A Few Frames from Some Landscape Photography in the North York Moors - Leica SL Type 601.

We have had a huge, long wet spell in the North York Moors, mirroring the trend the whole of the UK has been experiencing. Long days of heavy downpours, gentle showers and then constant drizzle have left the ground saturated and boggy. Worse still, the sky has been filled with cloud with very little light. This has meant there has been little opportunity to get out with the camera and photograph some of the stunning scenes across the moors.

It is an interesting one. There are a lot of national parks with expansive moorland in the UK: Exmoor, Dartmoor, the Peaks, the Lakes, the Dales and the North York Moors. While they all share some characteristics, each has its own very specific look which, if you know them well, is strikingly different. Whether this is the way the hills roll, how the valleys start and finish, or the sharp and dramatic nature of the mountains and rocky outcrops, each landscape carries its own identity.

I am still getting to know the North York Moors, but it is such an adventure. Its dales form valleys a bit like a splayed hand, all meeting at a central point. Its moorland forms large, expansive rolling hills that drop off sharply into lush green valleys with dry stone walls, gnarled trees and ancient barns.

There are not so many obvious key landscape locations in the North York Moors. It does not seem to have its iconic viewpoints mapped out in quite the same way as many other national parks. Instead, it feels more scattered with smaller, more intimate scenes that one has to hunt out and find for oneself. That is not to say there are not many photographers photographing the moors. It is just that they do not seem to be photographing the same things.

Roseberry Topping might indeed be the one place that fits this description. Its iconic cliff edge and solitary position away from the main moorland make it immediately recognisable, affectionately nicknamed the Yorkshire Matterhorn. I can see why it has gained this nickname. Yet even with such an iconic site, there is no single typical angle from which it is photographed. Instead there are countless ways one might frame it, with rocky walls or old quarry edges providing interesting foregrounds.

What I am looking for are images of the moors that people have not necessarily taken before. Images that tell the story of the moors as I see them. An ancient landscape, inhabited yet sparse. Starting from not knowing the moors at all means I have my work cut out, but it is also a fantastic opportunity to explore the little roads that head off in directions where it feels there should be little reason for a road to go. Those are the places where I am hoping to find the most compelling scenes.

When I look for a scene I try to find something that initially catches my interest. A tree, a wall, a building, or perhaps a lake or mountain in the distance. Something for the viewer to rest upon. From there I try to build a composition around it. What should I include that adds to the subject and helps the viewer read the scene? Does this rock guide the eye towards the focal point? Is the grass blowing in the right direction? All of these small details help make up a scene and in the North York Moors there is a multitude of elements to work with. The only limitation is how to position the pieces of the puzzle to complete the image.

The other limitation, of course, is the weather, as I have already mentioned. Having not indulged in landscape photography in depth for a while, I had almost forgotten that you cannot simply move your subject. Everything depends on where the light is falling, something that changes throughout the year and at different times of day. Is this a sunrise location or a sunset one? Will the sun move around far enough in winter to illuminate it, or will it remain in shadow until the light becomes too harsh later in the day?

These are things I am slowly learning, compiling a mental map of the features I enjoy and making notes of when I think they might be best photographed. The photos attached are some of my first few forays into the moors specifically in search of landscapes. Many more to come.

A Day Doing Street Photography in London with the Voigtländer 28mm f/2 Ultron and the Leica SL (Type 601) in 2026 – A Review

The month is March 2026 and I’m using the Leica SL (Type 601), an 11-year-old full-frame camera, to shoot street photography in London. It is a block of milled aluminium with a beautiful sensor and, by today’s standards, some questionable contrast-detect autofocus. That is why I am pairing it with the Voigtländer 28mm f/2 Ultron, a manual-focus brass construction lens. In terms of build quality, it complements the Leica SL so well that it almost feels like magic.

This setup is my go-to street combination. The lens is so small it hardly adds to the camera’s profile, making the whole kit light and unobtrusive, which is ideal for hours stomping the streets of London. On the day I’ll discuss here, I covered 30,000 steps over 22.3 km. The camera cannot be too heavy.

The day started with, I hate to admit it, a missed shot. As I stepped straight out of the house with my brother, there was seating outside a nearby café where a gentleman sat, completely absorbed in his newspaper. There was a light haze and gentle morning sun. As I walked past, I caught the framing in my eye and instantly thought, I need that shot. I stopped and hesitated. My brother asked what was wrong and I said, “I’ve just missed a shot. The man reading his paper. It was perfectly composed.” But as I turned to walk past again, others at the café noticed my abrupt movement and looked up. The moment was gone.

