Favourite photographers: David Doubilet

David Doubilet’s photographs fill me with an almost childlike sense of wonder. For me, no one captures the extraordinary underwater world of the ocean more beautifully—whether he is photographing the brilliant colours and teeming life of a coral reef or the cold, mysterious blue beneath the Antarctic ice. His images reveal a hidden world that feels vast, fragile and profoundly alive, making us see the ocean not as an empty expanse but as one of the most beautiful and miraculous realms on Earth.

I especially adore Doubilet’s split-level photographs, in which half the image lies above the water and half below. He has perfected this technique both technically and artistically, transforming the waterline into a threshold between two worlds—the familiar world of sky and land above and the secret universe beneath. I was introduced to his work when I attended a presentation he gave at the Sydney Opera House in 2014, and I was completely blown away. Seeing his images on that scale, while hearing the stories behind them from Doubilet himself, left an unforgettable impression on me.

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The master at work, immersed in his medium

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Favourite photographers: Frank Hurly

Frank Hurley is one of my greatest inspirations as a photographer. He was the official photographer on Ernest Shackleton’s ill-fated Endurance expedition to Antarctica, which became one of the greatest survival stories ever told and has inspired generations. Yet I often wonder whether the story would have retained quite the same power without Hurley’s photographs. Shackleton’s leadership and the endurance of his men were extraordinary, but Hurley gave their ordeal a face. His images allow us to enter their frozen world, turning an incredible historical account into something immediate, intimate and unforgettable.

It seems miraculous that the photographs survived at all. After the Endurance had been abandoned, Hurley returned to the flooded wreck and plunged into freezing, slushy water to retrieve his glass-plate negatives. He and Shackleton then selected 120 plates to carry with them and smashed roughly 400 others because their weight threatened the men’s survival. Hurley sealed the chosen negatives inside a soldered metal container and somehow protected them throughout the ordeal. Considering the enormous cameras, glass plates and other equipment he had to transport, it is astonishing how inventive he remained—climbing the ship’s rigging, venturing onto the ice and photographing from extraordinary angles to create images of breathtaking drama. 

His photographs captured far more than the Endurance trapped, splintering and finally being crushed by the ice. Hurley also recorded the exhausting work of pulling sledges and lifeboats, but he was equally attentive to the quieter life of the expedition: the men reading, playing music and whiling away the endless hours aboard ship; the friendships and humour that sustained them; and the huskies, seals and penguins that shared their strange white world. These beautiful, intimate images give the story its humanity. Hurley was not simply documenting an expedition—he was creating an extraordinary visual portrait of people living together at the very edge of survival.

My appreciation of Hurley was deepened by a presentation Sue and I attended at the State Library of New South Wales in 2016. It also connected profoundly with my own journey to Antarctica in 2013 as a photographer for Upschool. We sailed past Elephant Island, where 22 members of Shackleton’s crew endured four bleak months while he attempted to return and rescue them. Seeing that desolate, windswept place made their survival seem almost impossible. That all 28 members of the Endurance party eventually returned alive remains one of history’s most remarkable testaments to courage, resilience and extraordinary leadership—but it is Frank Hurley’s photographs that allow us to feel the story, rather than merely know it.

Photos Hurly took in Antarctica

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First World War

Hurley carried that same courage and visual imagination into the First World War, serving as an official Australian war photographer on the Western Front. His photographs captured the almost apocalyptic horror of battle—the shell-torn earth, blasted trees, endless mud, smoke and exhausted soldiers moving through landscapes stripped of life. Yet he never lost sight of the human beings caught within that devastation. He photographed soldiers resting, caring for the wounded and finding brief moments of companionship amid the terror. This combination of horror and humanity makes his war photography so powerful: he showed both the terrible destruction human beings can inflict and the courage, tenderness and comradeship that can survive even in the darkest circumstances.

