Hi I’m Dan, a Photographer based in and around Kent. Photography is a great way to get out and about and experience the world. Check out the meetups and workshops I run with the Maidstone and Ashford Photography groups in the services section above.
Check out my blog for what I have been up to recently.
Take a look at some of my work below.
Machines of old, silent against the blue. Memories of the busy, as toil and commerce fades.
When the scent of oil and coal, drifts upon the platform busy, the masters laugh and chatter, to send you on your way.
A gentle breeze that bobs upon the water, the breath recounts the tales of chips escaped.
The lonely stare upon the vast, shadows of the mind revealed.
Machines that roared with dragons smoke to haul the stuff of life. Falls silent as the sea returns to claim a soul alight.
A future set in code, time will tell what changes made.
Shadows cast on cobbled ground, the fortress city high above the forgotten sea.
Time ticks by, he stares at man. The ache of hope returns. The learning needs else death will follow.
The greys stand before the jury. The guilty fall.
I see thy soul and wonder?
The shadows fly upon the sparkled light. The sentinels watch at wisdom's pace.
To see the light and feel it. A reflection of the man that takes it.
She wanted Knole but gender took the prize. To write the anguish and live a lie.
Those that see, see. She stands for all.
The orange seeps into thy bones, the quiet speaks, when engines ran on troubled seas.
Where boats linger in the blue.
Old am I, but also young, hard is the toil of life.
To climb the steps, to breath the chill. To be alive.
The open sea beckons, to face the chill and deaths embrace or turn and live another day.
The breeze wished the tree, Merry Christmas to thee.
The light burns as the mists of time reveal.
To sit and watch, to see them sweat the tears of yearning.
The Birds
I am here, you may not see. Life's purpose is to be.
The scent of the sea rushes by. A breeze whispers history and sings.
The sizzle of dragons breath fills the air and calls thy hunger.
The smile and munch of happy days.
The quiet, fishing through the memories forgot. To be at peace and know.
The light fades as breezes drift across thy collar turned.
Feel the warmth, to close your eyes and feel. To be alive is all that matters. Live a life and be happy.
To walk, a quiet beach. To feel and to be. The wanderer, with hands held, the quiet love that needs no words.
Oistreham, WInston's ghost still walks, the memory of histories battle.
The ghosts of Henry's place, still drips with the sounds of history. For Hampton Court, the lights still sing and show the way to the Towers end.
Shadows dance, as lovers walk, a witness to their peace. The flutters breeze as summer wains, the autumn speaks its name.
A September view, the chills return as cloaks of Autumn sit upon the land.
The wanderer wades through oceans cool. To free the mind and feel the air.
The river calls, the tides reveal. To breath and see the world. To dream of distant places and see them.
The ancient dragons hiss and clank while loyal surfs tender. They wait again for glory days, to feel the heat and fires ember.
They sit in lonely tribute, a life remembered. Like sand upon the wind, we drift in time.
"Is this it?", he asks the tide, to stare and float amongst the lost. Invisible men for all to see.
The spears of conquerers pierce the sky, they thunder with the wrath of gods that speak the name of avarice.
The skies call, only the brave will turn the key and feel the thunder.
To wait for summers heat, a gentle amble on waters calm.
Stones of old, they sit. Proud and skyward search. The quiet stand against the marching hoards, without the passing glance of weary eyes.
To sit, the quiet calls. A time to speak of silence and wander across the stone.
When loves discover, a look tells all.. A bond, a life, til the final grain does fall.
Of golden sands, it glows. She slowly spins as light reflects upon another day.
Their silent music plays, an audience of ghosts fill empty seats that echo from a distant time.
We are big, and nature small or so the thoughts of man. To sit and see the world, wisdom knows thy truth.
A light that travels through the dark. It heats thy soul and wonder. Feel thy wind and scents of yesterday.
A lonely road that leads to nowhere, travelled by the many.
The eyes of Londinium watch, the endless march of ants upon the beach. The centre of the world is thought but tis the feeble efforts of the lost.
This tree it lives alone, the grey and wind echoes. The scent of a thousand mornings, drift amidst the marching tides of time.
The Children jailed by prisons of the mind. To play and dream of freedoms folly.
Shadows dance amongst the stone. A watchful eye they keep it.
She hides her secrets, the spirals curl and mystery reveals.
Another morning wakes the calm, the critters squawk their songs of joy. To be alive and breath is happiness defined.
To stand and feel the sky, to feel the wind and taste the sea.
The game of life, we play the hand and mark the journey.