I did not want to interrupt the gentleman during his morning coffee, so I left it. That image is now seared into my mind. A reminder to always be ready and aware that a photograph can present itself when one least expects it.

The rest of the day unfolded more generously. A walk through Brick Lane and Shoreditch, with a coffee stop mixed in, got the blood flowing. The weather was genuinely perfect for street photography in London. Full sun broken occasionally by thin cloud meant plenty of light, and when directional pools appeared they were not too harsh for the season. There was a lot to work with.

From Shoreditch I moved into the City, playing with reflective light bouncing off glass buildings. I looked for moments where reflected light contradicted the sunrays themselves, creating a patchwork of illumination I could use to isolate a subject within a scene.

Given the available light, I set the Voigtländer 28mm f/2 Ultron to f/8, ISO 400, sometimes 200, and adjusted shutter speed accordingly. I hardly touched the focus, predominantly shooting using zone focus, tweaking only when necessary. This allows me to operate one-handed and be more responsive. That said, I do not pretend to always be ready. Walking the streets, one can get complacent. You convince yourself the shot will not materialise and then, when it does, you are rushing.

I had the electronic shutter on with continuous shooting activated. Not my default, but not unusual either. With strong sunlight and fleeting gestures, I felt it favoured me that day. Typically, I use the mechanical shutter on single shot. There are rumours it preserves dynamic range, and I prefer to avoid potential sensor lag with fast-moving subjects, although in truth I have rarely experienced issues with either.

From the City I shifted towards Bank, playing with light beams and trying to frame suited figures among columns and architecture. Sometimes a subject wearing black clothing works best, particularly against a bright background. At other times, when trying to pull someone from shadow, a white shirt can do wonders.

You stand waiting for the right person to walk into frame, sometimes even in the road, dodging cars and hoping that the ideal subject does not coincide with passing traffic. I experimented with stairways, searching for those without distracting elements when viewed from below, and others with interesting scenes at the top. It can feel awkward standing at the bottom of a staircase waiting, with people passing and giving you curious looks. I smile, acknowledge them, and say good morning. It puts everyone at ease.

This composition often yields strong results. Leading lines from handrails draw the eye, and the difference in light from top to bottom naturally guides attention towards the subject.

It is when someone walks through your frame that the faster burst rate becomes useful, and where zone focusing with a manual lens excels. You can compose and release the shutter quickly, maintaining framing while firing several frames to capture the perfect stride. This is one of the strengths of the Leica SL. For an older camera, it offers a respectable frame rate. It may be old, but it remains entirely sufficient for modern needs. Realistically, classical street photography does not require 30 frames per second.

The sensor in the Leica SL (Type 601) is superb. ISO drops to 50 and remains very clean up to 800, with grain appearing at 1600. Even 3200 is usable when needed. I find it renders warmth in the right areas while preserving clean whites where necessary. Images are sharp with excellent contrast. Drop the highlights slightly, lift the whites, and you achieve a vibrant colour rendering that almost feels painted on. If you are buying this camera, you are buying it for photography. For photographers who favour manual focus lenses, it is excellent, particularly with its outstanding viewfinder. I rarely even punch in to focus.

The Voigtländer 28mm f/2 Ultron complements the sensor beautifully. It delivers strong contrast, clarity and sharpness without being overpowering. Flare is minimal, and ghosting is rare. It produces something of a 1980s documentary feel while retaining a modern edge. Physically, it pairs wonderfully with the SL. Solid, robust and entirely metal, it feels like equipment that will last for years. Most of the images from this day were shot at f/8, though one was taken at f/22 and another at f/5.6. Focus was generally set just below infinity.

For street photography, this lens and body combination feels complete. I do not feel compelled to upgrade. I also own the Leica 28mm f/2 Summicron, which is excellent but often overkill for street work. It is not that I do not enjoy using it, but I do not always relish carrying that much value around my neck. The Voigtländer is slightly smaller, and when space is tight while travelling, and the camera is going into a bag without a case, it is the lens I choose.

I will write about the Leica Summicron at some point, perhaps with a direct comparison and a discussion of the differences in rendering and handling.

If you enjoyed the photographs attached to this post and would like to learn to take similar images, get to grips with the streets of London, improve your camera skills, or discover strong locations in and around the city, I offer workshops tailored to exactly that. Please feel free to get in touch.

4 Years since Russia Invaded Ukraine

It has been four years since the Russian invasion of Ukraine. For four years, Ukrainians have been fighting over every square metre of their country. Yet after four years, they have pushed Russian forces back from significant swathes of territory. While Russia still occupies 19.4% of Ukrainian land, the rate of capture continues to fluctuate, particularly with recent developments such as Starlink reportedly being restricted from unauthorised receivers in Ukraine and the banning of Telegram and WhatsApp.