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Other photos

Hurley’s restless curiosity later took him to Papua New Guinea, where he photographed its dramatic landscapes, remote communities and richly varied cultures, before turning his camera closer to home and creating an extensive record of Sydney—its harbour, beaches, architecture and rapidly changing cityscape. I find it wonderful that I have also been able to photograph two places that held such fascination for him: Antarctica and Sydney. They could hardly be more different, yet both are deeply special to me. Knowing that I have stood with my own camera in places where Hurley once searched for beauty, drama and human stories gives me an even stronger sense of connection with the photographer who has inspired me so greatly.

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Favourite photographers: Peter Eastway

Peter Eastway is one of Australia's leading landscape photographers, and I first got to know his work through Mosman Camera Club, where he gave several presentations over the years. I was struck not only by the quality of his photographs but also by his editing skills. He has a remarkable ability to get the very best out of an image, and I learned a great deal from watching him explain his workflow.

One of the highlights of my own photography journey was joining Peter on trip to the Arctic in 2022. It was a real privilege to photograph alongside someone whose work I respected so much. My favourite memory is the two of us lying on our backs at the foot of a cliff, cameras pointed straight up as we photographed the birds flying overhead. It was a sublime moment; one I'll always remember.

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With Peter in Svalbard

Spectacular lighthouses around the world

As you can see, I'm completely hooked on lighthouses at the moment. What started as a photography project has quickly turned into another excuse to explore the world. Every lighthouse has its own story, shaped by the coastline, the weather and the people who built it. Some perch on impossibly narrow sea stacks, others stand alone on tiny islands or cling to dramatic cliffs where the ocean seems determined to reclaim them. Here are some of the most spectacular and unusual lighthouses I've discovered so far. 

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The remarkable history of lighthouses

Humanity's first beacons

Long before GPS, radar and satellite navigation, there were lighthouses. For thousands of years they stood as humanity's promise to sailors: there is land ahead, and someone is watching over you.

The earliest "lighthouses" were surprisingly simple. Fires were lit on hilltops or coastal cliffs, creating beacons that could be seen from miles away. Ancient civilizations, including the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans, realised that a single light could save countless lives by warning ships away from dangerous rocks and guiding them safely into harbour.

Few structures have served humanity so faithfully for so long.

The wonder of the ancient world

The most famous lighthouse in history was the Lighthouse of Alexandria, or the Pharos, built around 280 BC in Egypt. Standing perhaps 100–120 metres high, it was one of the tallest structures in the world for more than 1,500 years and was counted among the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

By day, its polished mirrors reflected sunlight far out to sea. By night, a massive fire burned at its summit. It became the model for countless lighthouses that followed, and its very name—Pharos—became the word for lighthouse in many languages.

Although eventually destroyed by earthquakes, its influence can still be seen in lighthouse design today.

The Romans spread the idea

The Romans understood that safe harbours were essential to trade and military power. They built dozens of stone lighthouses around the Mediterranean and Atlantic.

One remarkable survivor is the Tower of Hercules, built in the second century AD. Astonishingly, after almost 1,900 years, it still functions as an active lighthouse, making it the oldest working lighthouse in the world.

Tower of Hercules

A thousand difficult years

After the fall of Rome, many great lighthouses disappeared. Europe entered a period when navigation became much more hazardous. Coastal communities improvised by lighting hilltop bonfires or hanging lanterns from church towers.

Many early "lighthouses" were little more than coal fires burning in large baskets.

From open fires to oil lamps

For centuries, lighthouse keepers relied on wood, coal or charcoal fires. These produced smoke, required constant attention and were surprisingly inefficient. Nevertheless, they represented a huge improvement over complete darkness.

By the Middle Ages, engineers began using enclosed oil lamps fuelled by animal fat, whale oil and later vegetable oils. These lamps burned more steadily, produced less smoke and could be protected from wind and rain.

The invention of specialised lamp burners in the late eighteenth century dramatically increased brightness while using less fuel. Every improvement meant ships could spot the coastline from farther away.

