Old Vintage Hardware Store in Maldon at night for Skywatch Friday

 

This photograph was taken several years ago. The tungsten street lighting along the roadside proved a formidable obstacle to achieving a proper long-exposure capture of the Milky Way. As can be seen, the galactic core appears somewhat distorted, and the roadside sign bears an intense orange-yellow hue that disrupts the serenity of the scene. In post-processing, I was compelled to subdue the colour saturation almost entirely. Perhaps a monochrome rendering might better preserve the atmospheric quality of the composition.

Yet, despite its technical imperfections, the image remains a cherished memory. I would not now venture into the quiet hours of the night to attempt such a shot again—too great the risk of passing traffic or untoward encounters on those dim country roads.

The scene was taken near the old hardware store in Maldon, Victoria—a fine relic of the gold rush era. Established in the late nineteenth century, its timber façade and pressed metal signage speak of a time when craftsmanship and commerce flourished hand in hand. The store once supplied miners and settlers with shovels, nails, and kerosene lamps—tools that built not only homes but entire communities. Even now, its weathered walls stand as a reminder of Maldon’s industrious past, the first town in Australia to be officially classified by the National Trust for its historical significance.

Thus, the photograph—though imperfect in exposure—captures more than the night sky: it holds a fragment of history, both personal and regional, where the stars and the spirit of an old goldfields town meet in quiet dialogue.

Sony A7RV

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM

Linking Skywatch Friday

Sidney at night for Sign2

 

During my visit to Sydney in May this year, I found myself captivated by the quiet poetry of the city’s nocturnal signs. Each evening, I wandered alone through its luminous streets — a gentle form of walk therapy, where movement and solitude met in quiet accord. The first and second photographs were taken at the Estée Lauder light-up event — a touch theatrical, perhaps, yet undeniably radiant against the cool night air. The third captured an aged warehouse sign near Chinatown, its faded letters whispering of another era. The final image revealed the grand entrance of Luna Park, aglow beneath the stars, where nostalgia and laughter seem forever suspended in the shimmer of electric light.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sign 2

Maldon Milkyway Sky for Sky watch Friday

 

I once shared a vision of the Milky Way above this quiet township, and now I offer another—its silver arc stretching across the heavens, with the glow of an old shop sign below. This is Maldon, Victoria, where time seems to linger in the stones and timber. In the gold-digging days of the nineteenth century, the town pulsed with restless hope, as seekers from distant lands pressed their hands into the soil in search of fortune. Though the fever of those years has long since passed, the streets remain adorned with weathered facades, each one a relic of dreams pursued. Beneath the eternal canopy of stars, Maldon keeps its vigil, a place where the sky whispers to the earth, and history breathes gently through the night air.

Sony A7RIV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Sky watch friday

Melbourne Wheel and neon signs on South Bank for Sign2

 

Night falls over Southbank, and the city transforms. The high-rise towers along the riverbank begin to glow from within, their windows lit in squares and strips of amber, white, sometimes warmer yellows, occasionally a cool blue or green. Some windows are full; others only partially illuminated. Their light spills out onto the Yarra below in shimmering reflections — a mosaic of brightness dancing on the ripples.

Along the Southbank Promenade, street lamps and decorative lighting trace the edges of walkways, railings, and trees, giving form to the river’s edge. The softer glow of these lamps contrasts with the intense brightness of the office towers and apartments. There is also a fairytale quality to it — the river acts as a mirror, doubling the spectacle and blurring the boundary between built structure and reflection.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sign2

Maldon Milkyway sky for Sunday Best

 

Maldon, situated not far from Bendigo, which I often regard as my second home, is a town of vintage charm and historic resonance. By night, the township lies beneath a deep and pervasive darkness, its obscurity relieved only by the faint glow of a few tungsten lamps in the town centre. These lights, though serviceable to the passer-by, are oft resented by photographers, for the colour cast of tungsten is notoriously harsh and unflattering to the delicate sensitivity of the modern camera sensor.