This demonstrates that there is hope, though hope was already present. When I visited Ukraine at the end of last year, I joined a group of Brits delivering aid to NGOs and the military alike. Every person I met had hope. They were resilient and confident in eventual victory. None spoke of capitulating or conceding to Russia’s demands.

We often take our democracy for granted, but they do not. Many Ukrainians still remember what it was like to live without democracy and now face the prospect of losing it again. They have fought for their independence and for their identity.

I went because I wanted to help, but also because I wanted to witness first-hand why we must continue to support Ukraine in its fight for sovereignty and against oppression. This post is a reminder for those in my small ecosystem that this is a cause we really need to care about or it will come back to haunt us in the future.

These photos are from a small independent drone factory I visited, tucked away inside an old Soviet-era apartment block. As we rattled up in a lift that felt like it had not changed since the days of the Soviet Union, we stepped into a scene that could have been lifted from a James Bond film. Concrete walls, tattered doors and ageing windows. Yet inside one of those worn apartments were volunteers building the future of this war.

Soldering irons in hand, 3D-printed components laid out across tables, lines of code running across laptop screens. Individuals giving their time to assemble drones, programme complex operating systems and adapt designs based on feedback from frontline troops who had been flying earlier versions that very same day. That feedback was fed directly back into the workshop, adjustments made immediately, improvements implemented in the production line within hours. A real-time cycle of innovation.

It was a process I had not seen before and a reminder of just how cutting edge this war has become. The technological advancement unfolding inside that flat stood in sharp contrast to the Soviet block that housed it. The outside reflected the industrial past many in the West still associate with the region. Inside was agility, innovation and modern engineering evolving at speed. The contrast was stark, and a reminder of why Ukraine has been able to hold the Russians at bay.

The 7Artisans 35mm f2 MKI Chrome on the Leica SL (Type 601)

I picked up this lens for £150 second-hand. It was my introduction to M-mount lenses and a way to test whether I liked the compact size, focus throw and focus tab, but more importantly, whether I would find the minimum focus distance of 70cm too limiting. As it was going to be adapted onto a Leica SL, there were some additional nuances I needed to consider too, such as whether there would be any issues with vignetting. However, from what I had read online, it was a great little lens with impressive build quality. It almost seemed too good to be true.

When this little lens arrived in the post, I was shocked. It was solid, and I mean solid. The focus was smooth, with the stunning brass rangefinder coupling cam protruding from the back. While I had not originally wanted the chrome version, I chose it as it was the only one I could find at the time. In the end, the chrome actually became a real selling point.

The image quality, though… I have had this lens for two years now, and I have used it extensively for travel, documentary, street and even portraits, so I feel I understand how it performs. There are two ways of looking at it. In the context of other lenses such as Leica, Voigtländer or Zeiss, this sits at the bottom of the pile and renders more like a heritage lens, particularly wide open. There is flare, softness and noticeable vignetting. However, stopped down, it is actually quite good. The vignette and softness largely disappear, contrast increases and flaring reduces. It is no Leica 35mm Summicron, of course. But taking into account the price point and the level of build quality, the image quality is very respectable. You are getting a lot of lens for your money, and if you are after something where ultimate sharpness and minimal distortion are not essential, then you are quids in. That is exactly how I have been using it.

While it was my only 35mm for a time, it has now become an alternative to my Leica 35mm f2 Summicron when I want something I can throw on my camera and keep in my bag. I am not worried about it taking a knock, but I know that if I am out with it, I will still get photos I am happy with, particularly when shooting street, where I am typically at f8. That slightly vintage rendering can really be played into, and I feel that with a little added contrast and warmth, it can almost flirt with a Kodachrome look. Almost.

It is also ideal when travelling in areas that feel less familiar than my usual haunts in London or the UK countryside. Losing not only my camera body but an attached Leica lens would be too much for my bank account to manage. In those moments, the 7Artisans 35mm f2 is ideal. I still act accordingly, of course, but I appreciate the reduced financial risk while continuing to shoot.

I have to admit there is a simple joy in using this lens. Because it is not technically perfect, it removes the pressure to seek technical perfection in every photograph, forcing you to focus more on story and composition. It removes certain complications and decisions that might otherwise hinder creativity. You know it will not produce a clinically perfect image, and so you embrace the imperfections. The glow, the softness and the vignette can all add character when used well, though they can also be frustrating if not handled carefully. One thing this lens has taught me, which I have carried forward to other lenses, is not to be afraid of stopping down, even for portraits. If you focus on the light and the composition, and ensure the subject and complementary elements within the frame are working together, these perceived flaws tend to fade away.