The age of gas and kerosene

The nineteenth century brought another leap forward. Many lighthouses switched to gas lighting or highly refined kerosene (paraffin), which burned brighter and more reliably than earlier oils.

Gas systems could even be automated to some extent, reducing the workload of lighthouse keepers. Engineers also developed ingenious clockwork mechanisms that slowly rotated the lantern, creating the distinctive flashing patterns that allowed mariners to identify individual lighthouses.

Suddenly, a lighthouse wasn't just a light—it had its own unique signature.

Engineering transformed everything

The great leap came during the eighteenth century.

One of history's most influential engineers, John Smeaton, designed the third Eddystone Lighthouse in 1759. Standing on wave-battered rocks, it introduced interlocking granite blocks shaped much like today's Lego bricks. Its elegant, curved profile copied the trunk of an oak tree, allowing waves to flow around it instead of smashing into it.

Many modern lighthouse designs still follow principles Smeaton pioneered.

Eddystone Lighthouse

John Smeaton

The revolution of the Fresnel Lens

No invention transformed lighthouses more than the Fresnel lens.

Invented in 1822 by French physicist Augustin-Jean Fresnel, this remarkable lens used hundreds of carefully shaped glass prisms to capture and concentrate light into an incredibly powerful beam. Instead of allowing most of the light to scatter in every direction, the Fresnel lens focused almost every ray toward the horizon.

The results were extraordinary. A relatively modest lamp could now be seen from over 30 kilometres away.

Many of these magnificent hand-crafted lenses stood several metres tall and contained thousands of precisely cut glass prisms. To keep the enormous lenses turning smoothly, they floated on baths of mercury, reducing friction so dramatically that even a small clockwork mechanism could rotate several tonnes of glass.

Even today, many historians consider the Fresnel lens one of the greatest optical inventions ever created.

Building in impossible places

Constructing lighthouses often required extraordinary feats of engineering.

Some were built on tiny reefs that disappeared completely beneath the waves at high tide. Workers had only a few hours each day to labour before the sea returned. Materials had to be transported by boat, often in violent conditions.

Scottish engineer Robert Stevenson and his family became legendary for designing lighthouses on some of Britain's most dangerous coastlines. The Bell Rock Lighthouse, completed in 1811 on a reef submerged for much of each day, remains one of the greatest engineering achievements of its era.

Engineers developed interlocking stone blocks that fitted together like giant three-dimensional puzzle pieces, allowing towers to withstand the relentless pounding of waves for centuries.

Many still stand today.

Bell Rock Lighthouse

The lonely life of lighthouse keepers

For most of history, every lighthouse depended on people.

Keepers trimmed lamp wicks, polished enormous lenses, wound clockwork mechanisms, cleaned soot, monitored weather, maintained buildings and kept meticulous logbooks. During storms they often worked through the night, knowing that the light could mean the difference between life and death.

Many stations were isolated on tiny islands or remote cliffs. Supplies sometimes arrived only once every few weeks, and entire families lived in remarkable isolation.

It demanded resilience, discipline and an unwavering sense of duty.

Perhaps the most famous mystery concerning lighthouse keepers occurred in 1900 at the Flannan Isles Lighthouse. Three keepers disappeared without trace. Meals were left unfinished. A chair was overturned. The lighthouse was perfectly functioning. Despite extensive investigations, nobody has ever discovered exactly what happened, making it one of maritime history's enduring mysteries.

Electricity changes everything

The arrival of electricity in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries transformed lighthouse operation.

Electric lamps were brighter, cleaner and far more reliable than oil or gas flames. Electric motors replaced clockwork mechanisms, while increasingly sophisticated optics extended the visible range even further.

As power supplies improved, many stations became fully automated, gradually eliminating the need for resident lighthouse keepers.

Across the world, the lonely profession slowly disappeared.