In my own practice of nocturnal photography, I have adopted a particular method of image refinement. For it is a truth, seldom appreciated outside the circles of those who employ a star tracker, that the core of the Milky Way is ablaze with natural hues—crimson, gold, and azure—wrought by the very physics of interstellar gas and dust. Without such aid, these colours often appear subdued, but with patience and careful editing they may yet be revealed in their original splendour.

The town of Maldon itself bears a history no less luminous than the heavens above it. Proclaimed in 1853 amidst the tumult of the Victorian gold rush, Maldon swiftly prospered as miners from near and far sought their fortunes in its quartz reefs. By the mid-nineteenth century, the town was adorned with banks, churches, and fine public houses, their stout masonry and wrought-iron embellishments testifying to both wealth and permanence. Unlike many goldfield settlements that withered when their veins were exhausted, Maldon endured, and in later years became renowned as Australia’s first “notable town” formally classified by the National Trust in 1966, a recognition of its remarkably preserved streetscape of Victorian architecture.

Thus, Maldon is at once a relic of human endeavour and ambition, and a stage upon which the eternal drama of the cosmos may be observed. Its dimly lit lanes, untroubled by the clamour of modern neon, afford the night sky a rare purity—an inheritance both from its miners of old, and from the silence of the stars that wheel above.

Sony A7RV

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM

Linking Sunday Best

West Gate Park Melbourne for Treasure Tuesday

 

We had initially set our sights on Sandridge Bridge, intending to capture the city skyline at sunset. Much to our surprise and disappointment, the entire area had been cordoned off, denying us access. Undeterred, we sought an alternative vantage point that might render the excursion worthwhile. We turned our course towards Westgate Park, only to discover that it too was undergoing extensive construction works—an added frustration.

Nonetheless, perseverance led us to a suitable spot from which to photograph the twilight. The gentle hues of dusk, softened by the encroaching night, provided some consolation.

Westgate Park itself, situated along the banks of the Yarra River beneath the West Gate Bridge, has long served as a haven for birdlife and city dwellers alike. Once a barren expanse of industrial wasteland, it was transformed during the 1980s as part of Melbourne’s urban greening initiatives. The park is especially known for its striking pink lake—a seasonal natural phenomenon caused by the proliferation of salt-loving algae under specific climatic conditions.

The current redevelopment seeks to enhance visitor access, restore native habitats, and improve ecological sustainability. Though temporarily inaccessible, it promises to return as an even more vibrant urban refuge.

Our evening concluded at a nearby Japanese restaurant, where we sought comfort in freshly pan-fried gyoza. Joel, in high spirits, treated himself to a small carafe of sake—rounding off a day that, though unplanned in its course, retained its moments of charm and reward.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Piangil Night Sky with light painting for Skywatch Friday

 

Piangil lies approximately half an hour’s drive beyond Swan Hill in Victoria, situated near the threshold of the Australian outback. A modest rural locality surrounded by flat open farmland and distant horizon lines, it offers a profound stillness, especially under the vast dome of the night sky. This particular photograph was taken several years ago, during a period when I was deeply passionate about the art of light painting. At that time, I did not hesitate to rise in the small hours of the night, load the car with equipment, and make the journey into such remote reaches for the sake of a single frame of long-exposure magic.

How times have changed. These days, I find myself lacking the same energy or will to embark on such nocturnal expeditions. Age, it seems, makes its presence known not with fanfare but with small surrenders.