The tactile feel of this lens, the smooth focus, the well-clicked aperture ring and the solid construction all continue to make it a valued part of my kit. Do I think about adding a Voigtländer 35mm to have a more technically capable backup? Yes. It is such a versatile focal length, intimate enough for portraits while maintaining context, yet wide enough for an uncluttered landscape. But there is something telling me I do not need it, and that this lens, used thoughtfully and with careful attention to light and storytelling, will serve my photography just as well as any technical upgrade.

If you enjoyed the photographs in this post and would like to develop your own street photography, I offer one-to-one workshops tailored to your experience level and creative goals. Please visit the Services tab for upcoming dates and details. If the listed dates do not align with your availability, do get in touch to discuss alternative options.

Street photography in London

London has been fundamental to street photography over the years, from Don McCullin’s work in the East End to more contemporary artists such as Alan Schaller. Not only have they both inspired my own style in all aspects of photography, but their London images have also inspired me to get out and shoot in London. This constantly changing canvas is just a street photographer's playground. You can walk the same street at different times of day and in different weather conditions and encounter completely different scenes and opportunities. Even in the same conditions and at the same time of day, the people moving through it will be different, carrying out different activities, wearing different clothes, and moving at different speeds, all adding to the constant change of potential compositions and situations in which to capture a moment.

 Not only does the scene change, but the camera and lens you choose to traverse these scenes with will give you different opportunities, from a wide 28mm to a short telephoto of 50mm. The ability to include or exclude distractions or components will shape the narrative of your image. This all impacts—and is impacted by—the mood in which you photograph. Do you want to step back and be more observant, or do you want to immerse yourself in the scene? Drinking that IRN BRU—or perhaps a beer—might give you the sugar rush to overcome some of the barriers to raising the camera and taking the shot. It might stimulate the mind to think faster or more creatively, keep you keen for an extra hour, or increase your patience to wait for that one person walking through a scene who happens to step exactly into the right spot for your composition. These are all considerations when dedicating time to taking photos and refining your skill. One learns their own limitations and the requirements to be in the right headspace to create.

 What better place to learn than London itself, where one has every opportunity to follow whatever style of street photography one desires. The architectural landscape offers the geometry of modern design, while the older markets and alleyways provide the nostalgia one might seek. The light bounces down streets and off large glass windows, acting as funnels or diffusers, even directing light to help isolate your subject. But if one fancies a busy scene with chaos and movement, the bustling stations offer that in abundance, or one can join the many protests or marches that take place along Whitehall or in Trafalgar Square. The endless networks of tube and bus routes offer opportunities to move around and photograph the bends and curves of the lines, using artificial lighting to your advantage—seeking dark corners or isolated lights as fill light.

From day to night, the opportunities differ—from overhead sun to the glow of street lamps and shop fronts, spreading light across a scene. This almost simplifies things, as one is limited not by the endless daytime compositions but by focal points of light, where experimentation and careful exposure are needed to bring a composition to fruition and ensure the subject materialises.

This is why I love photographing in London—there is always somewhere to shoot, some way of shooting it, and the only limitation is one’s own creativity, which I have to admit does not always come easily.

 For street photography, I admit, simplicity works best for me. A single fixed prime and one camera body sets the tone for the day. Changing lenses confuses me, muddles my eye, and limits the time spent hunting for a shot, as I am constantly swapping lenses to see if something “might work.” My camera, the Leica SL (Type 601), is a given. Coupled with a small M-mount lens, it isn’t too bulky or heavy but gives the perfect tactile feel as I meander along, fiddling with the aperture ring and focus tab, mulling over shots. It keeps me engaged with the controls, in tune with my settings, and focused on what I hope to shoot next.

 There are many shots I haven’t taken, and I regret it now, but there are many more I am yet to take. Each time I go out, it is a constant refinement of how I like to shoot, what I like to shoot, and my mood that day, coupled with the inspiration from photos I have more recently absorbed. I learn, I shoot, and I learn a little more.

Using the Leica SL (Type 601) in 2026 - A Review

Is the Leica SL 601 Still Worth It?

I’ve been using the Leica SL (Type 601) for three years now, having bought it back in 2023. I have to admit it was an odd choice even then, as it was already eight years old and still more expensive than newer cameras with better technology. Its newer siblings, the Leica SL2 and SL2-S, were available but even more expensive, so I really couldn’t justify them. But I had a very specific set of criteria I was looking for in a camera, and I had been hopping from system to system for a few years trying to find something that ticked all the boxes.