Why many lighthouses became obsolete

By the late twentieth century:

• GPS revolutionised navigation.
• Radar became standard equipment.
• Electronic charts replaced paper charts.

Satellite positioning achieved remarkable accuracy.

Most lighthouses became automated, and lighthouse keepers gradually disappeared.

Yet remarkably, very few lighthouses were demolished. Instead, they became treasured landmarks, museums, and symbols of maritime heritage.

The modern lighthouse

Today's lighthouses bear little resemblance to their ancient ancestors.

Powerful LED lights consume only a fraction of the electricity used by earlier lamps while lasting for decades. Solar panels and batteries allow even remote towers to operate without external power. GPS, radar, electronic charts and satellite navigation now guide most ships with astonishing accuracy.

Yet lighthouses remain vital. They provide an independent visual navigation aid that continues to function even when electronic systems fail. In aviation and marine safety alike, redundancy saves lives.

Many historic lighthouses have also found a new purpose as museums, heritage sites and beloved landmarks.

Why we still love them

In purely practical terms, technology has reduced our dependence on lighthouses.

But emotionally, they have never been more powerful.

Few buildings carry such rich symbolism. They represent guidance in darkness, steadfastness through storms and quiet service without recognition. For generations they have stood exactly where they were needed, asking for nothing in return.

Perhaps that is why photographers, artists and writers continue to be drawn to them. They are beautiful structures, but they are also reminders that even a single light—faithfully maintained—can make an enormous difference.

That idea has remained unchanged for more than two thousand years.

Favourite photographers: Yann Arthus Bertrand

Yann Arthus-Bertrand has had a profound influence on the way I see both photography and the world itself. I still remember visiting his Earth from Above exhibition in London in 2001 and being completely blown away. Seeing the planet from the air revealed patterns, colours and landscapes that I had never imagined. It was one of those rare experiences that permanently changed the way I looked at the Earth.

What I especially love about Arthus-Bertrand's work is the idea that the world itself is a work of art. His photographs reveal a planet of astonishing beauty, where rivers, deserts, forests and mountains become abstract masterpieces when viewed from above. At the same time, his work carries a deeper message—that this beauty is precious and worth protecting. He reminds me that photography can do more than create beautiful images. It can awaken wonder, deepen our appreciation of the world, and encourage us to become better stewards of this extraordinary work of art that we call home.

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Favourite photographers: Heni Cartier-Bresson

Another of the photographers I admire most is Henri Cartier-Bresson. What appeals to me isn't just the beauty of his photographs, but the way he observed the world. He had an extraordinary ability to recognise the significance of an ordinary moment and capture it at exactly the right instant. His idea of the "decisive moment" reminds me that the difference between an ordinary photograph and a remarkable one often comes down to patience, awareness and timing.

I also appreciate that Cartier-Bresson didn't try to control or stage his subjects. He trusted life to provide the moment rather than trying to create it himself. His photographs have a naturalness and authenticity that still feels fresh today. Looking at his work encourages me to slow down, pay closer attention, and remember that some of the most compelling images come from simply being present and noticing what others might miss.

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Favourite quotes

• Photography is nothing-it’s life that interests me.
• Of all the means of expression, photography is the only one that fixes a precise moment in time.
• Oop! The Moment! Once you miss it, it is gone forever.
• Photography is like fencing. You must keep your distance, wait, and then thrust.
• To me, photography is the simultaneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event.
• In photography, the smallest thing can be a great subject. The little, human detail can become a Leitmotiv.
• It is through living that we discover ourselves, at the same time as we discover the world around us.
• Photography is not documentary, but intuition, a poetic experience.
• To take photographs is putting one’s head, one’s eye, and one’s heart on the same axis.
• A photograph is neither taken or seized by force. It offers itself up. It is the photo that takes you. One must not take photos.
• We must avoid however, snapping away, shooting quickly and without thought, overloading ourselves with unnecessary images that clutter our memory and diminish the clarity of the whole.
• In every photographer there is something of a stroller.
• Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst.