The lens I used then—a Laowa 12mm f/2.8, prized for its rectilinear precision and remarkable field of view—was sold a year later at a price that exceeded its original retail value. I remain mystified by the ways of eBay buyers; why one would pay more for a secondhand item than simply purchase it new from a reputable dealer escapes my understanding. Yet such are the strange economies of online marketplaces.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 12mm f2.8 

Linking Skywatch Friday

Angel Place, Sydney for Treasure Tuesday

 

I paid a visit to Angel Place, a discreet and evocative laneway nestled near Martin Place in the heart of Sydney. My chief desire was to behold the suspended birdcages that grace the alleyway—a haunting and poetic installation known as Forgotten Songs. Conceived by artist Michael Thomas Hill and first installed in 2009 as part of the City of Sydney’s Laneways revitalisation program, this artwork commemorates the songs of fifty bird species once heard in the city before urbanisation drove them away. The empty cages, hanging above the narrow lane, evoke both memory and absence, as recordings of birdsong filter gently through the space, varying between day and night to reflect the natural calls of diurnal and nocturnal species. The experience was as moving as it was visually arresting—a poignant tribute to lost nature amidst the city's towering architecture.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Pinnacles Milkyway Cape Woolamai for Skywatch Friday

 

I have not engaged in much astrophotography over the past two years. The notion of spending an entire night outdoors—particularly at such an exposed and windswept location as the Pinnacles at Cape Woolamai—has ceased to hold the charm it once did. What was once a beloved pastime now feels more akin to an obligation. The glow visible on the horizon is the light pollution emanating from the distant city of Melbourne, which has, regrettably, diminished the appeal of this location for many photographers.

Captured using a Sony A7R V paired with the FE 14mm f/1.8 GM lens.

Linking Skywatch Friday

Darling Harbour Night Signs for Sign2

 

Whilst on an evening stroll, delighting in the shimmering night lights of Sydney, I happened upon a number of curious signs as well. The gentle hum of the harbour was accompanied by the warm glow of shopfronts—those modest night establishments nestled along Darling Harbour, still open and inviting well into the late hours. Their illuminated windows offered a quiet charm, a testament to the city’s enduring vitality after dusk, where commerce and leisure intertwine beneath the soft reflections of water and light.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Signs 2

Circular Quay at night for Sunday Best

 

The Vivid Sydney 2025 festival, though notably more subdued in its scale and spectacle compared to previous years, still offered moments of charm and quiet wonder. While the grandeur of earlier editions may have been tempered, it remained a pleasant experience to wander through the illuminated streets, capturing the glow of the light installations that adorned the city. The event, now a well-established fixture in Sydney’s cultural calendar since its inception in 2009, continues to draw visitors with its blend of creativity, innovation, and public art—even in its more restrained form.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

Sydney Lunar Park at night for Treasure Tuesday

 

I have visited Sydney on numerous occasions, as is common for many Australians. My travels to the city have largely been for professional purposes, primarily attending conferences. In earlier years, I would often confine myself to the sterile interiors of hotel rooms, sustaining myself on provisions purchased from nearby supermarkets, venturing little into the urban sprawl beyond.

However, my perspective on cities such as Sydney and Melbourne—so often dismissed as soulless concrete jungles—began to shift a few years ago. I came to appreciate them not merely as landscapes of steel and stone, but as living theatres of culture. I developed a fondness for photographing their architecture, their people, and the fleeting moments that give life to the metropolis.

On a recent visit during the Vivid Sydney festival, I made a point to attend Luna Park—an iconic amusement park that dates back to 1935, nestled at the foot of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. This historic park, with its whimsical Art Deco facade and famous smiling face entrance, has long been a fixture of Sydney’s shoreline. Though it had often been closed during my previous visits, its gates were open on weekend evenings for the duration of the festival. Encouraged by the opportunity, I purchased my ticket in advance and resolved to explore its grounds.

Regrettably, my experience at the entrance was far from pleasant. The staff tasked with managing entry proved disorganised, and their conduct was discourteous and inattentive. The queue stretched the entire length of the wharf, winding beside the harbour. Upon finally entering the park, I found myself captivated not by the amusements, but by the sight of young performers dressed in resplendent carnival fashion—evocative of an era I have only seen through the lens of old cinema. There was a glamour to their attire that delighted me as a photographer and observer of human expression.

I chose to forgo the rides, many of which appeared both uninspiring and, frankly, of questionable safety. However, my visit took an unfortunate turn when I was abruptly approached by security personnel demanding a wrist identification band—an item I had not received at the gate, despite possessing a valid ticket with barcode. Their accusatory tone and my subsequent escort to the front gate to rectify the error left me feeling humiliated and unjustly treated. It was a sobering reminder of how poorly systems of order and hospitality can sometimes serve paying guests.

