Memories don't come better than punting along the Cam with Ally, work mates and mum and Mike when they visited us.
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A celebration of treasured moments
Memories don't come better than punting along the Cam with Ally, work mates and mum and Mike when they visited us.
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.
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.
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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.
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.
I've long admired Steve Jobs, not just because he built one of the world's great companies, but because his ideas have influenced the way I think. I use Apple products every day, especially my MacBook Pro and iPhone, and I continue to be impressed by how intuitive, elegant and thoughtfully designed they are. Jobs understood that great technology isn't just about powerful features—it's about creating products that people genuinely enjoy using.
One of the lessons I value most from Steve Jobs is the power of focus. He believed that saying "no" to hundreds of good ideas was often more important than saying "yes" to a few great ones. In a world full of distractions, that's a principle I try to keep coming back to. I also admire his relentless pursuit of simplicity. He showed that making something simple is often much harder than making it complicated, and that great design begins with understanding the user's experience.
His life story is inspiring in its own right. Being forced out of the company he founded could have been the end of the story, but instead it became the beginning of one of the greatest comebacks in business history. He returned to Apple, transformed it from a struggling company into one of the most valuable businesses on Earth, and changed the way millions of people interact with technology. His vision, resilience and insistence on excellence continue to inspire me.
I first encountered Nan Goldin's work at an exhibition in Amsterdam in 1997, long before I ever took up photography myself. I still remember the impact it had on me. Her photographs didn't just catch my attention—they went straight through to something much deeper.
What I admire most is the honesty of her work. Her photographs are raw, intimate and completely unguarded. She invited us into her life and the lives of the people around her, capturing moments of love, vulnerability, joy, pain and everyday existence without trying to make them look prettier or more comfortable than they were. Looking at her portraits feels less like viewing photographs and more like being trusted with someone's private world.
Goldin reminds me that photography isn't only about creating beautiful images. It can also be about truth, empathy and genuine human connection. Her work showed me that some of the most powerful photographs are those that reveal something deeply authentic about the people in front of the camera. That lesson has stayed with me ever since.
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.
Banksy proves that art can be far more than something beautiful hanging on a gallery wall. His work is witty, provocative and deeply human, using simple, unforgettable images to challenge assumptions about war, consumerism, power, inequality and the absurdities of modern life. What I admire most is his ability to communicate profound ideas with remarkable clarity. A single stencil on a brick wall can spark conversations that books and speeches sometimes fail to inspire. He reminds us that great art doesn't just decorate the world—it awakens us to see it differently.
I also love the mystery that surrounds Banksy. By remaining anonymous, he has kept the focus where it belongs: on the work itself rather than the celebrity of the artist. There is something wonderfully subversive about creating priceless art in public spaces, freely accessible to anyone who walks past. Whether or not I agree with every message, I admire his courage, originality and refusal to play by the conventional rules of the art world. Banksy has shown that one person's creativity, imagination and sense of humour can capture the attention of millions while inviting us to question the world we so often take for granted.
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.
Albert Einstein has always been one of the people I most admire. Of course, he revolutionised our understanding of the universe, but what draws me to him is something deeper than his scientific achievements. I love his insatiable curiosity, his childlike sense of wonder, and his willingness to embrace mystery rather than pretend to have all the answers. He reminds me that the greatest minds are often the most humble in the face of the unknown.
As someone who loves collecting quotes, many of my favourites are Einstein's. They reveal a side of him that is often overlooked—a man who was not only a brilliant scientist, but also a deeply philosophical and spiritual thinker. He understood that imagination, awe and mystery are essential parts of the human experience, and that science and spirituality need not be in conflict. His life is a reminder that the pursuit of truth is at its best when it is guided not only by intellect, but also by curiosity, humility and a profound sense of wonder.
Watching Ken Burns' documentary The Roosevelts gave me a completely new appreciation for Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. I came away deeply impressed not only by what they accomplished, but by the strength of character they displayed through extraordinary adversity. Franklin's determination after being paralysed by polio was remarkable. Rather than allowing it to define him, he developed an inner resilience that helped him lead the United States through both the Great Depression and the Second World War. His optimism, calmness and ability to inspire confidence during times of immense uncertainty made him one of the most consequential leaders of the twentieth century.