A London Mews, time is held and quiet is the gentle tap of echos walk
The land of golden sun, sparkles on the mirrors glaze. They fly with freedoms choice as the winds of change sweep by.
The little house where happiness lives, the laughter rings the bells of smiles and family.
The touch on skin as breezes whisper, the sunlight glistens, reflects upon the waters glass. To walk upon the soft, to feel the life and live it.
The grains of sand mark times sweet journey. The timeless ones drift across a painted sky.
A mist, it drifts across the land. The morning light calls to wistful souls.
The gentle hug of generations, it's love that holds the key.
Light falls upon the walkers, the promise shown.
Bah humbug said the grumpy man, but food and beer does mellow.
A self in nature, reflects upon the land. As clouds and seed march on the rivers of time.
With loyal friends we share, they look and know that love is all that matters.
The clouds and sky above us, to breath and be.
The rusting chains that hold, to push against the barriers that keep you in your place.
When the rains came, the droplets fall on eyes of sorrow.
The flowers reach across the blue.
Sunrise, the grey mist of memory slowly fades into daylights reveal.
The faithful hound in summer heat.
The bug hotel is open, our rooms are filthy and dark. We welcome all the crawlies that fester in the bark.
The tower guards the dead, she tends her flock and knows them.
To stand upon the hill, to turn the stones that built an empire.
To watch the sea and clouds, to breath the air and feel the stone. To walk in natures arms and see her.
The music plays and children squeal as gravity plays her games.
To fight for freedoms cause, machines of fire, the heat remains. To face a pointed gun and smile.
A summer fair, through history they hiss and clank to drive the corn and feed. To walk among machines of old rewards the smiles of being.
The metal birds do shine and glide across a shimmering sky. Machines of man, journey to the next place.
"Hello human, how are you?" Asked the curious goat. Come sit and chew the cud of life with nature and her friends.
When cars had style and beauty reigned, the elegance of art shone through.
A reflection of love in chrome, to cherish the life and time you have. To see the classics and love them are honours given by time.
The engine hums in chrome and sweat. It runs on love and passions will. The life they lead, through time a journey travelled.
It leads to open seas, she calls thy name and beckons. The wind will carry the lost souls to destinies close.
The clanks and whines of harbours toil, the busy keep it. To watch and see a life unfold.
A perfect sky, the gentle breeze. Waters lap upon the land, we stand and breath the summer air.
The silver screen was Peters home, he chilled and wowed the eyes of wonder. I hear the ghosts of yesteryear still echoed in walls of white and gold.
A life of service called the girl, with spine of steel she led.
The flapping sounds of winds, they wait and watch the clouds roll by. To yearn and sail upon the waves.
It leads the way to Davy Jones, heed the tales of those that work the sea.
Flights of old glide across a clouded sky, histories journey will repeat if wisdom fails
We walk with eyes restrained, the key lays out before thee. Break free from modern chains, in nature freedom calls.
We walk in natures raw, the wind did howl as seas boil with the anger of a scorned child. Solitude, the mind is calmed as she whispers the songs of old.
Life and death, different sides of coins that spin. Where one appears the other lurks near. Live a life, the time is short.
The door, to who knows where. Does it hold the barrier to the secrets often sought. A door that bars your lifes desire. It stands before thee, but reveals not, for thy own destiny lies upon the path you chose. To break it down and see or accept the path forbidden.
The wall of stone and blood, stands against the rage. Nature creeps upon the face, returns the hard to dust.
A soul moves through time and space. We meet them if we choose to see.
Oh Yea, the cryer calls, events and news be worthy of thy eye.
The gate has stood the tests of time. Battles past still tell the tale for modern minds to learn.
Religions speak through time, the monuments to faith still stand.
A quiet place, where water spills and sit in peace
Life reborn amongst the quivering blue
Mote Park lakes reflect the wanders journey
The aviator beats the drums of life to warn the gathering hords.
The dead still reach for stormy skys, a broken promise returned.
The birds swoop across the land, they chatter and squeal against the blue.
The ghosts of soldiers wait, the cold breath of death did creep across the land.
Who wears the chains of life? Be free to roam lifes lands and hills. For time ticks by and the fleeting moment pass too soon.
To see thyself and laugh
The gentle souls wander, in innocence they chew. Look out for those that can not, for they mark the strength of you. Buttercup Goats Sanctury, Kent.
To stand upon the lonely beach, the salty tales of fishermen passed.
The road to nowhere beckons. To tread upon the path unchosen leads straight to lucifers grasp.
The Oasts of old still proud, a summer breeze awakens.
The well is dry, wishes fail, for water has the power. A reminder still it sits and bears the cross of time.
