Living in Dunfermline gives me a beautiful balance — the textures and edges of a historic town, and the soft sprawl of countryside just beyond. It only takes ten minutes before I’m out among fields, paths, and hills that seem to hold stories in their silence. These landscapes have become quiet companions in my work.
One recent afternoon, I packed my camera with no real destination in mind and let my feet decide. The clouds were low, and the wind had that early autumn chill that suggests something is changing. Along the way, I stopped to photograph an old wooden gate — weathered, overlooked. The kind of subject that wouldn’t catch most eyes, but somehow caught mine.
These walks remind me that inspiration doesn’t need to be dramatic. It often comes from noticing what’s already there. I love how the land around Dunfermline offers that — gentle elevation, textures in stone and sky, a softness that feels deeply human.
Some mornings, the light doesn’t just fall — it settles. In this post, I share the soft stillness of a foggy field at sunrise, and how moments like these shape the soul of my work.
In a world full of noise, simplicity speaks the loudest. Here’s why I often choose restraint over drama, and how less really can be more when it comes to visual storytelling.
