Discovering beauty in old, discarded objects has been the driving force behind my Abandoned Collection, a limited edition fine art photography of abandoned places project that has taken twelve years to complete. This limited-edition print series highlights the fleeting nature of material possessions in our modern "throwaway" society. Today, we are surrounded by the latest gadgets, luxurious cars, and high-end recreational equipment, all of which have an incredibly short lifespan. The moment they lose their novelty, they are replaced, beginning their inevitable descent into insignificance.
This collection tells the story of these forsaken subjects—objects once worshipped and cherished, now left abandoned. I have captured them as they were found, portraying their intrinsic beauty at the height of neglect. I aimed to evoke emotion, emphasising their melancholic solitude through moody, surreal light. For over thirteen years, I have patiently waited for these moments to find me rather than actively searching for them. This approach often led to frustration—stumbling upon the perfect subject at the wrong time, in the bad light, knowing I would never return to that spot. But then, there were days when everything aligned, as if these subjects had been waiting for me all along.
In 2007, I was offered my first international exhibition for my Abandoned Collection, which at the time, only consisted of twelve pieces. At the same time, the Stephen Hoppen Gallery in London showcased my Faceless Society collection.
After the exhibition, I treated my family to a road trip through Scotland, where I intended to focus solely on fine art photography. I had little expectation of adding to my Abandoned Collection, assuming Scotland’s pristine landscapes would not lend themselves to such subjects.
Just outside Ullapool, I unexpectedly came across two old petrol pumps standing in front of what appeared to be a residential home. They were perfect for the collection—except for one problem: the weather. The sky was bright and clear, with little cloud cover or directional light. Heartbroken, I walked away, knowing that such an opportunity would rarely present itself again. As we continued towards Scourie, my thoughts remained fixated on those pumps. Scourie was about 40 miles from Ullapool, and we arrived mid-afternoon to find a perfectly ordered town, where even the sheep seemed to stand in formation. That evening, the weather shifted—clouds rolled in, creating the moody atmosphere I needed. I knew I had to return to Ullapool the following day.
At dawn, I set off alone. The drive back was quiet, the road winding through breathtaking landscapes, but my mind was fixed on what lay ahead. As I reached Ullapool mid-morning, I could hardly believe my luck—heavy cloud cover, no rain, and the perfect directional light. Within minutes, I had captured the shot I knew would become a highlight of the collection.
Overwhelmed with gratitude, I felt that even if I captured nothing else on this trip, it had already been worth it. I lingered for a while, taking in the scene—the abandoned petrol pumps standing like forgotten sentinels of the past, a king and a queen steeped in history. Frozen in time, left behind as modernity moved on without them.
Driving back to Scourie, still riding the high of my successful shot, I rounded a bend near Elphin and suddenly caught sight of an old croft. The previous day, I hadn’t noticed it, but now, under dramatic skies, it practically leapt out at me. Parking was difficult, but I managed to stop, set up my gear, and waited for the light to break through the clouds. When it did, I captured the croft in all its haunting beauty.
The worn-out stone walls, the collapsed roofline, the whisper of a past life held within its weathered frame. Who had lived here? What stories had these walls contained? Moments like these remind me why I love fine art photography—the chance to give forgotten places a voice again.
Still revelling in my fortune, I continued towards Scourie. As I neared the Ben More Assynt area, another croft appeared, perched on a hill. It was my third discovery in a single day. When I hiked up to the croft, I realised it had a beautiful character and as a bonus there was a torn sackcloth billowing in the doorway—an eerie creative touch. The weather and light were still holding, and the composition felt perfect. It was as if I had stepped into photographic heaven that day.
I took my time, wandering around the croft, absorbing the atmosphere. The wind carried a faint scent of damp earth, the grass swayed gently around me, and the silence was profound and the experience unforgettable.
Three significant additions to my Abandoned Collection, all on the same day, along the same road. The experience reaffirmed my belief that these subjects must come to me, rather than the other way around. But all three within hours of one another—it felt surreal. It reinforced my conviction that searching intentionally for abandoned places, researching and scouting, risks predictability. But letting these objects reveal themselves creates a far more authentic and deeply moving narrative. Some days are slow, fruitless, and frustrating. But then, there are days like this—where the road unfolds, the light cooperates, and the forgotten places emerge, waiting to be seen again.
I arrived back in Scourie that afternoon on a photographic high. It was a day I will never forget.
Each editioned print in this collection is limited to thirty-five copies, regardless of size. Abandoned No.13 has since sold out. These fine art photography prints serve as a poignant reminder of the transient nature of materialism and the beauty that lingers in what we leave behind. Once cherished, these forgotten subjects now stand as silent witnesses to the passing of time—perhaps waiting for someone like me to come along and see them anew.
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