I started out in photography shooting wildlife, and for that purpose I had always used Canon. I cannot fault Canon for one second in that regard. I’ve owned everything from a 5D Mk II to a 1Ds Mk III, 1D Mk IV, a 1DX and now an R6, all of which were amazing. But when I started shooting more travel, documentary and personal work, I felt there was something lacking in the images.

I’ve always hated editing photos. I find it a chore and prefer to do as little to an image as possible. This isn’t down to some idea that you have to “get it right in camera”, because even when shooting manually the camera is still making decisions and processing the image in its own way. I just prefer minimal editing and really don’t want to be adjusting colours at all.

I tried a number of different brands and sensors, including Fuji and Nikon, both of which are excellent, but again something felt missing. I couldn’t quite define it, but I knew what I didn’t like. Fuji’s crop sensor and Nikon’s portrait colours always felt slightly “off” to me. I knew I wanted something tactile, like my old Olympus OM-2. Something metal, something heavy, something solid.

I had tried the Leica SL (Type 601) a few years previously, but at that time I didn’t think the autofocus was good enough, as I was still wildlife-focused. By 2023 my priorities had changed, so I tried it again. It was amazing.

I tested it with some Olympus lenses that I could use on both my Canon R6 and the Leica SL, allowing me to directly compare the two. The difference surprised me. The colours and the sharpness from the sensor felt leagues ahead of the Canon. But how? The Leica SL (Type 601) had so many flaws: slow contrast-detect autofocus and no IBIS. Yet somehow the images were just incredible. Fantastic contrast and clarity. Warmth in all the right places without being overpowering. Something I had never quite achieved with the Canon.

It was solid too. I’ve dropped it a couple of times and knocked it against things, and it’s still working, albeit with the scars to show for it. It was exactly what I was after for my non-wildlife work.

Since those early days, the Leica SL (Type 601) has barely left my side. It’s been with me all over the world, from the Philippines to Jerusalem, Ukraine and across Europe. It’s building up a lovely patina as the paint wears on its angular frame. I believe the shutter count is now around 220,000 images, judging by the file names. It has only let me down once. I was out in heavy rain in the Lake District and the rubber nipple on the directional thumb pad came off, allowing rain to enter the body. This affected the internal buttons, meaning it constantly selected the furthest autofocus point. Annoying, but once it dried out it was fine.

It has survived the humidity of the Philippine mountains, the salt air of Manila Bay, the dust of Jerusalem and even drones flying overhead in Ukraine. It has survived bivvying sessions tucked inside my sleeping bag and temperatures of minus 11 degrees in Latvia.

Professionally, I’ve had to make it pay for itself, and it has. It has shot content for brands such as Arc’teryx UK and Belstaff Motorcycle. It has covered weddings and christenings, Easter services and countless portraits, all of which it excels at, as long as the subject is not moving too fast.

That’s the funny thing. Yes, the autofocus will sometimes let you down. But at other times it really surprises you and performs brilliantly. Because it is older and has an older processor, you have to try to make it think as little as possible to get the best from it. It’s not just about shooting manually. Even small things matter. For example, if you’re shooting tracking in burst mode, you’ll often get better results using the electronic shutter and shooting wide open. Do that, and you can actually get a few sharp frames.

It truly excels with manual focus lenses. With autofocus lenses and the mechanical shutter in burst mode, it can stutter, hesitate and fire an odd number of actuations before briefly locking you out. With a manual focus lens, the shutter button feels far more responsive, especially with the electronic shutter. You can fire bursts without hesitation, whereas with the mechanical shutter, it can pause when you press it again, which is not ideal in high-pressure situations. The other major drawback is the lack of IBIS, i would LOVE IBIS in this camera as being able to shoot a scene at 1/25 or so would be so beneficial in those lower light settings - at the moment I do find myself chasing the light in those situations.

All of those flaws feel meaningless when you get the image you were after. Then it really sings.

With this camera, particularly paired with manual focus lenses, my work has become more engaging, more purposeful and more connected. Is this camera right for everyone? Absolutely not. I would be unlikely to recommend it to anyone other than someone who purely wants to do photography and values a tactile experience above all else.

For me, it works exactly how I want to shoot. The price was worth it because of how much use I’ve had out of it, and the jobs that have paid for it. I have been tempted to upgrade, but I worry that moving to the SL2-S might mean some of the magic is lost, especially after finding something that works so well for me.

For now, this camera is doing everything I need, and I don’t want to change a winning formula.

I hope you’ve enjoyed some of the photos I’ve shared alongside this text. I’ve certainly enjoyed taking them, and hopefully I get to take many more.