Despite this, a moment of joy emerged as I passed through a corridor ominously referred to as the "clown lane." The clowns—grotesque in design, with a macabre charm—might have unsettled others, but I found the absurdity delightful. I laughed aloud as I snapped photographs, grateful for having brought my 14mm f/1.8 lens, which allowed me to capture vivid images even in low light.

Joel, for his part, does not share my enthusiasm for such spectacles (he decided not to come from Melbourne), and so I ventured to Luna Park alone. In hindsight, while the experience was marred by poor management, it nonetheless offered a glimpse into the layered strangeness and splendour of Sydney’s cultural life—a city more nuanced than its concrete shell might suggest.

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Sydney Harbour night view for Water H2O Thursday

 

The Aster Bar, perched atop the 32nd floor of the Sydney Intercontinental, proved to be a splendid setting for an evening of quiet repose. Though Joel withdrew from the trip, claiming Sydney had grown tiresome to him, I found contentment in solitude, relishing the panoramic view all to myself.

Regrettably, the long exposure photograph did not come out as I had hoped; I ought to have set the exposure time beyond two minutes, rather than the mere thirty seconds I employed. Moreover, the balcony's corner—where I had positioned myself—was frequently besieged by other patrons seeking the same vantage, some attempting to displace me outright. Still, despite the challenges, I did manage to capture at least one photograph of the moment.

Aster is an exclusive rooftop bar located on the 32nd floor of the InterContinental Sydney, offering a refined drinking and dining experience. Guests can indulge in creative cocktails, artfully plated small dishes, and personalized service while enjoying expansive 270-degree views of Sydney Harbour, including the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. The bar's interior combines contemporary elegance with a breezy outdoor terrace, providing a sophisticated atmosphere for patrons. Aster is open to the public, with reservations recommended due to limited space

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Verreaux's eagle-owl for Saturday Critter

 

This image was taken some years ago during a quiet visit to a bird park in the western reaches of Japan. At the time, I was in possession of only a modest point-and-shoot camera — a device of limited resolution and elementary colour rendering. As such, the original image lacked the tonal depth and fidelity the subject merited, and I found it necessary to render the frame in black and white, where its form and expression might better endure.

The subject of the photograph is the Verreaux’s eagle-owl (Bubo lacteus) — a creature of formidable presence and singular elegance. Native to the savannas and woodlands of sub-Saharan Africa, this noble raptor is the largest of all African owls, known not only for its commanding size and dusky plumage, but for the curious blush of pink that graces its eyelids — a feature unique to its kind.

In the traditions of the land from which it hails, the owl has long stood as a symbol both revered and feared — a sentinel of the night, its call said to herald omens or ancestral presence. The Verreaux’s eagle-owl, in particular, has been observed preying upon a wide range of animals, from insects to monkeys, attesting to its quiet mastery of the dusk.

Though this specimen stood in a manmade enclosure far from its native lands, there was something in its posture — still and dignified — that whispered of a vast and ancient wilderness. The artificial stone beneath its talons, the moss-slicked bricks of the park path, all faded behind that solemn gaze.

In capturing it, I sought to preserve not merely the likeness of a bird, but a fleeting brush with the wild soul of Africa, momentarily encountered beneath the skies of Japan.

Linking Saturday Critter

There appears to be little merit in investing for the distant future. With the advent of Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) and the rapid acceleration toward Artificial Superintelligence (ASI)—evidenced already by systems capable of self-improvement—the course of progress suggests a profound transformation within mere months. In the span of five years, it is plausible that the cost of goods and services shall diminish by half every eighteen months.

Being in my forties, it follows that by the time I reach my fifties, the cost of living may approach insignificance. Should the average individual find complete satisfaction in all material needs—indeed, everything essential—for a modest sum of approximately AUD$160 per month, the necessity of a substantial retirement fund becomes questionable.

