Why do you shoot film?

In our digital age, you might be wondering why I shoot film? 

My reason is simple, I think there is a beautiful quality to images captured on film that cannot be rivalled or replicated. 

I love the way film captures light, I love the grainy softness and the richness of colour. Film photography keeps me grounded and in the moment, it’s an art form that can’t be rushed. It requires me to feel the moment and be connected with my environment and subject. There is no instant gratification, the whole process requires time and patience.

Nothing can reproduce the tones, the softness, the grain and the colours that film produces.

To me there is something magical about the whole process of film and I LOVE it!!

Sunrise & sunset

“You are not the darkness you endured. You are the light that refused to surrender”

John Mark Green

Morning & evening captured in the same frame.

(A print of this photograph is available in my shop)

Winter wild swimming feature

There is something special about being awake before the world stirs. Leaving the house in the dark when the thermometer reads -2 and crunching through frozen mud and frost to reach the water’s edge. At this moment, my head and body are in agreement. All but the tiniest part of my brain is telling me to stay dry. To stay comfortable. But that little part, that’s the part I let win.

Breath, stolen willingly by the million needles floating invisibly under the surface.

As the numbness creeps through fingers and toes, every other sense comes alive, embraced by the warm hug of molten ice. Creeping through my veins, into my heart. Childhood memories of hands playing in snow, so cold they feel burnt. 

Move. Breathe. Watch.

Animal instinct kicks in and in turn, I remember to be human. Fearlessly vulnerable as the cold takes over. Not without danger, this cold lures you, lulls you. Entices you to stay longer. Lose yourself, but stay aware. The minutes are precious but don’t steal too many. 

Calm descends as veins turn to ice and toes return to remind me of their presence. Of my presence.

The rush to stumble, numb fingered, into clothes before the shivers start. Hot tea is poured shakily and I stand in silence, waiting until I’m warm enough to carry on with the everyday. Forced to stop and be still until my mind and body return to their normal functioning state. But with a thread of calm left behind, to be pulled on throughout the day. My reset button, re-set.

Spring approaches. The cold will soon be gone and we will mourn. 

I speak to fellow swimmers of this feeling that we all share. That whilst we can’t wait for the water to warm and enable long, lazy swims along the river, we will miss the magical medicine of the cold. The solitude of a spot that only we, at this moment, feel the pull of. But the seasons change, and with them each river brings a new delight, each lake a new challenge.

words by Catherine Cox

photos by Emily Walker

featured in Oh Magazine


My sweet girl on her 6th birthday. 

Things I want to remember about you right now: ~ how you love to wear you hair loose and free; calling it your ‘wild hair’ ~ your sweet smile still complete with all your teeny tiny baby teeth ~ listening to you playing imaginary games for hours ~ your love of all animals ~ squeezing in your bed with you to read a bedtime story ~ how many times you make me read ‘time for bed little unicorn’ and never get tired of it ~ your absolute love of olives ~ drawing hundreds of unicorns ~ wanting a chihuahua, you call them ‘chichirollas’ and scream with delight every time you see one ~ tangled is your favourite movie ~ you always draw two of everything, one baby that is you and the other mummy one that is me ~ the colour of your big blue eyes when you daydream ~ telling me that I am your BFF ~ the matching key-rings that say ‘best friends forever’ that you bought us. 

I can’t freeze time, but this series of images captured in the week of your birthday is how I will remember you at 6 years old, always.


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