For those interested in the lens ive used for the photos posted here they are;

• Voigtlander 28mm f2 Ultron

• Leica 28mm (11672), 35mm (11879), 50mm (11826) f2 Summicron

• Sigma 28-45mm f1.8 L-Mount

• 7Artisans 35mm f2 mki

• Sigma I series 24mm, 35mm and 50mm f2 L-Mount

If you have enjoyed reading this and viewing my photos, please consider following me on my socials linked below. I also run workshops where I teach photography, so if you’re interested in getting to grips with new gear or you’ve just bought the Leica SL (Type 601) and would like help getting the most out of it, please get in touch.

Voigtländer 28mm f2 Ultron Long Term Review on Leica SL (Type 601) – Manual Focus, Handling & Image Quality

I’ve been using the Voigtländer 28mm f2 Ultron for 2 to 3 years now for all sorts of things: my everyday carry lens, a documentary lens, a street photography lens, and one to take on adventures into the mountains. It has performed incredibly in all of these roles.

I would even say this was the lens that confirmed to me that manual focus lenses could be both small, sharp and incredibly robust. These were the traits I was looking for in a lens. Often one of these is lacking, particularly with modern electronic focus lenses. They are often huge or not weather sealed, leaving them vulnerable to the elements. I’ve been using manual focus lenses for a few years now, and this was the second specific manual focus purchase after the 7Artisans 35mm f2 (Mk I). I use these lenses predominantly on the Leica SL (Type 601), which I must say feels like it was specifically designed for manual focus lenses, as it performs better with them than with its relatively slow, clunky autofocus system.

But back to the Voigtländer 28mm f2 Ultron. This lens is incredible, almost ideal. The build quality is second to none, and I mean that. I have a trio of Leica Summicrons: the Leica 28mm f/2 Summicron #11672, the 35mm f2 Summicron #11879, and the 50mm f2 Summicron #11826, and none of them compare to the Voigtländer in terms of feel. This is particularly due to the tighter tolerances of the Voigtländer and its heavy brass construction. I have to admit I was fairly disappointed after I bought my first Summicron, thinking it would be even better than the Voigtländer 28mm f2 Ultron. The aperture ring on the Ultron is perfectly damped and really plays into my slightly compulsive need to fiddle with something.

The image quality is also incredible. For something so small, I was impressed with its sharpness wide open and how it renders contrast and colour. I would say it is comparable to the Leica 28mm f2 Summicron #11672, but there is one massive benefit of the Voigtländer 28mm f2 Ultron. It vignettes, but it is correctable even wide open, unlike the Leica 28mm f2 Summicron #11672, which is manageable but does leave artefacts. To be honest, I am usually fine with that. I have to admit I am shooting these lenses on the Leica SL (Type 601) and not an M body, so some of the nuances of the Leica lenses will be missed, while I believe the Voigtländer is designed knowing it will, in some respect, be used adapted. This plays a massive role when considering which lens to use.

What I truly love about this lens is its size and how discreet it is. I’ve taken it into the snowy mountains of Scotland, East Jerusalem, the Philippines, all over Europe, and more recently to the frontline of Ukraine, all of which it has handled incredibly well. I have used it to shoot street, documentary, portraits, sport and travel. I’ll attach some photos to this article, and I have never doubted it for a second. While it does not quite match the sharpness and correction of some of the more modern electronic focus lenses I use, such as the Sigma 28–45mm or the I Series primes, its other benefits in size mean I can get photographs I would not necessarily get with a large lens.

This is the thing: this lens is discreet, meaning you can work with an intimacy that a large lens often does not afford. It can sit on the camera hanging off your shoulder all day without tiring you out or constantly knocking into things as you traverse streets or move through groups of people. This means you can be out shooting for longer. The focal length is also ideal for documentary work, capturing a whole scene while still affording you the luxury of being able to shoot a portrait at f2 and include some context in the background, which is my favourite. This lens has survived knocks and falls, as well as rain and dust, sea water and high humidity. At the end of the day, I trust it over any electronic lens, purely because a manual lens can be fixed yourself with a screwdriver and a few basic tools. If something goes wrong with the electronics of an autofocus lens, you are not fixing it on the go.

All of these reasons are why this lens continues to have a place in my bag regardless of where I am going. I have no intention of selling it, as it serves its purpose so well while also looking incredible on the camera. Coupling the Voigtländer 28mm f2 Ultron with the Leica SL (Type 601) is a match made in heaven and as close to that tactile feeling of shooting a 1980s camera, while still having the convenience of digital, as one can get.

If you have enjoyed reading this and viewing my photos, please consider following me on my socials linked below. I also run workshops where i teach photography so if you’re interested in getting to grips with new gear or you’ve just bought the Voigtlander 28mm f2 Ultron and would like help getting the most out of it please get in touch.

