Tian Yuan Wuji Temple Taipei for Sunday Best

 

I returned to the Tian Yuan Wuji Temple as one returns to a familiar refrain—recognisable, yet never quite the same. Last year, I had framed it in measured lines and careful symmetry; this time, I came armed with an ultra-wide lens, hoping to bend its vast geometry into something both intimate and grand. The temple resisted at first. Its circular tiers—five rising rings crowned in vermilion and gold—seemed to slip away from perfect alignment, as though symmetry here was never meant to be absolute, only suggested.

Built in the late twentieth century, the temple is a relatively modern devotion, yet it draws deeply from ancient Taoism cosmology. Each level represents a layer of the heavens, a symbolic ascent toward the boundless—wuji, the infinite void before form and division. Standing before it, one feels less like an observer and more like a participant in that quiet metaphysical order, where circles echo eternity and repetition becomes reverence.

But translating that sensation into an image proved far less serene. The ultra-wide lens exaggerated every imperfection; lines bowed, edges stretched, and the near-symmetry became a delicate negotiation rather than a certainty. Light, too, was uncooperative. The temple’s glossy surfaces caught and scattered the sun in sharp bursts, turning glare into an adversary that could not be easily subdued. Frame after frame failed—too harsh, too distorted, too restless.

And yet, persistence has its own rhythm. In the end, this image—imperfect, slightly askew—felt truer to the place than any rigid symmetry could have been. The temple does not demand perfection; it invites approximation, an acceptance of imbalance within harmony. Through the lens, I realised that perhaps the goal was never to conquer the structure, but to listen to it—to let its quiet philosophy guide the frame, even if the lines never quite meet.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6 

Linking Sunday Best

Tian Yuan Wuji Temple Taipei for Sunday Best

 

I returned to the temple with a quiet hope of redemption—last year I had arrived too late, the cherry blossoms already a memory scattered on the wind. This time, I erred in the opposite direction, arriving too early, when the branches still held their breath, buds clenched tight against the promise of bloom.

Yet absence has its own kind of offering.

I wandered instead into the back garden, where time seemed to loosen its grip. There, paths curved gently through patient trees and textured stone, and light filtered in soft, deliberate strokes—an unspoken invitation to linger. Without the spectacle of blossoms, subtler compositions emerged: shadows resting on moss, the geometry of branches, the quiet dialogue between stillness and space.

It was, in its own restrained way, a gift—one that revealed itself slowly, and generously, to the attentive eye. A place not of missed moments, but of found ones—particularly for those willing to see.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6 

Linking Sunday Best

Old Melbourne Goal for Treasure Tuesday

 

As I leafed through some of my old photographs, one image of the Melbourne Old Gaol caught my eye again, its composition strange and particular in a way I hadn’t noticed before. The gaol, standing with its weathered bluestone walls and iron-bound doors, exudes a peculiar, almost spectral presence—an air both solemn and unsettling. Built in the mid-19th century, it was a place meant to contain the restless and the condemned, a grim monument to law and order in a city still finding its shape. Over the years, its shadowed corridors and austere courtyards have absorbed whispers of history: convicts pacing in silence, the muffled clank of keys, and stories of lives paused behind stone walls. In my photographs, these echoes seem to linger, as if the gaol itself has become a keeper of memory, its eerie aura captured through the lens, awaiting the gaze of anyone willing to peer into its past.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Fairfield Bridge Mural for Mural Monday

 

Joel and I havent ventured into mural hunting for some time. This one was a lady portrait and the artist unknown. The place smells quite bad too. But it would be a good location for abstract and geometrical photography

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6

Linking Mural Monday

Bunurong Coast Cave for Treasure Tuesday

 

This sea cave along the Bunurong Coast has long since collapsed, its vault surrendered to the sea. Looking back, I am grateful to have captured its likeness when it still stood—through the wide and wondering eye of my beloved Laowa 9mm f/5.6 lens. There is a certain dreamlike distortion in that image, as though the rocks themselves breathed and swayed beneath the ocean’s spell.

The Bunurong Coast, stretching eastward from Inverloch toward Cape Paterson in southern Victoria, bears the ancient imprint of time and tide. Its cliffs, carved from Cretaceous sandstone, reveal layers of the earth’s deep past—here, the footprints of dinosaurs once pressed into mud more than a hundred million years ago; there, fossils of giant ferns whispering of the age before man. Long before European discovery, this rugged shoreline was home to the Bunurong people of the Kulin Nation, who lived in harmony with its rhythms. They fished its rock pools, gathered shellfish from its tidal flats, and told stories of creation woven with the waves and wind.