I sit and watch as nature passes, the clouds, the trees and bumblebees. The birds sweet song of summer toil, smiles at land and trees and soil. A time to think of all you have, life is sweet and cherish that.
To wander through skies of grey, the life released. The trees stand tall and greet, as friends of old repleat.
She waits for moonlights kiss, to bring back life to hearts of stone
The broken mirrors view, to look but not to see.
A seat but not for thee, natures throne but who is worthy.
The Mists of time, flow upon the land and sea. To stand, to watch, to be.
The waters fall, the path revealed. Lindisfarne calls to those that seek
A choir sings, the echoes of distant souls reverb.
They wait, engines quiet, posied to fire and journey on. The metal beasts that carry us to destinations new.
Through life and death it stood the test, til time and winters took their toll.
The pride in youth bares the body. She stands and stares into oblivion.
The cloud and sea, they talk of storms and historys tale . The rocks call the unwary traveller to their ruin.
A beach, so still and quiet. The crunch of heel on stone, the trodden march of ages. A shadow falls upon the rocks, natures path recorded.
To sit upon the sand and wait. The peace of wind that blows through the bones of old.
She sits and drinks, the distorted view through glass and spirit.
The hero looks to sea, a memory of the last act. The payment is always due.
The wanderer reflects upon the sands of time.
The sweeping wall protects the fragile mind. They wait for lifes return.
A busy scene of chatters mumble, a smile, a look, a child.
The concrete grows like cancers threat. Ruinous grey upon the soul.
The name is Guella from Domesday times. The springs do spout from chalken hills. Wells of old gives life to those that fish the seas.
A Choir sung in chilly air, brings cheer to lonely souls. The memory of warmth and peace, slides through thy heart of stone.
Eros, a memory due to Shaftesburys work. Anteros hears the childen play.
A Christmas sky, the London view. The tuneful tone of carols sung, the gleeful cheer of booze and fun. The dusk brings warmth of friends and kins, a happy time soon a new year brings.
To reflect on Christmas past, the happy time does play the minds of childrens dreams.
A smile, a glint, a mind held in loves sweet arms. The time to walk amongst the stone is precious to those that know.
A past reflected, a future set, I view a follys dream.
A ruin crumbles, oblivion calls. The works of man are but a second in millennias scheme.
December chills the morning air. The dragons breth plays amongst the frozen leaves. Follow thy path for time waits for no one.
The water sits upon the steel, cold and hard. Each drop, a life reflected.
It plays the game of life, naked and alone. To run or hide, the choice of life or death.
To muse, to stare at waters edge. It cools the troubled mind. Reflect upon thy choice my friends for time ticks by.
For I am me, to feel the power of oceans vast. I stand and roar, for I, am me.
A life short lived, but the stone persists. To tell the tale of Rachel.
A tree that was, to reach for the sky or die trying.
People scurry, they hide from grey. The quiet echoes of rain upon the pier.
Make time to stop and see, reflect upon lifes sweet dream.
The morning mists flow across an Autumn scene. With grazing sheep, I share serenities gift.
It sits and waits for lifes return, the faithful warrior, scarred but still the will remains.
We share this world with playful souls that need the love we often fail to give.
The metal clicks and heats the air, it waits. The dragon breath, hides beneath the still.
Freedom is the gift of wing
The shadows wave upon the beach, loves sweet moment blown by winds of change.
The ancient dance of summer rejoice. The pagan warriors fight for natures way.
The sea does touch the stones, and greets them.
The wind, it blows on towers of stone, a refuge for the battered mind.
The sea calls, I feel its draw. The winds of change blow across the desert
Blooms the blue of springs delight. Natures carpet makes glad the troubled heart.
The beauty stand in unlikely places, life clings on.
The tangles mesh of life, may hinder travellers path but needs are quenched and shelter given.
To wander on the lonely beach, thoughts of troubles past, washed away amongst the sands of time.
I sit and greet the sky, the last hug of a friend of old.
I am on guard, my work is never done. Alert, I sit waiting for troubles glare.
A sea of birds, they bicker. The summer winds call, for now the journey starts.
To rest deserved, the long sleep welcome.
Life turned on its head.
A Falcon swoops, it's preys last vision.
A place for Anne
Time it ticks upon the face, breath and do thy hearts demand.
They shelter from the oceans rath, they risk it all to feed hungers pain.
The dark clouds of histories mistake growl and tumble. Thy destiny repeats if lesson go unlearned.
Hey who turned the lights out, its dark in here.
The final sleep deserved, they sleep while life goes on.