COVID1984 - aVAX

The struggle to come to terms with the emergence of COVID-19 out of China was real. The world had faced the possibility of pandemics before—swine flu, bird flu, and Ebola. All of these threats diminished, solidifying the belief that global outbreaks of disease were an impossibility, even in my mind. I would tell my peers, friends, and family, “Of course there will be a disease that will hit us hard; we have a hugely connected planet with pathogens constantly evolving. We are only a few mutations away from a lethal pandemic.” Yet, I didn't truly believe it would happen. Inevitability battled inside my head against experience, or more accurately, naivety—thinking it wouldn't happen in my lifetime.

Yet, the pandemic did happen and continued to unfold. A vaccine was developed and introduced at lightning speed, with the first administration to 90-year-old Margaret Keenan in the UK by nurse May Parsons. This was phenomenal. It was the first implementation of an mRNA vaccine in humans, something that hadn’t been achieved before for other diseases. As an immunologist and PhD student, this is the sort of thing that excites me, but I understand these things.

For most people in the UK, it was the first time they had heard of RNA, let alone mRNA. What is it? How did it get approved so quickly? What are the long-term effects? Even worse, this vaccine induces the killing and destruction of your own cells? Then the rumors started: infertility, DNA alteration, microchips for tracking, viral shedding, lack of safety, blood clots, and immune cells targeting healthy cells. Some of these could easily be dismissed with a little common sense, while others even I and some of my peers struggled with in the early days.

The vaccine had been authorized quickly, and we didn’t know the long-term effects of this type of vaccine. We had never utilized this type before. It seems the vaccine did have some adverse effects, yet it was safer than getting the virus, at least for most. We were comparing all these unknowns of a vaccine against some knowns and many unknowns of having COVID-19.

This put me in a tricky situation. I was an 'expert' in the eyes of laypeople, but I didn't know everything, or much at all. People were asking me questions on a topic that no one was a real expert on yet. How do I advise my family and the people I care about on a topic I’m as lost on as they are? I was on the fence as they were in the early days, but I had to trust science.

In this series of images, I set out to explore the other side of the fence—those individuals set on not accepting the vaccine and the restrictions implemented by our government. I visited protests, entered debates at Speakers' Corner, and chatted with individuals to gain an understanding of where this refusal came from. I found it stemmed from distrust in our leaders, fear of the unknown, putting two and two together and making three, or protesting the forced implementation of the vaccine and the restrictions. Some of these I had no defense for, and to some, I said you have to just trust the little science we have. I hope you enjoy the images; it was an enlightening process taking them.

Scientists

The driving force behind my decision to pursue—and remain in—a career in science is the knowledge that the work we do has an impact far beyond the day-to-day tasks. It’s the understanding that something you uncover, analyse, or contribute to could have real-world implications: informing policy, shaping public health strategies, and ultimately saving lives.

Nowhere has this felt more poignant than in my work on Neglected Tropical Diseases (NTDs). These are a group of diseases that, despite their significant global burden, remain underfunded and under-prioritised. They predominantly affect the world’s most vulnerable populations—those with the least voice and fewest resources. This makes the work feel not just important, but essential. It gives your efforts meaning. It pushes you to stay sharp, to keep learning, and to stay abreast of the latest techniques.

NTDs also present a unique scientific challenge. They rarely come with straightforward solutions. Diagnoses are often unreliable, treatments may be ineffective or inaccessible, and interventions can be complex and slow to deliver results. Working in this field demands patience, persistence, and a long-term mindset. There are no silver bullets here—progress comes in hard-earned, incremental steps.

This brings me to the second reason why I find this work so fulfilling: the people. You don’t choose to work in this field—or even in this broader industry—unless you’re deeply passionate about science. There are easier, more lucrative paths out there. This field is often defined by short-term contracts, job insecurity, modest pay, and long hours spent alone in the lab or writing code until your eyes blur. Reagents are expensive, and a single mistake can mean the loss of samples that took months to collect. The pressure is very real.

And yet, the people make all the difference. I’ve had the privilege of working alongside some truly inspirational individuals—scientists who are not just brilliant, but also deeply committed to their work. Being around people like this pushes you to go further: to read that extra paper, try that experimental technique, or revisit your assumptions. At times, it’s intimidating. You feel like you're standing among giants—because often, you are. At my workplace, it’s not unusual to pass by colleagues in the corridor who have shaped the global field of infectious disease.