Today the coast remains a place of austere beauty—where history, both human and geological, converges in the song of the surf. Though the cave itself has fallen, its spirit endures in memory and in the photograph: a fleeting vision of what once was, suspended between earth and sea, and rendered eternal by the lens.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6 

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Sierra Nevada Rocks in Portsea for Skywatch Friday

 

I realise there is only a small portion of sky visible in this photograph, yet it still fits within the theme. This image was captured during a period when I was completely fascinated by my ultra-wide 9mm Laowa lens. I was captivated by its ability to exaggerate perspective and include vast surroundings within a single frame, and I found myself experimenting with it in all sorts of situations.

This particular shot was taken at the Portsea sea caves on the Mornington Peninsula, Melbourne. These coastal formations, sculpted over centuries by relentless waves and wind, are renowned for their rugged beauty and dramatic textures. The interplay of light filtering through the cave openings and the reflections from the ocean create a mesmerising scene—one that challenges any photographer to balance composition, exposure, and timing. Creativity should certainly count for something, especially when working in such dynamic and unpredictable natural settings.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6 

Linking Skywatch Friday

Sierra Nevada Rocks Sunset, Portsea for Skywatch Friday

 

A place I once frequented, though visiting has become increasingly difficult to plan. The Laowa lens creates a pronounced vignetting that deepens the atmosphere of this sombre image, casting an almost timeless mood over the scene.

The Nevada Rocks of Portsea, located along the Mornington Peninsula’s rugged southern coast, form part of the dramatic basalt and sandstone formations that have withstood relentless winds and tides from Bass Strait for millennia. These rocks tell the story of ancient volcanic activity and gradual marine erosion that shaped Victoria’s coastal geology. Over time, the elements carved out weathered ledges and sculptural outcrops that today stand as both a natural wonder and a silent witness to the passage of time.

Human presence here has long been intertwined with the sea. Early European settlers and fishermen sought shelter in the coves, while Portsea itself grew into a seaside retreat in the late nineteenth century, famed for its cliff-top mansions and its proximity to Fort Nepean—once a sentinel guarding the entrance to Port Phillip Bay. Today, Nevada Rocks remains a place of quiet solitude and untamed beauty, where the power of nature meets traces of human history in equal measure.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6 

Linking Skywatch Friday

Murtoa Stick Shed, Victoria for Treasure Tuesday

 

For the past four years I have made the monthly journey to Horsham, where I attend to my professional duties within the local hospital, nursing homes, and community clinics. The drive has become a familiar one, and on each occasion I pass through the modest township of Murtoa. This settlement is distinguished above all by its famed “Stick Shed,” a structure of both national and historical significance.

The Stick Shed, officially known as Murtoa No. 1 Grain Store, was constructed in 1941–42 at the height of the Second World War, when wheat surpluses threatened to overwhelm conventional storage facilities. Built in only four months, it was intended as a temporary measure, yet it endures as the last remaining example of several such sheds once scattered across Victoria. Its extraordinary interior is supported by 560 unmilled mountain ash poles, rising like a vast cathedral of timber and corrugated iron. At 265 metres in length, 60 metres in width, and 19 metres in height, it could accommodate up to 92,500 tonnes of wheat. Once regarded simply as a utilitarian granary, it is now recognised as an engineering feat of national heritage, earning its place on the Australian National Heritage List in 2014.

My blog friend Stefan would, I suspect, remain unimpressed by my indulgence in ultra-wide-angle compositions of the building. Yet I find myself rather taken with the subdued, muted tones with which I have treated my photographs; they seem to lend an atmosphere befitting its austere grandeur, and in turn they awakened in me many recollections of past journeys.

On a lighter note, I was able to meet Joel over the weekend for a restorative bowl of pho. On this occasion there was no photography—only conversation, laughter, and the easy comfort of friendship. It was a simple pleasure, but one deeply felt.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6 

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Portsea Back Beach for Skywatch Friday

 

My visit to this area during an unusually low tide proved most rewarding in terms of photographic endeavour. The light, delicate and fleeting, was at its finest just before the onset of complete darkness. The exposed ocean floor took on a strange, otherworldly appearance—almost alien in aspect. Portsea itself, a refined and affluent enclave favoured by the wealthy, remains largely untouched by the ordinary tourist trail. Few ventures beyond the cave gate that marks the divide from London Bridge, lending this particular stretch a sense of quiet seclusion and hidden charm.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6

Linking Skywatch Friday

Frankston Sand Sculpture Competition on Easter for Treasure Tuesday

 

The Frankston Annual Sand Sculpture Competition, once a cherished highlight of my childhood, has long held a special place in the cultural life of Melbourne’s coastal regions. Originating in Frankston, this beloved event drew crowds for years with its grand and intricate creations, becoming a seasonal tradition for many families. Some years ago, however, the competition was relocated from its original site, a change that saddened me deeply at the time. To my delight, the event has returned this year to its rightful home in Frankston. I had the pleasure of accompanying my mother to the shoreline, where we spent a delightful day capturing photographs and revisiting old memories. Though the sculptures are now more modest in scale and number, the return of the competition rekindles a sense of joy and nostalgia.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6 

