Just Popping to the Blog.

Back in the summer of 2014, I was asked to join a BBC drama filming in the desert in Morocco, with the task of producing all the 'Specials' over the course of a couple of days. Sounds great - yup, I'm up for that. Great cast, great location-now all I had to do was ge the panning sorted. Arriving in the middle of the night, I dragged my bags down to my room with a porter, which was set way back from the main hotel. Keys in, I slumped into the darkened space, throwing my bag onto the floor. Now, when the local porter yelps, you can be reassured that it is ok to join in: My room was covered in ants. Covered. So, being British, I said 'thank you' to my helper and turned to make the best of it. Cut to 5 mins later and I m at the desk asking for help as ants overrun my bags, and I switch rooms. The following day, and I am out in the searing heat. This was a great shoot all round, despite the lack of location power and the occasional 'mistral' windst...

Arriving at the enormous venue with my assorted camera bits hanging awkwardly off both of us, we gained entrance and were shown to a drab entrance area, where the Taylor-Wood picture was mounted rather high up on a wall. Now there's only so much you can do with one light, a battery system and a reflective background, so I set up in the only way possible-head on, and blast 'em with light. Camera on tripod we waited. And waited. Finally, Kate Moss arrives, looks at me, says nothing and walks on by looking around the various preparation areas for the models and make up. I waited a while and then went to ask about the shoot and where McQueen was with Miss Moss. Just then, the man himself arrives, looking shy and flustered. Five minutes later and I have dragged two extremely reluctant subjects in-front of my set up. My goodness they did not want to do this-perhaps no-one had told them, but they just looked defensive and well, furious. 10 frames for the sweaty photographer and t...

Back in 2004, film was still king, and Alexander McQueen and Kate Moss were the royalty of the fashion world. Sitting outside my sunny office in Tunbridge Wells, I answered a call from the Times Magazine picture desk: Did I want to want to cover a rather special 'party' event in London. It would mean a visit to the PR to get a special pass for myself and an Assistant the following day. Now, I don't really shoot parties, however, the American Express 'Black' party would be the exception. I was told I was going to be the only photographer on the inside, apart from Richard Young, and that it would be held at Earls Court. ALL of Earls Court-and all completely dressed in black velvet.  I was given a somewhat restrictive list of conditions that I had to sign as I collected the passes for myself and my Assistant (Jess): 1 camera/1 lens/1 light, no bags and no stands or tripods, we CANNOT enter the Fashion Show itself and we must wear only black. My shot list...