V&A tunnel, London

Artistic notes

  • The diagonal lines and the perspective are what drew me to this scene – they result in a great sense of depth.
  • Also like the pattern that repeats into the distance, and how this is broken by the person, who is big enough to recognise but not close enough to be the subject.
  • I had another version without any people in, but it lacked interest.
  • In processing, I cropped to the widescreen format, which gives a move-like feeling.
  • I also increased the contrast and desaturated the colours.

Technical notes

  • Sony A7s
  • 35 mm
  • f/8
  • 1/60 sec

Image analysis – breaking the rules for balance and tension

A lone cyclist, making his way into the city on a misty morning. One of my favourite photographs, made in 2013. I love this photograph because it has atmosphere. The cyclist seems isolated and you feel remote from him as the viewer, yet you know how he feels. There’s an overall feeling of peace, but there’s also a balance and tension that creates a sense of movement and urgency – where’s he going? It seems like a simple photograph, but when you look into it closely, there are some interesting things happening.

Two distinct layers

The mist has a fair amount to do with the atmosphere. This image wasn’t made early in the morning, it was just a foggy day, but it conjures up that feeling of an early winter morning. I used the mist in a very deliberate way to maximise its impact. I positioned myself so that the people walking and cycling along the path were just in front of the haze so that they were dark but everything behind them was hazy. This creates two distinct layers – the background is effectively flattened to a single layer dominated by the misty outline of the city scape, and the cyclist is in front. This separation, along with the fact that no other people appear in the frame (I was there some time for the perfect subject and no-one else to be in my viewfinder), this creates the feeling of isolation and peace.

The most interesting part of this photograph to me though is that, although there’s essentially one point of focus – the cyclist – it’s dynamic. There’s a trade-off between balance and tension, and this is all down to the composition.


The cyclist is placed precisely on the right hand third of the frame (below), adhering neatly to the classic rule of thirds, at least in one dimension. However, the placement of the cyclist breaks more ‘rules’ than it adheres to, and this is where it starts to get interesting.

The cyclist is not on the vertical third of the frame, but is low. Had he been placed on the intersection of thirds a little higher, there would have been too much foreground. What allows this placement to work is the compositional element that, for me, trumps everything else – balance.

The misty church spire provides the balance for the cyclist here. This works in two ways. First, their relative positions create an implied diagonal in the image (below), and the spire balances out the visual mass of the cyclist. I’ll come back to that diagonal in a moment.

Second, they serve the same function in the top and bottom halves of the image. If you divide the frame into two, it’s almost exactly divided along the top of the buildings in the background, creating a light top half and darker bottom half (below). The church spire and the cyclist are both darker blocks in their respective halves of the image, so they draw the eye, emphasizing the diagonal between them.


The placement of the cyclist not only creates the balance with the church spire, but also creates tension. Rather, the direction he’s facing creates tension. The rule book says to give moving subjects space to move into the frame, and the cyclist facing the edge of the frame implies movement that pulls the eye out of the image. So why does this rule-breaking work here?

To think about this, let’s turn the cyclist to face the other way. I’ve done that (very crudely) below, and cropped the frame a little at the right – that crop is needed to maintain the balance between the church and the cyclist, and that’s an important clue to what’s going on here.

When the cyclist’s facing the opposite direction, it’s a very different image. The diagonal between the spire and cyclist is now joined by a horizontal underneath that’s implied by the cyclist’s movement. Effectively, these implied lines create a triangle (below), leading to a closed image that’s well balanced but without much tension.

Going back to the original, that could be cropped in the same way to create a squarer frame.

The balance between the cyclist and church spire is still there, but the image doesn’t work, because the cyclist is too close to the edge. That triangle is still there, but the movement of the cyclist away from it means it’s just an empty space in the image.

Put that space on the right back, though, and the cyclist suddenly has space to move into (below). What’s happening here is that the diagonal between the church spire and cyclist implies a ‘frame within a frame’, and the space to the right of that is now sufficient for the cyclist to move into.

Rather than creating the triangle, the diagonal and the horizontal movement creates an open line that adds dynamism, creates tension, and leads the eye right across the image in the direction that the bike is going. This line creates movement and that sense of urgency.

Sixstreetunder – master of street moments

Craig Whitehead – better known as Sixstreetunder on Instagram – is a street photographer based in Cambridge, UK. His work is fantastic. I love his photographs, and he’s the kind of photographer that makes me want to sit down, look through his images and work out what it is that makes them so brilliant. The answer is a lot, but I think it comes down to two main aspects.