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Brisbane Night Ferris Wheel Long Exposure for Sunday Best

 

To undertake the task of long exposure photography amidst the throngs of Brisbane’s bustling South Bank is to court both patience and fortune. The city, vibrant and unceasing in its rhythm, seldom affords the stillness such a technique demands. Yet there, among the restless footsteps and the murmur of daily life, stands a quiet marvel — the Wheel of Brisbane — solemn, grand, and ever-turning.

Erected in 2008 to commemorate the sesquicentennial of Queensland, the Ferris wheel is no mere amusement; it is a modern monument, a gentle giant by the river’s edge, offering sweeping views and enduring symbolism. It revolves steadily, indifferent to the ceaseless passage of pedestrians below, many of whom scarcely glance upward. It is, in its way, a keeper of time — not by ticking hands, but by its own slow revolution.

To photograph such a subject using long exposure is to attempt an act of reverence. The camera, when held in stillness with the shutter drawn open, does not simply record an image — it collects time itself. Light weaves its threads across the frame, motion becomes memory, and all that is unmoving grows luminous and sharp.

Yet therein lies the challenge: the constancy of human movement. Strangers wander unbidden into the composition, their forms becoming translucent echoes — smudges of presence that both enrich and disrupt the clarity of the scene. The Wheel, by contrast, remains serene — turning, yes, but in such a measured fashion that it may appear suspended in time if one is patient and precise.

There is, in this pursuit, a certain poetry. As I adjusted my lens and steadied my breath, I began to perceive the act not merely as photography, but as a conversation between permanence and transience. The Ferris wheel — emblem of modern celebration, built upon a foundation of history — stood as the anchor. Around it, the city’s people flowed like a living river.

And in one fortunate moment — a moment gifted more by grace than by skill — the exposure yielded a quiet revelation. The wheel shone, sharp and majestic, while the crowd had melted into gentle motion, like ghosts in passing. Time, for an instant, had folded, and Brisbane had revealed its dual nature: ever-changing, yet ever the same.

Such is the beauty of capturing the ephemeral. The camera does not merely steal a moment — it elevates it. And in the luminous whirl of Brisbane’s Ferris wheel, we glimpse not only the present, but the echo of what has been and the promise of what may come.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6

Linking Sunday Best

Abandoned Old Gillies Pie Factory in Bendigo, Victoria, Australia for Treasure Tuesday

 

The Old Gillies Pie Factory in Bendigo, Victoria, stands as a testament to the city's rich industrial and culinary heritage. Established in the mid-20th century, this factory was once the heart of a thriving pie-making enterprise that left an indelible mark on the local community.

Origins and Growth

The Gillies Pies brand was founded by three brothers—Les, Alan, and Norm Gillies—who relocated from Charlton to Bendigo following the 1940s drought. They began their venture with a modest bakery on Mitchell Street, gradually expanding their operations to meet the growing demand for their delectable pies. In 1958, the brothers acquired the Black Swan Hotel building, transforming it into a mass production facility. This site would later become known as the Old Gillies Pie Factory.

Community Impact

The factory wasn't just a production site; it became a local institution. The "pie window" at Gillies Corner, their second shop, often saw queues of eager customers winding down the street, drawn by the irresistible aroma of freshly baked pies. At its peak, Gillies Pies employed around 200 people, with retail outlets spreading across Victoria and distribution reaching as far as Melbourne.

Decline and Closure

Despite its success, the company faced challenges in the latter part of the 20th century. Operations eventually ceased, and the factory fell into disrepair, becoming a canvas for graffiti and a spot for urban explorers. In 2016, the last link to the iconic brand was severed when the remaining factory operations in Bendigo were shut down, marking the end of an era.

Preservation Efforts

In recent years, there have been efforts to preserve the legacy of the Old Gillies Pie Factory. Local history enthusiasts have lobbied for the site's restoration, aiming to maintain its "naturally decrepit" state as a nod to its historical significance. These endeavors highlight the community's desire to honour and remember the factory's role in Bendigo's history.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Heavenly Queen Temple, Footscray for Treasure Tuesday

 

The Heavenly Queen Temple suffered damage during the flood two years prior. When we visited, the majority of the structures were still under construction. Situated on the bend of the Yarra River, just near the border of Melbourne City, the temple remains secluded from the surrounding urban environment.

Joel, desiring to sample the Pho in Footscray, selected this destination for us to explore with our prime lenses.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6 

Linking Treasure Tuesday