But the beautiful thing is: many of them are surprisingly grounded. Get them to the pub after a conference, and they’re cracking jokes over a pint. Far from the socially awkward stereotype, many are warm, approachable, and empathetic. And empathy matters here. In global health research, relationships and trust are foundational—your science won’t matter if your collaborators don’t trust or respect you.

Here are some photos of colleagues I’ve had the pleasure of working with during my PhD at the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine. Some of them have more papers in Nature, Science, and Cell than I can count—they have taught me to be a better scientist, shown me how to be a better person or given me an aim of what I can achieve with my work.

Covid Induced PTSD - A NHS members Experience.

Kat, born and raised in Australia, is an intensive care nurse who worked in the UK for the Covid19 pandemic. She worked through both lock downs and the peaks and troughs in cases that surrounded them. Her experiences in the first wave included treating civilians from all walks of life, all backgrounds and all nationalities.

Patients came in quicker than they were being cured. There weren’t enough ventilation machines for those coming in and patients were slowly degrading and dying. The moral dilemma of keeping patients on ventilators despite the certainty of death, while denying those same machines to new patients who have a higher chance of survival weighed heavy. Patients would come into the Covid wards without family and the prognosis for them at this point was in most cases, death. There was often a rush to help patients call their families and say their last words—while at the same time reassuring them that they would be okay, even though it was known there was only a slim chance of recovery. These experiences were common place.

One experience in particular that left a lasting impression was when Kat was working with a doctor she hadn’t previously, it was a busy day - like usual. A patient had just died on the ward, and Kat and the doctor were completing the summary when the doctor suddenly recognised the person in the bed — it was someone he had worked with before. A heavy silence fell. Then, without a word, the doctor moved on to the next patient. There was no time to mourn, no space to weep, not even a moment to process the loss of someone he once knew. Any hesitation could put other patients at risk.

While this moment stood out to Kat, death had become a daily reality on the ward — relentless and unavoidable. “We were just waiting for people to die so we could move the machines to someone else,” she said.

No treatment, no vaccines and nothing known that could help other than trying to keep oxygen getting to the patients as their lungs become less and less capable. Every possible type of person was being treated in the first wave of Covid. Kat has got through it.

Mentally and physically exhausted - she needed to rebuild her life. Kats health unsurprisingly suffered. Long 12 hour days with overtime as more and more colleagues were getting sick and unable to work. When not at work she couldnt even see her friends, her family were on the other side of the planet and there was no way to switch off. Her mental health deteriorated. She become dependent on alcohol. She had put herself through hell to save people but it had taken its toll.

Finally, vaccine development had succeeded, and the rollout had begun — but at the same time, the second wave of COVID was emerging. Kat sprang back into action. This time, there was something different about the patients: the vast majority hadn’t been vaccinated. The same tragic patterns from the first wave returned — people dying faster than they could be saved, shortages of ventilators, and long, exhausting days with no breaks. Kat was still battling her own deteriorating mental and physical health. What was starkly different about this second wave — and the people she was desperately trying to save — was that they didn’t have to be there. The vaccine could have saved them, and could have spared Kat further trauma. That bitter twist of the metaphorical dagger that COVID had already driven into her made it all the more unbearable. Why were she and her colleagues sacrificing so much for people who could so easily have prevented this?

I met Kat in 2022, when the world was beginning to open up again. She was still working for the NHS, moving from one London hospital to another wherever she was needed. But she doesn’t work there now. The work took its toll — she now suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, brought on by her experiences during lockdown. It wasn’t just burnout turned up to 11 — it was lasting trauma. Self-medication with alcohol, a lack of mental health support, and no one knowing how to deal with the psychological impact of COVID-19 left deep scars. But I’m pleased to say Kat has been recovering. A new role training nurses on novel medical equipment has given her a chance to focus on a lower-pressure path. She’s stopped drinking, returned to a healthier lifestyle, and is slowly emerging on the other side. But will she ever truly be free from those experiences?

there are far more NHS staff who experienced this, dont talk about it and hide it deep down inside. we were not ready as a community for this pathogen but psychologically the impact has also been drastically overlooked. some of our best and brightest young doctors have left the profession and this will have lasting impacts on our health as a nation and the functionality of the NHS.

Jorvik - Vikings return to York

York—a city where history is not just remembered but felt in every stone and shadow. Its winding streets weave through time, while the towering Minster stands as a sentinel over centuries of triumph and turmoil. From its founding by the Ninth Legion to its reign as the heart of the Danelaw, York has worn many names, but today, it reclaims one of its most storied: Jórvík. Once more, the city hums with the presence of Vikings, their banners flying, their footsteps echoing through the alleys, as the past and present collide in a spectacle of Norse spirit and legend.