The first aspect is the visual design of the images and the fantastic eye for composition. Whitehead uses strong lines and their intersections, along with powerful natural lighting to capture and direct the eye.  His images often contain a single figure that acts as the focal point, and the effect is similar to the ‘figure on ground’ style of composition. Except the ‘ground’ in these images is multilayered and complex, making the image much more engaging. People are, of course, crucial in street photography, and Whitehead’s inclusion of figures adds a human element, but his images usually seem to be much more about the visual effect than the human story.

In this image, the intersection of lines, the layers and the placement of the reflected figure, make for a fantastic composition.

Colour is another major element in Whitehead’s images – “the colour so many seem to overlook in the everyday” is the way he describes it on his website. He also often uses clever devices such as reflections and frames within frames. One of the most creative of these recurring devices is shooting through windows that have strong reflections, condensation or frosting, which partially obscure or distort the shapes of the subjects.

The steamed up window obscures the figures just enough to create a sense of mystery without obscuring what is happening.

The other reason I like Sixstreetunder’s work is that he brings out my favourite aspect of photography – the ability to create a visually striking piece of art directly from the ever-changing world around us. Nothing is static on the street, and it takes a huge amount of anticipation, visualization, patience and skill to conceive and execute an image from a passing moment that will never be recreated. Yet Sixstreetunder is a master at anticipating moments where life and visual design coincide perfectly, and is there, ready to record them. I think there’s a lot to learn from his work.

All images reproduced with permission from Craig Whitehead sixstreetunder.com | instagram.com/sixstreetunder

Follow sixstreetunder on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.

See more about sixstreetunder at www.sixstreetunder.com.

Notes from Lisbon – 77 and 79

Doorways are great artistic subjects because they have inherent symbolism and you can’t help by look for clues and make guesses at what’s behind them. This natural inquisitiveness that doorways stir is the reason I have an almost accidental running project of photographing doorways. When you photograph doorways regularly, you also discover that they come in an incredible visual variety.

In the Alfama region of Lisbon, Portugal, the variety of doors was amazing. Each building is unique, and so are each of the doors – different sizes, shapes, designs, colours and states of disrepair. In amongst the tiny streets and cobbled pavements, each door seemed to hold something different behind it, creating an atmosphere of intrigue that was exaggerated by an absence of people outside (only mad dogs and Englishmen…).

The reasons I photographed these two doors were the light and the way the contrasts of light emphasized the geometry. It was a bright day shortly after noon, but many of the streets were too narrow to get any directional light in them at any other time. What I loved here was the way the strong shadows contributed to the composition – inside the rectangles inside rectangles was another rectangle of light that was offset from the centre. The shadows also emphasize the surrounds of the doors, and I think the depth of the shadows help to recreate the brightness of the midday light. The scene as a whole also summed up my feelings about the Alfama region – the run-down wall and the sloped, cobbled pavement at the bottom of the image sum up the aspects that were most prominent to me.

One other reason I love this picture, although it wasn’t so obvious at the time, is the disparities between the two doors. They’re right next to each other, and in my familiar context of modern UK developments, two doors so close to each other would be the same, or at least very similar. Here, the doors are different heights, different widths, and one is a double door. They have completely different designs, and their bottom thresholds are not even level. Yet they are the same colour, they have the same stone door frames and their number plaques are the same design. Are they a pair or not?

Postcards from Lisbon

I was in Lisbon, Portugal, for work, and had a limited time – a little more than half a day really – to explore and take photographs. It’s easy when you’ve got a limited time to try and photograph everything but end up coming away with nothing. So I decided to focus and give myself constraints other than the time – use only my 50mm prime lens for street photography in the Alfama district, the old area with lots of small streets and colourful buildings.

The idea of the 50mm lens was to make me think more about what I was photographing, and I did start off that way. The image of columns in the water was taken with the 50mm lens, and I stayed there for a while trying different shooting positions to find the image I wanted. But when I got among the buildings in Alfama, 50mm was just not wide enough for the tiny streets. So I quickly ended up changing to my 24-70mm lens, and all the other photographs are taken at either 24mm or 35mm.

I took a fair amount of photographs, but I wasn’t happy with many and I’ve edited hard. The two doorways is without a doubt my favourite image from the trip because I love the light and the feel, which sums up the feel of the Alfama district for me.

The district is on a hill, and so there were plenty of cobbly, crooked and narrow staircases – I have an ongoing project of staircases and steps, so this was ideal for me. The one above was my favourite – it’s on the corner of a sloping street where the pavement was a series of small steps, and I just love the way they go round the corner. I love the texture of the cobblestones too.

The tram? Well, that’s a bit of a cliche, but it’s a picture I couldn’t leave Lisbon without. I wasn’t too impressed with the advertising on the sides of the trams, which kind of grab the attention, and the light had gone quite flat by this time. The image above was the only one I thought was reasonable.