Daily Photo – Kaimata Road

Once again we have the metaphor of lines dissolving into the horizon in my work. Only this time the road adds another element. Here, the fence line draws the eye through and intersects with an old gravel road, both threading into the brooding grey sky. In moments like this the land seems to pause, as though waiting. There’s a tension between what is visible and what remains just out of reach and beyond. The light was heavy, with only wire, grass, and sky, but that’s all that’s needed.

Daily Photo – Esplanade sea fog

Late in the evening, I stepped out onto the St Clair Esplanade, greeted by a thick sea fog that had rolled in silently over the last hour. I’d been tucked away just around the corner at a bar called Salt, enjoying the comforting heaviness of a burger, the sharpness of pickles and charred beef softened by a few leisurely pints. Inside was warm, bustling with catter and the clink of glasses; outside, the night was taking hold.

Streetlamps glowed like lanterns in the mist, casting soft, hazy light that stretched down the esplanade in a procession. I could hear the ocean breathing somewhere just beyond the railings. The fog had a way of absorbing sound and scattering light, wrapping everything in stillness. I wandered slowly, past the old signpost pointing to far-off places and the poem stencilled along the sea wall. For a moment, I had the coast to myself—just the hum of distant waves, the glow of lamps, and the heavy quiet of the fog.

Daily Photo – Your Latest Trick

Having parked on Dowling Street sometime around 5am, I stepped out into a city still half-asleep. All the late night bargains had long since been struck and at this early hour a light rain was falling, soft enough to hear and just enough to give the pavement that glassy, reflective sheen. I wandered slowly up Princes Street toward Moray Place, the streets almost entirely empty.

At that hour, traffic was rare, just the occasional car slipping past, leaving a quiet trail of red or white light behind it. The city felt like it was waiting. The wet road turned everything into a mirror. Streetlights flared, traffic signals shimmered, and colours stretched out in long lines across the ground. I set up briefly in the middle of the street, camera ready, letting long exposures pull light out of the darkness.

For a few minutes, it felt like the city to myself. Peaceful, quiet, and still. A moment between night and day.

Daily Photo – Echoes in the empty seats and whispers in the wings

If there’s one truth about theatres, it’s that they’re riddled with secrets. Behind every heavy door, down each narrow stairwell, and beyond dimly lit corridors lie forgotten spaces and hidden corners that whisper stories of performances past. Just when you believe you’ve uncovered every inch, a shadowed hallway appears, one you swear wasn’t there before and leads you to a part of the theatre shrouded in mystery. And there’s nothing quite as haunting or spellbinding as standing alone in the silence of a grand, empty auditorium with 1600 vacant seats staring back at you. It’s a moment that stirs something deep in your bones.

Daily Photo – The early hours in suburbia

It was a quarter past five in the morning and it was cold. Somewhere in the warmth of my car a thermometer on the dashboard was reading 3°C (37.4°F) while standing outside, near The Terminus building I could not only see my breath, but feel the chilly morning air slapping me hard across the face. The few cars out this early left trails of mist, steam and fog. I was tired, hardly awake and questioning my sanity, choosing to stand near a closed group of shops waiting for cars to drive past.

The previous evening after a few beers, it’d been suggested to me that the corner of the former Terminus Building and Presbyterian Church would be a good photo location as cars pass by in predawn darkness. At eleven o’clock at night it had seemed a capital idea. But now, standing in the early morning chill, waiting for cars to drive past, I realised I could still be in a nice warm bed.

Daily Photo – Dunedin Sunset

Much to everyone’s surprise, I didn’t go out chasing the spectacular Aurora Australis show the other night. I simply enjoyed it from my front garden. I was tempted, however I’d already been out and about shooting over most of the weekend and by the time it was hitting, I was nicely settled in for the evening. Lazy I know. I did however capture the tail end of the sunset from Layers Head on the way home. Not quite as stunning as an Aurora, yet full of colour nonetheless.

Daily Photo – Dunedin Law Courts & Anzac Square Gardens

There’s something really rather peaceful about wandering a city with no real plan, especially on a quiet, chilly Dunedin afternoon. I found myself strolling near the Railway Station, with its imposing grandeur built from basalt and Oamaru stone, when I drifted toward the Law Courts. No destination in mind, just following the quiet.

As a building, I’ve always liked the Law Courts with its dark stone, turrets, and the gothic feel—it’s the kind of architecture that makes you pause. I wandered up to the entrance and read a bit of history from the board out front. Turns out, Dunedin’s first permanent Courthouse and Prison were built here back in 1859, right on a narrow strip of reclaimed land at the foot of Bell Hill. Back then, the harbour came right up to the base of the old jail.

These buildings were part of the first wave of public infrastructure as Dunedin grew from a struggling settlement into a proper town. The current Law Courts and the neighbouring Police Station were designed by Government Architect John Campbell and built between 1895 and 1902.

Funny how a slow walk can take you through history, without even trying. Just you and a cold afternoon breeze.