“Your photos are great, but why are they always pictures of rocks?” Peter, my ex-line manager, once asked me. It’s true, rocks are certainly an ongoing feature in the majority of my images. I would call them ‘seascapes’ or ‘landscapes’ but Peter saw “pictures of rocks” - a far less romantic description for anyone who is not an avid geologist, which is most of us. That comment, not meant as a negative criticism, has played on my mind over the years and since it hasn’t stopped me, I thought it might be interesting to investigate.

The obvious answer is that I live on a rock - a relatively small lump of granite poking out of the English Channel. We are surrounded by sea and where the land ends, parts of that rock become visible, creating the landscape that we see. We don’t have vast swathes of untouched countryside, forest or moorland to explore and that word: ‘untouched’ is one that has always inspired my landscape photography. This rock, Guernsey, is crowded and there is hardly a view inland or around the coast that doesn’t feature a man-made object of some description. I’ve always strived for my landscape photography to be as natural as possible and to leave those objects out of the frame wherever I can. It’s a difficult task and of course, it’s not a rule - I have no problem with shooting street scenes and historic fortifications feature heavily in my work. Interestingly, the older a structure is, the more acceptable I find it to include in my landscapes. But let’s get back to the rocks…

Artistically speaking, I view them as nature’s sculpture. Eroded by wind and waves over millennia, Guernsey’s rock has been shaped by the elements into countless shapes and forms. When exploring the coast, I see vast natural fortresses, I see hardy flora that has, against all odds, made home in its network of cracks and crevices. I see perfectly rounded stones and pebbles, smoothed by years of tide and surf. I see intimate sculptures of random erosion, shaped somehow into forms to which we attribute beauty or grandeur.

Naturally, the sea features heavily in most of my work and it is when this combines with pleasing rock formations, that I find real magic. Being so small, Guernsey’s locations are limited but with one of highest tidal ranges in the world, the same location can be photographed at different times and produce entirely different images. Tide tables, weather forecasts and sunset times govern my work and everywhere I visit comes with calculations of which combination will best suit that particular scene.

One of the cornerstones of landscape photography is that of simplification. How can I frame this scene in a way that best conveys my feeling, while omitting as much unnecessary detail as possible - detail is important, but too much often confuses the image. That is where the sea comes in handy - I can use it to create negative space, thus guiding the viewer’s attention to the subject, which in many cases will be an interesting looking rock. Sometimes the water itself will be the subject and rocks or sand become the negative space that allows the sea to take center-stage. Although there are situations where it works, I’m not usually a fan of using fast shutter speeds when photographing seascapes as that will often render sharp detail across its surface, drawing attention away from the main subject and confusing the viewer. Dragging the shutter allows water to move through the frame, creating interesting soft texture and patterns. Longer shutter speeds and rougher conditions allow that moving water to render as a textureless mist across its surface, transforming the image into the realm of words such as ‘abstract’, ‘dreamy’ or ‘ethereal’. It is this area of creativity that keeps me going back for more. The rock remains fixed and is unlikely to change within my lifetime, but water, and sky, are fluid - they ensure that no photograph is ever exactly the same, changing every moment and different on each visit.

What do you think - do I shoot too many rocks? Let me know in the comments below if you'd like to see something different, or whether I should keep doing what I do (which I probably will!).