I was equally inspired by Eleanor Roosevelt. She was far more than a First Lady; she became one of the great advocates for human rights and social justice. Despite her own difficult upbringing and personal struggles, she dedicated her life to serving others and giving a voice to those who had been overlooked. What impressed me most about the Roosevelts was the way they complemented one another. Franklin provided visionary leadership at moments of national crisis, while Eleanor expanded the nation's moral vision through compassion and courage. Together they showed how resilience, purpose and service can leave a lasting impact on the world.
I've had a soft spot for Rembrandt ever since visiting the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam in 1997. The highlight was seeing The Night Watch in person. I'd seen photos of it before, but the scale and detail of the original are something else entirely. It's one of those artworks that's worth travelling to see.
What I admire most about Rembrandt is his ability to capture real people. His portraits feel honest and deeply human, and his mastery of light and shadow gives them incredible depth without ever feeling overdone. More than 350 years after his death, his paintings still have the power to stop people in their tracks. That's the mark of a truly great artist.
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.
One of the artists I find most fascinating is Salvador DalÃ. At first glance his paintings seem bizarre, almost dreamlike, but the longer I look at them the more they invite reflection. They challenge my assumptions about reality, time and identity, and remind me that the world we experience is not always as fixed or straightforward as it appears. His work rewards curiosity, revealing new details and meanings each time I return to it.
What I admire most is DalÃ's imagination and technical brilliance. However strange his visions were, he painted them with extraordinary precision, making the impossible feel almost believable. His art encourages me to think beyond the obvious and to appreciate the power of symbolism and metaphor. In many ways, his paintings feel less like images to be understood and more like invitations to explore the deeper landscape of the mind.
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.
What fascinates me about Leonardo da Vinci is not just that he was a brilliant artist, but that he seemed endlessly curious about almost everything. Painting, anatomy, engineering, architecture, geology, flight - he approached each subject with the same desire to understand how the world really works. He reminds me that creativity and curiosity are inseparable, and that the most rewarding discoveries often happen at the intersection of different fields.
I also admire Leonardo's ability to combine scientific observation with artistic vision. He looked at nature with extraordinary care, believing that the closer we observe reality, the deeper our understanding becomes. His notebooks reveal someone who never stopped asking questions or seeking better ways of seeing. His life encourages me to remain curious, to keep learning, and to remember that the pursuit of understanding can be just as important as the answers themselves.
Another of the artists I admire most is Michelangelo. His work combines an extraordinary level of technical mastery with a profound understanding of the human form. Whether in sculpture, painting or architecture, he had an unmatched ability to express strength, beauty and emotion. I still remember visiting Rome in 1996 and standing beneath the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel for the first time. I was completely blown away. No photograph had prepared me for the scale, complexity and sheer brilliance of what he created.
What I find especially inspiring is the way Michelangelo seemed to see potential where others saw only raw stone. His famous idea that the sculpture already existed within the marble, and that his task was simply to reveal it, has always resonated with me. It feels like a powerful metaphor for life itself—that beneath the surface there is something waiting to be uncovered through patience, effort and vision. His work reminds me that great art is not only about skill, but about revealing something deeper that was there all along.
Pablo Picasso fascinates me because he refused to see the world in conventional ways. He was never content simply to reproduce what the eye could already see. Instead, he explored different perspectives, broke familiar forms apart, and rebuilt them into something entirely new. His work reminds me that creativity often begins by questioning assumptions rather than accepting them.
What I admire most is Picasso's willingness to keep evolving throughout his life. He constantly experimented, took risks, and reinvented his style instead of repeating what had already made him successful. That commitment to exploration is deeply inspiring. It encourages me to stay curious, to keep learning, and to remember that growth often comes from having the courage to look at familiar things from a completely different perspective.
Pierre-Auguste Renoir's paintings always leave me with a sense of warmth and joy. He had an extraordinary ability to capture the beauty of everyday life—friends talking, families gathering, children playing, people enjoying a meal or an afternoon outdoors. His work reminds me that life's most meaningful moments are often the simplest ones, and that ordinary human experiences can be deeply beautiful.
What I appreciate most is the sense of light and humanity that runs through his paintings. His subjects feel alive, relaxed and connected, never posed or distant. Looking at his work encourages me to notice those same moments in my own life and photography—the shared smile, the quiet conversation, the warmth of sunlight on people simply enjoying being together. Renoir reminds me that beauty is not only found in dramatic landscapes or extraordinary events, but also in the richness of everyday human life.