Under present circumstances, the wisest course may be to devote one’s resources to rich and meaningful life experiences. This path is justified by two likely outcomes: either, within the next decade or so, money as we know it will become obsolete for all humanity; or, alternatively, artificial intelligence may render our existence obsolete altogether.

Mungo National Park sky for Sky Watch Friday

 

It was during one of those long, wind-swept nights beneath the vast, starlit expanse of the Australian outback that I attempted a panoramic photograph—an effort made while Joel and I waited patiently to capture the Milky Way in all its nocturnal splendor. In those youthful and impassioned days, we were possessed by a singular devotion to the art of photography. No hardship deterred us; we would endure scorching days and frigid nights, often in complete solitude, all for the hope of a single, perfect image that might capture the eternal.

Our vigil took place in the hauntingly beautiful Mungo National Park, a land steeped in both geological and human antiquity. The Park, part of the Willandra Lakes Region World Heritage Area, is home to the enigmatic formations known as the "Walls of China"—spectacular lunettes shaped by the elements over tens of thousands of years. These sculpted ridges, composed of eroded sand and clay, rise like the remnants of an ancient civilization, their strata whispering tales of climate shifts, vanished lakes, and the passage of deep time.

It was here, amidst the ghostly contours of this primeval terrain, that we lingered. The very ground beneath us bore the imprint of some of the earliest known human beings on the Australian continent. The remains of Mungo Man and Mungo Lady—buried with ceremonial care over 40,000 years ago—had been discovered not far from where we stood, lending our modern artistic pursuit a solemn sense of continuity with those who had gazed upon the same stars in an age unimaginably distant.

Though our lenses sought the ephemeral beauty of the heavens, it was the timeless silence of the land that truly left its mark. In that moment, as the night wrapped us in stillness and the ancient rocks glowed faintly in the starlight, our dedication to photography seemed not merely an artistic endeavor, but a dialogue—one between past and present, between the eternal sky and the ever-changing earth.

Sony A7RV 

FE 70-200mm f2.8 GM

Linking Sky watch Friday

Melbourne South Bank at night for Treasure Tuesday

 

It has been several years since my last visit to South Bank. I was pleased to discover a newly erected Ferris wheel, accompanied by a series of luminous installations that greatly appeal to photography enthusiasts. Of particular note is the splendid illumination of the surrounding architecture, which lends the precinct an enchanting ambiance after dusk and offers ample opportunity for artistic expression.

South Bank, situated along the southern banks of the Yarra River in Melbourne, is one of the city’s most vibrant cultural and recreational precincts. Once an industrial area, it has undergone a remarkable transformation into a bustling hub of art, dining, and entertainment. The promenade is lined with world-class restaurants, lively cafés, and luxury hotels, drawing both locals and visitors who seek to experience Melbourne’s cosmopolitan charm. Notably, the Arts Centre Melbourne and the National Gallery of Victoria, both iconic institutions, contribute to the area’s reputation as a cultural heart of the city.

In recent years, South Bank has seen the addition of new attractions, further enhancing its appeal. A striking Ferris wheel now graces the skyline, offering panoramic views of Melbourne and the Yarra River. At night, the precinct comes alive with a symphony of light—installations and architectural lighting casting a glow upon the buildings and walkways, creating a picturesque setting ideal for evening strolls and photographic pursuits. The thoughtful illumination of structures such as the Eureka Tower and surrounding facades adds an elegant brilliance to the cityscape, reflecting beautifully on the river’s surface.

South Bank is more than a destination; it is an experience that seamlessly blends the arts, leisure, and modern urban design. Its well-maintained promenades, proximity to the Central Business District, and integration of natural and man-made beauty make it a cornerstone of Melbourne’s identity. Whether one visits to enjoy a theatrical performance, dine by the river, or capture the interplay of light and architecture through a camera lens, South Bank offers a timeless and ever-evolving canvas that embodies the spirit of Melbourne.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday