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

Lake Tyrrell Sky Mirror for Skywatch Friday

 

In the fleeting minutes of twilight, just before Lake Tyrrell succumbs to complete darkness, there occurs a moment of rare and ethereal beauty. Beneath a cloudless sky, the lake’s surface reflects a magnificent wash of pink and violet hues, as if the heavens themselves have descended to meet the earth. This phenomenon—revered by many and often referred to as the "sky mirror"—is among the lake’s most iconic and mesmerising scenes.

I have been fortunate to capture numerous such moments, preserving in photographs the tranquil majesty of this place. There exist a few secret vantage points just off the Salts Road track, where the reflections are particularly vivid and the view unobstructed. Yet, the terrain here can be unforgiving. Vehicles often find themselves marooned, their wheels sunk deep into the treacherous mud that lies hidden beneath the salt-encrusted surface.

Lake Tyrrell, whose name derives from the Boorong word for “sky,” is not only a site of visual splendour but also of profound cultural heritage. The Boorong people, part of the Wergaia nation, have long regarded this lake as a sacred space. For millennia, they have observed the stars and mapped the heavens from its shores, embedding the night sky into their stories, ceremonies, and understanding of the world.

Thus, as twilight falls and the lake is transformed into a mirror of the cosmos, one senses not only nature’s grandeur but also the enduring legacy of those who first understood its deeper meaning. In that stillness, history and beauty are one.

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Skywatch Friday

Note to Self,

5 Hindrances to Self-Mastery

1. Sensual desire (sight/touch/taste/smell/hearing) = Am I addicted?

2. Ill will / aversion = Am I feeling a negative emotion?

3. Dullness / heaviness = Am I unmotivated?

4. Restlessness = Is my mind jumping from thought to thought?

5. Sceptical doubt = Am I indecisive?

RAIN (is the solution)

Recognise which one you're experiencing

Accept that's what you're experiencing

Investigate why you're experiencing it 

Non-identify with that experience.

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

Koi in Taipei for Saturday Critter

 

A Still Pond and Gasping Koi: A Story of Life Below the Surface

In the tranquil gardens of Taipei, where the scent of orchids lingers and the air hums with the rhythm of cicadas, the pond in front of the botanic garden shimmered like glass. Beneath the surface, a mass of koi glided flashes of gold, amber, and crimson weaving between ripples and bubbles.

But there was something unusual. The koi, instead of cruising lazily through the water, clustered near the surface, mouths gaping repeatedly in what looked like gasps for air.

This wasn’t just feeding behavior. It was a silent biological cry for help.

Koi, like all fish, rely on dissolved oxygen in the water to breathe. Their gills extract oxygen molecules from the water as it passes over delicate filaments. Under normal circumstances, koi are content near the bottom or mid-layers of a pond, surfacing only occasionally to feed.

However, when oxygen levels in the water drop—especially in warm, stagnant ponds with a high density of fish—koi are forced to the surface, where oxygen is slightly more abundant due to air-water exchange. This behavior is called surface gasping, and it’s a classic sign of hypoxia—low dissolved oxygen.

Several biological and environmental factors could be at play here:

• High stocking density: A large school of koi in a confined space consumes a significant amount of oxygen, especially at night when plants and algae also switch to respiration and compete for oxygen.

• Warm temperatures: Warmer water holds less dissolved oxygen. In summer, especially in tropical or subtropical climates like Taipei's, ponds heat up quickly, reducing available oxygen even further.

• Poor circulation: Without proper aeration or water movement, oxygen does not circulate well, and the lower layers of the pond can become hypoxic or even anoxic (completely lacking oxygen).

• Water quality issues: Accumulation of waste from the koi (ammonia, nitrates) and decaying plant material can lead to eutrophication—a nutrient overload that triggers algae blooms. These blooms, when they die off, consume massive amounts of oxygen during decomposition.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Saturday Critter

I am restarting the whole 8 seasons of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. It reminds me of university years.