Favourite photographers: Amsel Adams

One of the photographers I admire most is Ansel Adams. His landscapes have an extraordinary sense of clarity, scale and stillness. He had a remarkable ability to reveal the beauty of the natural world, not by exaggerating it, but by helping us see what was already there. His photographs remind me that nature is full of grandeur, subtlety and order if we take the time to look carefully.

What I appreciate most about Adams is the combination of artistry and craftsmanship. He was a master of light, composition and tonal range, creating images that feel both technically perfect and deeply emotional. His work inspires me not only to become a better photographer, but also to spend more time in wild places, slowing down and paying closer attention. His photographs are a reminder that some of life's greatest experiences come simply from being present in nature.

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Favourite quotes

• Photography is an austere and blazing poetry of the real.
• The camera is for life and for people, the swift and intense moments of life.
• When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.
• A good photograph is knowing where to stand.
• Twelve significant photographs in any one year is a good crop.
• I do not think there is any question of photography being an art form!
• Life is your art. An open, aware heart is your camera. A oneness with your world is your film. Your bright eyes and easy smile is your museum.
• The photographic negative is the equivalent of the composers score and the print is the equivalent of the conductor’s performance.
• I believe the world is incomprehensibly beautiful – an endless prospect of magic and wonder.
• I hope that my work will encourage self expression in others and stimulate the search for beauty and creative excitement in the great world around us.
• A great photograph is one that fully expresses what one feels, in the deepest sense, about what is being photographed.
• There is nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.
• You don’t take a photograph, you make it.
• There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.
• No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied – it speaks in silence to the very core of your being.
• The whole world is, to me, very much “alive” – all the little growing things, even the rocks. I can’t look at a swell bit of grass and earth, for instance, without feeling the essential life – the things going on – within them. The same goes for a mountain, or a bit of the ocean, or a magnificent piece of old wood.

Favourite photographers: Steve McCurry

Steve McCurry is one of my favourite photographers. Over the decades, he has created many iconic images for National Geographic, capturing people and cultures across the world with extraordinary intimacy and sensitivity. I particularly love his portraits—the vivid colours, expressive faces and, above all, the remarkable way he reveals the individuality and dignity of each person. I was fortunate enough to see an exhibition of his work near The Rocks in Sydney and was completely blown away by the power and beauty of his photographs. His images transcend geographical and cultural boundaries and beautifully illuminate our shared humanity.

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The amazing Lyrebird

The superb lyrebird is one of Australia’s most extraordinary birds: a shy, secretive creature of the forest floor with an almost magical gift for mimicry. It can reproduce the calls of other birds with remarkable precision—and sometimes even human-made sounds such as camera shutters, alarms and chainsaws—folding them into its own elaborate song. While the laughing kookaburra is officially NSW’s bird emblem, the lyrebird is the emblem of the NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service, and it feels every bit as symbolic of the Australian bush. I have seen them several times in the Royal National Park, usually slipping quietly through the leaf litter or suddenly revealing themselves among the ferns, and every encounter gives me a real thrill.

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Wondrous photos of space

What an incredible universe we live in! It fills me with such awe.

 

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The amazing sand sculptures of the Pufferfish

How incredible. Humans are by no means the only artists on planet earth.

 

Birds of Paradise

Nothing makes me sense the benevolence of the universe more than scenes like these.

Favourite songs: What a Wonderful World (Louis Armstrong)

I love this song so much. The video is lovely too.

The wonders of pollination

What an amazing video!

Favourite photographers: Brad Wilson

Brad Wilson is one of my favourite photographers because of the extraordinary dignity he brings to his wildlife portraits. Against their simple, dark backgrounds, these beautiful creatures seem to meet us as equals, their eyes revealing an inner presence that is almost impossible to describe. Eyes truly are the doors to the soul, and when I look into the eyes of Wilson’s animals, I sometimes feel as though I can see God looking back at me. His photographs awaken a profound sense of connectedness—a recognition that we share this mysterious gift of consciousness and life with every living being. I discovered his work in 2015, when Sue gave me his book Wildlife. It remains one of the most cherished gifts I have ever received.

