Before leaving for Taiwan, Joel and I returned once more to that rugged corner of Cadillac Gorge , a place where the sea seems to argue en...

  There was a season when Joel and I returned to Flinders Blowhole again and again—five weekends in a row, almost like a quiet ritual. The ...

  Joel and I drove down toward the southern edge of the Mornington Peninsula, chasing the promise of a generous tide. Along this stretch of ...

  The pavilion dispensed its ritual of overpriced coffee and indulgent desserts, yet every table was claimed and the queue never thinned. I ...

  Joel rang and let his thoughts spill across the line — weekend protests swelling through the city like a recurring tide, workplace grievan...

  Joel’s son marked his birthday over the past weekend, and amid the quiet margins of that family celebration I set out alone for a brief dr...

  At Balnarring Beach, the tide recently retreated farther than it does for most of the year, unveiling a hidden landscape that usually lies...

  My left knee has decided to slow me down—an uninvited editor cutting movement from my days. So this week I stayed close to stillness, watc...

  Last week was marked by unsettled weather, which led me to remain at home. During this time, Joel and I exchanged messages and shared reco...

  At the same stretch of Brighton Beach, where the horizon usually softens into pale blues and orderly pastels, the sunset arrived transform...

  Here are some more frames from Balnarring Beach, looking toward Cape Schanck, taken as the day eased into its last light. Joel appears aga...

  Bridgewater Bay reveals a quieter temperament in this light, as if the coastline itself has agreed to pause. The long exposure smooths the...

  Bridgewater Bay at low tide reveals itself as a quiet benediction to those who look closely. As the sea withdraws, the shoreline lengthens...

  This, the final frame, was taken ere I departed the bay, ere darkness fell and made perilous the walk upon the exposed sea-floor. Bridgewa...

  As the new year turns, I have resolved to lay down two moderator roles on photographers’ Instagram pages. The labour has grown too heavy, ...

  Joel and I gifted ourselves a pause, tucked close to the Christmas season, a quiet agreement to step away and wait for the land to open ag...

  No clouds—only a brief, transient wash of cyan and pink in the sky, lingering for a moment before the light gives way to complete darkness...

  Not much cloud gathered above Bridgewater Bay that day in Blairgowrie, just a clean, pale sky opening toward the horizon — but the sun dip...

  I haven’t visited this place for some time, and yet Flinders Blowhole at Cape Schanck greets me as though no days have passed. The rugged ...

  A mackerel sky hangs over Mount Alexander, its blue-cyan wash streaked with soft brown, as though the heavens themselves remember the dust...