoying the moment, relaxed, peaceful and together – but that may be just my imagination working overtime! Location: Berlin, Germany

Snow Bubble at Piccadilly Circus

Another one from London and one of its iconic landmarks –the statue of Eros and its marvellous plinth on Piccadilly Circus. The plinth is hidden here, and Eros appears to be floating in the middle of a huge bubble set up over the statue for Christmas. It even features snow at regular intervals, resembling a gigantic version of one of those fascinating snow toys you often find in gift shops. This one went a bit wrong soon after the photograph was taken as high winds caused the plastic bubble to rip and collapse, spreading large quantities of artificial snow all over Piccadilly, but here the effect is tranquil and rather pretty. I was quite pleased with the light, both in the background and bubble and on the figures in front. Sepia seemed right, too. Location: London, England

Lamp post on the Bridge

A bridge in London - another one! This time in Putney, with a pale sun struggling a little to shine behind a bed of clouds but gracefully illuminating the water of the Thames, seen here at low tide. The lamp post drew me straight back into the past as I crossed the bridge, and I felt it must have seen and known a great deal in its long, sedate life. I chose to shoot it from below against the sky (which itself was rather remarkable) to heighten its calm solidity, and in sepia because I was in a romantic, nostlagic mood. Location: London, England