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Favourite photographers: Vivian Maier

I discovered Vivian Maier through the documentary Finding Vivian Maier I saw with Sue at The Orpheum and was immediately captivated by her remarkable portraits and street scenes. Working largely in obscurity as a nanny, she was extraordinarily prolific, creating an immense visual record of everyday life—fleeting expressions, chance encounters and small human dramas that most people would have walked past without noticing. It is astonishing that so much of her work, including many undeveloped rolls of film, was discovered only later, revealing a great photographer who had remained almost completely unknown during her lifetime.

A large part of my own enjoyment of photography comes afterwards, when I edit, organise and carefully curate the images I have taken. Maier’s relationship with photography seems to have been very different. She did not need an audience or even a finished print to validate what she was doing; for her, the deepest joy appears to have been in getting out into the world, observing it intently and taking photographs. I find that wonderfully pure and inspiring—the act of seeing and capturing the moment was apparently reward enough.

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Vast celestial bodies

I have often though of the sun as massive. But I've discovered that, in comparison with other stars, it is tiny! This blows my mind.

The scale of the universe from tiny to gigantic

As you may know, I'm absolutely fascinated by the vast spaces and objects of the universe and just how tiny we and the earth are in relation to it all.  And I'm also fascinated by the fact we are in reality 99.999% space and made up of infinitesimally tiny atoms.  Imagine my delight when one of my old colleagues from Volvo days sent me a link to a flash site that puts it all into amazing perspective.  Check it out, it really is awe inspiring.

View the site here

The vastness of the universe

I've been reflecting a lot lately about the vastness of the universe.  It's extraordinary, literally beyond comprehension.  It gives me a deep sense of wonder which I find very useful in my spiritual path.  Below I'm going to keep quotes and images on this subject.

• "Wonder is the basis of worship." -  Thomas Carlyle

• To give you an idea of how vast the space is between celestial bodies, consider this: Light traveling at a constant speed of 186,000 miles (300,000 kilometers) per second takes just over one second to travel between the earth and the moon; light from the sun takes about eight minutes to reach the earth. Light from our nearest neighbor in space, a star called Proxima Centauri, which is the sun that is closest to our own sun, travels for 4.5 years before it reaches the earth. This is how vast the space is that surrounds us. And then there is the intergalactic space, whose vastness defies all comprehension. Light from the galaxy closest to our own, the Andromeda Galaxy, takes 2.4 million years to reach us.  Eckhart Tolle

• "The atoms that make up your body were once forged inside stars." - Eckhart Tolle

• If you watched a rock your entire life it would never look different. But if you were God and could observe the rock over fifteen billion years as though only a second had passed, the rock would be frantic with activity. It would be shrinking and growing and trading matter with its environment. Its molecules would travel the universe and become a partner to amazing things that we could never imagine. Scott Adams, God's Debris

• Imagine that the earth, 4.6 billion years old, is a 46 year old women. It has taken the whole of the Earth Women's life for the earth to become what it is today. For the oceans to part. For the mountains to rise. She was 11 when the first single cell organisms appeared. She was 40 when the first animals like worms and jellyfish appeared. She was 45 - just 8 months ago - when dinosaurs first roamed the earth. The whole of human civilisation as we know it, began only two hours ago in the Earth Women's life. An awe - inspiring and humbling thought that the whole of contemporary history, the World wars, the man on the moon, science, literature, philosophy, the pursuit of knowledge - is no more than a blink of her eye. Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

• Put three grains of sand inside a vast cathedral, and the cathedral will be more closely packed with sand than space is with stars.  Sir James Jeans